In my final year of uni, some of my friends set up a Storytelling society, and I was one of the original members (sadly the society has since been disbanded). We looked at and shared different examples of stories and storytelling from a variety of cultures, and even put on a Guiser’s play. I was chatting to the first president, our ‘MasterHarper’ during a furious scribbling session which naturally made me think on such things. It also served as a first stab at iambic pentameter whilst I was mulling my November Challenge. Enjoy!
The Art of Storytelling
Who tells a story with just plain old words,
Or reads a poem like some dull, dead verse?
There’s an artistry to storytelling,
And a skill to reading a rhyme alive.
It starts off with the speed and tone you use,
The movements both chosen and subconscious.
The way that you draw the audience in,
With a glance,
With a pause,
With a sweep,
With a shout,
As you bring them along on the journey.
I would quite often have classes on the sixth floor of my university, and generally this was preceded by a class on the other side of the campus, so I would be cutting it fine and be faced with a choice. Pack myself in to the creaking lifts (elevators) with about twenty of my fellow students, or make my way up the twelve or thirteen flights to my class. Several of my friends commented on how odd it was that I would take the stairs over the lift, but my point was proven one day when the lift stopped at every floor, and I would be slightly ahead of them each time. Which was the inspiration behind this one. Enjoy!
Lazybones Who Take the Lift
To the lazybones who take the lift,
Maybe you should listen to this.
I don’t have a special gift,
So how do I beat you into class?
I just walk on up the stairs,
The dozen flights to floor E6.
I pass you and your puzzled stares,
Even though you started first.
So to all you lazies who won’t go walkies,
And think I’m crazy ’cause I do.
Now you know I’m not telling porkies,
My legs will get me there before you.
I’m presently having a major clear out, trying to simplify things and make sure there’s plenty of space for my cat when I get one. As I was doing so, I stumbled across a random strip of cloth, which reminded me of some fun times with friends, and inspired a very rough rhyme about it. Enjoy!
A Scrap of Cloth
Let me tell you the story,
Of a yard long strip of linen.
It never saw great glory,
Just the memories it brings.
I was a reenactor once,
It was my irritating stock.
Opposed to the Bonnie Ponce,
Our unit’s sole Grenadier.
Bombless I marched behind our Sarge,
Tucked my music into his jacket.
And when he called the charge,
I’d loose my stock to play British Grenadiers.
See that rusty stain just there,
I got that fighting a Jacobite.
A night skirmish he won quite fair,
But opened my thumb with his blade.
Kept my neck warm huddled by the fire,
With friends on a cold winter night.
Daring our head wench’s ire,
To sneak some extra food.
An insignificant tattered strip,
With so many memories woven in.
As it slowly leaves my grip,
Consigned to forgotten again.
Never blog when hungry, especially if you’re a disjointed rhymer archive trawling and stumble across an old one written in class (when hungry). Naturally being hungry in class lead to as deep and meaningful a rhyme as ever. Just to make it clear, the lecturer was reading out the slides that I had printed out on my lap, no adding to them or anything. I was listening just in case. Enjoy!
I’ve always found it funny,
How something so yum,
Yet over half hole,
Can fill this void in my tum.
So here I am in class,
And I’m absolutely famished.
If I don’t get some grub soon,
There’s a chance I’ll be vanished.
I can’t wait for some doughnuts,
Some sugar coated rings.
Or iced or filled with jam,
Or other delicious things.
Continuing the daily posting, another selection of my random rhymes series. Enjoy!
Random Rhymes #5
I’m in a rhyming mood today,
Acting like a student loafer.
I just hope I have my way,
And I’m not made to leave this sofa.
Written sitting on the very comfy (and no longer there) big blue sofa at our student union coffee bar ‘Blends’, enjoying a hot chocolate and wondering what had happened to the music.
Random Rhyme #6
One more report and then I’m done,
My second year has been and gone.
By tomorrow my work is ended,
And the dent in my finances can be mended.
Anyone want to guess what I was doing rather than said report?
Random Rhyme #7
I’m sitting here in class,
Struggling for an answer.
Willing the time to pass,
So I can escape home.
Random Rhyme #8
Jamie’s making bad jokes,
So bad we can’t help but cringe.
And if he keeps them up,
I’ll think he’s loose of hinge.
One of my classmates, very bad jokes, a swiftly scribbled warning.