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Elegy of Elegance


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Elegy of Elegance

 

A man—more machine than man in

thought and deed—thunders

thorugh a town dressed in

the dour garb of death then

destruction. The songs

of the seven sisters of sin

echo an elegy of elegance.

 

War-weary weapons protect

the priests of piety as

sermons preached form the pulpit

dictate malign morality. A sure

sin places mourning mothers

prostrate before the Papacy mewling

echoes of an elegy of elegance.

 

A farmer in fallow fields

terrorizes the topsoil until it

flees to the sea. Flowing

through polluted streams it

increases in potency while

poisoning salmon school wailing

an echo of an elegy of elegance.

 

Poor peasants plow a life

of lewd luxury for the rich

who wail of woeful profits. Of late

power flows to the righteous right

who systematically enslave

samaritans and joyfully celebrate

the echoes of the elegy of elegance.

 

Initially I was just playing around with dark timeless political concepts. As the poem progressed I developed an intricate alliteration scheme to go with the poem.

 

I suppose if someone is really feeling froggy about trying it the rules would be as follows:

 

1) Each stanza should have seven lines

2) Each line should contain alliteration

3) Each line should contain cross allteration with either the line preceeding it or following it

4) At the end of the line there is a fixed alliteration scheme that is similar to a rhyme scheme of ABABCCD

5) The last line should be a summation line for the poem and should contain either heavy assonance or alliteration and preferrably both

 

I'm not even sure how I managed all that and kept it from sounding childish. It was just one of those things that happened. heehee

 

(note: edited to correct two typos)

Edited by Da_Yog
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Da Yog grunts at the empty Office quarters and slowly turns to the room's official Rolodex Clock. He grabs the clock in a troll grip and shakes it in the hopes of intimidating it into slowing time, then slams it back into position when he hears a window creaking open at the other end of the room. Though the clock becomes embedded on the Office counter, it never-the-less remains fully functional, sturdy gift that it is.

 

"Greeetingssss, Yog. Glad to see that you fit in the Office." Wyvern clammers in through the window, falling through headfirst and rolling on the floor before pouncing back up to his feet. The overgrown lizard brushes a few specks of paperwork from his scales, then turns to the familiar troll with a toothy grin. "Pleassse feel free to take a seat anywhere unbreakable, like on that heaping pile of discarded bills over there. I'll be with ya shortly."

 

With that, Wyvern darts over to his Recruitment Desk and snatches up Yog's application sheet, which is easy to identify since it's been written on a fullscale ad billboard in big block letters. Wyvern sets the board down on the floor and begins pacing over it to read it word by word, scribbling notes on a blank sheet from his Devil's Advocate folder with each line that he hops. Once the overgrown lizard has finished reading and has properly digested each of the extra-large stanzas, he folds and pockets his page of notes and turns towards Yog with a whimsical sigh.

 

“Ah, I love thessse sorts of happy stories about thriving capitalisssts exploiting peasant folks of their hard-earned labor. It almost brings a tear to my eye." Wyvern dabs his beady little eyes with a few crocodile tears courteousy of the Fake Tear Tissue, then clears his throat and lifts an edge of the billboard in Yog's direction. "Very niccce work here Yog. Kinda makes me wonder who ya plundered it off of."

 

Wyvern sets the billboard tip down, then twists his tail and reaches for a document in his tunic.

 

"And ssspeaking of plundering, I thought you might take look at this sign-up document." Wyvern sneers mischievously and passes the sheet to Yog in a nonchalant manner. "It detailssss a special Pen role that you might be qualified for: 'elegant preacher pet of the 'I <3 Wyvern Fan Club.' Clausesss include daily tasks, payment in increments of Yog-Worthy Troll Sugar Clubs, and guarantee of Initiate ssstatus once you've signed up. Jussst write your name on the dotted line, under the part about surrendering geld assets."

 

Da Yog frowns and lifts the tiny sheet, almost making dust out of it between his fingertips. He turns it sideways and upside down, sniffs at it, and then comes to a conclusion.

 

"Yog no like words."

 

"I sssee." Wyvern grins and pulls out another document, this one in a slightly larger picture book format. "Well, you'll be happy to know that I anticipated that reaction, so I made a ssspecial Yog-friendly contract to look at. Feassst your eyes on this."

 

Da Yog raises a brow and plucks the picture book from Wyvern's claws, examining the cover which depicts a happy troll sitting in a giant cage with a dog bowl filled with Yog-Worthy Troll Sugar Clubs. Yog frowns as he flips through the pages, intaking the pictures of the happy troll forcing people to bow down to a golden Wyvern idol and of the troll acting as a transportation vehicle for henchlings in major schemes. He snorts and breaths an angry gust of wind when he reaches the final picture, a black and white rendition of a troll sleeping on top of a large doghouse Snoopy style. It didn't take a dimwitted troll for one to notice the role reversal in relation to the positions in Angels of Apocolypse. Yog throws down the picture book with a huff and cracks his knuckles loudly.

 

"YOG NO WANT TO BE PET!"

 

"Eep." Wyvern meekly stamps Da Yog's application billboard ACCEPTED and shoves it in the troll's direction. "F-fine, ya don't have to sssign up. J-jussst so long as we can treat each other as equalsss, that alright?"

 

;-)

 

OOC: An ACCEPTED application poem, Yog. Welcome to the Mighty Pen! :-) Great to see that you've finally applied, I hope that you're enjoying the company of the Pen thus far and that you'll continue to be supplied with friendly faces and fun discussions here for years to come. I look forward to reading more of your works and to roleplaying more with Yog when the opportunity arises. Once again, welcome!

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"Yog want candy-clubs!"

 

A tall elf of diminutive stature only when next to the troll appears from the empty space behind Yog. "Pardon the big fella if you would Wyvern sir. What he really meant to say was, Thank you for your kind comments. I would be most appreciative of some your special holiday Yog-sized candy clubs."

 

Yog raised a single eyebrow before both his eyes narrowed into slits upon hearing the elf speak. The elf, for his part, anticipated what was to come and ducked one massive troll backhand.

 

"Yog not care what stoopid elfie say. Yog want candy!"

 

"Ummm, yes. Mr. Wyvern would you be so kind as to oblige the big fella before we all regret it? Pretty please ... With sugar on top."

Edited by Da_Yog
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