Welcome to The Writer Games,
a contest of writing and wit inspired by the Winter Olympic Games.
Just like the real Olympics, the games last for two weeks and present a different contest each day. And just like the real Olympics, there will be medals and prizes.
Unlike the real Olympics, you do not have to dress up in a sparkling silver bathing suit and show your derriere to the world when you smack onto ice.
You have until February 19 at midnight to enter any of the events. Check out past posts to see details and more events.
Today's Competition is Figure Skating: Pairs.
Your challenge is to figure out how to gracefully niche together the following words themed on winter and love in five lines or less:
frigid
shiver
cloistered
tender
kiss
passion
My try:
A frigid shiver pierced my bones as I gaped at the cloistered vision. What of our longing glances, the tender touch of hands brushing against each other, the passionate kiss we shared only yesterday? How could she enter a nunnery not one day later like some icy harlot? And what had she done with my family heirlooms, passed down from King Edward himself and the sum and total of all I possessed?
7 comments:
It's friggin' frigid out here
But I tell myself I don't mind cuz
I shiver for you baby. I've been cloistered all day studying for my exams under the critical eye of the parental unit but no problem cuz I'm waiting for you and your tender kiss. Cold is just an illusion when passion is on the horizon. You did say the school yard didn't ya, babe?
The Hawaiian boy felt a shiver of delight as he packed his bags for the journey to frigid Minnesota. He was on his way to fulfilling his cloistered passion: Becoming an expert at ice fishing; that epitome of manhood in the Upper Midwest. With a tender look he placed a kiss upon his plane ticket, wishing himself good luck.
Why Master 'Arkins, that there is a frigate, not a frigid. If I may make so bold, to be sure I don't like to be pushin' athwart my betters, though they be but a tender lad like yerself from a cloistered harbor. But askin' yore pardon, young sir, there's a shiver in me timbers as I spy yon warship, what by the cut of her jib, and the puffs of smoke from her broadsides, I'll wager you'll find that the black speck, now a black spot really, and growing larger as we pass the time o' day, is a token of misguided passion from that scurvy Blackbeard. It come natural to say that his greeting hails true and hard in the form of an iron kiss, I'll be bound, and will be here before I can wish ye the top o' the morn....
Have I mentioned how brilliant you guys are yet? These comments are really, really fun to read!
In the frigid wind, I shiver,
so seek shelter in the cloistered protection of the old trees, but you are there and I shiver once again in the passion of your tender kiss.
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