The prompt here was a poem with overheard speech in it.
Sonnet again. It is my default setting when I do a form.
Interestingly I have known people like this, not diplomats, but who use rudeness as a form of affection, and who even use it to test new acquaintances — if anyone takes offence: well you don't want the effort of people that difficult anyway...
So, I said
So I said: you are a diplomat, are you?
Because I had by chance happened to hear
him call the Finish Attaché a weird-
arsed hybrid of a reindeer and a shrew
and he said: I'll tell you, since we have a while.
My brand of statecraft is my very own
and amongst the cognoscenti I'm well known
for slandering my best friends with a smile
and I can never change because all like
me how I am. I can't be too correct,
except... just sometimes when I want to crack
their composure, well then I need to go icily
polite -- never fails. I know he'll be a chum
'cos as he went he said I was plain dumb.
2017-04-24
NaPoWriMo - 2017 - April 22nd - Alice through the mirror-plane
This is, of course, a sonnet -- although I've sneaked an extra rhyme into the penultimate couplet. The prompt here was for a mirror poem and like every other living human, I love the tone of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland...
(Does Liddell rhyme with fiddle? Probably not, but there's the competing constraint of the text making some sort of sense...)
Alice through the mirror-plane
A rabbit and an anti-rabbit, go
around the tree and down the wormhole. Where
can such a transformation lead? — Please show
your working as you think it through. I share
your nervousness around the silvered glass
and note what care we're taking with the frame.
We pause and whiskered heads are asked to pass
their eyes across each step as we arrange
the kit. We all wear white gloves on our shift
and antique pocket watches we have found
provide a way to check your drift. Keep cool!
You're near normal, still grounded in old-school
reality—you'll find we never fiddle
our safety checks: we all recall Miss Liddell.
(Does Liddell rhyme with fiddle? Probably not, but there's the competing constraint of the text making some sort of sense...)
Alice through the mirror-plane
A rabbit and an anti-rabbit, go
around the tree and down the wormhole. Where
can such a transformation lead? — Please show
your working as you think it through. I share
your nervousness around the silvered glass
and note what care we're taking with the frame.
We pause and whiskered heads are asked to pass
their eyes across each step as we arrange
the kit. We all wear white gloves on our shift
and antique pocket watches we have found
provide a way to check your drift. Keep cool!
You're near normal, still grounded in old-school
reality—you'll find we never fiddle
our safety checks: we all recall Miss Liddell.
2017-04-23
NaPoWriMo - 2017 - April 20th - Identity Cards
The official prompt for today is a poem using the imagery of a sport or game.
I'm not 100% this one works. It's not using the imagery so much as the rule structure of a trading card game and as the rules on the cards take effect, the protagonist's life gets changed.
It's yet another one I've had around for a while. It's been sort of "finished" for a long time but I was never sure whether it needed completely rewriting, e.g. maybe with a different outcome or even a different conceit — I have wondered whether the framework could come from a scriptwriter changing things about the events in a drama, rather than a game... but for the moment it stands as it is.
I would vote for Edward, any day...
Identity Cards
Set-up — deal sixteen Terrain Cards into the city grid.
The city is warm tonight.
Populate — draw a Neutral Card and place in each Terrain. As you place each card, perform any special actions.
The lights are on, and Edward Wu walks tired
but overall content, through rising dark;
echoey conversations from just a way
away, traffic, someone bounces a ball
against a metal shuttered door; and all
of this is far enough removed. There's peace
in the canal-side market, it's intimate;
warm summer air, the idea of crushed flowers,
a hint of rotting food. Ed loves this mood,
this end-of-day-and-all-work-done moment
although the latter's not entirely true
he has much homework still to do
the grading on; a weight in his backpack,
a thought in his mind of kneeling sipping tea
at Auntie's low down kitchen table, bright
lamplight circling the paper as he marks.
Dimension Door — draw a card, deploy for free in any area you control.
Moments are moments and suddenly
happens not in the moment, but half a second later
when mind wakes up. Edward's brain acts all surprised;
lightning punctuates the sky and by the time
he realises something's up, the dark-
cloaked figure blocks his way... very tall,
quite female, dressed Sunday Best Lord of the Rings;
she seems, behind her furrowed brow, also confused.
The Sorceress — when played, draw three cards. You may immediately deploy any of these (at usual cost) adjacent to the Sorceress.
Everything happens at once: a second moon,
a dragon drifts in front, briefly it rains
clockwork men... A wagon of police arrive,
take turns to shout incomprehensibly
through bullhorns. Tasers are brandished; a weirdling mist
creeps in; there's howling; ultimatums; an angry
and extended speech nobody understands;
a mobile incident unit parks; a shout...
They don't know what they do — When threatened by a neutral card: you may destroy one artefact, then every player draws two cards from the Random Deck and plays them immediately.
the haft of a staff slams on the ground.
How often does a moon fall down? How frequently
is your young adult world unmade; remade;
flayed by shrapnel; the sudden change of life
or heart. The world has many moving parts
and every single one of them hits Eddy
in just a minute and a half. It's a kind
of Armageddon. A werewolf eats his homework.
Promote Leader — move any friendly or neutral card from controlled space into the Palace. Usual promotion bonuses apply.
Edward runs the city now: there's more homework.
It is an indeterminate time later;
which is the only kind of time he owns—
the clockworkings with which the ticking men
repaired him in the ruins of the fallen moon
keep perfect beat but do not feel the moments
as they fall. This must be what it is he says
to be a mountain with a million drops
of rain upon you every day. Each drip
exquisite and unique, but you barely feel
the river. You don't know change at all. Edward
keeps the city safe, best as he can. He keeps
the mutants in the broken lands. He stamps
quite carefully but firmly down on crime,
and once in four years finds its time to tell
the voters once again. I am stability,
he says, I tick. I am reliable
as only clockwork minds can be. A vote
for me, is a vote against moons falling ever
again — this is my oath: not on my watch.
I'm not 100% this one works. It's not using the imagery so much as the rule structure of a trading card game and as the rules on the cards take effect, the protagonist's life gets changed.
It's yet another one I've had around for a while. It's been sort of "finished" for a long time but I was never sure whether it needed completely rewriting, e.g. maybe with a different outcome or even a different conceit — I have wondered whether the framework could come from a scriptwriter changing things about the events in a drama, rather than a game... but for the moment it stands as it is.
I would vote for Edward, any day...
Identity Cards
Set-up — deal sixteen Terrain Cards into the city grid.
The city is warm tonight.
Populate — draw a Neutral Card and place in each Terrain. As you place each card, perform any special actions.
The lights are on, and Edward Wu walks tired
but overall content, through rising dark;
echoey conversations from just a way
away, traffic, someone bounces a ball
against a metal shuttered door; and all
of this is far enough removed. There's peace
in the canal-side market, it's intimate;
warm summer air, the idea of crushed flowers,
a hint of rotting food. Ed loves this mood,
this end-of-day-and-all-work-done moment
although the latter's not entirely true
he has much homework still to do
the grading on; a weight in his backpack,
a thought in his mind of kneeling sipping tea
at Auntie's low down kitchen table, bright
lamplight circling the paper as he marks.
Dimension Door — draw a card, deploy for free in any area you control.
Moments are moments and suddenly
happens not in the moment, but half a second later
when mind wakes up. Edward's brain acts all surprised;
lightning punctuates the sky and by the time
he realises something's up, the dark-
cloaked figure blocks his way... very tall,
quite female, dressed Sunday Best Lord of the Rings;
she seems, behind her furrowed brow, also confused.
The Sorceress — when played, draw three cards. You may immediately deploy any of these (at usual cost) adjacent to the Sorceress.
Everything happens at once: a second moon,
a dragon drifts in front, briefly it rains
clockwork men... A wagon of police arrive,
take turns to shout incomprehensibly
through bullhorns. Tasers are brandished; a weirdling mist
creeps in; there's howling; ultimatums; an angry
and extended speech nobody understands;
a mobile incident unit parks; a shout...
They don't know what they do — When threatened by a neutral card: you may destroy one artefact, then every player draws two cards from the Random Deck and plays them immediately.
the haft of a staff slams on the ground.
How often does a moon fall down? How frequently
is your young adult world unmade; remade;
flayed by shrapnel; the sudden change of life
or heart. The world has many moving parts
and every single one of them hits Eddy
in just a minute and a half. It's a kind
of Armageddon. A werewolf eats his homework.
Promote Leader — move any friendly or neutral card from controlled space into the Palace. Usual promotion bonuses apply.
Edward runs the city now: there's more homework.
It is an indeterminate time later;
which is the only kind of time he owns—
the clockworkings with which the ticking men
repaired him in the ruins of the fallen moon
keep perfect beat but do not feel the moments
as they fall. This must be what it is he says
to be a mountain with a million drops
of rain upon you every day. Each drip
exquisite and unique, but you barely feel
the river. You don't know change at all. Edward
keeps the city safe, best as he can. He keeps
the mutants in the broken lands. He stamps
quite carefully but firmly down on crime,
and once in four years finds its time to tell
the voters once again. I am stability,
he says, I tick. I am reliable
as only clockwork minds can be. A vote
for me, is a vote against moons falling ever
again — this is my oath: not on my watch.
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