Anonymous entry:

Proem

Crow upon a windowsill,
Plucks a feather for a quill,
Black as ink as it sits still,
And he thinks to write until,
The cat slinks in for the kill.

Word by word writ unto page,
Sets the actors on the stage,
Fowl flees as wings engage,
Feline leaps with claws of rage,
Fly and pounce their battles wage.

Torn apart a broken tome,
Scattered now the papers roam,
Flits about the dimming gloam,
Finding chaos has come home,
How shall we end this Poem?

A contest held through the land,
Finish this tale we demand,
Make it simple; make it grand,
be it praised; be it panned,
The story ends by your hand.