NarniaMUCK

For the MUCK Anniversary, we are having a few OOC contests here at the forums! One of these contests is the poetry contest. This contest is pretty loose, rules-wise. Your poem need not rhyme or be in a particular form or meter. We only ask that it be as family-friendly as anything you would post on the MUCK.

Here are some suggestions for inspiration:
Write a Narnian (or Archenlandish) tavern song.
Write an epic poem about something that happened to your or another character on the MUCK. Think of it as a sort of historical poem. Consider for this: the Fall of Ubel; the rise of Raistlana; the time your character proposed to such and such other character; a heroic moment for one of your pack/herd/etc members.
Write an epic poem about something that happened in the Narnia books (I would recommend keeping it in the history of our timeline, i.e. a few years before Horse and His Boy). Consider for this: the loss of Bree, Hwin, or Cor; the making of Narnia; the coming of the Pevensies; or the fall of the Witch.
Write a humorous poem about the history of Narnia/Archenland, either books or MUCK canonical.
Make up a new historic story for your species and write a song/narrative poem about it.
Anything else you can think of!

If you are musically inclined, you may want to make your poem a song and put it to actual music, or team up with someone to put a poem to words. We'd love it if you would! Be as creative as you can.

Post your poems on this thread. If you create a recording, you can link it onto the thread instead.
Poems will be judged on creativity, accuracy to MUCK canon (as is relevant), readability, and general entertainment. Contest closes Sunday July 10 at midnight PST (but feel free to keep sharing your poetry here afterward!).

Ohhhh... Now this is something I can do! Just gotta get started

(So...yeah. I got bored. And I wonder...are multiple entries allowed?)

Oft taken to flight,
a daughter of Fledge.
Never far from danger,
but e'er on the edge.

As white as the snow,
was this mare of the skies.
And greener than grass
were her emerald eyes.

Mischevious, but warm
was this pegasus white.
With her mate, coated black,
like the darkest midnight.

She survived many dangers,
and bore many scars.
Axes, and werewolves
had left her hide marred.

She bore a daughter, they say,
with ebony hair.
Starlight meant to protect her,
but wasn't always there.

And it was, on one day,
that she left her for e're.
With a giant's foot falling,
Naught was hardly left there.

So the white mare lives on,
and through her bloodine,
For though Starlight has fallen,
perhaps Starlin will shine.

I think we'll say up to three entries per player.

Here's a song Jana sang while she was going a little loopy from imprisonment. I figure it's a folk song of some kind.

The Dairy Maid

Broken is the dairy maid;
she's lost her every farthing.
The little one's gone and spoilt the milk
for her master's bread this morning.

They say she cries--or weeps-- they say
for the way the baby's bawling.
But there's no more cries in the dairy now
and it's quiet in the morning.

Part Of The Word
a completely original composition by blackclaw

look at this pose
vowels untold
how many contractions can one sentence hold
lookin' around here you'd think
"i can't understand this dude"

i've got apostrophes and commas aplenty
my dialect you will quite abhor
consonants? i've got twenty
that's my quota... for each rp...
can't use moorrreeeeee

i wanna be where the red dwarfs are
i wanna hear, wanna hear 'em talking
slurrin' their words like it will shortly become obsoleeete

sayin' your 'g's doesn't get you far
the effort required is quite exhausting
i want to go somewhere where words can remain incompleeete

up where they're free
to omit gratuitously
up where they wear out the apostropheeeee

consonants aren't for me
elision's the key
only part of the wooooord

Shattered: The Story of Caileana
Honor and duty, loyalty and strength
These are the tenets she lives by
To fight for what's sacred
Without thought for herself
Standing tall, standing strong, standing bold

Born on the darkest of summer nights
To two who'd pledged their lives to each other
The sole pup of her mother's litter
And a packmate from the start

She grew in strength, she grew in size
Beloved, safe, secure
Till that fateful day when a giant's blow
Struck her father from existence
And the Hunter Cailean was gone
Then her mother, gone as well
Vanishing into the thickness of the mist
Plagued by grief for her mate
But never seen again
So the she-wolf became an orphan

And her world was shattered
But through her grief, she vowed she'd spend
Her life in the pack of her parents
So months passed and she trained
Still a pup by all means
But one dedicated to becoming all she could be

Then in the woods of the Waste,
She found the scent of evil
And the tiny shawl of one faithful Mouse
Brave as she was, she did her best to stop it
But the strength of a tenderfoot
Is no match for the might of a succubus
So perished Neepipeep, still speaking of Aslan
And Maeta turned her gaze on Caileana

Well, she would have died that night
If it weren't for the pack
Arriving just in time to save her
But too late to save the Mouse
Then Maeta disappeared into thin air
Without consequence for her actions,
Evil gone into the night
And they brought Caileana, at death's door
To a healer they thought could save her
So the broken shards of a broken life
Shattered even further

And there, in the huts of Madderholt,
Her body slowly healed
But her mind grieved for all that had passed
She ranted and raved at the world
Of what us is life, she would howl to the sky,
If the cords that hold it are so easily snapped?
But when she would have given up,
When all that was good seemed lost
Something quite beyond herself
Whispered to her of the pack

"Live!" whispered the Voice
"Live for Ulfden and for honor
Treasure what you have now
And fight for it all the more,
Since you know it can be lost"
And she did,
Pushed to survival by a force she could not explain:
The will of the Great Lion himself

Now she lives for honor and duty
She fights with loyalty and strength
Caileana of Ulfden,
Pledging herself to the pack of her birth
And by the Lion's mane, for all she thought she was shattered,
She has been made whole again

I am hoping this fits the rules, it is a little different from the promps though.

My poem is not song-y at all but it describes the song and music I imagine the fawns created.


The Court of Dionysus (I think Lewis might call him Bacchus actually)

There is an instance of creation
when the tintinnabulation
gathers into a formation
of pure sound unto sensation,
so the breath comes like salvation,
fought and fraught, this respiration:
it is bathed in adoration;
it is steeped in consternation,
this wild, this frenzied, full oration.
Heart and soul without cessation
become a sonic derivation,
giving life and illustration
to unspoken implication
and incarnate inspiration,
so a sort of liberation
becomes the gifted ideation
from the tintinnabulation
in that instance of creation.

For all the happy drunks out there:

An Archenlandish Drinking Song
Give me ale on this eve
Fill me cup to the brim
An' I'll drink, by yer leave
Of that brew, ever grim

Far from home are we now
But we're drinking away
All the troubles we've found
Down this glass, if we may

Sing with me everyone
As the moon's shinin' bright
Fer we've nothin' but fun
Even though we're a sight!

I've been told we have some more interest, and the entries to this contest were so great that we are extending it until midnight (PST) this Friday the 15th (yes, when many of you will be sleeping in after watching the last Harry Potter premiere).