August 2025
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    I know poetic prose exists, but is there any of the converse? For example, I was reading the web novel The Wheel and the Wing where it has this verse that's lush, but without the traditional footing and syllabic limits, and stanzas that are more like bite-sized paragraphs. For example:

    [Desde]: When I make anthems, they must fight
    as they’re declared. In that game and genre,
    yell is over plausibility. You fight to lie,
    while I lie in order to fight! [Mitka]: Battles betted on

    Involve all arms to dodge a stalemate––but
    in mine, where outcomes are fixed, they must
    be barely won to have the most applause.
    How else did masks warm up to me, but as

    a way to dampen all their claps and scam
    my face out from their minds? It was my way
    of handling the first inklings of fame. Masks
    were venues, but a vessel, too: a shield

    to face fame and fit the many clothes of clout;
    a way to hide and a way to catch less eyes.
    yet as I made more, I found myself not just
    hidden from the public eye, but losing

    my eye for puppets. I felt behind a mask,
    making puppets move; it was only
    carving masks that I truly felt tugged
    by strings above. [D]: They sure can’t hide

    your crippled legs! [M]: No, but they do hide
    who’s the cripple. I was past calling myself I,
    but not ready to refer to myself as Mitka
    without cringing. Just past starring as others,

    but before others began to star as me.
    Friends who believed my words would soon
    believe my works, and doubters of my works
    would soon only doubt my life-story.

    Anything like that you've seen? By the way, I'm enjoying it so far. It's about a paraplegic who befriends a harpy (has wings, but no arms).

    by Super-Cut-2175

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