[Bards] Gothic and a new poem

[Peter Holland]

As a former fighter, marshal, and water bearer I say VIVATE!
Keep up the good work, Svipdagr

On 9/5/07, Quill <gray.quill at gmail.com> wrote:
>
> HL Mea Passavanti passed on the burden of being champion Bard of Bonwicke
> at Gothic this weekend. Her requirement of me in the competition for this
> Title was that one of my pieces be an original product, set forth in the
> following format:
>
> "Two stanzas of ten lines each, in iambic pentameter, the poem ending in a
> limerick; a total of 24 lines."
> Though self-described "evil" in her challenge, she did give me the hint
> that I should "think sonnet", and told me I had about five hours in which to
> complete this. (Please note that I tend towards the more Petrarchan than
> Shakespearian style anyway.)
>
> After the initial panic attack during which time I did an impressive
> impression of a headless chicken and went squawking around frantically
> querying "Help!! What's iambic pentameter?!" without waiting for a reply, I
> did at last settle down and manage to compose something which not only
> fulfilled the requirements, but also came to be well appreciated (not to
> mention the ever amazing fact that I, the artist, actually liked what I had
> created by the end of it). I present to you the following:
>
> ---------\|/---------
> ODE TO WATERBEARERS
>
> For days when sunshine beats down on your face
> and all your tries at hiding are in vain
> your camp, you see, is not a shady place
> and prayers are met with reddened skin in pain.
> Your lips are dry and chapped and cracked and sore.
> Your throat is parched in need of something wet.
> What fool thought summer good for Gothic War?
> You'd beat him, but you're dehydrated yet.
> But who is this approaching now with jugs?**
> An angel bringing water, snacks in tubs!
>
> It is a water-bearer! By God's Grace.
> And in her arms is drink, your thirst to wane.
> You hated pickles; now you love their taste;
> ambrosia tepid water puts to shame.
> It matters not to them if you are poor,
> or if their work with money can't be met.
> In thanks and health these people place much store.
> Good gentles now methinks our task is set:
> To keep them happy is our solemn call.
> We need our water-bearers, one and all!
>
> The bearers of water be praised
> while they are at work not at laze
> For without them we'd die (though for sooth you may try),
> as for me, all their names I will raise!
> ---------/|\---------
>
> I made a Viking woman cry with this one. I don't know whether to be proud
> or ashamed of myself...
>
>
> In service to The Dream,
> Cuillioc "Quill"  /|\
> Titled Bard of the Barony of Bonwicke and Mendershamshire
>
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