Tag Archives: garrosh’s poetry challenge
The Last Stands of Sylvanas
So, a little late, I know, but here it is, this week’s second (belated Thursday) installment of EPIC VERSE in Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge! Featuring the return of everyone’s favorite Argent Gossip Girl, Argent Confessor Paletress. As always, comment away with suggestions and idea for next week’s MASTERPIECES.
Hi again,
Garrosh, friend.
Hope you’re doing fine.
What brings you
Here anew?
I see that you brought wine.
Hold on, now.
I know how
You made me talk last time.
I’m still mad
At how bad
I spilled my guts (in rhyme!).
I refuse!
’Twas with booze
You got me to tell.
Whatcha got?
Jello shots?
Oh, well, what the hell.
* * * * *
The Dark Lady passed through here,
In the Lich King’s final year.
Sought advice
Once or twice
From – guess who – truly yours.
From our talks we grew aware
Of just how much, in fact, we share,
Like our urge
To purge the Scourge.
(And sometimes dress like whores.)
Still her memories recur
Of life as Ranger Windrunner,
When the doom
Of Silvermoon
Left all appearing lost.
Last defender, there she stood;
Fight with her last breath she would.
Pain was fine:
Buy them time
She would at any cost.
There she took her final breath;
They raised a banshee in undeath –
Could not kill
Her iron will:
As strong now as it had been.
Summoned up her fallen brothers,
Lordaeron’s lost souls, and others,
Bore their pain,
Broke their chains,
And hacked the Lich King’s admin.
Years have passed and foes have died,
Fruitlessly Sylvanas tried
To soothe chagrin
For zombie kin
From all the blows they’d taken.
Cursed and scorned and plagued with doubt –
Damn the world that shut them out!
In her care
Her children there
Would never be forsaken.
When at last the Lich King fell,
Banished to the blackest hell,
Off alone
To Frozne Throne
Sylvanas made her trek.
Arthas’ final demise
She would confirm with her own eyes;
And so higher
To the spire
She ventured up to check.
It was true; her foe was gone;
His broken corpse she spat upon,
But the hole
In her soul:
It felt an endless void.
For so long her single thought
Was bringing Menethil to naught;
Now the task
Was done at last
And she was unemployed.
All her past she dwelled upon,
Shining elvish future gone,
Time she slept:
Off she lept
And fell toward deadly spikes.
But before she fell to night,
Self-impaled on saronite,
Near would sing
Val’kyr wings
And stave off the last strike.
Val’kyr visions was she granted,
Of a future disenchanted:
Her adored
By the Horde
Were marshaled out as fodder.
Unprotected, now she’d seen,
Left without their Banshee Queen,
With a haste
Went to waste
Before worgen marauders.
Her Forsaken children, cherished:
She could not leave them to perish.
Made a deal,
And, surreal,
Returned to her unlife.
Bound now to the scheming Val’kyr,
Brought them to her home locale here,
To begin
To watch her kin
And guard them from the strife.
I remember when we spoke,
The elf who bent but never broke,
How she knew
What she’d do
Would carry heavy cost.
For her people to stay whole,
Someone had to pay their soul:
No defers;
’Twould be hers –
It was already lost.
All her elvish life she’d said
She’d fight to wipe out the undead;
Tables turned:
Living spurned:
Now she would forswear it.
No more kindred’s anguished cries;
Not one more, on her watch, dies.
Tortured, pained,
Conscience stained:
For them, she will bear it.
* * * * *
Hey, hold on!
Liquor’s gone?
Then the story’s done!
Go restock;
That would rock.
And then we’ll have more fun.
One last dose,
One last toast
To Sylvanas’ sorrow.
Not undead,
But man, my head:
I’ll pay for this tomorrow.
No, you wag,
No Jaina gag.
No more lurid defection.
(Although, she’d seen
The Banshee Queen
In the Halls of Reflection…)
EPIC VERSE!
Mini-extension?
Just a very quick note about the latest installment in Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge — for those of you who’ve been following religiously (AND THAT WOULD BE ALL OF YOU AMIRITE?), you know that I’ve committed to posting a new EPIC VERSE based on reader requests every Tuesday and Thursday in the month of April.
I’m just making this post to hedge my bets, because holy geez it’s been a hectic day, and I still have a ton that needs to get done tonight (something about a rash of sabotage to the demolishers up by the north gate, and some kind of snafu with the maintenance crew scheduling, and Eitrigg thinking Gallywix has gotten his green little paws into the demo parts requisitions and is skimming something off the top somehow, like WTF), so I may not have enough time to finish up my current MASTERPIECE to post tonight. If not, you can count on it being posted Friday, so rest assured you won’t be missing out on your second EPIC VERSE of the week! YOU CAN BREATHE EASY NOW, YOU CAN KNOCK OFF ALL THE WAILING AND GNASHING OF TEETH.
Orc Lemon Squares
Today’s entry for Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge! This one is inspired by a repeated suggestion from the last few days, involving my Greatmother’s famous (previously secret) recipe, and the meddling tree who publicized it and forced me to institute whole new culinary policies a while back. Remember to make suggestions for next time in your comments!
Edenvale –
She’s a tree.
Edenvale –
Don’t you see?
Edenvale’s a tree,
I see.
Edenvale,
She had a scare –
She saw Garrosh
Over there.
“Oh no! Garrosh!”
Cried the tree.
“Please don’t kill me!
Let me be!
I’m your friend!
Yes! I swear!
Please don’t kill me,
Garrosh-There!”
“Don’t you fret
Your sappy head!
I won’t kill you,”
Garrosh said.
“No? You won’t?”
“Oh no,” he said.
“Or you already
Would be dead!”
“Oh,” she said,
The silly tree.
“Then, what do you want
With me?”
He came closer,
Garrosh-There.
And he said,
“I’m here to share.”
“Here to share,
Garrosh-There?”
“Here to share,”
Said Garrosh-There.
“Are you okay?”
Asked the tree.
“That doesn’t sound like you,”
Said she.
“Yeah, I know.
It kind of sucks.
But I figure,
What the fuck.
Greatmother says
I should share –
I should share
Her lemon squares.
So since Greatmother
Says to share,
I will try,”
Said Garrosh-There.
“So,” he said,
And gave a glare,
“Would you like
Some lemon squares?”
Edenvale looked nervous,
True.
She didn’t know
Quite what to do.
“Oh,” she said,
And held her nose.
“I really don’t want
To impose.”
“No, it’s fine,
They must be eaten.
Here, try one.
Or you’ll get beaten.”
“No, that’s okay,
None for me.”
“What’s the problem,
Stupid tree?”
“Well,” she said
To Garrosh-There.
“Well,” she said,
And looked quite scared.
“I do not like
Orc lemon squares.
I do not like them,
Garrosh-There.”
“Would you like them
Here or there?”
“I would not like them
Here or there.
I would not like them
Anywhere.
I do not like
Orc lemon squares.
I do not like them,
Garrosh-There.”
“Would you like them
In your home?
Would you like them
With a gnome?”
“I would not like them
In my home.
I would not like them
With a gnome.
I do not like them
Here or there.
I do not like them
Anywhere.
I do not like
Orc lemon squares.
I do not like them,
Garrosh-There.”
“Would you eat them
On a boat?
With a Naaru
Or space-goat?”
“I would not eat them
On a boat.
I’d simply give them
To the goat.
I do not want them
In my home.
I will not try them
With a gnome.
I do not want them
Here or there.
I do not want them
Anywhere.
I just don’t like
Orc lemon squares.
I just don’t like them,
Garrosh-There!”
“Would you, could you,
Might, may, will,
Try them up
In Teldrassil?”
“I would not, could not eat them there!
In Teldrassil, or anywhere!
I do not want them on a boat.
I will not share with some space-goat.
I do not want them in my home.
I do not want them with a gnome.
I do not want them here or there,
I do not want them anywhere!
I do not like orc lemon squares!
I do not like them, Garrosh-There!”
“How about
A doggy bag?
Served by Utvoch
And Dontrag?”
“Enough already!”
Cried the tree.
“Garrosh-There,
You let me be!”
“Would you try them
On the moon?
With Cenarius
And Mylune?”
“No, I would not
On the moon!
Even if they brought
Elune!”
“Would you try them,
Just once, ever,
Up amid
The Twisted Nether?”
“No! No! Not in the Nether!
I do not want to try them, ever!
Not in a bag! Not on the moon!
Not with Dontrag or with Mylune!
Not on a boat! Not in my home!
Not with a goat! Not with a gnome!
I will not try them here or there!
I do not want them ANYWHERE!
I do not like orc lemon squares!
I just don’t like them, Garrosh-There!”
“You don’t like them.
So you say.
Try them! Try them
And you may.
Try them and you may,
I say.”
“Garrosh, dammit!
Fine, at last.
I’ll try them –
Just get off my ass.
Say…
I like orc lemon squares!
I do! I like them, Garrosh-There!
And I would eat them in my home!
And I would eat them with a gnome!
And I would have them on a boat,
And I would share with a space-goat!
I would eat them to my fill
All the way to Teldrassil!
I would take a doggy bag
(But spare me Utvoch and Dontrag)!
I would eat them on the moon,
With Cenarius and Mylune!
Yes, I will eat them here and there!
Oh, I would eat them anywhere!
I do so love
Orc lemon squares!
Thank you,
Thank you,
Garrosh-There.”
“See, I told you,”
Garrosh said.
“Plus you’re lucky
You’re not dead.”
“They’re so good!
So good, I say!
I might post them!
Yes I may!
I’ll post them on my blog,
I say!”
“Hold on a minute,
Silly tree.
That’s my Greatmother’s
Recipe.
Her recipe,
You silly tree.
We keep it
In the family!”
“But oh, they’re so good,
Garrosh-There!
They’re just too yummy
Not to share!
I’m sure your Greatmother
Won’t care!
I’ll spread her secret
Everywhere!
Now don’t get mad,
Garrosh! Relax!”
But he had gone
To get his axe.
EPIC VERSE!
Ode to Gorehowl
Yeah, I know I’m getting this one in a little late, but I had a busy day today. Endless glorious requisition forms with Eitrigg, which again begs the questions, with all my underlings why do I not have one whose job it is to handle the paperwork?
Anyway, here’s today’s entry for Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge. Fill up those comments with ideas and themes and little nuggets of goodness to inspire me again, and we’ll have our next EPIC VERSE next Tuesday.
When I cast eyes upon the glinting steel
Of Gorehowl, gravest axe that e’er was made,
My thoughts return to Grommash’s ordeal
When Mannoroth fell to my father’s blade.
The greatest battle that the blade had known,
In Ashenvale where Demons Fall to fate:
Where Grom exchanged for all our lives, his own,
And plunged Gorehowl though thick infernal plate.
I wonder now if it is worthy held:
Since Grommash fell, the axe has many slain,
But greatest since that time Gorehowl has felled,
In place of bane of blood, ’tis sire of Baine.
I marvel it, and we, have come so far;
Yet fear it best had stayed with Malchezaar.
EPIC VERSE!
Songs of Innocence and XP
My first product of Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge! I ended up deciding that this entry would work better as TWO poems working as a set, rather than one. I’ll be working on something new for Thursday, so be sure to give me suggestions in the comments to this post (and obviously feel free to leave actual COMMENT comments too). So, here we go…
The Dryad
Dryad girl, who made thee?
Do you know who made thee?
Who made thee such damaged goods,
Hugging bunnies in the woods?
Made thee DEHTA’s poster girl,
Snuggling puppies till I hurl?
Filled your head with flowers and fluff,
Blind to when enough’s enough;
Dryad girl, who made thee?
Do you know who made thee?
Dryad girl, I’ll tell thee;
Sister, let me tell thee,
Whosoever, ’twas a dick
Who beat you with that nutjob stick.
Took your love of creatures, heaven,
Dialed it right up to eleven;
Firing my exasperation.
With bosom-clasped concatenation.
Dryad girl, release me.
Shut up and release me.
The Dyad
Dontrag! Utvoch! Deadly dumb,
Endless yapping flapping gums:
What misguided hand or eye
Could frame thy dim stupidity?
By whose diagrams were cast
Your dingy minds, always half-assed?
In what furnace of the dull
Was forged the cogwheels in your skulls?
Whose confounded bright idea
To give you verbal diarrhea?
Strength of thought and length of verse:
That relation is inverse.
Edgewise word was never got,
And no clue have e’er you bought.
Faithful, true, and proud to serve;
But oh the cost: my final nerve.
Rock and hard place, woe the choice
Between yours and the dryad’s voice.
Dammit, I might go with hooves:
The dryad has, but you are boobs.
Dontrag! Utvoch! Deadly dumb!
Headaches rise like pounding drums.
What misguided hand or eye
Would hire thy dim stupidity?
EPIC VERSE!
Updatus interruptus
Everyone remember to keep your comments coming for Garrosh’s Poetry Challenge! In the meantime, though, I still need to finish telling you what all went on while I was up in Hyjal, because–
Hold on.
<looks around>
What.
THE FUCK.
Is THIS?
…
Um, stand by. I need to go track down Spazzle and…ask a few questions. I’ll post more later. I think.
Happy April 1, everyone!
~_^
[Edit: For those coming late to the party, the image below is what the Command Board looked like the day this post went live.]
Speaking of EPIC VERSE
So it’s just been brought to my attention that April, in addition to being the cruelest month, is also National Poetry Month. And I realized that it just wouldn’t be right for me to let the month pass without commemorating it somehow, so brace yourself for the big news – AND a call for help from my loyal readers and minions to help make it happen.
So here’s the deal. In honor of National Poetry Month, for the entire month of April, EVERY TUESDAY AND THURSDAY I will post on the blog a brand new original EPIC VERSE! No promises as far as form or length – it might be something long and truly epic, it might be a quick limerick, it might be something in between. But every Tuesday and Thursday in the month of April, I’ll be writing something.
Hold on, though, there’s a catch, because I’m going to need you guys to help make this work. YOUR challenge is to help keep me inspired. What do you mean, Garrosh? EXCELLENT QUESTION, GLAD YOU ASKED. Basically, every poem I post for April will be inspired in some way by YOUR comments here on the blog. Each time I put a poem up, I’ll be inviting all of you to make suggestions for the NEXT poem in your comments – it could be a topic, a theme, a character, a turn of phrase you’d like to see incorporated, something else entirely…ANYTHING you can come up with to get the ol’ poetic gears turning. I’ll pick one of the suggestions from your comments to use as the basis for the next poem. Or…I’ll pick AT LEAST one, because who knows, maybe I’ll get ambitious and try to combine a few of them.
So for the first poem, which I’ll write for this coming Tuesday, I’m going to open up the comments on THIS post for suggestions. Again…you’ve got lots of latitude as far as giving me topics, themes, etc. Get commenting and impress me!
Just to clarify and iterate (NOT “reiterate,” by the way, because “ITERATE” means repeat already, so “REiterate” actually means rerepeat, which is totally a pet peeve of mine because I hate it when people are reredundant), here’s how the process is going to work:
- You comment on this post with suggestions for poem #1.
- I write poem #1, based on one (or more) of the comments on this post.
- You comment on poem #1 with suggestions for poem #2.
- I write poem #2, based on one (or more) of the comments on poem #1.
- You comment on poem #2 with suggestions for poem #3.
- Rinse, repeat, and pray you beat the enrage timer.
So…I’m putting the pressure on myself here, AND putting the pressure on you guys! If I get this going and only get like one half-assed suggestion, well, don’t blame me if I don’t crank out a masterpiece. You know the old saying about making chicken salad out of chicken…something-or-other…or whatever it is because apparently I don’t actually know that old saying. BUT YOU GET MY POINT.
