The OF Blog: The Things I Do For Squirrels
Showing posts with label The Things I Do For Squirrels. Show all posts
Showing posts with label The Things I Do For Squirrels. Show all posts

Thursday, September 13, 2012

D&D Sonnet #2

OK, after finally finishing the Dragonlance:  Legends trilogy yesterday, I fulfilled my promise to my "dark muse" to write a sonnet-style poem describing my reaction.  Needless to say, it may be on par with the level of writing within that Weis and Hickman trilogy (putrid), but it might also contain some amusing lines (as I suppose the trilogy did at times, at least for others).  So here goes:

O Dark Muse, to me the cause of such grief,
I sing of the terrible Dragonlance.
Naively I began with the belief
That it won't be too dire for remembrance.
O how you must now laugh cruelly at me
For daring to hope that I could enjoy
That wretchèd fantasy called D&D.
Raistlin Majere's evil, without alloy,
Provided the only real, true intrigue;
The others were dull and devoid of life.
By trilogy's end I felt great fatigue
I wished for surcease from this putrid strife.

     I now may sound like an ungrateful churl,
      But next time, feed me to a rabid squirrel.

Sunday, September 09, 2012

D&D Sonnet #1

Here is the first of a potentially few sonnets to be composed as commentaries/reviews of D&D fiction.  It is a challenge to narrate thoughts within Shakespearean sonnet form of 14 lines of ABABCDCDEFEFGG 10 syllabic verse, but this opening one, referencing the works I've been asked to read, perhaps shall give a better idea of the challenge ahead (my Dark Lady has asked me not to link to the audio recording I made of this):

Let us not to the marriage of true minds
Admit poor D&D, love is not love
Which alters when Forgotten Realms it finds,
Or bends with the Dragonlance to remove.
O no, it is an ever fixèd mark
That looks on fell Drizzt and is n'er shaken;
He is the fearsome Elf that is so Dark,
Whose sword rings chill; his measure never taken.
Love's not time's fool, though Crysania be meek
In her love for Raistlin Majere shall bloom,
Love alters not with a brief hour or week,
But bears it out even to prophetic doom:

      If this be error and upon me proved,
      I never writ, nor no woman so loved.

There will be at least two more giving my actual thoughts on the Dragonlance:  Legends and Forgotten Realms:  Icewind Dale trilogies.  Agnus dei miserere nobis. 


 
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