Ink-stained squares, a battlefield of wit,
Where vowels clash and consonants are split.
We draw our tiles, a skirmish in the mind,
To weave a spell that leaves the board redefined.
"SERENE," she sighs, the letters kiss and bind,
A hush descends, a breeze whispers through the blind.
Outside, the storm forgets its angry roar,
Stars ignite, like sparkling diamonds once more.
He counters bold, "BEMOAN," a mournful plea,
A lone owl's cry, a willow weeps its glee.
The air grows thick, a phantom scent of rain,
A teardrop tracks the window pane.
"CHAGRIN," I bite, a bitter word to play,
The fire sputters, shadows twist and sway.
A sudden chill, a flicker in the light,
And icy fingers grasp at fingers tight.
Laughter breaks the spell, a warming ray,
"JAUNT," she beams, a sunbeam breaks the day.
The owl takes flight, the rain forgets to fall,
Laughter dances, echoing through the hall.
And so we weave, a fabric of might,
With each new word, a world born into light.
No mere game, but reality's embrace,
Where dreams and letters paint time and space.
So raise your tiles, let language be your guide,
In this realm of letters, where wonders hide.
For every word, a whispered truth unbound,
A symphony of stories, on a checkered ground.
LINE COUNT: 28 Lines
WRITTEN FOR: "The Writer's Cramp"  | " WINNER and NEW PROMPT - Due Friday, Jan 19"
PROMPT:
On Jan 19, 1955, the board game Scrabble debuted.
For tomorrow, write a story or poem set during a Scrabble game ... with the twist that, each time a word is added, it becomes 'real' in some way.
Feel free to make that 'reality' either immediately obvious or fairly subtle - or anything in between. For example, if someone plays the word 'fish', an enormous trout might drop into the room without explanation, or suddenly there's an aquarium in the living room that everybody but the one player thinks has always been there, or merely that a truck from the local fishery drives past outside. |
