February 4th, 2016

Story a day: 2.3.16 (make-up entry)

I spent all day yesterday either sleeping or vomitting, so I'm giving myself a pass for missing my story a day entry. I actually tried to do it on my phone, but couldn't stay upright/alert for long enough.

This entry is a make up for 2.3

Prompt: 2.3's form will be ballade.

From what I understand, the ballade has three stanzas of eight lines with the rhyme scheme ababbcbc, followed by a four-line envoy with bcbc. The last line of the first stanza is repeated as the last line of the other three as well.


Riches, wealth, that's what he wanted,
that cat who wore a cream top hat.
His rings, his chains - these he flaunted,
that grubby, tubby capitalism cat.
He wiped his paws on a golden mat
and ate his kibbles from silver dishes
He did not care when he grew fat.
Money granted all his wishes.

The rich cat lounged in his plush bed.
He had servants trained to pat
his luscious fur, fiery red,
and about his neck, a green cravat.
With all this luxury, that greedy cat
piled high his golden fishes,
growing bulbous on meals of rat.
Money granted all his wishes.

One day, he was over-fed,
his belly as big as his money vat.
He feared that soon he would be dead,
so he pointed his sudden ire at
the unfortunate food-bringing servant.
"You poisoned one of my dishes!"
He lay down then, that ungenerous cat.
Money granted all his wishes.

Even as he gasped and spat,
clinging to his golden fishes,
that greedy, grubby, fat old cat,
thought money granted all his wishes.

Story a day: 2.4.16

And now to get back on schedule.

Prompt: Today's form will be pantoum.

"The modern pantoum is a poem of any length, composed of four-line stanzas in which the second and fourth lines of each stanza serve as the first and third lines of the next stanza. The last line of a pantoum is often the same as the first."'


When chasing happiness,
one ought exercise some care.
There are conditions on bliss.
True contentedness is rare.

One ought exercise some care
when eating, relaxing, enjoying at all.
True contendedness is rare.
Joy comes before the fall.

When eating, relaxing, enjoying at all,
the things offered by this life,
joy comes before the fall,
happiness balances on the edge of a knife.

The things offered by this life,
they are but a ruse, a lie, a farse.
Happiness balances on the edge of a knife.
You will fail and cry and die, of course.

They are but a ruse, a lie, a farse,
but do not let that steal your bliss.
You will fail and cry and die, of course,
when chasing happiness.