Title: The Newest Pilgrim
Author: Scarby
Disclaimer: Hm. Obviously, since I can barely understand the Olde English, I did not create and, therefore, do not own the idea of the Canterbury Tales, created by Chaucer. The pilgrim, however, is mine. You want to use her, email me. Scarby13@hotmail.com
Note: OK, so, last year, after reading the Canterbury Tales, my teacher assigned us a twenty line minimum poem, thankfully, NOT in the Olde English. I chose the assignment that calls for a new pilgrim set in a more modern setting. So, the tone of this is a bit different than Chaucer's original tone.
Feedback: Doesn't everybody want feedback, whether it be negative or positive?
The Newest Pilgrim
Now, sitting in the dark corner of the inn,
With her, I don't know where to begin.
Her red hair, she sheared close to her head,
Her roving eyes raw and lined red:
Three days with no sleep of any kind
Due to the whispers in her mind.
Her clothes hung ragged, torn with wear.
Her usual face expressed apathetic care.
She'd slouch one minute, the next, was straight.
What she loves one hour, the next, may hate.
Told me she was a condemned prophet today,
But, when I turned back, I saw a child at play.
Suddenly, she was on the table with a peppy cheer.
Soon enough, she was sullenly nursing a beer.
She told a prude's joke, a prim, proper pun
And lectured us on how ulcers were from too much fun,
Followed by a bawdy tavern's drinking song
About how monogamy was so very wrong.
She'd been a sycophant, succubus, scholar, soldier with VD,
But that's what happens when you go insane with MPD.
So, on this pilgrimage she went after a misunderstanding with a cop
Just to make those damned annoying voices stop!
To tell me what you think, press that little button labeled "Submit Review" right down there.
~Clamat, sed ubi asinus est?~
Author: Scarby
Disclaimer: Hm. Obviously, since I can barely understand the Olde English, I did not create and, therefore, do not own the idea of the Canterbury Tales, created by Chaucer. The pilgrim, however, is mine. You want to use her, email me. Scarby13@hotmail.com
Note: OK, so, last year, after reading the Canterbury Tales, my teacher assigned us a twenty line minimum poem, thankfully, NOT in the Olde English. I chose the assignment that calls for a new pilgrim set in a more modern setting. So, the tone of this is a bit different than Chaucer's original tone.
Feedback: Doesn't everybody want feedback, whether it be negative or positive?
The Newest Pilgrim
Now, sitting in the dark corner of the inn,
With her, I don't know where to begin.
Her red hair, she sheared close to her head,
Her roving eyes raw and lined red:
Three days with no sleep of any kind
Due to the whispers in her mind.
Her clothes hung ragged, torn with wear.
Her usual face expressed apathetic care.
She'd slouch one minute, the next, was straight.
What she loves one hour, the next, may hate.
Told me she was a condemned prophet today,
But, when I turned back, I saw a child at play.
Suddenly, she was on the table with a peppy cheer.
Soon enough, she was sullenly nursing a beer.
She told a prude's joke, a prim, proper pun
And lectured us on how ulcers were from too much fun,
Followed by a bawdy tavern's drinking song
About how monogamy was so very wrong.
She'd been a sycophant, succubus, scholar, soldier with VD,
But that's what happens when you go insane with MPD.
So, on this pilgrimage she went after a misunderstanding with a cop
Just to make those damned annoying voices stop!
To tell me what you think, press that little button labeled "Submit Review" right down there.
~Clamat, sed ubi asinus est?~