(1) write a poem about a beginning and/or an end, and
(2) write an "enigma" poem, i.e., a poem that describes something without really naming it, a sort of riddle if you will. So without further comment, here it mine, which I think came out more as an extended metaphor than an "enigma". It shouldn't be too hard to figure out.
War of Words
I begin this conversation with a word,
one with twice as much value
as it would normally have. You respond
with another that connects somehow
to mine. Our dance of language begins.
Our options are limited - sometimes we
scramble and scratch for words that are
not there - but we make the most
with what we have. Sometimes we really
don't understand the ones we use, but
we use them anyway to serve our purpose
and give ourselves the advantage.
Our back-and-forth continues, always
making sure what we say intersects
and fits into the dialog, all the work
of our knowledge spread before us,
an intricate grid. Finally, with luck,
I get the last word, leaving you
speechless, outscored, holding the bag,
until next time, when maybe you will be
the one who has more to say, as we sparwith words, out here on the tiles.