Monday February 1st, 2016

The exercise:

Write about: the marauders.

We did it people. We survived January for another year.

Now we just have to get through February...

Returned to soccer class with Max this afternoon. He actually did a couple things without having me right there with him. Progress!

Mine:

With swords in hand
And missing teeth,
They're fierce, they're mean,
They bloody reek.

They come in waves
With endless rage,
In great need of
A living wage.

Lasses ignored
If treasure's there;
Though the girls should
Not linger there...

Gold coins are nice,
But very cold;
And such foul men
Don't marry old.

Though, truth be told,
These pirate kings
Don't tie the knot
With pretty things.

For life is short
And pleasure brief,
When you work as
A dirty thief.

3 Comments:

morganna said...

In from the high
North, sweeping through the
Villages, raping and pillaging not
Asking only the people worship the new
Deity, a
Simple request with
Indelible consequences if
Once
Not followed.

Greg said...

One month down, only eleven more to go! Malta continues to confuse my body's idea of the seasons: it's typically 14-16C here during the daytime and gets down to maybe 5-8 at night so my body thinks it's May, not February. I'm not exactly complaining, since I was sat outside at lunchtime today in a thin shirt eating a chicken and egg salad, but it is a little confusing.
It sounds like Max is starting to take to soccer class then! Maybe you can get him to teach Natalie what he's learned and see if that boosts his enthusiasm even more?
I like your poem today, and I like how you sustain the theme rather well over the verses. The rhyme scheme works and doesn't tire, and the last stanza is excellent. The third stanza though strikes me as rather weak; the first line is a little too short and I think you could maybe reword a little to bring it up to the standard you've set throughout the rest of the poem :)

Marauders
Maude's Marauders wore pink jerseys and had sequins sewn to the hems of their shorts, but they were the most feared soccer team in the Wattling Second Division. Every single player was over 1m80 tall and had muscles on their muscles. When their midfielders jumped in the air for headers the opposing players cringed or got concussed. When their strikers raced down the field, their boots throwing up clods of mud behind them and their weight leaving actual imprints of their feet in the ground, the defenders fled and hid behind the goalkeeper, who frequently wet himself. And on the rare occasions when the other side managed to dodge past the midfielders and approach the Marauders's goal, their goalkeeper would stand there, his arms crossed and his gaze steely until they meekly stopped running and picked the ball up to hand to him themselves.
And then in February, mid-season, a new team joined the league.
Ruby's Rangers were midgets, but packed as much animosity into their tiny frames as the Marauders had filling out their oversized ones. The teams in the second division learned to stare at their feet, worried that if they didn't their legs would be hacked off at the ankles. The referees kept overlooking the Rangers, and soon there were more scarred knees than could be easily counted on the (remaining) toes of six feet.
And then the Marauders met the Rangers to contest the top of the table.

Marc said...

Morganna - another fine acrostic from you. Makes me want to write some myself...

Greg - I'm glad you're not complaining, because that sounds downright lovely to me!

Thanks, and I agree with your assessment of my third stanza. Definitely could use some work.

Hah, those are quite the teams. I think I would like to hear about the results of their meeting!