Challenge: a story in the metric system

[SimonBrooke]

As with fair Boudicca I lay, a tale she told of Shakespeare's play
Provoked, I thought upon a time when stories oft were told in rhyme.
Minsue's fair challenge falls this morn (I trust that all your scripts are gone)
And shows these tests we all do love; so to another let us move.
Sweet Chuck begs threads more writerly; a test for bards then let it be.

So, scriveners all, I challenge you to write a tale in metre true
With puns (lest you be punished), with man and maiden, and a bed
(or floor or table, field or wood - somewhere to lie, it's understood?)
And if cross dressing you should add, gender confusion, lass for lad,
Then higher yet your tale shall score, for these are marks of bardic lore.

Tell, of a father and his daughter how pestle came to rest in mortar;
Or of the wife, so loving still, surprisingly in bed with Bill;
Or else a virgin, trusting, sweet, a werewolf fierce should chance to meet -
Or man who takes her all unwilling, yet brings her bliss her cunny filling...
In short, in couplets such as this show how your lovers come to kiss;
And should he choose to fuck or eat her, why tell it to us all in metre -
Yet should he merely wish to wank I shan't complain if that is blank.

That it be brief and quick to read, but fifty lines shall meet our need -
No prologue wanted, nor yet after, no epilogue to provoke laughter.
Stage directions you may try, and the dramatis personae.
So to your keyboards, scriveners; type! An audience awaits your tripe;
your wit, your talent now display, and send to me ere Valentine's day
These fifty lines, no more but less, PM them all to my address
And thus I think we all shall enj oy a most diverting challenge.

 

[Vermilion]

As with fair Boudicca I lay, a tale she told of Shakespeare's play
Provoked, I thought upon a time when stories oft were told in rhyme.
Minsue's fair challenge falls this morn (I trust that all your scripts are gone)
And shows these tests we all do love; so to another let us move.
Sweet Chuck begs threads more writerly; a test for bards then let it be.

Aye but Simon, a question yet remains-
An answer in rhyme would make it sweeter-
You did not say, would our poem be slain
If it's not Iambic Pentameter...?

x
V

 

[Vermilion]

I feel I now must add, I feel so bad,
For I did not fully understand you.
You want that these rhymes we write be blank
But still in Iambic Pentameter?

x
V

 

[SimonBrooke]

I feel I now must add, I feel so bad,
For I did not fully understand you.
You want that these rhymes we write be blank
But still in Iambic Pentameter?

x
V

Blank if you will; it's not my care. The votes of your peers you should beware.
Should they prefer your lines to rhyme then writing blank's a waste of time -
Like shooting blanks, as some might say; but I'll keep shooting, come who may.

 

[minsue]

A limerick is the best I can do
When posing this option to you -
If you want folks to play
And write stories this way
Try asking the poets to join, too

 

[Stella_Omega]

Okay I'm in, this challenge pleases me
And starts some sluggish current in my mind;
Let me cudgel my slow wit to the game
And perhaps find a more pleasing rhythm
(Although old Willy Shakespear made his fame
By means of Iambic Pentameter)

(Simon, what's the meter called, that you are spouting so elegantly and easily?)

 

[SimonBrooke]

Okay I'm in, this challenge pleases me
And starts some sluggish current in my mind;
Let me cudgel my slow wit to the game
And perhaps find a more pleasing rhythm
(Although old Willy Shakespear made his fame
By means of Iambic Pentameter)

(Simon, what's the meter called, that you are spouting so elegantly and easily?)

I'm buggered if I know, I am no poet; mere scribbler I, yet have the grace to know it.
I'd call it rhyming couplets if you choose, it's quite an easy formula to use.
Ten beats - five groups of two - make up a phrase; or thereby, sometimes bending it a ways;
Then two such phrases do comprise a line. Speak it aloud; until it rings, refine.
In each line, rhyme the first phrase to its pair - but blank will do if rhymes are found too rare.

 

[Stella_Omega]

I'm buggered if I know, I am no poet; mere scribbler I, yet have the grace to know it.
I'd call it rhyming couplets if you choose, it's quite an easy formula to use.
Ten beats - five groups of two - make up a phrase; or thereby, sometimes bending it a ways;
Then two such phrases do comprise a line. Speak it aloud; until it rings, refine.
In each line, rhyme the first phrase to its pair - but blank will do if rhymes are found too rare.

I counted four groups of four; a waltz time
Lilting, turning easy upon each line
Ah well, I'll not request a dissection
From the poet, nor ask the centipede
(Lest he be crippled thereby) how he walks!

 

[floweringquince]

Is this doggerel, or drivel?

Not much of a plot line either, but it is metric:


The Canuck Nooky Quandry

What's the way of a man with a maid,
When crost unfortified border they're laid?
Now how shall we measure,
Their international pleasure:
In degrees F, or in centigrade?

How long is that brave Mountie's peter:
Nine inches, or one-quarter meter?
Are those volumetric dry ounces,
to Miss USA's bosomly bounces,
or are they cc's, on up to a liter?

And when the time for tupping comes 'round,
Will he deliver his strokes by the pound?
The force of sweet booty scootin' -
Is it best by the Newton
Or do P.S.I.'s make more sighs resound?


- F. Quince, Serial Limericist

 

[SimonBrooke]

Not much of a plot line either, but it is metric:

Excellent, but could you PM stories to me, then I can post them all at once for people to vote on?

 

[CharleyH]

As with fair Boudicca I lay, a tale she told of Shakespeare's play
Provoked, I thought upon a time when stories oft were told in rhyme.
Minsue's fair challenge falls this morn (I trust that all your scripts are gone)
And shows these tests we all do love; so to another let us move.
Sweet Chuck begs threads more writerly; a test for bards then let it be.

So, scriveners all, I challenge you to write a tale in metre true
With puns (lest you be punished), with man and maiden, and a bed
(or floor or table, field or wood - somewhere to lie, it's understood?)
And if cross dressing you should add, gender confusion, lass for lad,
Then higher yet your tale shall score, for these are marks of bardic lore.

Tell, of a father and his daughter how pestle came to rest in mortar;
Or of the wife, so loving still, surprisingly in bed with Bill;
Or else a virgin, trusting, sweet, a werewolf fierce should chance to meet -
Or man who takes her all unwilling, yet brings her bliss her cunny filling...
In short, in couplets such as this show how your lovers come to kiss;
And should he choose to fuck or eat her, why tell it to us all in metre -
Yet should he merely wish to wank I shan't complain if that is blank.

That it be brief and quick to read, but fifty lines shall meet our need -
No prologue wanted, nor yet after, no epilogue to provoke laughter.
Stage directions you may try, and the dramatis personae.
So to your keyboards, scriveners; type! An audience awaits your tripe;
your wit, your talent now display, and send to me ere Valentine's day
These fifty lines, no more but less, PM them all to my address
And thus I think we all shall enj oy a most diverting challenge.

Not quite metrical

A small story by metre, you say?
Oy vay.

What is metre but Shakespearian ...
No way.

It is too complex, too beyond me
I think.

I might run into scruples; troubles
and sink.

What is metre but Shakespere and marms
Oy Vay.

It's too complex, too beyond me,
I know.

Go for it and milk it and treasure
it, though.

 

[oggbashan]

Litmericks

Muff Diving

Said he to she “It’s not fair,
You drive me to drink and despair:
I experience bliss
If you I could kiss…”
She opened her thighs and said “There.”

He was great but his small prick
Wasn’t up to doing the trick
But with his long tongue
He’d make her succumb:
How that long member could lick.

She’d cover his head with her skirt
Push him to his knees in the dirt
While on the park bench
That saucy young wench
Would demand his tongue till it hurt.

Young Harold was eager to please
His lady – but she is a tease.
She wanted his lips
Well South of her hips:
Evenings he spends on his knees.

She loves him, sure ‘tis no wonder
Every night he goes down under,
His tongue in her clit -
While she’s posting to Lit
On threads too many to number

Og

 

[Xelebes]

One Farad sparked a thought, a metre long in the cot
A Litre of humour and a jovial Ampere
Make this thing really really suck
Like some million Pascal.

I'm out of here.

 

[Rad'l]

Metric System

Simon:

When I saw the thread title "a story in the metric system" - I immediately thought you meant ISO Metric (International Standards Organization) and wondered how the hell ISO Metric had anything to do with erotica. Now I know some engineering types get off on grams, kilograms, meters, millimeters, and such like but I couldn't believe that one could generate fiction in metric. (Oh yeah, - some performance specs are fiction indeed but I don't know how to make them interesting to those without the 'knack'.)

Anyway - good luck with your thread.

 

[Liar]

Simon:

When I saw the thread title "a story in the metric system" - I immediately thought you meant ISO Metric (International Standards Organization) and wondered how the hell ISO Metric had anything to do with erotica.

Short metric verse on metric smut

When writing porn the author must think twice about the peters.
A nine inch cock will have to be some twenty centimeters.

 

[The_Fool]

Fuck me....


Don't tell Angeline about this....

 

[champagne1982]

Fuck me....

Carrie walked up to The_Fool and grabbed him right by the tool,
Oh my goodness,she said with a grin,
I think that to fuck fools is a sin,
but a much greater wrong would be to ignore this one's schlong.

Well, The_Fool he harumphed and he muttered,
and Carrie blinked patiently while he stuttered,
I cannot, in all conscience take you to bed, for indeed if I do I'd be dead.
My lover may hear of my philanderer's ways
and if she did, the sweet torture'd go on for days.

Carrie sighed sadly, I suffer fools gladly.
Indeed, I delight in the pain,
and although in sweet heat I remain,
never let it be told that I was ever so bold
that I'd chose desire over banking the fire.

You understand that if opportunity rises again
I'd rather lie down with a man who's a fool
than a fool who cares not where he's lain.
I hope the lady appreciates the jewel
of your loving heart and gives the gift of her own to The_Fool.

 

[Vermilion]

Entry PMed to you Simon... for what it's worth
x
V

 

[angelicminx]

Simon, dear, I must confess, I have not time for this test.
To write in rhyme, as you decree, would melt my mind for all to see.
Though my interest has been piqued, I can not accomplish such a feat.
Blessings, though, I send your way; and to all who choose to play.

 

[angelicminx]

Wanted to see if someone had played. Found this on the 3rd page.

 

[CharleyH]

Short metric verse on metric smut

When writing porn the author must think twice about the peters.
A nine inch cock will have to be some twenty centimeters.

ROFLOL - great - I dunno if it is metrical, but its great!

 

[CharleyH]

Fuck me....

Carrie walked up to The_Fool and grabbed him right by the tool,
Oh my goodness,she said with a grin,
I think that to fuck fools is a sin,
but a much greater wrong would be to ignore this one's schlong.

Well, The_Fool he harumphed and he muttered,
and Carrie blinked patiently while he stuttered,
I cannot, in all conscience take you to bed, for indeed if I do I'd be dead.
My lover may hear of my philanderer's ways
and if she did, the sweet torture'd go on for days.

Carrie sighed sadly, I suffer fools gladly.
Indeed, I delight in the pain,
and although in sweet heat I remain,
never let it be told that I was ever so bold
that I'd chose desire over banking the fire.

You understand that if opportunity rises again
I'd rather lie down with a man who's a fool
than a fool who cares not where he's lain.
I hope the lady appreciates the jewel
of your loving heart and gives the gift of her own to The_Fool.

Fun and funny - Cheers, Champagne.

 

[matriarch]

I'm in awe of all your skills, but you can count me out of this one, way beyond me.

I look forward to reading the entries.

 

[CharleyH]

Fuck me....

Carrie walked up to The_Fool and grabbed him right by the tool,
Oh my goodness,she said with a grin,
I think that to fuck fools is a sin,
but a much greater wrong would be to ignore this one's schlong.

Well, The_Fool he harumphed and he muttered,
and Carrie blinked patiently while he stuttered,
I cannot, in all conscience take you to bed, for indeed if I do I'd be dead.
My lover may hear of my philanderer's ways
and if she did, the sweet torture'd go on for days.

Carrie sighed sadly, I suffer fools gladly.
Indeed, I delight in the pain,
and although in sweet heat I remain,
never let it be told that I was ever so bold
that I'd chose desire over banking the fire.

You understand that if opportunity rises again
I'd rather lie down with a man who's a fool
than a fool who cares not where he's lain.
I hope the lady appreciates the jewel
of your loving heart and gives the gift of her own to The_Fool.

SORRY - ROFLOL- GREAT follow up and I love this Champagne. LOL - Oh? I said that already. Just a bump.

 

[drksideofthemoon]

Oh....I thought this thread was albout kilometers, hectares, and furlongs by fortnight squared...