Inkpot Challenge

Shadowthorne challenged me to write my poem in blood AND to write a poem about the colour red. So here it is Shadowthorne. I apologise for the bad quality of the photo, but I was feeling woozy when I took it and passed out soon afterwards. In case you can't make out my writing, this is my haiku to the colour red (I thought it would use up too much blood to write a longer form of poem)

Red

Red tastes like velvet

Smells of sweet cranberry tea

Texture smooth as blood

I hope it meets your exacting standards, Shadowthorne.

Anon also challenged me to write a limerick about blood. Here it is Anon.

Most people have veins full up with blood.

It carries their air, water and fud.

Some say it is blue,

But I don't think it is true,

I know mine is the colour of mud.

Finally, SSQuo challenged me to write a poem set in the future, contained alliteration with the letter Z, included my name Murphy and had a metaphor for my Iphone. Thanks for going easy on me SSQuo. :) I decided to write in the lyric form because it is my favourite type of poem to recite (I have been told I have a very lyrical voice). Here it is, I hope you like.

The End of the World

Zealous zombie zealots

clog the streets

wondering about how they look,

and who they're going to eat;

while the last sunrise turns the sky

blood red before my eyes.

The redness of their broken veins

matches the bloodstains on their chin,

and between their teeth and fingernails

are shreds of human skin.

But they are merely empty shells,

hungry echoes of their former selves.

My love nestles warm within my palm,

a safe haven against the horror,

soothing me with his gentle voice,

keeping count of the day and the hour.

The undead try to grab us as we hurry past.

I almost pity them, but the feeling doesn't last.

The ship is waiting in the square,

a shining metal monster exhaling white hot breath.

They beckon, calling for us to run;

there is room for one more left.

They chose Murphy, my love, over me.

Only the useful ones can survive, you see.

The spaceship scorches a blazing trail through the clouds,

as the zombies gather near.

I check my gun - one shell left.

One left for me, I shouldn't fear;

while I watch my last sunrise

the world turns red before my eyes.

Any ideas for my next Inkpot Challenge? Let me know.

Inkpot Challenge

Today is Friday 13th. I'm not superstitious, but if were I would say that the bad luck arrived early for me. A day early in fact. I scheduled my posts so I could leave the blog for a day and when I came back to make sure everything was ok what did I find? Chaos, that's what! So I apologise that my posts haven't appeared for the last two days. I hope I have rectified the problem now and that everything will be ok in the future.

Now, onto the important matter of the day. My challenge. I was challenged to write a poem by Malice Blackheart last week. The form - sonnet. The theme - favourite fictional character. Words to be included - entirely, lonesome and caricature. The deadline - today, Friday 13th February 2009.

Shadowthorne decided to further challenge me to approach a random stranger while on my travels out and about and ask them how they would like the poem written. It was a brilliant challenge, Shadowthorne, but I am afraid I failed. SSQuo told me not to leave the house - ordered me! - how could I disobey? :)

As for the sonnet? Well, Malice has already posted his excellent poem titled 'The Crow'. You should read it, it is fab. How did I fare? I am pleased to say I wrote a sonnet. It was tough, but I got it done on time. Here it is:-

Mal Content

By Inkpot

When burdened with the problems life does bring
And earth bound all the sky is denied me,
I let the darkness inside reign as king -
Shades and caricatures are all I see.
Freedom-less with clay feet I cannot fly,
Wildly I reach for dreams beyond my scope,
Wishing for a different path where I
Forego my lonesome ways for ones of hope.
In this malaise serenity I seek,
To fill my vision entirely with you.
Watching you shoot your gun and hear you speak,
My spirits your adventures doth renew.
For thoughts on you gives me such sweet delights;
Sustains me through the hardest days and nights.

Thank you Malice for challenging me, I really enjoyed it.

Now, who is next? What new challenge will I have to complete by next Friday? Step up now, don't be shy.

Poetry Corner

I thought I would post some poetry today. Many years ago Hoofpot and I decided to write a book of donkey poems. Some of the poems were good, some were not so good, but one stood out head and shoulders above the rest. I have never forgotten it and I often think of it in times when I'm feeling down. Here it is in its entirety. I hope you enjoy it.

My Father, The Donkey

by School Girl

Of all the donkeys ever

My father was the best.

He didn't wear a three piece suit,

He didn't wear a vest,

He never started work on time,

He never knew if it would rain or shine,

And if you put every farmer in a line

They would all confirm he was a pest.

*

My father had a favourite quote,

And that was - men are cruel.

And so he did his very best

To save me from their school.

Instead he taught me how to play,

To kick up my heels most of the day,

To give the very loudest bray

And to break almost every rule.

*

My father lived a happy life,

Waving his great big ears.

And he doesn't give a toss

That he's the cause of many heart felt tears.

Of farmers who have bought him,

Of mares that loved and lost him,

Not a thought have they cost him,

Through his fun filled years.

The Lion

For their loyalty to her cause
She rewarded them.
Before her throne they knelt, heads bowed,
Respectful,
And sapphire light engulfed them.
For moments they knew bliss and then -
Changed eternally -
They emerged into new life.
Free together they enjoyed the novelty,
Discovering what it was to be,
And in their play they trespassed,
Using gifts that did not belong to kill.
Rent from top to toe by claws designed for giving,
A fissure opened to allow a shadow in.
Multiplying like the darkness,
The creatures grew from the once proud ones sin.
Blue flame flickered now in colder fury,
Cursing the favoured for their one ill fated action.
Shamed to look upon each other they scattered,
Seeking distance to fill the void they had created.
Yet hope still glimmered if they paused to find it.
Redemption lay within their grasp,
If not their sight.
To rid the world of shadow and to heal it,
To end the wrong they caused and make it right.
Until that day they must wander,
Knowing neither warmth nor sleep nor food nor love.
Denied all that makes life precious,
Persevered from death until they can make good
Their fall and once more roar in union together.