#1
II.
The sky was coral
and the sun was rippled;
I stood on the second
sidewalk square
from Doug's house.

We were on our way to the toy store
next door.

A flowerbud lay on the square in front of us.
We couldn't touch it.
It was hot lava, like Doug's mom's garden.
So we hopped over it
in cadence.
The fifty-four cents
in my pocket jingled.

We were roughly the same height
and wearing white. An outside
observer would maybe think us
pawns cut from the same marble.

IV.
There's a faded hopskotch court
at our feet
drawn in pink.
It must've been here for years.

I told the guys
I want to be a knight
named Sir Miniver.

I looked up at the sky
above our heads.
There was a cloud
that resembled
a Bengal tiger
and a young Asian
boy sitting peacefully
in a lifeboat.

“How impossible,” I said.
“I believe it's real,” Number Six replied.
“One can't believe impossible things.”

Then a green school bus,
radiating,
glowing, scaley,
swam by us
like an electric eel.

We walked forward.

V.
The eight of us stood in a row
before an orange and white striped fish.

Doug asked, “Who are you?”
The fish didn't open his mouth.
Instead he wrote in pink
on the blackboard sitting next to him:

I read and I rhyme.
Thus, I am a literaturist.


“You look like a fish to me.”

I am not a fish.

Six: “My mother is a fish.”

Your mother is a literaturist.

“But she has fins.”

He stopped writing.
I'm sure the blackboard didn't mind --
it had writing and scratches
and rhyming and scratches
all over it.

“Why do you scratch out so many things?” asked Six.

I am trying to construct the perfect poem.

“How do you write one?”

You rhyme, in lines.

“That sounds easy.”

It isn't.

“I could do it.”

The Literaturist drew a line
dividing the board
into halves.

Go ahead.

He wrote above Six's half:
“Poem by a Pawn.”

That's all you are, you know.

Six wrote:
there's a sea of literaturists
littering the street
one is blue like the ocean deep
and one is green just like sea weed
one is gold real royalty
one is black and frightening
two are red and four are pink
but they all look like fish to me

He was right,
there were.
The Literaturist didn't
write another word to us

“Was it good?”
asked Six.

No, it's hardly a poem.

“Why not?”
Silence.
“Why not!?”
Nothing.
“Why not!!?”
So we walked on.

“why not”

VI.
We saw a sprawled persona
at our feet
or at least a pink
chalk outline
of one.

Six laid down in it.
It fit him perfectly.

It reminded me of a puzzle piece
completing the city.

We heard a loud bang and scream.
I jumped
and my pockets rang like a bell.

It seemed like the city
was celebrating the discovery
of a psychic chalk artist.

Then Doug said
let's go
and we did.

VII.
They were all about our height
except they all wore black.

I'm not sure why we fought them
but they were too similar
to be so different.

I guess that's enough reason.

I went at one
at a fourty-five degree angle.
He flew
forty-two feet into the air
and got hit by a passing
Neon Ram
that Escorted him
into a brick wall
that sent a million
brick Cavaliers
hurtling at us.

Four of us died
and so did four of them,
counting the one I kicked.

Their blood stained the ground
in alternating colors.

We were angry.
Number three screamed,
"The horror! The horror!"

We realized then just how horrible
it'd be to continue this,
so we parted ways amicably.

Doug exclaimed as we moved forward,
“Hey! Now there's more money for the four of us!”
I thought
maybe I could afford a wooden horse
a sword
and some armor now.

VIII.
We stepped out from the toy store
onto the eighth sidewalk
square from Doug's house.

Doug bought a crown and a cape,
as did Three and Five.
“We're royalty!”

I got my wooden horse,
sword, and armor.

The coral sky began to turn to an off white
as the sun set, becoming
a skeleton of the land
rather than
a skeleton of the sea.

It's getting late.
I kick the side of my steed
and ride back towards
Doug's house.

I pass a grimey man
sitting by a cardboard box
with the word pawn written on it
in pink chalk.

I laugh.
He looks funny.
#2
It was good. Imo Not great, or your best, but good. the marble line was fantastic.

For me, it kind of needed slightly more cohesion, needed to be slightly more- tighter? I don't know, I just felt it jumped around a bit too much and I think it could just be streamlined a bit, weather that means taking bits out or jusyt making the transitions smoother, idk. But that's my only complaint. Good, not great

If you could leave a short comment on the one in my sig, it would be appreciated. Thanks Corey
Last edited by Jammydude44 at Feb 24, 2007,
#3
hm, wow, i think it was prety good, and pretty wierd. jammys right it did jump around alot, but didnt bother me as much. i like how u tied it into ur other writing, and jsut had it in the middle of this one.this is definitly the most original writing ive seen......
#4
whoa!!

Think Us Pawns

II.
The sky was coral
and the sun was rippled;
I stood on the second
sidewalk square
from Doug's house.

We were on our way to the toy store
next door.

A flowerbud lay on the square in front of us.
We couldn't touch it.
It was hot lava, like Doug's mom's garden.
So we hopped over it
in cadence.
The fifty-four cents
in my pocket jingled.

We were roughly the same height
and wearing white. An outside
observer would maybe think us
pawns cut from the same marble.
((this part is amazing!! great language but you retain that simple elegance. i dig it. one question though.. - why's it number II?))

IV.
There's a faded hopskotch court
at our feet
drawn in pink.
It must've been here for years.

I told the guys
I want to be a knight
named Sir Miniver.

I looked up at the sky
above our heads.
There was a cloud
that resembled
a Bengal tiger
and a young Asian
boy sitting peacefully
in a lifeboat.

“How impossible,” I said.
“I believe it's real,” Number Six replied.
“One can't believe impossible things.”

Then a green school bus,
radiating,
glowing, scaley,
swam by us
like an electric eel.

We walked forward.
((weird. cool images, but this collection suddenly feels surreal. what's up with the phrase"One can't believe..."? i feel like if you guys are little kids (the impression I got) then you'd be using simpler dialogue))

V.
The eight of us stood in a row
before an orange and white striped fish.
((suddenly there are eight kids?))

Doug asked, “Who are you?”
The fish didn't open his mouth.
Instead he wrote in pink
on the blackboard sitting next to him:

I read and I rhyme.
Thus, I am a literaturist.

“You look like a fish to me.”

I am not a fish.

Six: “My mother is a fish.”

Your mother is a literaturist.

“But she has fins.”

He stopped writing.
I'm sure the blackboard didn't mind --
it had writing and scratches
and rhyming and scratches
all over it.

“Why do you scratch out so many things?” asked Six.

I am trying to construct the perfect poem.

“How do you write one?”

You rhyme, in lines.

“That sounds easy.”

It isn't.

“I could do it.”

The Literaturist drew a line
dividing the board
into halves.

Go ahead.

He wrote above Six's half:
“Poem by a Pawn.”

That's all you are, you know.

Six wrote:
there's a sea of literaturists
littering the street
one is blue like the ocean deep
and one is green just like sea weed
one is gold real royalty
one is black and frightening
two are red and four are pink
but they all look like fish to me

He was right,
there were.
The Literaturist didn't
write another word to us

“Was it good?”
asked Six.

No, it's hardly a poem.

“Why not?”
Silence.
“Why not!?”
Nothing.
“Why not!!?”
So we walked on.

“why not”
(( i would make the last line part of the second to last line. or at least take it out of quotes. cool cool stuff going on in this part, great poem by #6))

VI.
We saw a sprawled persona
at our feet
or at least a pink
chalk outline
of one.

Six laid down in it.
It fit him perfectly.

It reminded me of a puzzle piece
completing the city.

We heard a loud bang and scream.
I jumped
and my pockets rang like a bell.

It seemed like the city
was celebrating the discovery
of a psychic chalk artist.

Then Doug said
let's go
and we did.
((okay, in the same vein as the others))

VII.
They were all about our height
except they all wore black.

I'm not sure why we fought them
but they were too similar
to be so different.

I guess that's enough reason.

I went at one
at a fourty-five degree angle.
He flew
forty-two feet into the air
and got hit by a passing
Neon Ram
that Escorted him
into a brick wall
that sent a million
brick Cavaliers
hurtling at us.

Four of us died
and so did four of them,
counting the one I kicked.

Their blood stained the ground
in alternating colors.

We were angry.
Number three screamed,
"The horror! The horror!"

We realized then just how horrible
it'd be to continue this,
so we parted ways amicably.

Doug exclaimed as we moved forward,
“Hey! Now there's more money for the four of us!”
I thought
maybe I could afford a wooden horse
a sword
and some armor now.

((I didn't really get this stanza at all, i'm not going to lie to you. you and your buddies are walking down the street, suddenly "BAM" you're fighting black people. what? if you could clear this up for me, that'd be great : ) ))

VIII.
We stepped out from the toy store
onto the eighth sidewalk
square from Doug's house.

Doug bought a crown and a cape,
as did Three and Five.
“We're royalty!”

I got my wooden horse,
sword, and armor.

The coral sky began to turn to an off white
as the sun set, becoming
a skeleton of the land
rather than
a skeleton of the sea.

It's getting late.
I kick the side of my steed
and ride back towards
Doug's house.

I pass a grimey man
sitting by a cardboard box
with the word pawn written on it
in pink chalk.

I laugh.
He looks funny.
((whoa, so all of these happened on a sidewalk square? wow.. that's pretty wild))

sorry there wasn't much crit, but i like it. i feel if (well, when) i read it again a few more times, more stuff will become clear to me. that's some good writing right thur.
: )

edit: oooohhh! maybe the numbers correspond to what sidewalk square they're on? just a guess..
#6
Quote by ndakasimba
edit: oooohhh! maybe the numbers correspond to what sidewalk square they're on? just a guess..


Yes. And to answer most of your other confusions, think "chess set".

Thank you (and everyone else) very much. It's all appreciated.
#7
I would really appreciate any more comments on this.

I'll be returning crits to everyone who commented already today.
#8
no real critique except

An outside
observer would maybe think us
pawns cut from the same marble.

makes me think you wanted them to get it too badly, and it was fairly clear imo.
#9
The chessboard/pawn thing was clever, I didn't realize it at first and then I read your comment and read through it again. With the 45 degree angles and everything. It's well written like someone else said there is simple elegance to it, and I laughed at the 'V' part. Because I kind of want to see if I'm right, my interpretation of this is that everyone is floating in a sea of literature and they are nothing but pawns and in the end some of them make it and reach the other side of the board, and then ridicule what they themselves once were.

Haha I also liked the allusion to life of pi.

Anyways this was enjoyable.
There is no place else to go
The theater is closed
#10
Awesome!

I'm guessing it was either a trip or a dream?
I'LL PUNCH A DONKEY IN THE STREETS OF GALWAY
#11
I think I love you, lmao. No but seriously this work is a pure work of genius. VERY lengthy but very incredible. I love all the detail in the story (i.e. how the 54 cents jingled in his pocket) it just painted me a vivid picture and gave me a very good third person view of what was going on.

I LOVE IT <33
Quote by dann_blood
Stars are Blind - Paris Hilton. I heard that and set me off on a destructive rampage for weeks.


Quote by FearTheD
i want him to ride his magical roll of USPS stickers to Valhalla
#12
It took a few reads to get it, and take that as a compliment, because I can barely get through most shit once. I like the trippy parts in the middle; without them the chessboard metaphor would seem a bit predictable. But the combination of something as analytical and logical as chess with some crazy ass talking fish and whatnot is excellent.

And does the whole getting-a-pawn-to-the-other-side-and-exchanging-it-for-another-piece deal really work? I always assumed it was like a streetball chess rule.
-Landon
#13
So I could sit and crit this all, but there is no point.
Clever wording and structure, a play on the kitsch versus the postmodern (wonderful), great dialog and the ideas behind it just shone through beautifully.
All in all, VERY enjoyable and just a great piece.

I loved the last line. Genius.

Carmel
This is not a pipe
#14
Wow I thought this thread was dead. I was upset 'cause I spent a lot of time on it. I'll comment more later, I'm in school right now, but there's a couple things I wanted to say:

- I love when people interpret things, more than critiques probably. I think I'll start adding that to my posts. A lot of you hit on things I was trying to get across which makes me happy.
- Landon, that's definitely a real chess rule. Just when you're playing someone decent at chess you'll never be able to get your piece across. I hope the PM helped, but I was kidding when I said you should crit this :P I appreciate it anyways.
- It's definitely not third person.

Thanks everyone. I'll look at everyone's poems when I get home from school.
#15
it's not third person it gave ME the reader a third person view, like I felt like i was there while this person's account was going on, I understand it's in first person, but it felt like, I was also their as a third party viewer. I probably meant third party and said third person, again probably just my occassional mess up of the english language.

I hope that cleared up what i said.
Quote by dann_blood
Stars are Blind - Paris Hilton. I heard that and set me off on a destructive rampage for weeks.


Quote by FearTheD
i want him to ride his magical roll of USPS stickers to Valhalla