A Poet's Corpse

An Exquisite Corpse is a type of Multi-author Story wherein each participant adds a paragraph to a Story in turn. A Poet's Corpse takes the same Idea and adds the arbitrary Constraint of a rhyme scheme. The First Poster (In This Case, Me) Writes a rhyming couplet, and then half of another. The Next player along Completes that couplet, Writes a Couplet of their own, and then leaves another Half Completed Couplet.

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Examples

There once was a Lad, his name was Jim
His Life's smallest problem was he couldn't swim
For he lived Eighty-Four Miles Inland

In the Midst of a Desert, Surrounded by Sand
His Greatest Issue was his life was Fraught
With a Plague of Bandits who he Constantly Fought
For Control of a Fountain which constantly Gurgled

And So On, Etcetera, Until Some Ill defined future point. If you think a Poem has come to a Natural Ending point, Feel Free to end it and Start a New Corpse. To End A Story, Cap It off With three Lines, And then Start Another Poem With The Couple+Dangler Combo. Some Kind of Linebreak Between Would Be Nice As Well

And With the The Ultimate Battle Was Done
He retired to his Fountain with his friends
And Of this daring Tale, You Have Reached The End

*****

He Stood in Thought, His Mind Distraught, His Armor Diamond Plated
In Front of Kate, her face Full of Hate, waiting to be Annihilated
When In Ran Dan, That Wonderful man, To deliver Them A letter

Rules;
1.No using words that Don't Have Any Rhymes. That's Rude
2.You can use nonsense words if you want to, but try to keep them discernible by context (even (especially) if you foist contextualizing the word off onto the next rhymer)
3. Keeping to the Meter is appreciated but not tantamount. (He Said, Absolving himself of this sin in advance)
4. Try to Keep things Orderly. Check to see if Someone else has Replied before you post your reply. It can get Chaotic, with Multiple Poem threads running concurrent Otherwise.
5. Be As Serious or as silly as you want.

Enjoy!
*****



Once upon The Ides of March
A young man sat beneath a Larch
His Head was filled with Many Things

Like stress with work, and severed links
If friends stayed, and never drifted
If he was smart, maybe gifted?
Maybe life won't be so rough

When he finally knows enough
To halt the Warriors from the East,
To stay the Fury of their Wartime Beast,
Whose Tusks and Horns, and Teeth and Claws

And The Lightning Shot From Seven Maws
Loosened The Bowels of the Holy Knights
The Kingdom's Answer to Most of its Fights
The Young Man Scowled and shook his Head

"With those thoughts, I might aswell be dead!"
He jumped up when there was a sudden crash,
He thought bad, then said, "Well I shouldn't be rash."
And after that had come a heavy smell of rot

From things that were, and things that ought
Not to have been; Not known by man,
The horrors that a fool's mind can
Come to a errant conclusion,

And cloud itself with thick illusion.
"Was I a knight from battle fled?
Am I shunned, or thought as dead?"
What he said, he thought was true,

When the crash revealed itself to be a knight of blue.
He jumped up, his thoughts interrupted,
The knight in blue suddenly erupted -
"Where have you been?! You've been missing for hours!"

The knight faced him with an expression, sour.
The man then replied, voice quite flat.
"I've an explanation for that."
Thinking fast, he began to sing,

A song about a drunken king.
One who had him on a mission sent,
On which to find a certain gent.
But naught else could he recall,