The Spoonbill Generator

Confusion Excuses This Apparently Plotless Fiasco

The night this narrative began [Roland]

I thought I heard the door slam twice [P]

And, glancing backwards as I ran [Roland]

I saw the shadow of a man [P]

Who bore a strange device: [Roland]

A headless fish within a sphere [P]

Supported by a crimson lamb [Roland]

Upon a field of barley sere [TG]

And all dressed up in battle-gear [Roland]

While munching on a yam [TG]

So when I stumbled, when I fell [Roland]

I knew what I must do [TG]

And as I heard the passing bell [Roland]

I wondered if I'd live to tell [TG]

Whatever might ensue [Roland]

In terror, "Let me be!" I cried [TG]

As, through the gathering gloom [Roland]

The shade of father's fratricide [TG]

(Which father steadfastly denied) [Bop]

Felled cobwebs with a broom [TG]

In such a tangle, such a trap [Roland]

As never author told before [TG]

I grappled for the magic map [Roland]

On which is plotted every gap [Bop]

each sealing, every flaw [Roland]

And realised at once that I [TG]

Was far from any mortal spot [Roland]

I must record, before I die, [TG]

(since mere omission makes a lie) [Roland]

My final thoughts on mortals' lot: [P]

We may be born to blush unseen [TG]

To gasp, unknown, our futile breath [Roland]

But if we find out where we've been [TG]

By land, by air, by submarine [Roland]

It gives some point to death [TG]

Contributors: Roland, P, TG, Bop.
Poem finished: 30th May 1998.