Hum, sports.... Such a broad topic is actually harder than a narrow one, because you're faced with so many ideas, it's hard to pick just one...
I'll guess I'll try a new poem type,
Etheree (in the first list) to restrain me a little more.
The poetry form, Etheree, consists of 10 lines of 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10 syllables.
Born,
Too plain,
Without grace,
Without any style,
Alone among crowds.
But then I found myself,
The glory of speed, power,
Revealing myself in splendor,
All shall bow before my perfection,
Matured as an idol among the gods.
..... O....K.... That got abstract. o_O I GUESS it's still about sports, kinda... *laughs*
Edit: Oh, I missed a day, too! Silly Nigai...
I asked
Albus Dumbledore for a topic, and he requested something about "death and darkness". He also mentioned at theme, but I don't want to bias this poem, since I think it is open to several interpretations.
Since he wouldn't pick a poem type, I decided to do one of my favorites,
Sestina. Since I didn't have access to the actual FORUMLA for Sestinas, however, it's not perfect. I might re-write it to actually reflect the traditional form.
Anyway, here's the current result:
The Mighty Ponders
It was supposed to be so magical
A world of innocent wonders
It held around us the trappings of whimsy
Can you condemn us for accepting its promises?
What was offered had thus only been dreams
It seemed a fine escape from reality.
And it grew harsher every day we were forced back to reality
Having lived in the fey, we too were now magical
What could it offer when we had seen such wonders?
It meagre pleasures seemed such meaningless whimsy
But never believe what the mirror promises
You will stare forever blinded by your dreams.
And there is only one curse greater than being gifted your dreams
And that is seeing your dreams as your only reality
How can the normal ever again be magical?
What is done everyday quickly ceases to create wonders
You become deprived of your previous sources of whimsy
And must seek out new and more grandiose promises.
Then comes the curse of believing those promises
Transforming yourself as the object of dreams
Believing, perhaps, you can remake reality
Reclaim in your conquest the long ago magical
Satisfy all that comes to you and wonders
Exercise away the childish, frivolous whimsy.
Yet, in the end, you come to mourn for lost whimsy
For no thing can ever answer all promises
By being the dream-maker, you again lose your own dreams
As well as the line that had defined mundane reality
Did we remember that curses were also magical?
Did we know horrors are also forms of wonders?
And at the end of that path, one stops and wonders
At the uselessness of teachings, the wisdom of whimsy
Having seen all, we are left with only promises
You can take nothing forward more solid than your dreams
Where will we chart the new definition of reality?
I curse the day I outgrew the sun being magical.
And even the most magical of charms cannot remake wonders
It seemed such whimsy, but how strong where the promises?
Hide in Lethe dreams, until they become reality.
And to garner interest, PM me with your interpretation of the poem! Best ones get 5 or more credits and are listed here! ^-^
Edited by NigaiAmaiYume, 18 November 2006 - 10:36 PM.
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