And because some fool - none of us want to admit to it, so we're blaming a faceless passer by - brought up the never resolved debate of "rhyming" in poetry.
Three around a round table.
High on coffee, low on sleep.
Three voices speaking at once.
One note pad. And sadly, only one pen.
A scuffle over controlling the pen.
A few pages of scribbles to come up with a "topic".
A few more pages of scribbles to please the topic.
The battle for pen continues.
And many more pages of scribbles later,
8 lines finalized.
8 lines that rhyme.
8 lines with a common theme.
And 8 lines so far from being poetic...
Nonetheless, here it goes. The fail attempt at poetic drabble of the day, by 3 people who can't seem to wrap their heads around real work that needs getting done, while dallying over coffee writing stuff that will definitely come back to haunt them.
So conspired the Goddess, unbenign
Whose favors from she fell
Her beauty - once a song divine -
None but would live to tell.
For the beauty's transformed plight
- Should a mortal of flesh and bone -
Behold for but a tempted sight,
Would stun him into stone.
[I think the safe name to give this... thing, above, is calling it a riddle. Consider it a riddle. Only one name fits the description. Any guesses? Hint: Think Greek legend, vanity, and curses. Answers in personal mail, if you're curious enough to guess/ask.]
ps: I want to dedicate this post to Nina Arief. Not that this post is anything half worth dedicating. But reading her comment at 4am on Monday morning cheered me up even in the face of an inevitably long week. Nina, if you come back here, and read this - thanks for putting that smile on my face.
I would dedicate it also, to the 2 people who contributed legit to the content of this post - but I doubt they'd want to own up having anything to do with... that thing written above. So yeh. Just being considerate and all.