Wednesday, August 10, 2011

The Witch of Picassoid

It's writing challenge time, brought to you by Indie Ink. Join in on the fun!

Welcome to Week 20.

Week 20
My Challenger: Amy LaBonte
My Challenge: Picassoid
Who I am Challenging: Lance
What I Challenged Them With: The enemy of your passion in life...

I've gotta be flippin' honest here. I have no idea what a "picassoid" is.... I think Amy made it up. Unless it does have something to do with Picasso, and Google simply didn't know the answer...

Which, I think, made me sad...

The Witch of Picassoid

His fingers trailed in slimy mud,
His limbs were twisted, caked in blood,
Exhausted, he fell down with a thud
Along the murky Picassoid.

Along it's foggy banks he heard
Strange sounds no creature would prefer,
Even injured and broken, as he stirred
The waters of Picassoid.

And as he watched, the fog rolled in,
The moon behind the clouds grew dim,
As swirling mist caressed his skin
In this, the empty void...

Along the Picassoid...

A cackle came, at first quite low
And as the sound began to grow
The horrid monster he used to know
Took shape within the mist.

And from the water's depths did rise
A gruesome tentacle of great size
And gripped him tightly 'round the thighs
And dared him to resist.

Drawing forth his sword Slash! Slash!
The moment over in a flash,
It disappeared with a giant splash
No longer in his midst.

An evil laugh again did come,
And softly, gaily, she did hum
A merry tune of death and scum
And when her eyes met his...

He knew the Picassoid Witch.

"I've come for you," he barely said,
As upon the beach his wounds still bled
Hanging to life by a single thread,
At the edges of the moor.

"Have you now, Oh noble knight?
You may have given my pet a fright,
To me you seem a sad, sad sight,
Dying on this shore."

She cackled then, both strong and loud,
"The Picassoid witch will not be cowed
By a broken, beaten, withered clown.
Your kind I do abhor...

Mortals, weak and poor."

"By the Thunder Gods, I swear,
My warnings now you should beware,
Your time on earth and in this lair
Will end on this night."

And by some miracle the knight did rise
From out of the mud, now eye to eye
With the ancient evil to apprise
Of how to win this fight.

She disappeared into the fog
And laughed and cackled within the bog.
"You think to fight me? You mortal dog!
In this I will delight!

Do you like fire, Sir Knight?"

And from her fingertips came screaming
A ball of fire, bright and gleaming,
Straight and true to his chest careening
To burn him where he stayed.

And where the strength he found, who knows?
He rolled and dodged the fiery foe
While drawing forth to strike a blow
With the sword of Idennay.

With a primal scream he thrust it out
To claim her heart, her blood to sprout
From her chest onto the ground
Much to her dismay...

And on the ground she lay.

"The Picassoid Witch is defeated, I see,"
She mused as she stared up at the trees
Whose twisted branches had held the keys
To her demonic power.

He stood and watched not ten feet away
Not believing himself that her life he'd slain.
Yet one last scream she uttered that day,
"This is not the hour!"

"For in this swamp my bones will rot,
And when the land my life forgot,
I will rise again to claim my plot
And then you all will cower...

And in evil you will shower!"

And then her breath was gone and silent.
He shuddered at her curse, so violent,
But hoping all the same that meant
She'd crossed over to the void.

And that this earth, this life, would savor
A life free from her evil favors,
And no one else would have to quaver
Because she'd been destroyed.

He trudged out from the swamp still broken,
This latest battle but a token
Of his many battles, most unspoken,
And none he could avoid.

Next he faced a foe most deadly,
A dragon, they said, most dastardly.
But at least this once he left elatedly,
The world no longer annoyed...

By the Witch of Picassoid.

Previous Challenges I have answered:


Carrie said...

LOVE IT!! Reminded me of those classic epic poems you got from Milton and Browning

Karla said...

You continue to amaze. :)

lancemyblogcanbeatupyourblog said...

Great flow. I like the images and the alternate world you create.

Thanks for my challenge.

Amy L. said...

Ha! It really wasn't a made-up word. It came from an article in ArtNews (issue May 2011, beginning on p. 97) highlighting artists who have evolved their inner Picasso. At the end of the article the artist Kamps says "I'm from Wisconsin, so a little grandiosity and pretension have tremendous appeal to me... When you get an artist in his studio and he goes 'Yo,Picasso!' my hat's off to him. I think more artists should aspire to that model, to having your name be 'Picassoid.' After all, how many people get that honorific?"

Great job Jason!

Aleta said...

The poem moved along with grace! Loved it and would love to read more of his battles :)

Billy said...

An epic piece, it reminded me of Noyse's The highwayman. You created a world that was very real to the reader!

Marian said...

hah! i am giving up writing poetry now.