 | Blogs > Muse2u > Amused Muse > Poetic Challenge # 10 |
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Muse2u
6/3/2007 3:49 am |
The Challenge - Just for fun Write a poem incorporating all of the 10 words from the list. The words can be used in any order and may be changed to variations ie - Shop = Shops, Shopping, Shopper. Title your piece as you like. You can post your poem to your own blog, or post it here. If posting to your blog, then please post a message/link so we can all visit to read. Please do not post the challenge anywhere else. Thanks. Have fun  Muse Poetic Challenge 10 - Word List Bail, Slave, Tide, Quell, Barter, Wrap, Edge, Remote, Lament, Pry Blog Muse2u 
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6/3/2007 3:52 am |
I'd normally post the challenge on Tuesday, but I have internet connection problems at the moment. I might have to get a new router  Anyway, at least if I vanish for a few days, you have a challenge to be trying out  Have fun Muse Blog Muse2u
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6/3/2007 6:15 am |
She has the remote I am it's slave I did try to barter But in her hands it is wrapped Inside the tide is swelling I am approaching the edge I jump into the quell and from her hand I pry so as I wait for bail I lament....
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6/3/2007 5:18 pm |
Dear Muse I am but a slave to my life. And as I wrap myself within a cocooon Left in a remote location. I stand quelled upon the egde ready to bail. I lament in thought as I give poise to barter my life. Voila another great challenge Muse "Oz" OzSummerBreeze
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6/4/2007 5:53 am |
Hey there Muse, ope all is well from your end of the world. Ok here is my attempt, short as usual! A step from the edge Far in the remote Wrapped in a tide Prying deep into my lament Burying all of my cries Quelling all of my hopes With no will to bail Or no care to barter With a chance for breathe Over a dare of death Yes a slave to a tidal wave Tnx for the challenges i like them lots, gets my mind thinking, lol.
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6/4/2007 11:39 am |
Sad laments remote thoughts bartered like quelled slaves, released on bail, pry into lives on edgy shores, wrapped in tides, but still sad laments
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 6/4/2007 11:55 am |
I can no more quell the tide's lament Than bail the ocean dry, Nor tear the sea from this land's edge Than the clouds from the heavens pry. But for you, my love, I'd be a slave On the remotest foreign shore, Barter my freedom for one last kiss And wrap it to my core.
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6/4/2007 12:17 pm |
Reading Gowerboy's poem...........gawd he did it again......how does he do it?
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6/5/2007 1:50 am |
I'll have to think about this one. Felt quite optimistic - but you guys are good. Wow, Gow...
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6/7/2007 4:04 am |
Fantastic work everyone I think my internet problem might be fixed now, so when the field tests are completed I'll be back to comment more  Many thanks to everyone who has taken part so far, and to the readers for their comments Blog Muse2u
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6/9/2007 1:11 pm |
SILENT EDGE Take the silence from the edge and wrap your grief in words You’ll bail the slave to long lament the years of quiet tears The tide will pry your weary mask away from sorrow’s dream and quell the heart; remotely stored, that aches to barter pain Muse2u Blog Muse2u
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7/13/2007 11:32 am |
Okay...have been awaiting your return...I tried to write this as a dramatic monologue... She swept in, an hour late wrapped in her cloak that billowed behind her Lit the fire and smiled at me Forgive me, she said, but the boatman was late the rains….she raised her hands—smooth white hands around her face—fear was there for a moment as she said, the water --it took so long to bail I said nothing. She was, my friend, beautiful and that night when the wind moaned along the eaves, and the waves lashed the earth like a master with a slave she came to me. Oh, I would not barter this moment, this memory away for any another Of her standing at the hearth’s edge, cloak steaming with the warmth from the fire the perfume of lavender and heather scenting the air No, you could not pry this memory away And there she stood…looking at me with such eyes—such wide eyes in such pale pale skin I had to quell the passion I felt rushing you understand of course what that does to a man—those strange fits of passion like the tides they ebb; they flow they overwhelm But I talk too much There she was—breathing as surely as you do Beside me now mocking me with your nods and your all too knowing silence She was there, I tell you—breathing In front of the fire. as surely as you and I stand here breathing in front of the fire But you say nothing—only nod And look around the bare room And ask about the boat There is nothing here of her any more Only her perfume of lavender and heather hangs in the air—that faint scent that would drive a lesser man mad—and I admit— yes I have been mad with fits of passion Why stare you so at me, sir? I admit I have been passionate, and she was here And is here no more. Wishing you happiness Misty
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7/14/2007 3:01 am |
I love the monologue Misty It's haunting and beautiful. I could imagine the scene. Am I right to think she was a ghost and that she died in the rains? It's sad to think that maybe she came to say Goodbye to the man. Great use of the word list. Brilliant. Many thanks for taking part Blog Muse2u
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