Oct 8, 2015 Original Poetry, Writing 201
An Ode To My Fate (Map of Fate)
(My attempt at a Horatian Ode)
©October 8th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
*Could I hold you aloft in the twilight of love
And trace out your routes with attention, to look
For where softly would land all my dreams, like the dove
From the Ark that found trees like it did in the Book,
I would do so, my Fate, my brooding playmate.
I would look for the paths that you’d lay out for me.
I would take a new route, one that does not exist.
I would fight your pale smile, all your lures, and your bait.
I would build my own boat and I’d put out to sea,
And when I arrive, it’s by you I’ll be kissed.
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This was the assignment (which I’ve condensed into the following three sentences):
Write an Ode.
Use metaphors.
Make it about a map of some sort.
Again, this is the FIRST time I’ve written an Ode, and not just that, but a Horatian Ode (about which I’d known nothing, really). I looked it up, and found that the rhyme scheme went thus: ab, ab, cde, cde. I know nothing of the syllable count of Horatian Odes. I chose my own weird 11-12 syllable count, taking care to make sure the meter sort of stayed the same.
Note: In the first stanza, I’m using “could” as in, “If I could do …. then I would.” (I’m using the subjunctive mood.)
I hope you enjoyed this attempt.
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Tags: #Fate, #Irony, #Writing 201, Horatian Ode Rhyme Scheme, Map of Fate, Ode
Oct 8, 2015 Friday Fictioneers
Genre: A Swiftian Tale
Word Count: 100 words of text, exactly
The Tiny Carnival and The Captive
©October 8th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
Emerging from the tunnel, sore from being squeezed by its crushing metal, Aliya stood, brushed off her dress, smoothed her hair, and stared.
A tiny carnival exploded in color. Minute people whirled through the air, and little shrieks of delight swirled around them. A miniscule booth announced “Tickets” in pink icing. A blue-and-yellow fence protected the grinding metal machine that whirled the people in their airborne seats.
Aliya screamed. Everything froze. People turned, and stared at her.
“I’m sorry,” she squeaked.
Not answering, they just advanced.
The ticket-collector rubbed her hands gleefully that night. Another for my carnival, she cackled.
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Thanks, always, to our beloved Fairy Blog-Mother and Muse, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, for hosting Friday Fictioneers, our weekly favorite writing soirees, and thanks to Ted Strutz for his inspiring photo-prompt!
Tags: a new fairy tale, captive, carnival, Jonathan Swift, Lilliputian, Transformations
Oct 8, 2015 Writing 201
The Cantabrigian
©October 8th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
There once was an old man from Cambridge
Who played fast and loose with his language
He messed up his words
Made them oh, so absurd
A knuckle* he got as a sangwich.
*(I learned about the deliciously painful and evil “knuckle-sandwich” when I came to these fair United States of America — I’d never heard of them before — what a charming term for a punch in the mouth!)
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The Non-Whiner From China
©October 8th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
There was a young lady from China
Who made herself laugh like a hyena
When questioned, she cried
That her parrot had died
And she hated to be a big whiner.
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The Politician
©October 8th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
There once was a speaker who rose up
To speak at a rally with nose up
He gave them a sneer and
They booed him to tears, now
He lies in his bed with his toes up.
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The Atheist and the Preacher (A Two-Parter!)
©October 8th, 2015
By Vijaya Sundaram
If you think you’re so great, said a man
To the preacher unveiling his plan to
Convert the whole world
Every boy, every girl,
Then, what is the faith you began?
My faith is the faith of the true, he said
I’ll thank you for making me rue, with dread,
The day I met you was a
Day I was blue
Now may the good Lord smite you dead, he said.
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Tags: #Limericks, #Writing 201, knuckle sandwiches, the atheist and the preacher, The Cantabrigian, the non-whiner from China, the politician