Wednesday August 31st, 2011

The exercise:

Welcome to the final day of August, 2011. My, how time does fly.

Today we shall write about: the tribe.

Yet another big harvest for the restaurant this morning - we were pleasantly surprised to find that the blackberries had bounced back so enthusiastically. You just never know.


His tribe follows his lead,
Without question or hesitation;
His commands never meet
With demands for an explanation.

He keeps them safe and fed,
Their laughs bring him such jubilation;
Two daughters and a son,
They've brought him such inspiration.


Greg said...

Your blackberries sound fantastic if they're still doing this well! I hope the restaurant are putting them to good use.
You've got some really good rhymes in the poem today, and I like the way you almost get the rhymes in the first and third lines across the two verses (granted, lead and fed are only half-rhymes, but it's still quite impressive).
I'm not sure any of my characters would be quite so compliant as to never demand explanations, but then most of my characters are at least half-feral!

The tribe
The Blonde and I were sat in the restaurant, still waiting for the main course. It had been forty-five minutes, and while I was getting impatient, the Blonde was fuming and had started talking outright revolution and rebellion. I realised that she was reaching boiling point when she started eyeing up the vase, sat on the table holding some wilting dandelions, for use in a Molotov cocktail.
"Put it down," I said, as sternly as I dared, reaching out to the take the vase off her. She discarded the dandelions over her shoulder and onto a plate of pasta a passing water was carrying. "I'm sure our food will be here shortly."
"How long does it take to cook tripe?" she demanded, her eyes flashing and reminding me of C├ęsar Borgia. I found it rather arousing.
"Not this long," I admitted. "I am rather wondering if they've fetched a fresh cow and are butchering it for the tripe while we wait."
"You don't even like tripe, why couldn't we have had the roast guinea pig instead?"
"I can't review the restaurant without trying the chef's signature dish."
I know she would have continued to argue further, but just then the doors to the kitchen burst open and a troupe of waiters came out, each carrying two platters with something small and roasted on it. As they began setting them down on our table, and bringing up small serving tables to hold more of the trays, I stopped the head waiter and asked what he was bringing us.
"The tribe, Sir," she said.

Denin said...

An army of steel,
and war crys to shatter egos.
When they march into battle,
their power is enveloping.

Away from the battlefield,
the tribe is a troupe of pranksters,
guffawing days away
and jokingly insulting each other
with sarcastic implications.

Family is the tribe.
Not love by blood,
but bonded by a mutual goodwill
and the desire to make music.

High school band.

Marc said...

Greg - yeah, those blackberries are a real treat. And I think your observation about your characters is quite accurate :D

I think I'd rather have the tripe, thank you very much.

Denin - a great take on the prompt; I found it interesting that both of you made use of the word 'troupe' in your responses.

Anyway, I particularly liked your concluding stanza. Good stuff.

Ruby said...

We stick together through thick and thin
We would save each other if it meant death
We hurt together
We are a family we are...
The Tribe