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    Post your creative writing here?

    Hey forum friends,
    While I was away (moving house–thank God I no longer live in a cornfield) a whole bunch of poems appeared on the TB news thread in response to the much-lamented departure of Solar Dyneema. It occurred to me that while there is a lot of attention on Solar right now, perhaps the entire TB color roster deserves a shout-out. So, I wrote a poem that incorporates the name of every current available TB color (including Solar, Hemp, and Cork but minus Universal Camouflage, which in my mind is not really a color because you're not supposed to see it–derp).

    This ended up being pretty awesome because I have not written any poetry in a long time, which is particularly embarrassing because my creative track in college was, um, poetry. I know there are a bunch of other writers here on the forum, and maybe some of you would like to share? Please feel free to PM me with any criticism--though I suppose if you would like to criticize me publicly that's fine too. And yes, I already know some parts sound stilted, which is what happens when you are trying to incorporate nouns like "kiwi" and "ultraviolet."

    Also, if anyone wants to collaborate on any TB-inspired writing, hit me up.

    See the poem in the very next post!
    Last edited by Badger; 06-10-2012, 01:39 PM.

    College kids, if you plagiarize this I swear by all that is holy that


    Now, having dispensed that word to the wise, here's my poem, kindly peer-reviewed by Mrs B. Don't forget to look for your favorite TB color!
    xo, Badger

    The Whole of the World

    Here, hear my friends, the song of the travelers:
    We are pilots and sailors, divers and painters; we
    Take only what we can carry.
    We are craftsmen and tailors, we are writers, we are spies–
    Stowaway lookouts who glimpse from the masthead
    The safety of port after the storm, the reassurance of
    Someone else's navy.
    We take what we can carry, and our backs are strong.

    And what we hold in our hands is the trace of our origins,
    Cradled like glass or just-hatched kiwi birds, wet and
    Straining towards the sun.

    Yet we are always already on pilgrimage,
    Yearning for what is fleeting but eternal:
    The light that floods the Iberian plains,
    And the rust-red footprints left in Andalusian soil.
    Twilight descending with hosts of bats;
    The azalea and tourmaline flourishes of the Aurora Borealis.

    The sublimity of a solar eclipse.

    Hear now our understanding of the word seduction:
    A plane ticket, a second-class fare, a strange bed
    In a time zone somewhere not yesterday's;
    A leaking tent on a pebbly inlet;
    Cocoa sipped from a battered flask as
    Mist rises up from the forest.

    Orchards of apricot and plum give way to
    Ranks of cornfields, dulcet with bees,
    Stands of conifers, groves of bamboo.
    Steaming rice paddies, harvests of lily bulb, wasabi,
    Bracken and bird's nest.
    Lengths of fishline drift with the tides, meandering like
    Every route we have run, buoyed by points of interest:
    Silk Road, Orient Express, Compostela, Station Island.

    In the cathedrals we pass amber aumbries
    Whose mysteries appear at intervals;
    We pass beneath the blank, watchful eyes
    Of long-dead cardinals, the gilt and turquoise reliquaries that
    House the metatarsals of Saint This or The Other.
    We move with the agility of dancers moving over warm cork floors,
    We emerge into the ultraviolet hours of high summer, we
    Turn to the crystalline sapphire sea.

    Now in arid Medina, see the souks with their hoards of spice:
    Hillocks of turmeric and sumac, mounds of
    Cayenne and coriander–dust that is older than God.
    Lumpy gemstones the size of olives and olives the size of an eye.
    We take refuge under palms and hemp lean-tos; we
    Watch the djinns shift the sand in ripples and eddies
    Until in the evening it settles, a linen shroud white in dusk.

    In the black of night is the whole of the world.
    In the world is the promise of all the days to come.
    What we cannot carry, we leave behind.
    Every day writes the song that will save us;
    Even as we rest, we ache for our first steps tomorrow,
    And we steel ourselves.

    We steel ourselves.


      Crap, I forgot Indigo. Oh well.


        forgotten indigo:
        memories of summer seas
        grasping one more day

        Ok, not anywhere near as awesome as yours, but there you have it.
        Eat well, travel often.


          Originally posted by nukediver View Post
          forgotten indigo:
          memories of summer seas
          grasping one more day

          Ok, not anywhere near as awesome as yours, but there you have it.
          What are you talking about??? Haikus are rad.


            *blush* thanks :-)
            Eat well, travel often.


              Wow!!! That was amazing, Badger!
              Satisfied owner of: Azalea Swift & LS, Blk/Plum Swift, Cork LS, Blk/UV LS, Synapse 19 & Co-Pilot, Steel/UV Pilot, Fst/Stl Tri-Star, Fst/Blk/UV SA, UV PCSB, Plum SE, FJN, & SCB, Aubergine WF, LS & Kit, Trvl Trays, Passport Pouches, and Shop Bags in all colors , Multiplying OPs


                I am awe struck! (This is me, with jaw dropped...)

                Badger - you are gifted! And if you haven't written an poetry in a while, then you certainly made up for it with this hauntingly beautiful piece! What a gift!

                Please continue to write!
                "Buy the best, cry once" - Pasquale


                  Thanks guys--it was a fun experiment.

                  Next up? Limericks naming everyone at the TB factory! (jk. sort of.)

                  TavaPeak, where are you? Let's see some writing!


                    Another awesome poem!

                    So, here's a short, title-less poem I wrote today to Mrs B via SMS:

                    Sandwich, sandwich
                    Sandwich vile and inedible

                    I threw you in the trash,
                    And from the trash you mock me–

                    O sandwich, vile sandwich

                    Ah, my triumphant return to the lyrical realm.


                      What did your sandwich do to you!?
                      1-800-729-9607 (US & Canada) 360-452-0115 (other countries)
                      Siquid mantica non capit, domi relinquendum est.


                        Note to self, stay away from mock-badger sandwiches.


                          Originally posted by Katy View Post
                          What did your sandwich do to you!?
                          It offended me with its mushiness and great expense; it tasted bad, and after I threw it away I could still smell it. The worst.


                            Originally posted by snowbot View Post
                            Note to self, stay away from mock-badger sandwiches.
                            Mock badger? I think you can get that in tins from the import store. Tasty with Marmite.


                              I'm here, Badger. Nice work on that poem! My poetry leans rather doggerel these days.

                              There once was a guy named Tom Bihn
                              Who sewed bags to carry stuff in.
                              With Cordura, Dyneema,
                              the hues – have you seen ‘em?—
                              inspire folks to rhapsodic melodyin’.