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RRhyme
"Giggling!" I exclaimed. "What are they doing back there? It sounds like Prata's house!" - Esserae, in the Elanthian Times
There's something about River's Rest that makes its residents break out into poetry every so often. To their dismay, I've collected these limericks, haikus and other poems from the boards and the game.
On the Reiver that guards the RR drawbridge:
There once was a guard with name Buffy
But the Djinn, whose attitude was more stuffy,
Thought a more dignified name
Would give her acclaim,
But will folks call her by that? A toughie!
(Brookwyn)
Buffy the Toughie has Morals of Might!
Is upstanding and truthful - the epitomy of Right!
If ye havenae the silvers to pay the small toll,
And if Buffy ye cannae impress or cajole,
And if ye be foolish enough to play thief,
Your attempt, I'm afraid, will bring nothing but grief.
She's strong, and she's clever, and fast with her fists,
She'll punch you and kick you, and leave you in twists.
So if ye be smart, and upstanding and fine,
When coming to visit, don't fret and don't whine!
Just always remember to put coins in your purse,
And then pay up, fork over, shell out and disburse.
(Brookwyn)
There is a town reiver named Buffy
About whom Brookwyn can't write enough-y.
See that one limerick?
I would say the girl's sick
But I don't wish to land on my duffy.
(Me)
On Prata's hammock:
When Prata bought his house in RR, he furnished it with a hammock, which soon came to be the envy of all the ladies in town. Poor Prata had to endure weeks of limericks expressing desire for him and/or his hammock.
There was once a rogue in the Lands,
whose hammock was quite in demand.
The young lasses in town
would bounce all around
in hopes that in Prata's hammock they'd land.
(Esserae)
The hammock didst stir in the breeze
As the ladies didst all whisper "please"
They invaded his ranch
And the picker didst blanche
(I've done naught to relieve his unease!)
(Alaayne)
A hammock is a bed of skill and grace,
slung twixt trees and just off the ground.
Prata wakes each morn with a smiling face,
with limbs all atangled and giggles abound.
A sigh and a stretch and he is out an about,
the ladies all sigh, the young lasses all pout.
I know not for sure, I heard it in passing,
But Prata was abed with two ales and a stout.
I says this with love and a bit of honest envy
Two ales and a net and he never invited me!
(Aubery)
In a rabble of rogues on a river
Dwells a one with a wit, and none slicker.
But a redheaded ma'am--
A remarkable ham--
Mocks the flocks who would purloin her picker.
(Me)
Prata had a hanging bed
Twas where he liked to rest his head.
But all the lasses
Came in masses
And they all slept in the bed instead.
(Brookwyn)
There once was a rogue with hammick
The notoriety of which made him so sick
That he bought him a mat
And layed it out flat
But the lasses all thought that impolitic.
(Brookwyn)
There once was a town so obsessed
By a simple bed twining and tressed
That they drove out its owner,
A put-upon loner, alone-
Er now he's dispossessed.
(Me)
On River's Rest Limerick Tag:
I decided I would organize a game of limerick tag, in which I would designate someone "it," give them their subject, and have them compose a limerick on the spot (and then choose the next person).
There once was a lady from the Rest
Whose limericks were always the best.
So she invented a game
Where she taps on your frame
And you rhyme fast, time-compressed.
(Brookwyn)
There was a young bardess, Alaayne
Who feared being left out again
She posted a note
Which here I now quote:
"I'll play, though I might be insane!"
(Alaayne)
From the actual game:
There once was a man at the Inn
Whose bacon dripped down his three chins.
The waitress exclaimed
Why, you look in pain!
She was roundly ignored because she ran out of rhymes
And the man struggled
Three
Eight more tulips
Growing on the bank
{cough} {cough}.....
(Esserae, on bacon)
There once was a cranky old parrot
Who lived in a tree in the commons.
He jumped from branch to branch
Shrieking as he pranced.
Out of my tree no hobbits aloud.
(Breina, on parrots)
I don't like to boast
but I have a friend that is a ghost
some people just stare
others dont even care
but I only hope I'm not toast
(Widlebeest, on ghosts)
You all know the hobbit from Rivers Rest
Wears wizards clothes and a tart-splattered vest
But do you know?
Whever he may go
The tarts he always finds, of which he will eat only the best
(Emeraldwand, on hobbits)
There once was a babbling brook
Whose oatmeal never would cook
So she turned up the heat
and the recipe was neat
Cause the water and flame ruined the book!
(Brookwyn, on brooks)
There is a fruit with a yellow hide
With a tendency to make people slip and slide
So if you happen to see
a peel in the lee
Avoid lest you lose your pride
(Rlen, on bananas)
There once was a choclate rabbit
Who became a creature of habit
It hopped in some nuts
then melted in guts
after a hobbit so hungry did grabbit.
(Vallia, on chocolate)
Lockpicks like to break
Rlen is a sneaky snake
He lures you in under a treaty of peace
Along with Emeraldwand, Esserae and the 'beest
Who want to see Shollindal who is very sparse
Only to get a lockpick shoved up hise arse!
(Shollindal, on lockpicks)
There was a dead krolvin name Agrash,
Whose boat was weighed down with old goulash.
He bailed and he bailed,
But ultimately failed,
To rescue himself from the backwash.
(Frijthof, on Agrash)
On goat dancing:
It's time for some goat-dance haiku!
Light, the cloven hoof
And wild be the horn'ed head
Farewell, self-respect
(Alaayne)
Our very own P. Aghaidh
Was enough of a lug to believe
That I, of all folks,
Would go out with the blokes
Most like goats, which I find quite naieve.
(Me, on the goat dance contest in which the prize was a date with Juspera)
(Well, just you ask how Prata pronounces his last name. I do declare.)
Random from the boards:
Sea-slug Haiku:
Quay of disrepair
No foul otter spoils my sight
What fair slime is this?
One forgotten moon
A faux cetacean rises
The trail it glistens
Offer me no bird
No befeathered store of bile
Yonder tree is dry
Bliss invertebrate
Half-remembered oozing joy
Thy name is Zippy!
(Alaayne)
My name is Agrash, the Warfarer Ghost
Hundred's of years I have not eaten toast.
Butter it up More Jam on top
For without the bread, I can't leave my post
(Emeraldwand)
There is a young nail-covered bardess
Whose songmuse is friend to no artist
She enrapts us with tales,
And disrupts us with wails,
But we don't mind, so she won't discard us!
This limerick created by RandyVerse Random Limerick Generator (tm)
(Alaayne)
That's the spirit! Seventh Circle, here I come!
~~ Alaayne Alighieri,
she, who
whilst plummeting into the fiery abyss,
idly wonders if the Bard Circle is
simply a substitute circle of Hell
and wishes now that she'd remembered to pack
SPF-90 in her spidersilk sack
oh well
There once was a word, "anapestic"
That was bandied about River's Restic,
There was talk of a toll,
And a civilized troll,
But the Djinn claimed to know what was bestic!
(Alaayne)
In fair River's Rest there's a yard shark,
Who escaped from some zoo, or bizarre park.
And it's ants he does snorfle,
Cuz he knows that a dwarf'll
Get stuck in his nostril -- poor aardvark!
(Alaayne)
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