Poetry collection

[corncobman]

Pg 68

Using Fish Spoiled, Arsenic, Sunflower Oil

For armed services,
It's the cat academia.
They have campuses,
In Iceland and Scandinavia.

Trained in detection
Of the troll presence,
Using feline olfaction,
The whiff of their essence.

Using decoys that smell
And sound similar is the trick.
Sunflower oil combined well
With rotting fish and arsenic.

[Nellie McEnt]

Sonnet for Treats
Adventure II, Page 69

I came to this Academy to learn
To be a Grade A military cat.
I hoped respect and honor I would earn,
A creature for all folks to marvel at!

But all those fine ambitions fell away
The moment that I met my heart's delight!
Oh treats, so sweet, you bring the brightest day
Whenever you are brought into my sight!

My darling, my desire in hard times
When trolls cannot be found, when I am frail,
The knowledge that someday you will be mine
Doth keep me sane despite how much I ail.

Alas, my love, they sunder me from you!
They're bringing me to rehab--what to do?

[corncobman]

Pg 69

Be Clever And Find Or Retire Dumb And Blind

Taught to identify,
Cat graduate students,
The humans ranking high
And report threat impendence.

If no humans are proximal,
They report to outposts.
To find hypogean trolls
Is a requirement foremost.

To give ample praise and treats,
Ensures enthusiasm and morale.
Some regardless of pedigrees,
Will fail detecting trolls actual.

These cats cannot be graded,
They'll have to live in safe areas.
They give no tangible aid in
Those situations precarious.

Those lacking in skills required
That such danger they miss,
Will be put out and retired,
To live in ignorant bliss.

[Nellie McEnt]

Sonnet for the City
Adventure II, Page 70

The buildings slant up high in orange light,
And soft, a buzz of chatter fills the air.
Lock up, lock up your heartache, hold it tight--
Don't show your fear to those who do not care.

The trees and flowers bud along the road,
And bursts of laughter bloom like flowers bright.
Hide deep, hide deep your worry, keep it stowed--
Don't let your terror enter in their sight.

The cats sit licking unconcernèd paws
And purring at the warmth of sun and stone.
Tie down, tie down distrust, and follow laws
Composed by those who never felt alone.

Just look around and listen, unperceived,
At all the things that you will have to leave.

~~~

Ooooookay, Nellie, that's...cheerful.
Seriously, where did that come from?? Well, sorry, I hope I didn't depress anyone. <i>Do not follow any of the "instructions" given in this poem.</i>

[corncobman]

Pg 70

Covert, Clandestine, Furtive, Feline

With rifle underslung,
In hand, bag of duffel.
The scout of held tongue
Surreptitiously shuffles.

Cats line the alleys,
Grooming, watching in shade.
Back in town from the valleys,
The mage can't be delayed.

This trip he undertakes,
No matter how fruitless or bleak.
To his land with the lakes,
Will he find what he seeks?

[Nellie McEnt]

This is not my work, this (amazing!) poem was written by Snoots Dwagon in the Disqus comments!
Adventure II,Page 70

Throughout the lively city
Lalli walks alone.
His goals not yet established
And no concept of home.

He's unaware, yet quite aware.
He wanders his own way.
Stay no one place for very long
And leave without delay.

For scouting is his wizened trade
And scouting's what he'll do
To seek the path not common
And stick to what is true.

He cares not for the standard life
Or roof above his head
A hollowed trunk will be his home
And softened leaves his bed.

He knows the places safe to walk
And where he should not go.
If others would but listen
Then they themselves would know.

Avoid the empty buildings
That are but dark within.
Can you not hear the voices?
The whispered, quiet din.

He seeks out that which is not found
And if indeed he finds
It matters not, to Lalli

He's of a different mind.

Because as he has come to know
The books do not bring rest.
The path one walks becomes the goal;
The journey is the quest.

-- a dwagon pome

[Nellie McEnt]

Sonnet for Was Nice Know
Adventure II, Page 71

So many words surround me all the time,
In languages I cannot comprehend.
And even in the tongue which I call mine,
I sometimes fail to see or apprehend.

So many things I want to tell you here,
Before I leave you, never to return.
I wanted to remain with you, but fear
For others I hold dear, for whom I yearn,

Brings pen to paper; word by stilted word,
I write a note to let you know I've left.
My sentences are shaky, spelling blurred--
Of eloquence I'm certain I'm bereft.

I cannot say half that I wish to show,
And all my cares are written "was nice know."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sonnet for Butter Good
Adventure II, Page 71

Be well, my Emil, may you feel no pain;
A certainty it is you've had your share,
So let the sunsets and the summer rain
Be comforts--let them wash away despair.

Be well, my friend, and may you now be free
From all the darks and dangers of this place.
A fate still twisted lies in wait for me,
But hope yet lives within your eyes and face.

Be well, defender, may you live a life
Unburdened by the trial of the flame;
May you encounter neither fear nor strife,
And send your worries back from whence they came.

I cannot say these things, although I should;
The most I can express is "butter good."

~~~~~~~~~~
Hmm, yes, so I wanted to write more sonnets because I'm a sonnet freak, and I realized that I really hadn't written about the most significant thing on this page, so I did. And it basically ended up being almost the exact same premise as my first sonnet for this page, but I hope that's okay.

[Nellie McEnt]

Sonnet for Knowing
Adventure II, Page 72

They seem to think their secrets safe with me,
As though I am some tomb of knowledge kept
Unbidden and unasked for; none will see
The things divulged about the ones who crept

Away at night and to some foreign shore;
They told me things and gave the others lies
And thought I'd never ask or wonder more
About the friends I've made as off they fly.

But all the secrets swarm inside my head;
And anyway, they should have understood
That I am not a vault, won't leave unsaid
The things that, spoken, would do others good.

So trust me not, if danger's what you seek,
A rock I'm not; I know my time to speak.

[Snoots Dwagon]

I wish this forum had a LIKE button.   : )

[corncobman]

Pg 71

Letter Not Understood, "Was Nice Know. Butter Good."

Lalli wrote some kind of note,
It's Swedish but broken, kinda.
What is the Finn trying to emote?
Need a translation, mind you.

"Hello, here paper" it starts,
It's not a good beginning.
The meaning to parse,
The readers' head spinning.

"Movement home, is important doing."
The middle is hardly better.
Is there any danger of construing?
They can all be lost together.

It continues: "Was nice know."
The Finnish man not using his words.
Gone fishing, as the saying goes,
For any semblence of tenses in verbs.

The jist of this letter
The reader can hardly tell.
What's it then say? "Butter,
Good." Lalli what in the hell?

[corncobman]

Pg 72

Lalli's Gone, Thereupon

Does Reynir know what
The letter's all about?
He has some idea, so
Why doesn't he let it out?

Meanwhile the Finn
Navigates Icelandic roads.
Trying to find bearings
Amongst shops and abodes.

Looking this way and that,
A route home to find.
The wayward scout cat
Seeking landmarks and signs.

Through the streets ghosted,
For a homeward connection.
He seizes upon one signpost,
With a ship in that direction.

--------------------------

Good Butter (based on High Water by Rush)

When the butter rose in the pastries
In the making of Danish buns
It flowed in sweet and savoury
You cannot just have one

Now something, it concerns us
Back in Finland's dark biome
Have to find my relation
Was nice know, need to travel home
Here paper, say my emotions
Was nice know, movement home

Spending all the day in the mountains
Weird beasts that I observed, immersed
Now the cat is homeward bounding
Something important doing first

Nothing to do but smuggle
Back to Finnish islands
Was nice know, need travel home
I hear the wordless voices
Was nice to know, movement home

Making back by the horses
Currently racking my brain
Writing down upon this letter be
Swedish words to try explain

I've already left in motion
It's goodbye, the man of combs
Going back to my home nation
The butter good, going home
Only a matter of direction
The butter good, to home

[Snoots Dwagon]

I've just been introduced to this forum and it amazes me how many good poets we have here!   

Really wish this forum had a "LIKE" button because here are so many I'd like to give a thumbs up.

One question:  Is it limited to SSSS potetry, or do other poems qualify?   It would make sense to be SSSS, but just wondering.  : )

Cos dwagons... haz lots of pomes about cookies...

[Róisín]

Hi, Snoots! One possibility might be the Forum scriptorium, which is on the general discussion board. I have put up a few of my poems there, and nobody has shot at me yet! That board is for general non-SSSS related stuff. So might be worth a try. Dunno if the General board has a poetry thread - might be worth starting one if they don't? Good luck!

[Snoots Dwagon]

Thanks Róisín.  I always looks forward to your comments in main SSSS novel area.  Is always fun. : )

In the past I would have been eager to start a "general poetry" area (and have).   But over the years have learned it's more fun to let someone else start it and take all the responsibility.     mwahahahahahaa...

[Nellie McEnt]

Sonnet for Finland
Adventure II, Page 73

I'm loath indeed now to return back home
And painfully aware of what I leave;
But time's wound up, and no more can I roam--
No matter where I go, some part will grieve.

So back to Finland and its wooded groves
Where danger lies in wait by every tree,
Where dusklings swarm in multitudes and droves--
But that's the place that shapes my memories.

The path's unclear, it doubles and it loops,
By Bornholm or by Sweden, names I catch
As garbled words I know not chase swift hoops
About me, leaving me far overmatched.

But let me travel back by road or sea
To place of memory or misery.