Sanskrit poet's game

Pythagoras farted ruminatively, munching a carrot,
wondering, what could be keeping Abaris, this funny
English guy apparently as tripped out by geometry
as by those strange mushrooms they'd eaten in honey.

Abaris seemed to be dosed at that very moment,
not that he could remember taking anything odd.
Perhaps it was the square on the hypoteneuse that did it,
but he was suddenly in a (non denominational) realm of gods:

a lovely kind of walled garden with, in the immediate
environs, Apollo and Agni having a less than heuristic
dispute with Osiris - something about logos, knowledge
- and fire, naturally, with Agni going characteristically ballistic

Pythagoras looked up noting a disturbing change to reality.
As Apollo held Abaris' throat, Osiris conceded to Agni.

It's a sonnet! And also comes out of a bit of study. Sorry for the delay. Now try

the point, Crissy, not punctuation/*!

wow...you guys are really good....I am completly baffled to what your saying, and at the same time I am awed. I really do love it. Now I have to study all this so I can make sense of it. ^^

Thanks, Loveless, glad you love it and thank you for resurrecting a little thread of which I'm very fond. Not sure you'll be able to make sense of all of it, mind.

When asked to write an essay on the history of Seville,
Little Crissy felt terribly ill.
Not knowing what to do (not knowing where Seville was)
She took out her pencil,
And wrote these following lines:

Always put a period at the end.
Use a comma and you may offend,
the teacher who grades you,
but not so much as if you were to use a semicolon:
A question mark is always good?
But only in the right neighbourhood.
Use an exclamation mark if you please!
But never as a tease!
These are the lessons in Seville,
I hope I pass this course still!

Crissy brought the page to the teacher who read with a grin,
She said to litte Crissy that she was lost,
Into the waste basket the essay was tossed
Then with a smile the teacher looked at Crissy and gave her this explaination:
The Point, Crissy, not punctuation!


Try:

The cat smiled and said "I prefer Plato"

At long last, a new respondant. Thanks Charles.

But what happened to Satirical I wonder.

I'll do another when I have a mo'. Unless anyone else wants to try in the meantime.

Mind if I cut in?


----
Erwin Schrödinger had a cat

It lived simply and wanted
Nothing more than to be left alone

Instead cruel Erwin
Had him repeatedly locked in a box
With a complex device involving
A cylinder of cyanide gas
And an atom
Of somthing radioactive

Half the time, Schrödinger's Cat
Was gassed
And the other half he was left for hours on end
In a state of being
Dead and alive all at once
(An exhausting state to be in.
Worse than Vermont.)

"What is this supposed to prove?"
Asked the cat (who was named Elmo) often.
"Quiet, you", snapped back cruel Erwin
"This experiment will make the both of
us more famous than Sophocles."

Elmo, seeing Erwin distracted
In his delusions of grandeur
Darted through his legs
Past the hideous device
And out the front door
(Which Shrödinger had left open)

Pausing on the front step, Elmo turned
To look upon Erwin's
State of sputtering speachlesness

The cat smiled and said "I prefer Plato"
----

Try this one:

Funny that a grapefruit could be so amoral

Milk and blood in Massai country

Idol worship

Human sacrifice

Jazz

Classical sculpture

Epic poetry

The new ‘predator’ range of four-wheel drive vehicles

Damn, it’s just all so strange, you know?

You eat a salad and you feel the mystery of life
Tiredness makes you hallucinate
Sitting in the park, but
No, that big black smear across the sky is real
Or have a waking dream of logic changing
You’re saying, I don’t respond to music like other people
But how can you know?
A fly drowns itself, seemingly on purpose, in your cardboard coffee cup
To punish you for your arrogance
Stupid fly

Then eat a grapefruit
and it spits in you through your eye

you knew that you’d seen logic change,
but still
Funny that a grapefruit could be so amoral

***

OK next, if there are any takers:

this message, scrawled in the scum left after a bath

She read it, then with a starting gasp,
She wondered and reread
And ran her hands through her hair.
The note was short
Of not many words
But she wasn't ready to admit to that.
So many thoughts
Made themselves up for the spaces.
She stared at the ceiling and sighed again
Finally
She wiped away the water from the floor
And read yet again
This message, scrawled in the scum left after a bath.


Ok....

But first she stumbled, laughing, to the rail.

There's a meter here of some sort. I know nothing about the technicalities of these things, but I know it when I see it and I'm going to try to play along:

******
You never know, with luck a train might pass,
She said, deflecting midges from her eyes
The orange sun was melting in a dusk
That skittered like a swarm of tiny flies

She touched the line like someone reading brail
Then cocked her head and bent it to the rail.

Her face dissolved in darkness in the grass,
And I was sure I felt a rumble in the ground,
Fear made my throat an empty husk,
I lurched at her and saw a funeral mound

I stumbled with a strangulated wail
And reaching for her, felt a rusty rail.

Awareness rose up as a rubber mass
I said, this line is dead, like someone on a phone
She showed her teeth beside me and I smelled her musk
She stood and left me lying there alone.

In a minute she would kiss my ear - she likes it when I fail
But first she stumbled laughing to the rail.

There. Better late than never. The next last line is:

The wind whipped down the skree

does it matter if it's terrible? :lol:


The wisest women sat gnarled and snarling
Left to their own meditative devices
A hint of ivy in the hair
Of green-eyed girls dancing stiff legged to bagpipes
On the coast of the roiling sea

Red haired in kilted caricature
Of any Scottish Postcard
From Aunt Betty in 1950
Scottish drinking man
Bangs his exposed knee
On a wayward wall
erected in clannish history
Climbing quick, slipping on shale
Chased by ghosts of hounds and lairds
As countless MacFarlans were afore he

He runs and skips and laughs a bit
At a stolen kiss from the green-eyed girl
In red haired curls
and the force with with she smote him
He whistles hi-hee and sings b-onnie,
while kissing his knee and
the wind whipped down the skree



next:
carefully falls the skeptic's shadow

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Riesa

does it matter if it's terrible? :lol:

---

No, but like, yours isn't. compliment fisher. ;)

A reminder, since we're onto a new page, the game is to take the line suggested by the previous poster and use it as the LAST line of your poem.

Admittedly, she seems earnest,
swearing a love that willl ever grow.
Wanting to believe, he turns,
carefully falls the skeptics shadow...

next: even as ambivilance escalates

(I don't think I spelled ambivilance correctly...sorry!)

Ambivalence. ;)