IISZ 2018 Challenge #X - Bucket Brigade

[vagabond]

ok folks, here it his!

thanks for everyone participating 
i love your versions and it´s time they met daylight! was blown away at how fast some sent their re-writes (Todd, Donald Q, nibbed and Keith).
just an idea, but maybe if another chain were to start we could have the rules be stricter and the re-write would have to be line-by-line, using paraphrase and synonyms..

     translation into english:   Willem Groenewegen
     + a few disrespectful changes to take out specific names 



CONCAVE BOBBING
          

When I grate the cheese with your grater then hallucinations
besiege my pasta dish. Behind me a comforting voice
that mumbles Old Testament verses.

During the flood a dove with a twig
brings solace to a person bobbing. As without a sign
we won’t believe in ground beneath the seas of rain.

I hallucinate your drenched hair that actually leaves
some droplets behind, the pesto actually tasting better now you
pick the basil. I flicker and flicker with skeptical joy.

These are small bits of proof with which I set my course.
a Volcano comes into view - our shore.
You see, I´m almost blind in this flickering light.

Hollow Oscillating


When I abrade curds separated from whey
with your tool for abrasion, then apparitions
surround my noodles like sauce. In the background,
a soothing voice speaks in Torahic whispers:

During the Great Drowning, a bird found a stick
bringing peace to the partially floating.

Without proof, we can’t trust in dry steps again
beneath water upon water. I see the phantasms
of your hair, wet like seaweed dripping.

The abraded sauce is improved, though you prefer
only nuts and oil. I oscillate with a cynical happiness.
These are tiny assurances

for dry steps with which I begin walking.
I can see a vent in the earth—the edge of our world.
My vision darkens in this uncertain light.

Depression Pendulum


When I scrape cheddar against a shredder,
specters envelop my pasta like heavy dressing.
Behind me, a gentle voice utters Genesis murmurs:

when Noah was cast adrift, the dove recovered a young shoot,
delivering solace to the half drowned.

Minus evidence, we shouldn't expect arid land
with so many oceans looming over us. I see ancient spirits
showering from your tresses like sea kelp rising out of the water.

My roux is savory and refined, though you prefer
only legumes and fats. I vacillate with suspicious joy.
This is the modest confidence

for planting dusty footprints behind me. I imagine
a steaming, sulfur spring—
the utmost boundary of the earth.
My eyes cloud in this hazy sun.

Swinging Pointe

First there was the body, found
The drifter, Noah
Torn and bound
 
\It is the dirty feet at the boundary of the world
It is the milky eye of the sun
When the clocks have run too long/
 
Second came the proof of land
The ocean’s loom
That weaves that sand
 
\We are half drowned
In the joy of fat and flour
In the sea of fat and flour/
 
Last the kelp baked dry and dust
the ancient hands
were scraped and trussed.

No one will save you.  Follow your instincts
as the water rises, covers the shore.
Homes and less sturdy crafts, as their hope sinks,
break in the ocean's unforgiving roar.
Know, a sound mind, will cut the turbulence,
and stay afloat, drifting above the waves,
maintaining the course set by circumstance,
seeking a future only courage paves.
Noa needs confuse the company kept,
when rationed food would vanish in the night.
What could be done, as you the captain, slept,
and images of land passed out of sight?
No wonder, when you got there, you got drunk.
No wonder you wish you had stayed,  and sunk.

It was hard, tasted awful, and it's sharp edges hurt his mouth... but green meant food (even if glowing), so Joffrey, relying on his quick-witted wombat intelligence, gobbled down the hyperacuity module. That was an hour ago. At this very moment, Joffrey is busy telling Lucinda -- his mate who holds a similar opinion on green objects -- about the fascinating intricacies of the spacecraft's main hyper-drive. But she's ignoring him (nothing new here) as she watches a documentary about Tasmanian devils on her cranial view-screen and pilots the craft at 8000 kph towards the coast of Tasmania. She's flying it at an altitude of 12.5  meters and the unlucky ships in her path are disintegrating in its massive shock-wave.  The waters of Bass Strait are indeed roaring.

The shape had been wrong. That was the wombat's main doubt. Tasty grass was long and thin. What he'd put in his mouth was a different shape. It was green though, which to him meant it qualified as food. It tasted odd and took some chewing, but if nothing else he was determined, not one to spit out a problem. A cube! That was it! It was puzzling, he thought, as he realigned the warp-coil; he was fairly sure that an hour ago, when he found a glowing green block outside their burrow, he didn't know that word. He didn't even understand the concept of a shape back then. More innocent times, he mused. He burped quietly, then signaled his co-pilot to begin the re-entry protocols. Their plasma trail sketched beautiful shapes through the night's atmosphere.

Atypical Review


"Its structure, amiss" fretted hungry critic
and panel judge, Mitch "The Match" Martin.
It didn't take an expert to know zing & tang
were found only in Tasmania Cafe's
reasonably priced Sky-High Salad  selection.

This was Melbourne's annual Ripping Raffinose Challenge,
where area restaurants offered up their tastiest sampling
of green, red, savoy, or wombok.

Mitch regretted taking such a large fork of salacious slaw
offered from Hoddle Grid's area pastry shoppe, Neenish Tart,
knowing their culinary expertise was limited to delicious pies
disguised as winking zebra eyes.

He stood and stretched, presenting the trophy
to Tasmania Cafe's head chef, Anzac Sanger, who
held it high above his head before placing
the green acrylic cube on a display shelf next to
Tasmanian Cafe's other past achievements,
blue ribbons, medals, coveted laurels.

Under Review

"Chaotic curious consumption" cried the panel King
and critical judge, Mitch Match Martin.
Any old greasy-mouth gobbler would spot
the clamour of zing and the rapture of tang
that could only be found when Sky-High
on a salad bar in the Tasmania cafe.

This stinkfest had become Melbourne's
trouser rotting pegnose challenge
where any old, would be restaurant
could try to pass off skanky veg
as a new idea, hell cutting edge.

Our Mitch was gagging, about to puke
on an over zelous scoop of gloop,
Ruby with her Grong Grong tart
from Hoddle Grids to stop your heart.
Better know for suspect pies
passed off as winking Zebra's eyes.

The time had come to give out the prize,
a crowd had gathered of quite some size.
Mitch Match Martin stood to clear his throat
and anounced the result of the judges vote.
The Trophy had gone, just like every year,
to Tasmania cafe, still they got a small cheer.
The head chef recieved the acrylic green cube
and confirmed his love of raffinose food.

[CRNDLSM]

This was really cool! I thought milos was just too good I messed it all up, but vagabond asked me to leave out noah so... I'll work on my paraphrasing

[Lizzie]

I relied heavily on the thesaurus for this one.

[milo]

This was really cool!  I thought milos was just too good I messed it all up, but vagabond asked me to leave out noah so...  I'll work on my paraphrasing

I thought it impressive you were the only one to manage a sonnet. I am surprised to hear you were instructed to leave Noah out.

For anyone interested, we ran this before as poetry Telephone and it is in this very forum.

[vagabond]

milo, thank god you didn´t tell me that poetry telephone has already been played here in your first post! that would have loaded me with all sorts of doubts.

CRNDLSM, i guess i shouldn´t have taken any influence *sorry*;
i just thought that Noah would stay in the versions forever (but it wouldn´t have mattered)
i´m glad you found a solution anyway!

[milo]

milo, thank god you didn´t tell me that poetry telephone has already been played here   in your first post! that would  have loaded me with all sorts of doubts.

CRNDLSM, i guess i shouldn´t have taken any influence *sorry*;
i just thought that Noah would stay in the versions forever (but it wouldn´t have mattered)
i´m glad you found a solution anyway!

Good thing we dodged that bullet.

[vagabond]

the idea honestly came from "paraphrase a poem"... didn´t want to steal yours, milo.

and, yeah, the verse-keeper may be a superfluous institution, everyone can just send their re-write to the next person.

i´d like to play, too.
anyone else (or again) in for a second round?

[Lizzie]

milo, thank god you didn´t tell me that poetry telephone has already been played here   in your first post! that would  have loaded me with all sorts of doubts.

CRNDLSM, i guess i shouldn´t have taken any influence *sorry*;
i just thought that Noah would stay in the versions forever (but it wouldn´t have mattered)
i´m glad you found a solution anyway!

In my defense, Noah wasn't mentioned in the version I was working with. And it wasn't even used in the original, though I had no way of knowing that. I stand by my interpretation as legit.

I may or may not take games too seriously.

[milo]

the idea honestly came from "paraphrase a poem"... didn´t want to steal yours, milo.

and, yeah, the verse-keeper may be a superfluous institution, everyone can just send their re-write to the next person.

i´d like to play, too.
anyone else (or again) in for a second round?

Wasn’t mine to steal, I stole the idea from the inimitable Julie Carter who, most likely, stole it from someone else.

You did it justice.

[vagabond]

In my defense, Noah wasn't mentioned in the version I was working with. And it wasn't even used in the original, though I had no way of knowing that. I stand by my interpretation as legit. Cool

I may or may not take games too seriously.

yep, and later on all sorts of other characters and species entered the scene : )
so then i just told people that it was not necessarily REQUIRED to keep the names (or species)

[Lizzie]

Next round will be Challenge Y, link here.

---

This was really cool!  I thought milos was just too good I messed it all up, but vagabond asked me to leave out noah so...  I'll work on my paraphrasing

I thought it impressive you were the only one to manage a sonnet. I am surprised to hear you were instructed to leave Noah out.

For anyone interested, we ran this before as poetry Telephone and it is in this very forum.

Cool thread, milo.

http://www.pigpenpoetry.com/thread-13669...+telephone

[ellajam]

This was really cool!  I thought milos was just too good I messed it all up, but vagabond asked me to leave out noah so...  I'll work on my paraphrasing

Ha, I had to follow milo once, intimidating , once I accepted that there was no way mine would be near as good I let it go and just enjoyed the game. Luck of the draw.

Great job, each and every one fun to read.

[vagabond]

Todd Wrote:
Hollow Oscillating

it took me a while to figure out what was intrigueing about the first line.. til i realized it remembered me of "chaff separated from wheat"

Lizzie Wrote:
Depression Pendulum

this is a beautiful re-write, like todd´s.. and i realize the original poem maybe was a hard starter because of its multiple themes (the one you put in for "y" is better that way)

milo Wrote:
Swinging Pointe

a pretty cool idea, painting a boat, respectively a bowl with slant lines.
and it´s thought-provoking, the last stanza forms a loop to the beginning.

CRNDLSM Wrote: ...an untitled sonnet

i still wonder what you would have written had i not attached that plea to leave "Noah" out..
but anyway, i really don´t know how you shaped a sonnet so fast!
love the last two lines (esp. the last but one), a clear conclusion after a captivating battle of ship against ocean.

rayheinrich Wrote: .... the wombat version of hitchhiker´s guide through the galaxy

TINY details, yes, like mutated wombats and alien technology : )
but this gave me big grins, especially the male fascination with technology and female reckless driving.

Donald Q Wrote: .... the continuation of above saga (in real-time)

...and this was a fun read as well (and, damn, returned in little more than 30 min).
"he burped quietly" is both funny and a bit pensive,made me read the sentence before again.

nibbed Wrote:
Atypical Review

i liked what you made (in your 3rd stanza) from the musing about difficult to digest food in the previous version.
had to look up zing and tang, and now i want to try that stuff (probably won´t find it.. but rhubarb is available, and chili, and what more could there be in it except for salt, vinegar and sugar?)

Keith Wrote:
Under Review

i guess with some people when they set their speech production center to "rhyme" it just comes out as rhyme : )
that was an entertaining read, too.