Sep 8, 2009 by

Read OMAR 1 here

Read OMAR 2 here

Read OMAR 3 here

Round 4 Challenge: Weave an element of Fyor’s story into your own passage. It should be no more than 450 words.


If your fears are many
As you amble through your life,
Imagine how you’d cope
If each bright day were one dark night.
That is how it was for Claus,
Though this is not quite true;
The blind do not see blackness:
Sight’s a sense that they’re deaf to.
Just like we can’t hear radio waves
That warble through the air;
We do not hear their absence,
They simply are not there.
The same for the unseeing ones:
The world goes by unseen,
Without darkness, without light,
No red nor blue nor green.
The unseeing see with other eyes,
Not ones above their nose,
But ones with lobes, canals and drums
For which our bards compose.
Hearing’s the most primal sense,
Most sensitive perception,
The first one to develop
Just twelve weeks from conception
“How can that be!” you huff and puff
And screech and hoot and jeer.
“A fetus does not yet have ears
So how then can it hear?”
Please calm down and I’ll explain
If you’d just let me speak;
Unlike a fetus without ears
Your hearing’s rather bleak.
In our mother’s belly
Her heartbeat we do hear,
Not through ears but through our cells
That cover our veneer.
If you’re in a coma,
In deep unconsciousness,
Your hearing will return first
When at last you convalesce.
One more fact that we should share
Before we carry on
(And then we shall return
To Claus’ tale agreed upon):
When you are deprived a sense
Your others compensate;
Claus may lack his vision
But his nose and ears work great.
This is why, against all odds,
Claus could become a shepherd
As efficient and adept
As Mac OS Snow Leopard.
He didn’t have to see his herd
To know where they had went;
He only had to hear their baahs
And sniff their woolly scent.
Truly Claus did love his sheep
But not in a lewd way
(I know what you are thinking,
This your sniggers do betray).
Yet his duties as a herdsman
Were nothing but a ploy
For solitude in nature
To sing his sad heart’s joy.
The memory of Piper’s song
And Jim’s death-howl did haunt him;
He sang from dawn to dusk
Ballads, folk songs, Goth hymns.
Soon his song controlled his flock;
No longer would they flee.
Why would they when instead they could
Munch to his harmony?
Soon birds and bees and cats and mice
Gathered for his songs;
And then one day, a rodent
Came along and joined the throngs.
“I have not heard such music,”
The rat to Claus did say,
“Since the day Piper Piper came
And snatched my friends away.”

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  1. Your lyrical lines are such a joy to read. I have to admit to having never been a fan of poetry and wondered what all the fuss was with epics … now I understand.

    Thank you for enlightening me!

    I continue to love the manner in which you weave your humour and a very subtle but clever weaving in of the Unseen element. Pays to have a character who is blind!!

  2. I bow to you, Great Omar!

  3. Have to agree with Jodi on this one – never been a poetry fan myself, mainly because I could never really understand it!! But this I can read, get a feel for what is going on, think I am enjoying the style and am gradually getting reeled in!!

    Still some rodents around though, away that fateful day perhaps!

  4. “…As capable and efficient
    as Mac OSX Snow Leopard”

    …actually made me burst out laughing! Err…pity I was at work at the time. Whoops.

    Omar, if I find anyone tries to vote you off, I’ll personally go to their house, ring their doorbell and run away.

    (Well, maybe not, but I’ll be seriously miffed nonetheless.)

    I can’t wait to read next week’s installment!

  5. i’m a poetry fan and i must say this has all been cheap and lazy, Omar. but then again this contest is hardly the former for finding the next Muldoon.

    i see only the barest allusions to poetic tradition and nothing at all that can be considered innovation.

  6. craig

    hard to critique the blind

  7. Auggie

    tony is the only commenter with the courage to tell the truth. this poem sucks. jodi just likes to hear herself talk. omar, you gotta go.

  8. My thanks to Jodi, Annasbones,
    Little star, JD;
    Your words are far too generous;
    For my simple poetry.

    Craig you need not worry much
    Do critique away;
    For you will find I am not blind,
    I see the light of day.

    Tony, Aug, I know your type,
    The kid who’s always snide;
    Witty on the outside
    But a knucklehead inside.

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