Previous Challenge Entry (EDITOR'S CHOICE)
Topic: Purple( 11/05/09)
TITLE:
A Royal Obsession | Writing Challenge By Jennifer Galey 11/11/09 |
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1st Place
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across the river Rhine,
a dynasty ruled in power—
now known as Liechtenstein.<br>
A certain king of royalty
and Austrian descent,
distinguished his authority
by shades to represent.<br>
He summoned that every inch
of each illustrious room,
“Be draped in purple niceties;
doused in orchid perfume."<br>
The windows donned a tapestry
of velvet in plum hue,
and colors deemed inferior
were quickly bid adieu.<br>
His purple robes and tights to match
were tailored to his shape—
with stature short and belly round,
he looked just like a grape! <br>
His heart grew insatiably
(much more than a passion);
he knew there must be so much more
than décor and fashion. <br>
He hailed his servants to his throne
and every knight and lord
to scour all the calendars—
no day should be ignored. <br>
Their quest was one of noble kind—
it was their sole mission—
to ascertain a holiday
for purple tradition. <br>
“Ahem,” Lord Bernhart cleared his throat,
“How doth the month of May…”
But the king leapt up from his throne
before Berns said<i> which</i> day. <br>
“The month of May. Hooray! Hooray!”
the king exclaimed with glee—
for he had a proclivity
toward grandiosity. <br>
He ordered every calendar
be displayed on easels
and marked each day with stains of grapes
(the spots looked like measles). <br>
Each day would hold festivities
greater than the prior,
and wrap up with a plum-good feast
that would please the sire. <br>
The king was feeling generous
and rode his royal horse
to give the poor a lofty sum
(in amethysts, of course). <br>
And when that day finally came
from great culmination,
each lord and lady near and far
joined in celebration. <br>
Amidst the royal revelry
of vineyard muscadine,
the king in royal protocol
tipped his goblet of wine. <br>
With purple cloth displayed across
an infinite buffet,
the vittles, braised and bluish-red,
were hard to separate. <br>
Scooping up a lavender lump
The king asked with care,
“From what doth this originate?”
(The answer was not there). <br>
Sniffing at the smorgasbord stretch
in flabbergasted voice,
(referring to the mush of orange)
he asked, “who made<i> this</i> choice?” <br>
A skittish gal with frazzled hair
let out a feeble sound,
pledging that her rutabaga
was purple in the ground. <br>
Despite the nips of radish dip
and herb eggplant soufflé,
the king was less than gratified,
“annoyed,” as we would say. <br>
With earnest eye and ample nose
(a culinary sleuth),
the king espied chocolate pie
for soothing his sweet tooth. <br>
Devouring the decadence
of rich truffle shavings,
he plunged into this perfect dish
to appease his cravings. <br>
With belly full of half the pie
(the rest on his mustache),
He asked from curiosity,
“What makes this such a smash?” <br>
Lord Berns arose upon his toes,
(an unexpected cook),
“In the pursuit of purpleness,
some liberties, I took...” <br>
“In lieu of sugar and butter,
a noble surrogate,
for sweet perfume, a pound of prunes,
one will soon not forget.” <br>
Although the king did not reply,
his stomach made a tune,
concluding “Purple Holiday”
not a moment too soon.
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