Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion

What was she to do
but, waiting, watch marked cards fall
in the dusk’s strange hue?

The muttering crew
loitered by the galley wall.
What was she to do?

A faint smell of stew
mixed with sea birds’ lonely call
in the dusk’s strange hue.

Now things were askew.
He had been brave, handsome, tall.
What was she to do!

Tears made her eyes blue.
They had hanged him in a stall.
What was she to do
in the dusk’s strange hue?

I may have invented it (sort of), but M, you have perfected it! That is brilliant! The change in sense of the refrain is astonishing!

Guy: [Turns in the direction of M, and bows deeply. He says nothing, for there was nothing he could say that wouldn't diminish the moment. And then he laughs at that thought.]

Thank you, Guy! I think your haiku villanelle is nothing less than brilliant and will be a trend setter.

Thank you, M! [Face blushes a little with feeling self-conscious at such praise.] We'll see if it will set a trend — a villanelle trend! LoL. What a funny thought.

Anyway, my inspiration came from two sources: 1) my wanting to play with the word 'villain' - to feminize it. And 2) from my having recently read Gareth Jones' blog about the villanelle form: The Villanelle is Tough.

Here’s something in, well, the only thing I can think to call it is haikuza rima:


The Witch sailed wild seas.
The rigging and canvas strained
in a lashing breeze.

As night fell, it rained.
The man with the mom tattoo,
sweat and whiskey stained,

a hole in his shoe,
watched as Maggie belched and laughed
and staggered and threw

an old harpoon shaft
at a beautiful barmaid,
who was bringing draft

to Callum McCaid.
The barmaid, struck in the flank,
screamed. Hurt and afraid,

dropping the tray, she sank,
stunned, bleeding, onto a chair.
Maggie swayed, flushed, rank

with rum, her glare
cruel with an arrogance few
have, and in tense air

spat curses anew,
till McCaid, seizing the haft,
beat her black and blue.

Guy, you should turn that into an actual form. And write down how you did it, because I'm too busy to figure it out XP

Kat, it’s a villanelle rendered in 5/7/5. An actual villanelle is in iambic pentameter.

Haikuza rima is yakuza mama! Loved this M!

Ellis, what a great soft contrast to M's blood fest. Stephanie, fun mythological cycle. Huge fun to read, everyone. Thank you.

Kat, as M commented, I 'haiku-jacked' the villanelle form. If you look it up, you will see that not only is the haiku 5/7/5 a variation off norm, but I went off form with the lines ending with 'villanelle' and 'bagatelle.' They were supposed to be identical from beginning to end. But it was fun to write. Now, all someone else here has to do is write a villanaiku and there would be a trend! LoL!

Thank you, Guy! And I have to agree with you. I like how Ellis's haikus contrast with M's.

Words flow from the sky
and the crew's eyes start to close.
Now they will I die.

Sleep overtakes them,
Eric falls from the crow's-nest,
and death comes sweeping.

Over the ship his
bloody cloak drags, leaving red,
muddy stains on deck.

The captain sways on
her feet and collapses like
her crew, whispering.

Her dying words reach
Death's ears but he comes from the
deepest, darkest, and

worst abyss in hell.
Cries of pain are music to
his ears. Hades bows.

Everything bows to
Death's tall, thin form. And as the
small crew sleeps he speaks.

Well, I found my self drawn to the villanaiku form again.


His words for the eye
flow with easy false answers
that satisfy why.

Her verbs won't stand by
as mute second rate dancers,
his words for the eye.

For what do you sigh?
Not these monstrous word cancers,
that satisfy why.

What's said at good bye
are the lost years' enhancers,
his words for the eye.

She cried 'I defy
you to escape the yes sirs
that satisfy why!'

Her thoughts were to die
never sought by his answers
his words for the eye
that satisfy why.

I don't even want to imagine how long that took you to write.

Ellis, thank you! I had planned to write a follow-up to your soothing #3475, but got I distracted by other things.

Stephanie and Guy, these are beautiful! Guy, #3481 is a skillfully controlled masterpiece.

Thanks, M. I know, Guy's is...I can't even find words to describe it.

Thank you Stephanie and M! I am so glad you like it. Masterpiece? LoL! If only, but I will allow myself to think that bits of it are good.

Stephanie, I'm not sure if you will like this or not, but it took about 30 minutes to get the structure, and then another 10 or 15 minutes of minor tweaking.

And as M said, yours is beautiful and is what inspired me in the content and even the form of this effort. So thank you for helping my muse to get inspired.

:-)

Thank you, Al! :-)

Wings of the sea birds,
wheeling and fleet, skim the waves
in the setting sun.

What muse’s nimble
metrical feet will dance till
the stanzas are done?

What style, the deft muse
that’s Stephanie’s, majestic
as the rolling seas!


Okay. I’ve worked the last stanza on that one over about five times.

Guy wrote: "Thank you Stephanie and M! I am so glad you like it. Masterpiece? LoL! If only, but I will allow myself to think that bits of it are good.

Stephanie, I'm not sure if you will like this or not, but..."

Wow, I figured it had taken a while to write that. I don't think I'd have the patience, that's dedication for you. And thank you; I'm glad I could be of service!

Haha, M. I love it. Your haikus roll in really gently together.

Sea birds in the sky
and otters on the beach, send
Death down beneath.

The crew is alive;
mead arrives from underneath.
"Merry the feet are."

They turn only to
see a green figure swatting
a black-yellow bee.

The crew is happy
and drinking the mead. Some are
starting to totter.

On the beach, among
the seaweed, one creature won’t
do what he otter.

The otter remarked
to the giant squid, “I think
they were cooking stew.

“I can’t guess, of course,
what some pirate did, but out
the porthole it flew!”

The crew grimaced at
those words and over deck and
railing Captain flew.

Eric held himself,
wanting to be strong for his
beloved Captain. But

there was nothing he
could do as out came her stew.
The rest followed suit.

In a wretched mood,
all who’d crewed cursed loud and lewd
the stewed clams they’d spewed.

The fish of the sea
gasped in shock and delight. No
longer to fear night.

"No one has ever
spit us out!" gasped one. "Now they
won't kill us," gasped two.

Framy, relaxing
on a sand bar, glanced over
at his partner Barge,

puffed slowly on a
seaweed cigar. “So much for
the fish-slaughter charge.”

Lol!

Thank you, Stephanie!

How the pirate ship
did reel when the sea monster
grabbed it by the keel,

tentacles creeping
through the rails, shaking the wind
right out of the sails!

The wind cried out in
alarm, cursing loud and clear.
The sea monster gasped.

Never had it heard
such cursing by something so
transparent and bland.

"How do you put up
with such a lewd companion?
I ate the last guy

who wouldn't shut his
jaws." A tear cascaded down
the monster's large head.

"He'd been my best friend."
A tentacle fell on board
as the monster sobbed.

Is it a he- or
she-monster, a to-be-or
not-to-be monster,

a soliloquy
monster, this green, pitiful,
sobbing sea monster?

"Must be a woman"
the wind moaned. "Men don't cry," it
scoffed and rolled its eyes.

The Four Seasons turned
their amps up high and sang “Big
Sea Monsters Don’t Cry.”

The sea monster screamed
and swiped a tentacle at
it, maiming its song.

The tentacle's song
stuck in her mind like her love
of false memories.

The wind swooned and smiled
with supreme pleasure. "My, how
handsome you are now."

Memories may be
horrible, and yet, what its
writhing tentacles

can’t dismember, a
slimy sea monster simply
choses to forget.

One sea monster's slime
may or may not be sublime
to the wet eared mime.

'What is mine is mime!'
cried the busker for his dime,
costing him mime time.

Superb!

Wow. I have no idea how you came up with that rhyme.

The otter groaned. “What
exegesis could make sense
of such mimesis?”

“Oh, who cares if it’s
just mimetic,” barked the seal.
It’s copacetic.”

Thank you M and Stephanie. Stephanie, I have no idea from where those silly rhymes come. No idea whatsoever.

And speaking of superb, M., that is excellent!

Thank you, Guy!

Stephanie has been setting a quick pace. There have been quite a few verses put up in the last few days.

:) Just the product of having free time.

Yes, the output has been both prodigious and intimidatingly good! I have been unable to keep up.

Why thank you. You two have done very well yourselves.

The fishes all swam
along side the boat eager
to see the big fight.

Words flashed back and forth.
And the sky lightened when the
wind began to win.

Thank you Al. And hello! I've missed you.

De feet smelt like fish
and had a hard time walking
him to smell her toes.

Unfit for the most
barbarous nose, all knew, were
Alice Felton’s toes.

Fatima's footie
fetish filled Felton's Fluevogs
with flaccid fervor.

The toe-nail travail,
titillating and tawdry,
taught temerity.