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Each Move Must Consist Of Precisely Eight Words
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Just as it says on the tin. What happens in the game may be debated in the game: perhaps it'll be a conversation, perhaps a word-limited reprise of various games we play, or whatever.
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So wage we our campaign for well-spun lines
Our weapons primed with language, form and wit
The straitness of our measure shows the signs
That we are really like up for it
(That scansion's foul; let all avert their eyes!)
Resolved we weave a fitting end to it
(If I count right, the final couplet's here:)
If I count right, the final couplet's here:
(In afterthought, my thought seemed well to fit.)

Let's boldly go where none have gone before
Let's seize the day and take no pri-son-ers
Great struggle makes this battle worth the more
We'll fight the fight in full-blown clichéd verse

And sweep the field of sceptics and faint-hearts
For those who dare to sabotage our quest
We shall reserve the keenest of our darts
With poisoned tip to quell such vile unrest

So wage we our campaign for well-spun lines
Our weapons primed with language, form and wit
The straitness of our measure shows the signs
Resolved we weave a fitting end to it

If I count right, the final couplet's here
To doubters - we have writ what we hold dear

Thank you, Raak, for believing - that was fun :-)
OK - fancy poetry's done - time for a chat?
[Chalky] Thank you for the dance, fun indeed!
But that last line, it has nine words!
(The last line of the sonnet, that is.)
[Quendalon] God is perfect, but we are not.
On the other hand, "we've enscribed" would fit.
[Raak] Perfect. I rushed and spoiled it. Sorry :-(
Can you do a haiku, then? Three separate lines, mind: no cheating.

Syncopating this
Is indubitably tough
Like making pancakes.
[pen] Not bad! But I meant three lines, each of eight words...
[CdM] I did think about that. How can eight words be squeezed out of five or seven syllables, unless you speak broad Yorkshire? Go on, show me! :oP
I am the tall bloke. That is me. In proper Yorks. accent becomes, I'm t'tall bloke, that's me
The poetry is great, please stick to eight!
Well, at least I broke the octofascistic hold for a couple of moves there. There is hope for you all yet.
Four feet per line makes all words short.
All work no play makes Raak dull boy?
Oh no, not another very difficult poetry game.
(CdM) You have repeatedly trampled octofascism to death. :-)
[nights] Do I detect a weary situational acceptance?
Hard thought is good play for the mind.
Doesn't anyone have eight pithy words for Friday?
We get the day off, in three days.
Let's skive off now for this week end.
The Bank Holiday will be a total washout. Like colonic irrigation.
We have no bank holiday here in France.
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