Also no one tell me how crappy the poem is, that is part of the story.
Here it is: my first decent post on this site.
****
Poet Tree
Across the open plains
Grew many types of grains.
Farmers plowed and toiled
But nigh the grain did spoil.
With every day passing
The grass grew less grassing.
The farmers wept and wailed
They gathered and journeyed to the dale.
The king looked down in up-stuck pity
He scoured answers from the city.
His guards swept the place
To find the helpful face.
In a small cottage on hill
They found a man named Phil.
He could grow what he wanted with ease
With his touch it would grow to please.
He lent his art to the fateful farmers.
They thanked him quick with stormers
He caused the grass to rise and grow green
It grew like the farmer had never seen..
Now my far lord and knights and men
It is time for Phil’s story to end....
At the end of his verse Rand bowed in a gorgeous motion. He looked up at the lord of the manor. The massive lips of the Baron curled up into a riotous smile. He soon burst into laughter. His massive bulk shook violently as he laughed. Behind him the whole of the court followed in a grand bellow.
“Come now,” the Baron said through a chorttle, “You mean to tell me this is the latest of work of Rand the storyteller? Rand who has entertained almost every leader in the all of Europe with his tales, means to tell me that this plot-less tail of peasant farmers is your latest masterpiece?”
Rand’s face burned as he stood tall against this attack. “It was well rhymed and metered. It followed all form, just as my others. It contai-”
“Oh yes, rhyming is all fair and good. Of course lest we ask what the word grassing exactly means....”
I am going to post 13 lines after the poem and omit the poem. If you will read the whole thing I will include the poem.
So here it is:
****
(Rand has just given a poem that was not very good and kind of silly. It has a bunch of crappy rhymes and he used the made up word grassing.)
At the end of his verse Rand bowed in a gorgeous motion. He looked up at the lord of the manor. The massive lips of the Baron curled up into a riotous smile. He soon burst into laughter. His massive bulk shook violently as he laughed. Behind him the whole of the court followed in a grand bellow.
“Come now,” the Baron said through laughter, “You mean to tell me this is the latest of work of Rand the storyteller? Rand who has entertained almost every leader in the all of Europe with his tales, means to tell me that this plot-less tail of peasant farmers is your latest masterpiece?”
Rand’s face burned as he stood tall against this attack. “It was well rhymed and metered. It followed all form, just as my others. It contai-”
“Oh yes, rhyming is all fair and good. Of course lest we ask what the word grassing exactly means....”
“The greatest writers feel free to treat the language as clay to mold, shape and build as they will.”
“Ahhh...yes, but do great writers not also produce great writing? And as for your dashing tale. I have never been entertained by the woes of peasant farmers. Who do you think occupy my dungeons?” Another burst of laughter from the ensemble followed this remark.
Rand looked up at the Baron with all the hate he could muster. His face was scorched with burning tears. With his last ounce of pride he turned about and launched from the court. As he stormed away he heard the echo of failure fade behind him.
Other than that, I like it. I'll take a read. Word as an attachment preferred.
[This message has been edited by Keeley (edited August 06, 2004).]
A word attachment would be good for me too.
I am on vacation but I will send out the story on monday.
Thanks
Susan
But I liked it better with the poem first--or at least part of it, maybe just a segment of it, then the Baron, totally disgusted at what he's hearing interrupts (the ulitmate shame for a has-been poet).
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