This is a poem I wrote in response to a 'contest' on the forums of a text-based RP game I enjoy playing.
Basically, the challenge was to write a short story or poem that had to contain three words chosen first by the one who put forth the challenge, and then each round's words after are determined by who 'won' the previous round. I currently don't remember what the third word was, but the other two were 'fish' and 'fly.
I'd greatly appreciate commentary and constructive criticism on my work, and also think that it would be interesting and fun to revive the game that brought forth this poem if others here are interested.
Anyway, enough rambling! Here it is.
Fish don't fly.
'Pon one summer's eve,
'ere of which curiosity struck,
I strode 'pon t'path to the valley low,
Where lake of crystal blue nestled,
Within the valley's dipping bowl.
Sat upon the water's edge,
Eyes rose and scanned,
T'rippling surface of water,
Unbroken and pristine.
Attendant 'pon what had drawn me,
Patiently I sat,
Waiting for that moment,
'Pon which errant thoughts would be sated.
A hand drifted,
In idle movement o'er water's surface,
Breaking and creating anew,
Rippling patterns 'pon the water's surface.
And still I sat,
As evening waned to night,
Sun chased off by Lady Moon,
To herald the twilight.
Finally I saw it,
T'event for which i'd come,
Crystal blue erupted,
Scaled bodies jump'd high.
As fish strove and struggled,
To reach high up in the sky,
Came swooping a seagull,
For such an easy gulp.
'Pon witnessing this end,
My mind concluded thus,
That while they may desire it,
This is why, fish don't fly.
