Featured by Vigilo
There's a lot of poetry out there, and I've always considered one of the hardest genres of poetry to be humour poetry. I have not a funny bone in my body (apart from that one). Good humour poetry dazzles me. I first read the works of HaveTales-WillTell that dealt with humour and pure fun. It was only later that I discovered that he not only delivers on the hilarious poetry and prose, but also on the carefully considered and written poetry, and the thoughtful, engaging prose. His works are diverse and always original and creative; whether they be pithy poems that'll have you in stitches, or completely geeky super fun, or utterly heartfelt nonfiction - (and a plethora of genres that I haven't even touched upon yet) - HaveTales-WillTell's writing contains many surprises, and is always something to savour and enjoy.
Trouser, SnakeA natty pair of trousers came upon
A gracile set of stockings, quite by chance.
"Milady, say the word and I'll begone,
But firstly I must ask if thou wouldst dance."
"Of course, milord; but only if romance
And not a one-time fling dost thou propose."
"Thou hast my promise," acquiesced the pants,
Even as he sidled toward the hose.
In a manner unbefitting gallant clothes
He sought to lay himself upon her silk;
"Stop, cad!" she cried, "So thou'rt one of those!
My mother said to watch out for thy ilk."
Much wiser heads have voiced it best and first:
Those Worsted wools have always been the worst.
"'Stop, cad!' she cried, 'So thou'rt one of those!
My mother said to watch out for thy ilk.'"
This is one of my favourite poems of his, and it perfectly explains the charm in almost every poem by him - not only is the poem hilarious, but the amount of thought put into the piece is staggering. As a fixed form, complete with rhyme and archaic dialogue, the poem succeeded completely in bowling me over with its success - not to mention the double entendres!
TributeGail was born on the first of August 1942, the elder of two. She grew up in New York City, marrying by age 22 and producing three children of her own.
She'd tried her first cigarette when she was eleven. That shouldn't surprise you; in those days there wasn't a Surgeon General's warning or for that matter, any other public service messages.
While she enjoyed motherhood well enough, Gail also had a restless spirit; she was happiest when she was working, helping others, or driving her car. Accordingly, just before her 53rd birthday (and with her children grown and flown) she lost forty pounds and fulfilled a lifelong dream: qualifying as first an ambulance driver, then an EMT, for the local fire department.
She threw herself into her responsibilities with newfound purpose, losing even more weight and finally finding the strength to quit smoking. One young woman credited Gail with saving her life when she'd had a seizure at work. And she once made the local papers as one of several
"While she enjoyed motherhood well enough, Gail also had a restless spirit; she was happiest when she was working, helping others, or driving her car."
Sometimes it's easy to forget the power of open honesty. Works such as this are not only beautiful because of their expressive nature, but because of what's expressed through them, and how that emotion resounds with every reader in some way, no matter their background.
The Cello's LamentThey call me brute.
I'm permitted to chant,
but they won't let me Sing.
They've confused non-agility for
my belly enfolds the earth;
my throat trills at the stars;
my eyes embrace the cays
of the sea.
I am an omnivore,
yet they will only feed me leaves.
The Cello's Lament
"my belly enfolds the earth;
my throat trills at the stars;
my eyes embrace the cays
of the sea."
I mentioned the diversity of the work of HaveTales-WillTell, and this is a lovely example - being a free verse poem involving a musical instrument and the personification thereof. Not only is the wording beautiful, with all the references implicit behind the phrasings, but the deftly done and precise nature of the narrator behind the poem is lovely to consider, making the poem a truly musical and worthwhile read of the nature of the violoncello.
Actinium DreamsY'all have any idea how downright frustrating it is to be the granddaughter of one of the most powerful and celebrated superheroes ever Ulysses Randall Martin, the iconic Mr. Uranium and yet have no special talent of your own?
I mean, it's not like I don't have my own elemental superpower: like almost all of Grandpa's progeny, I do. But how much good is the ability to produce hard-hitting Alpha and destructive Beta rays if you can barely control it and never quite turn it off? At least I'm not as bad off as my son Frankie; I love him to death, but when left alone the poor boy is totally unstable and downright dangerous: the worst possible mix of autism, Alpha rays and ADHD.
And I do at least have my own nemesis, of sorts: the cadre of good ol' boys who call themselves DOTA, whose main ability seems to be workin' together to nullify and trap super-powered elementals. But t'be honest, they don't seem to have anything against me personally; I think they just have a ge
"I'm on call at the local hospital; sometimes they need a li'l help figuring out what's wrong with a particular patient's liver, and I seem to have somethin' of a special knack for that. Me and my best girlfriend Beryl have also sent out a joint résumé to Huntsville, in hopes that our abilities can somehow be put t'use powering the next generation of unmanned spacecraft."
This is a really fantastic vignette, that everyone who knows about the Periodic Table will enjoy, ranging from a degree of extreme amusement to a mild, satisfying simmer of mirth, depending on your level of nerdiness. This is pure humour and scientific tomfoolery fun, with pitch-perfect voice and an absolutely dynamic, lively character.
on Flutterine by WaKip
"Now, considering that you explicitly defined in the description that "flutterine" means "a curious, dreamy kind of person that never stops asking questions," then perhaps you want to stray a bit from the frilly, floaty, breezy imagery of words associated with "fluttering" and more towards images associated with being quizzical."
[Read more here]
on It's Not You by The-Rynn
"Words are words. Hemingway used little ones. Hawthorne used bigger ones. It's your choice."
[Read more here]
These are the facts: love poetry is easy to write, but hard to write well. Well-written love poetry is a pleasure for many to read. This concise and complete with example tutorial on what to consider when writing love poetry, along with a fantastic tip that everyone should think about: "the universal is possible through the specific." For anyone who wants to give love poetry a go - by all means do, but not before you look at this helpful and fantastic guide.
This is not a deviation, but a forum topic, and one that all prose writers (or even narrative poetry, or - well, don't let me confine you with boundaries) should bookmark, as it contains valuable answers to two difficult questions: What, to you, is a 'believable' character? and How do you go about making a character believable in your own stuff?. Well worth a read for the range of opinions and tips in it; this forum is a wealth of information for all those who want to construct characters in their writing to consider.