Famous Quoted Line Poetry Contest

[Pendragon]

I have an idea for another poetry contest. We will call it "Famous Line Quotes". The idea is to take a quoted line from a famous poet, and then weave your own poem around that line and idea. The prospects are endless, since you may spoof the famous writer or use any form and idea you may get.

If anyone is interested, the first famous line will be from Edgar Allan Poe:

"Quoth the raven, nevermore."

Have fun. Contest will end April 20th.

Pendragon

[PrinceMyshkin]

I have an idea for another poetry contest. We will call it "Famous Line Quotes". The idea is to take a quoted line from a famous poet, and then weave your own poem around that line and idea. The prospects are endless, since you may spoof the famous writer or use any form and idea you may get.

If anyone is interested, the first famous line will be from Edgar Allan Poe:

"Quoth the raven, nevermore."

Have fun. Contest will end April 20th.

Pendragon

I've tried my own parody of the Poe poem, which seems to beg to be parodied, and I will certainly give thought to this excellent proposal for a new contest.

[PrinceMyshkin]

“April is the cruellest month,”*
though I could name you
ten or eleven that run it
a very close second!

January tempts us
with the taunt to remake ourselves
once again, though every attempt
seems to result in Myself.2,
.3, &c.

February dips precipitously
towards the day when we’re compelled to feel love
for someone or other
and to announce it with a dopey
rhyme or saccharine card
that grows costlier and cheesier
each year!

Don’t even mention March, which,
it is said “Comes in like a lion,”
then sometimes seems to feed on us
for thirty-one long, long days.

And so on until December,
when death beckons
so invitingly...


_________________________
*T.S. Eliot, "The Waste Land"

[Dark Muse]

Sage of the Dead

He sat perched upon his throne
watching stoically across the barren
landscape, with speculative black eyes,
offering somewhere within them
a taste of Lethe, those occultic
occulurs in which one could become
lost for countless infinities,
there was his reflective answer:

Nevermore.......Nevermore

The old sage draped in his black cloak,
his silence spoke depths of volume
for upon his back rode the old souls
of the dead to be carried away
into worlds beyond and when one poor
soul stopped beneath his tree,
he said nothing, but gave the answer:

Nevermore.......Nevermore

Upon the bodies of the dead he made
his feast, giving him the key
to wander the skies like a shadow
ill omened by the unenlightened,
he carries the weight of wisdom
untouched by living flesh and blood,
so when one seeks to know
what is beyond them,
he only smiles grimly and responds:

Nevermore........Nevermore

Let the meaning define itself to those
pilgrims that kneel beneath the crooked
throne of an old feathered soul,
that holds the truth within, while forever
whispering into the wind, his cry:

Nevermore.......Nevermore

[Pendragon]

Good Good! Keep them coming!

[hack]

Nevermore

as a child
I cruelly split
the raven's tongue

to make his speech
more soothing
to my ear

now a man
I wonder
at what I've done

and rue my past
although
the voice is clear

[Babyguile]

^ i like this

[Pendragon]

Come now. Surely there are others interested in submitting poems. Write, poets, write!

[krymsonkyng]

Hack's poem was brilliant!

[Pendragon]

Contest now over.

Prince-- I would have given this contest to you hands down, but "april is the cruelest month: was not the given quoted line. Wonderful poem, and a good leson in how to use another poet's quote.

Dark Muse-- The line seemed to fit your poem writing to a t, and your poem was refreshingly good

Hack-- What can I say? So much with so few words. A masterpiece!

Hack is declared winner, and may post the next quoted line!

[hack]

Thanks Pen,

It was fun, I hope we get more entries.
I liked yours, Dark Muse.

The next line is Robert Frost's "Two roads diverged in a yellow wood."

The deadline is May 10th

[Dark Muse]

Thank you, I quite liked yours as well.

[Dark Muse]

The Roads of East and West

The sun sets in a burst of yellow
flame upon the wood before me,
and I contemplate the way
which awaits

like a serpent's tongue
it splits apart, and I must
divine the way to take.

Falling under the shadow
of a sinking sun, each
road offers its own mystery,
winding off into the unknown
through trees standing sentinel,
now appearing as looming shadows

and no answer will come to me
for the dilemma that I have to face,
I must decide the road to take.

To the east in the land where
the sun will wake and bring
morning shining again and I will
feel greeted by the warmth of its
touch in the soft glow of orange-red
skies blushing in the new born day.

To the west, where the sun lays
its head down to sleep, and in these
last diminishing hours, it will offer
a guiding light in skies of bright
deep crimson for the long good-bye,
and I may whisper a soft goodnight
before at last darkness descends

there is no hand of fate to point
to me the right choice to make
so it is for me to discover
the course for me.

Before the fading yellow light
with the yawning wood
I found myself pondering
upon two roads tempting me,
and only one may I choose
to take.

[Pendragon]

Choice

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
One going right, one left
One well-traveled, the other barely marked
So I took the one less traveled
I often wonder about my choice
Would I have wound up in the same place
If I took the road more traveled
Would it really have made any difference...

Pendragon

[krymsonkyng]

A long walk in the woods today
found a hiccup in the system
to scare any hiccup away

The basest thorn of the rose stem
a bubble of blood for my dare
flesh wasted and worn, like women.

The rose deserved to keep its where
I left it there, not to be rude.
Let someone else find beauty there.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood
one deeper in, and one away.
Had to take the greater good

and forsake the greater good.
A long walk through the woods today.

[hillwalker]

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
Where autumn’s lush detritus mired
The way ahead. From where I stood,
To look at where they part - no good
Would come of either way so I retired.

The first one paved - time-encrusted slate,
Each flagstone glazed by light of day,
Each slab worn down by time and fate,
Seemed easiest to navigate.
Expediency rarely defines the way.

The second passage devoid of ease
Troubled my heart with visions black,
And haunting silence ‘neath the trees;
This path entrenched, assailed by breeze,
And darker shadows cast behind my back.

I searched my soul for the way ahead
As both my choices now unravelled
Two roads diverging, the harder led
Through threat of death to life instead,
And so I took the road less travelled.

[Pendragon]

Knock, knock! Hello? This contest needs more attention!

[Hawkman]

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
Though why it was yellow was not understood.
Were all the trees cowards, afraid of the axe,
That could smite them to lumber for putting in sacks,
Or was it disease that affected the trees,
Infected by X-file type, modified bees?

The answer, I felt, lay down one of the paths,
One strewn with stones and the other with laths.
The mystery now I just had to unravel,
So I followed the one that was covered with gravel.
The custard wood lured me deeper within
And I wished that a priest could have shriven my sin.

But at last, in a clearing, the answer I found,
It was obvious now that I looked all around,
At the top of a ladder, quite close to a tree,
A man with a spray-gun was looking at me.
He pointed his weapon and right then I fainted
And found when I woke, that I too, had been painted.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
Though why it was yellow was not understood.
Were all the trees cowards, afraid of the axe,
That could smite them to lumber for putting in sacks,
Or was it disease that affected the trees,
Infected by X-file type, modified bees?

The answer, I felt, lay down one of the paths,
One strewn with stones and the other with laths.
The mystery now I just had to unravel,
So I followed the one that was covered with gravel.
The custard wood lured me deeper within
And I wished that a priest could have shriven my sin.

But at last, in a clearing, the answer I found,
It was obvious now that I looked all around,
At the top of a ladder, quite close to a tree,
A man with a spray-gun was looking at me.
He pointed his weapon and right then I fainted
And found when I woke, that I too, had been painted.

I can see why you are proud of this one!

[PrinceMyshkin]

TWO roads diverged in a yellow wood,
Where autumn’s lush detritus mired
The way ahead. From where I stood,
To look at where they part - no good
Would come of either way so I retired.

The first one paved - time-encrusted slate,
Each flagstone glazed by light of day,
Each slab worn down by time and fate,
Seemed easiest to navigate.
Expediency rarely defines the way.

The second passage devoid of ease
Troubled my heart with visions black,
And haunting silence ‘neath the trees;
This path entrenched, assailed by breeze,
And darker shadows cast behind my back.

I searched my soul for the way ahead
As both my choices now unravelled
Two roads diverging, the harder led
Through threat of death to life instead,
And so I took the road less travelled.

I thought of having a stab at this one myself, though I'd likely have been a bit caustic because of what seems to me the self-congratulatory smugness of the original, but between the two of you - you and Hawkman - you've done this proud.

[Hawkman]

My Prince, Certainly on my own behalf, and by hill's leave, on his too, thanks very much!

[krymsonkyng]

Question on the rules: Is it cool to nest the quote within the body of the work or should I have started things off with the quote?

[hack]

The entries were all quite good and so diverse.
It is no easy task to choose. I suppose that
that is the point, after all. Though the choice
is difficult, all roads lead to Hillwalker. Thanks
all for your efforts. Good work...peace...

[Pendragon]

Congratulations, Hillwalker!

[krymsonkyng]

Nice! congrats Hillwalker! Stay Frosty people... another round on the way :D

[Hawkman]

Nice one hill, you're the man!

[hillwalker]

Thank you all - those who have read any of my other efforts will realise I am allergic to rhyme and standard poetic forms so this was a bit of a step into the unknown.

I shall have to get my thinking cap on for the next couple of hours.

And thank you, hack. Your cheque's in the post.....

H

[dizzydoll]

Excellent Walker, its time to get published now. We need a celebration. :party:

They say.... everything happens in three's, two down one to go! Where can it be?

[hillwalker]

After (not very) much thought I have plumped for an old favourite - from William Blake's 'Songs of Experience' ('The Tyger') :

Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright
[in the forests of the night]

No need to include the 2nd italiised line - nor the archaic spelling of 'tiger'..... let your imagination flow.

Closing date - 1st of June?
Best of luck everyone.

H

[Dark Muse]

Tyger Heart

The cigarette tip
flared up
glowing in the darkness
like a tiger's eye
unsettling, unwavering
winking infrequently

Through smoky
haze you can feel
her smile
purely feline.

Caught in
occasional glimpses
of illumination
her profile etched
half in shadow
half in light
asymmetrical.

She was born
with predatory
instinct,
contemplating
her prey
ready to devour.

Yet even when
she is poised
awaiting the kill
there is something
strikingly beautiful.

[Pendragon]

Tyger, Tyger burning bright
In the forest of the night
But something here just isn't right
Tygers hunt by day, not by night

[Hawkman]

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright,
someone set my cat alight.
Who could do so foul a thing
as soak a cat in gas and fling
a lighted match upon its back -
compassion they must surely lack.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Tyger, Tyger, burning bright,
someone set my cat alight.
Who could do so foul a thing
as soak a cat in gas and fling
a lighted match upon its back -
compassion they must surely lack.

Ooops! You've halfway stolen my entry, but I plan to put it up anyway. Congratulations on yours, though. One might have expected you to take it in an offbeat direction. OK, here comes mine...

[hack]

Tyger, tyger
Seeking food
One glance
Your way
And you are screwed

You know
A tyger
Burning bright
Will set
The grilling
Fire alight

If you are
Woman, child or dude
It's all the same
When Bar-B-Qued

[PrinceMyshkin]

Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright,
Through the African dark night.

Aardvark, jackal, lion, elephant:
All cavort and growl and pant.

With buffalo, hippo, antelope,
They push and shove, they paw and grope.

From veld to Karoo and savanna,
Each hungering for its own manna,

They’re drawn by the raging light.
Tyger! Tyger! Burning bright!

What a feast we’ll have tonight!

[Hawkman]

hack and Prince, both classic entries I feel :) Gee the competition's tough round here!

My Prince:

How did the Tyger to Africa come
and why leave behind the far Asian shore?

How did it get there and why did it leave
when India’s jungles would seem to be
a much better place for this tyger you see

The walk must have made his paws ever so sore,
or did he go swimming and lose his course?
But if he went swimming his coat would be wet
and much harder then to ignite I bet!

[PrinceMyshkin]

[/B]
hack and Prince, both classic entries I feel :) Gee the competition's tough round here!

My Prince:

How did the Tyger to Africa come
and why leave behind the far Asian shore?

How did it get there and why did it leave
when India’s jungles would seem to be
a much better place for this tyger you see

The walk must have made his paws ever so sore,
or did he go swimming and lose his course?
But if he went swimming his coat would be wet
and much harder then to ignite I bet!


A bird in the hand,
it is said,
is worth two in the bush.

Thus a tiger in Africa
is worth two in Burma
or Siam...

[krymsonkyng]

Eyes ablaze with ember's light
gazing through the cigar smoke.
Black fedora, red hat band,
cocked. The fag glowed in her hand.
Mouth moved slowly as she spoke
of the forest of the night.

Chelsea Dagger was her name
Smiled like a jungle cat.
Tiger! Tiger! Burning bright!
Low, beyond the street lamp's light.
Guiled by her wit and hat,
mouse within a tiger's game.

[PrinceMyshkin]

hack and Prince, both classic entries I feel :) Gee the competition's tough round here!

My Prince:

How did the Tyger to Africa come
and why leave behind the far Asian shore?

How did it get there and why did it leave
when India’s jungles would seem to be
a much better place for this tyger you see

The walk must have made his paws ever so sore,
or did he go swimming and lose his course?
But if he went swimming his coat would be wet
and much harder then to ignite I bet!



A tiger, who had never been to Africa,
was discovered in a poem
by a dude who’d never been to Spain.
The problem is, to whom
should we complain?

Wildebeast are running loose
in Montreal, Polar bears
have been sighted in Miami...
To whom should we complain?

Metaphors are rampant,
synecdoches are to be found
in every civil neighbourhood.
To whom should we complain?

From Woking (sic) to Maine,
To whom should we complain?

[Hawkman]

A tiger, who had never been to Africa,
was discovered in a poem
by a dude who’d never been to Spain.
The problem is, to whom
should we complain?

Wildebeast are running loose
in Montreal, Polar bears
have been sighted in Miami...
To whom should we complain?

Metaphors are rampant,
synecdoches are to be found
in every civil neighbourhood.
To whom should we complain?

From Woking (sic) to Maine,
To whom should we complain?


At El Ferrol I landed in 1982
from there to Santiago
this road I travelled too
but while upon this journey
no tigers did I see.
No wildebeests or jackals
inclined to bother me.

Now in the self-same decade
Sir John Moore’s tomb I saw,
not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
and not a tiger’s roar.
There at La Corunna
no metaphors, were found
just the grave of a British hero
still lying in the ground.

At Santiago de Compostella,
a cathedral quite profound,
no synecdoches either
were seen to hang around.
Such beasts, at which I wonder,
I’ve only seen in zoos,
they’re certainly not in Woking
and yes, I’ve been there too.

So in answer to your query
before it is renewed
Ask not to whom I should complain
for I complain to you.

:D

[PrinceMyshkin]

[/B]
At El Ferrol I landed in 1982
from there to Santiago
this road I travelled too
but while upon this journey
no tigers did I see.
No wildebeests or jackals
inclined to bother me.

Now in the self-same decade
Sir John Moore’s tomb I saw,
not a drum was heard, not a funeral note,
and not a tiger’s roar.
There at La Corunna
no metaphors, were found
just the grave of a British hero
still lying in the ground.

At Santiago de Compostella,
a cathedral quite profound,
no synecdoches either
were seen to hang around.
Such beasts, at which I wonder,
I’ve only seen in zoos,
they’re certainly not in Woking
and yes, I’ve been there too.

So in answer to your query
before it is renewed
Ask not to whom I should complain
for I complain to you.

:D



Between the two of us you are,
beyond a doubt, the greater wit,
to which I can only retort
Damn!

[Hawkman]

Noble Prince, I will allow that you are half right ;)

[rabid reader]

I regret to be the one to follow Prince and hawkman but here I am

Divine Right

Tiger! Tiger! Burning bright
Hidden and clear; night or day
To shame the Sun and its ray
Tiger must prowl or plight.

Tiger! Tiger! Standing still
Deep in space it never leaves
Carried, mist a clever breeze
Tiger ready for its kill.

Tiger! Tiger! Why it eats?
Why desire the Blood it chills?
Why follow those it will still?
Why end life when instead sleep?

Tiger! Tiger! It disturbs
The games that make worlds turn.

[Pendragon]

Prince and hawkman:

You two are aware that there is only one poem per poet per contest?

[Hawkman]

Prince and hawkman:

You two are aware that there is only one poem per poet per contest?

Yes thank you Pen. I think you'll see that only one of our respective poems contains the famous quooted line, the rest are just fun. H

[hillwalker]

Thank you all for your wonderful poems so far.
A reminder to those of you still dithering that the closing date for entries is June 1st.
Good luck.

[BienvenuJDC]

Tyger! In the grass, hiding from its prey, no doubt
Waiting to for the time to pounce...
A lagging gazelle never to return to the herd

Tyger! In the den, yearning for escape to go out
Waiting for the toy mouse to bounce...
A whirling can opener, and the liver stirred

Burning bright...
the colors, orange and black to blend
like fire...
dancing on his majestic back...

in the forest...
outside the cottage along the backyard's end
his lair...
his jungle by the cul de sac...

of the night...
these two felines in their own right
live the lives by nocturnal sight...
are they really different, these two cats?

[PrinceMyshkin]

@BienvenuJDC: I much admire the way you broke the original line into its constituent parts, and what you wrote on the whole.

[BienvenuJDC]

@BienvenuJDC: I much admire the way you broke the original line into its constituent parts, and what you wrote on the whole.

Thank you...

[rabid reader]

closed?

[hillwalker]

Closing 15 minutes from now (midnight 1st June) - and I shall post the result as early as possible tomorrow (2nd June).

Thanks everyone for taking part

[blank|verse]

Damn, I started...

The Tiger

Tiger, tiger, burning bright
in the poacher's cross-haired sight:
what amoral world could see
your skin as mere commodity?
but didn't finish! Um, the tiger ate the rest, Sir??

[hillwalker]

Thanks everyone for your splendid efforts - now the judgement :

‘Tyger tiger burning bright…..’ was the line- and it seems to have tickled most entrants’ funny bones which made selecting a winner as much a joy as a chore.

DarkMuse – one of your trademark poems, seeking out and exposing the seductiveness of the dark side. In terms of imagery and expressive language this has to be a strong contender –
BUT somewhere along the way the ‘famous quoted line’ fails to put in an appearance so technically speaking this fine poem fails to meet the competition’s requirements.

Pendragon – I love the sharp, snappy wit of this little poem. Perhaps ‘But’ at the start of line 3 and the second ‘by’ from line 4 could be removed in order to maintain the rhythm. But a near-perfect piece.

Hawkman – what an image; enough to give cat-lovers the vapours. Perfect metre and rhyme throughout – I was, however, left anticipating a stronger final line.

hack – again an amusing take on the tiger image – this time the subtle rhyme is almost camouflaged like a set of stripes within the three verses. Very enjoyable imagery.

Prince Myshkin – first of all, of course, I'm fairly sure there aren’t any tigers in Africa, but that minor fact doesn't spoil the enjoyment of this poem. I loved the rhyming couplet form – paired with the list of animals it reminded me of a modern-day Noah’s ark, but these animals seemed to be on a conveyor belt of courses for the tiger’s dinner.

krymsonkyng – a brilliant image of anthropomorphism; a fedora-wearing, cigar-chewing feline. A touch of the T S Eliots, complete with cleverly symmetrical use of rhyme.

rabid reader – a worthy effort. Some effective use of vocabulary and partial rhyme created an arresting image but the overall sense of the piece became a bit confusing in places.

BienvenuJDC – the layout of this poem is unconventional as regards line lengths and metre, but the rhyme is true for most of its span. What really struck me about this was the clever counterpoint between jungle cat and domestic cat – quite separate at the beginning but almost the same creature in identical surrounding by the end of the poem. And a marvellous final line adds a touch more charm.

blankverse - a wonderful little poem, but unfortunately you missed the deadline by seven minutes.

At the end I had to make a difficult choice between krymsonkyng and Bienvenu – but BienvenuJDC wins by a whisker….. for closing off his poem in such a skilful way. Congratulations

Thanks all – and I hope you enjoyed writing your entries as much as I enjoyed reading them.

H

[Pendragon]

Way to go, Bien! :thumbsup:

[BienvenuJDC]

Thank you, Hillwalker. I appreciate your comments and your choosing my poem.

Thank you, also, Pendragon.

I have chosen a line from the great Scottish Poet, Robert Burns', To a Louse:

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner,

Have fun with this one. The deadline will be July 1st. That will give you all a whole month.

[PrinceMyshkin]

Bienvenu: I heartily concur with Hillwalker's decision & his comments on your witty poem. I'm somewhat apprehensive how contestants might respond to the Scottish dialect in your next proposal.

[hillwalker]

Hoots mon?

That's the sum total of my Scottish dialect - and I actually live in God's country.
Rabbie will probably be spinning in his grave but I'm sure we're all going to have fun playing with these lines!!

[BienvenuJDC]

For those who find it too much a struggle, here are some cheat lines:

You ugly, creeping, blasted wonder,
Detested, shunned by saint and sinner,

But I'd love to hear us use the original.

Here is the poem, To a Louse (http://www.worldburnsclub.com/poems/translations/552.htm) in its entirety.

[Dark Muse]

Congratulations to Bienvenu!

But Kry I have to say your poem was my favorite for being the only other person not to take the line litterally.

[BienvenuJDC]

Thanks Prince & DarkMuse...

I wanted to add the paragraph that explained the inspiration for Burns' poem, but I decided not to. Reason: I don't want to affect your inspiration too much. We will leave it at that, but if your desire is to seek Burns' poem more in depth, then the poem, paragraph and more is available in the link in the post above.

Remember, there are no hard rules in poetry.

[blank|verse]

Well done, JDC. Your suggestion for the next competition could provide some interesting responses...

hillwalker - me and deadlines have never been the best of pals. I'm too much of an artist, man! Or lazy...

[Pendragon]

Chopped Burns

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
Of ither vile, wanrestfu' pests—
Wee, sleekit, cow'rin, tim'rous beastie,
Awa' wi' your witchcraft, ye frighten’ o’ bairns
Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner,
I lea'e my cursin wi' you baith
Fareweel! Nae lav'rock sang on hillock green,
Alas! For me nae mair but creepin wonners
Wae saunt an’ sinner hate but muckle mair—
Can ye no lave me aloon I rede you a'
Auld Hornie, Satan, Nick, or Clootie,
Be ye off, haint me nae mair—
And tek ye creepin’, blastit wonner—
An' let poor damned bodies be
Whither be I saunt or sinner
I'm sure sma' pleasure it can gie, ev'n to a deil,
Here's a health to ane I loe dear,
Gae ye gane, detested, blastit wonner,
I maun gae hame tae wife and bairn

Pendragon
©6/4/10

[PrinceMyshkin]

Hoot, mon! How did you do that? Did you summon up the ghost of Robbie or some other Celt? You're a wonder!

[krymsonkyng]

The man couldn't find an “any” key
and kicking the box only made it
growl and sputter gusts of dust bluster
as if in spite. He tossed the keyboard
shook the screen, took a breath, made to scream
but then stopped, and instead, cursing said
“Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner!
Detested, shunn'd by saunt an sinner!
Ah'll bust yer case to get mah fials
toss yer coarse in garbage pials
Infernal engine! Ye child of mon!”
and that was when the old man snapped.
Violence, sparks, a smell of sulfur
he tugged the machine clean from the wall
He wound up like a discus hurler,
lobbed his mac out the open window.
He arched his back and spat new insults
collapsed before the sound of impact-
A computer crash.
A broken heap of aching hardware
turned to software with time's erosion.

[Pendragon]

Hoot, mon! How did you do that? Did you summon up the ghost of Robbie or some other Celt? You're a wonder!
Did a lot of research on Burns' turns of phrase. Borrowed lines here and there, then mixed it with my own colorful phrases, making sure to stick to the language. Always liked the Scottish since I read "Kidnapped" as a small boy. Burns is also a favorite poet.

[hillwalker]

TO A BED BUG

Ye ugly, creepin, blastit wonner,
Detested, shunn'd by saunt an' sinner,
What made ye daur to shae yer heid
Inside yon bonnie lassie’s bed?
Perhaps ye felt the carnal heat
The fankle of her silken sheet,
Attracted by the lurid scent,
The dampened cloots, oor passions spent,
From doon inside yer tiny neuk
Ye daured to tak a closer look
Then made to hawk yer cootie’s jaws
Inside the waistband of her drawers.
Oh how I hate ye fer the stushie
To leave yer hickey on her tushy!

[BienvenuJDC]

I'm glad I'm not competing against you guys, but I may have a harder time judging these....

WOW!!! Great job guys!! I am impressed!!!!!

[Pendragon]

Whoa! Stiff competition, indeed! You two guys will certainly give me a run for my money and then some. I am opposite of Bien in this case, I don't mind competition, but I'd hate to have to pick the winner! Good luck to you all!

[Pendragon]

Bump-bump! Bump-bump! Bump-bump!

[Pendragon]

bump!

[hillwalker]

re-bump .....

[BienvenuJDC]

Sorry...I've been offline for a couple of weeks...but I'm back. I will judge the poems tonight!!

[BienvenuJDC]

Pendragon...fantastic job that I think Robert Burns would be proud of...

krymsonkyng...I love your humor with the "any" key reference. You did a marvelous job.

hillwalker...it was a tough call between you and Pendragon, but this line won it for you!! "To leave yer hickey on her tushy!"

Congratulations!!

[hillwalker]

Thanks, Bien..... and also congratulations to my two worthy adversaries (in particular Pendragon who managed to sound more Scottish than most of my neighbours) http://www.online-literature.com/forums/picture.php?albumid=903&pictureid=6965

And no, I did not have the geographical advantage over you because I'm a wee Welsh man.....

So - moving swiftly on -

The ‘famous’ line I have chosen comes from ‘Fair Weather’ by Dorothy Parker – a vastly under-rated writer. It is the opening line of her poem but you are invited to include it anywhere in your entry – but you are reminded; include it you must.

This level reach of blue is not my sea;

Deadline for entries – 3 weeks from today (midnight 31st July/1st August)

good luck

[Dark Muse]

She Fell For Love

She fell like a pale rose
wrapped in saffron
with wings plastered,
what was her crime
but to choose to love
with a passion
more mortal than divine.

She wearied of
the chaste fraternity
and purity defined
as stiff sterility,
so she ran without remorse
and without regret
towards freedom
and the feel of a body
physical and full of life.

And how they wept
despair at her courage
that they lacked,
and she was sent
tumbling over the ledge
while casting her eyes
upward to the heavens
one last time,
and catching the
celestial skyline
she thought
this level reach
of blue is not my
sea.

She choose instead
to dive into a sea
of emotion where
love is something
felt more than just
an aloof concept
she wanted the risk
of sometimes
crashing against
rocks and washing
ashore.

She learned
if an angel truly
wanted to fly with
the birds she must
give up her wings
and feel with
every fiber of her
being.

[Pendragon]

Blue Memories

This level reach of blue is not my sea, but my sorrow
For ever fall the glistening drops from my eyes
Since the sea swallowed her up and she was gone
The good Lord gives and the good Lord takes away—
But the blue sea sounds with haunting voices
Figures seen rising in the mist from its watery depths
I must go down to the sea again
All I want is another chance at love
If the deep blue will return my lost love
With a star to guide her by…

Pendragon
© July 17, 2010

(sorry about the second famous quoted line, from John Masefield, Sea Fever the seventh line here)

[PrinceMyshkin]

This level reach of blue is not my sea.
It is the grammar of my mind.
Those who swear the earth is round,
who live by proof and proof alone,
cannot prove love, nor understand
when it is gone. This level reach of blue
goes out from heart to heart. Without it,
there is neither love, nor art.

[hack]

Promises

This level reach of blue is not my sea,
nor this, the only shade of sky for me,
and hope, then prayer, begs a less cobalt hue.
I search horizons that cleave blue from blue.

Then soft, a timid, tinted wind descends
to proof the line where azure sky begins.
Beneath, the darker stain of oceans deep,
my blues are promises you did not keep.

[hillwalker]

Four wonderful entries so far - if anyone else feels they can do the 'line' justice, there is only a week remaining before the deadline.

H

[hillwalker]

The deadline has now passed - thanks to the four entrants, and my gratitude also to those who have visited here for a read without leaving their mark..... next time perhaps you will also enter the fray.

These excellent poems make use of metaphor in four quite different ways, which perhaps shows how each writer approached the quote itself 'this level line of blue is not my sea.....'

DarkMuse : on first reading this a poem about suicide, the poet throwing her body 'tumbling over the ledge' - but then it becomes apparent this is actually about abandoning a conventional love (rather than life itself) in order to fulfill a dream.
I particularly enjoyed 'a pale rose/wrapped in saffron' and 'catching the/celestial skyline' - a beautiful poem very skillfully executed

Pendragon : a poignant poem about physical loss - the sea taking from us, also reminding us constantly of what we have lost - the Masefield line was a welcome addition (although line 4 seemed rather out of place) - a commendable effort nevertheless

Prince - an elegant reflection on the different ways the world may be observed -by the pragmatists 'who live by proof and proof alone', or the romantic where 'this level reach of blue/goes out from heart to heart' - very simple and thought-provoking

hack : almost an elegy on blueness - then comes 'a timid, tinted wind' to separate blue sky from blue sea, hope from despair almost, and reveal that powerful closing line - a very neat piece.

All are worthy of far greater praise than I have scattered here - and it was not an easy task to pick the winner, but under stiff competition the prize goes to Prince for encapsulating so much in just 8 lines.

Congratulations - and to the other 3 for giving him a run for his money.

H

[PrinceMyshkin]

My compliments to the other three entrants. I have chosen the opening lines from Lay your sleeping head, my love, by W.H. Auden:



Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;


The deadline is September 1

[Pendragon]

Faithful Is As Faithful Does

Lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Let me hold you fast against the night
Sheltered and safe from all harm

Head on my chest listening to my heart
Knowing it beats only for you
Knowing somewhere in my disordered brain
I'll always be faithful and true

I call my arm faithless but truth be told
I never could enfold another
Temptations come and temptations go
But we'll always have each other

Going through life on a wing and a prayer
Got to hold on ready or not
Your head on my shoulder when you feel need to cry
Sometime it seems that's all we've got

Come again to arms it is time for rest
To snuggle and sleep for a while
When morning calls the first thing I'll see
Is the brilliance of your gentle smile

Love will keep us together come ever what may
We grow closer as the moments pass by
I know I have found a lover and a friend
So I'll hold you fast and just cry...

Pendragon

[PrinceMyshkin]

Pendragon: A great beginning to this latest iteration of the thread that you initiated.

[Pendragon]

What, no competition? Come on poets! Write your hearts out!

[Dark Muse]

An Angel's Requiem

Come my dear
and let us watch the world burn
from above upon our precipice,
at the edge of the horizon
where the earth meets the sky.

Fear not my darling
for we are high above their reach
and their unjust reproaches,
we can walk through the ash
of their souls and the ruin
of the world they made.

Do not waste pity
upon the weak who would spare
the likes of us no mercy,
hush and don't shed your bloodied tears
let the shadow extinguish the light for once.

Lay your sleeping head, my love
human upon my faithless arm
and I will carry you upon these wings of fire
somewhere far beyond the crumbling heavens.

What now is the inferno of hell
to us, my sweet
when we ill build something better
a palace out of the bones,
beauty rising from death.

[hillwalker]

NO LIMIT

The moon may weary of the night
Yet never waver from its track;
It’s pilgrim course forever sets
A silver sheen across the black

The troubled sea may claw the sky
Then fall asunder into spray;
Its hiss of anger,
Kiss of jealousy,
Absolved each dawning day

And for us both, the same is true;
We are not two but one entwined,
Your breath my pulse,
Your heart my mind,
My graceless touch in you refined

So….. lay your sleeping head, my love,
Human on my faithless arm;
Smile in contemplation as
I hold you close and safe from harm

Read my eyes and read my heart
Read my lips and read my skin
Never were we meant to part....
We hold the world itself by spin

H

[PrinceMyshkin]

If there are no further entries by midnight tonight I'll announce my choice early tomorrow morning.

[PrinceMyshkin]

My compliments to the three of you.

To Pendragon, for the gentleness in


Come again to arms it is time for rest
To snuggle and sleep for a while
When morning calls the first thing I'll see
Is the brilliance of your gentle smile


Dark Muse for the triumph in


What now is the inferno of hell
to us, my sweet
when we ill build something better
a palace out of the bones,
beauty rising from death.


and my choice is Hillwaker, for the grace that runs from


The moon may weary of the night
Yet never waver from its track;
It’s pilgrim course forever sets
A silver sheen across the black

throughout the whole of this wonderful poem.

[hillwalker]

Thanks so much, Prince.... and yet again compliments to my two intrepid adversaries.

I thought I would give everyone something slightly different to hopefully generate a little more competition :

Crickets are chirpin', the water is high,
There's a soft cotton dress on the line hangin' dry

- from 'The Man In The Long Black Coat' (lyrics written by Bob Dylan)

- deadline, one minute before midnight Tuesday 28th September. Good luck.

H

[hillwalker]

A whole week gone by and not a single post yet..... I hope that means you're all busy beavering away in preparation to share your efforts with us on here.

If not - wakey wakey!

[Dark Muse]

Sunday Afternoons

Lazy Sunday afternoons,
the wind was blown'
dust in the streets
and the sun appeared
to be shinin' but a
storm was brewin'
hanging heavy in the air.

A white house like
a dream, picture perfect
just like a summertime
lie for all the truth
found inside.

She lay on the floor
all battered n' bruised,
he was drunk again
on a Sunday afternoon
and not a sound stirred
but her silenced tears.

Yet the world keeps
revolving, turnin' a blind eye,
crickets are chirpin'
the water is high
there's a soft cotton dress
hangin' on the line to dry.

Because a storm is a comin'
the sky heavy with rain
and the blood is all washed away
only forgotten remnants
of a white picket fence dream
that never was to be.

[Pendragon]

Love That Outlasts the World

Crickets are chirpin', the water is high,
There's a soft cotton dress on the line hangin' dry,
She holds me so tenderly and gazing into my eyes
Tells me of love that will outlast the world…

She plays with our children down by the creek,
Ring around the Rosie, and hide-and-go-seek—
We found out she’s pregnant again just last week
And our love will truly outlast the world…

Her head on my shoulder as we drift off to sleep,
Drinking from the fount of love that runs deep.
Promises given and promises to keep—
Our love will surely outlast the world…

Pendragon
© 9/12/2010

[hillwalker]

Only 2 entries so far - with only 3 days left.

Anyone out there wanting to take part you have until one minute before midnight Tuesday 28th September. Don't be shy.

H

[Skia]

Crickets are chirpin', the water is high,
There's a soft cotton dress on the line hangin' dry
Dem' are da words,
Ma old prof would read
when he want-eed us ta learn.
I told 'im where go,
as a G-star like we do.
I got outta ma seat
an scattered to tha door,
He wouldna bat an eye
since he ad a feelin' I didna need it like,
cuz why would tha future 2-Pac
need listen n chat old poems and shiz
from a dead guy anyway?

[hillwalker]

Well - your time has run out. Only 3 took up the challenge - but thanks so much for your splendid efforts.

Dark Muse - painting a 'picture perfect' image which has become tarnished by the spectre of domestic violence. I loved the clever way you controlled the counterpoint between the soft, unthreatening outside world of a typical lazy Sunday afternoon and the underlying violence hidden away inside the house.

Pendragon - a really beautiful love poem, made to be read with a smile on the face. The repeated final phrase works really well. This has some really heart-warming images.
I might have to question how the two 'quoted lines' fit in since they didn't seem to be part of the same poem.

Skia - interesting.... different.....
The vernacular of rap seemed conpletely out of place on first reading... but it does have a certain lilt to it. For the record, last time I checked Bob Dylan is still with us - but the poem is ironic in a way because some of his earlier recordings sound very much like rap (e.g. Talking Bear Mountain Picnic Massacre Blues).

But without further ado I declare DarkMuse as this month's winner. Congratulations - and thanks Pen and Skia for making her work for it.

H

[Dark Muse]

Oh wow thank you!

[Dark Muse]

Since it is getting close to Halloween, which as I am sure comes to no surprise to anyone, happens to be my favorite holiday, I have to use this favorite line of mine from Dante's Inferno:

"Abandon all hope ye who enter here"

Deadline October 31st

[zoolane]

Since it is getting close to Halloween, which as I am sure comes to no surprise to anyone, happens to be my favorite holiday, I have to use this favorite line of mine from Dante's Inferno:

"Abandon all hope ye who enter here"

Deadline October 31st

I hope you do not remind, I am not sure if this sort of thing you are look.


Hope

My mum abandon me on a cold winter day.
Inside the local church.
She layed me down next to the altar
Maybe she saw hope.
When she enter the house of God.
She whisper these in humle word 'abandon all hope ya who enter here'

[Skia]

Faces.

Abandon all hope ye who enter here
as I will cut you when you do.
I will slice and dice and
laugh and cry when I rip.

There is a chair
sitting upon the stone gravel
waiting for a victim
to claw at the leg,
fingernails dug in
it's wooden flesh.

I'm going to need
a decaf latte,
Rope or chains?
Rope would burn you
as you stuggle.
Good.
Also, a gag...
no, not a gag,
I want to hear you scream.

Hannibal Lector is one icon of mine,
though i'm not much for flesh,
it tastes kinda icky.
I watched Gladiator last night,
a hero known for killing the innocent.
My dream and your nightmare.

[Pendragon]

Just traveling around
on a road that goes nowhere
Graveyards seem to line the streets
Lonesome call of a whippoorwill
echoing somewhere in the darkness
and a howling wolf that seems to be getting closer
Shadows creep stealthily along in the pale moonlight
maybe I should have made that left hand turn at Albuquerque,
instead of passing over that gated bridge
under the rusty sign that read
"Abandon hope all ye who enter here..."

Pendragon
10/1/10

[Dark Muse]

Only three entries so far.......

[Dark Muse]

I know I am a little late, but I am here now. I want to thank the three brave souls who were willing to step up to this challange with your wonderful and diverse works.

And now, without fruther ado.......

zoolane: You captured a very haunting and emotional image with your poem. There was such deep feeling in the words, and so much conveyed in so few lines. I thought this was a very powerful and effective use of the line.

Skia: You have a very Halloween appropriate entry. I loved the way you incorporated touches of humor behind the very dark themes of the poem. Though personally I felt that the very last verse was not needed and I felt it dragged the poem down a bit. I would have ended it on the line "I want to hear you scream."

Pendragon: Your words are skillful as ever and you created such a haunting atmosphere with your poem that I think truly did homage to the famous line. The surprise at the end made me just about laugh out loud. A wonderful peace both haunting and playful.

But alas one most be chosen winner, and the one who I think best captured the famous line goes to

zoolane

[zoolane]

Wow again thank you DM secondly one I won. Let me have think try be back soon the Famous Qoute. Thank you again.

[zoolane]

'"Then, who is digging on my grave?'' This is title of poem from Thomas Hardy.

Closed date is 24TH of November good luck and happy written.

[zoolane]

Anyone????? only fourteen days left

[krymsonkyng]

She fed the fear with teeth
She knew
how best to get a rise
from simple teasing
simple toying
billing and cooing
like that birdland song.
She loves so well in the mornings, my
girl, who parties longer
than my mind could bear
kisses as hard as these lips
has as long this hair
drinks harder than-
but there, when the light flooded in,
when the room came into view
I saw smiling brightly,
not mine but,
no girl I knew.
Then, who
is digging on my grave
expression?

[zoolane]

One person so far. Thank you Krymsonkyng. Only 8 days to go tothe deadline.

[Pendragon]

There's an ancient graveyard up there on the hill
Where most of my ancestors sleep
I'm fifty years old and my health seems pretty good
Death seems to me like a dream
I'm feeling fine and I'm doing all right
Working on my memories like a slave
But if it isn't time for me to pass death's gate
Then who is digging on my grave?

Pendragon

[zoolane]

'"Then, who is digging on my grave?'' This is title of poem from Thomas Hardy.

Four days left 24thNov 10pm deadline.

[zoolane]

[QUOTE=zoolane;979771]'"Then, who is digging on my grave?'' This is title of poem from Thomas Hardy.

Just down 24th hours left 24thNov 10pm deadline.

[zoolane]

Four hours left any takers? Thank you to two poems so far.

[hack]

Then who is digging on my grave?
Which is monarch, which the slave?

Where's the hand that holds the spade,
at whose feet, empires are laid?

What's the answer to my birth?
When's the time to pierce the earth?

[zoolane]

Thank you to all who entre.

krymsonkyng: Is great poem about girl with element of be victim and bully at same time. Favourite lines are:[She fed the fear with teeth
She knew
how best to get a rise
from simple teasing
simple toying
billing and cooing
like that birdland song.
She loves so well in the mornings,

Now Pen: I love your poem about older person reflection on their death. Favourite lines are:Actual whole thing.


Hack: great last minute entre it quite reflect mood on past as well present and about earth. Favourite lines are: again whole poem


Winner is Pendragon well done.

There's an ancient graveyard up there on the hill
Where most of my ancestors sleep
I'm fifty years old and my health seems pretty good
Death seems to me like a dream
I'm feeling fine and I'm doing all right
Working on my memories like a slave
But if it isn't time for me to pass death's gate
Then who is digging on my grave?

[Pendragon]

Thank you Zoolane!

This is a line from an Ogden Nash poem:

"Have you seen yourself retreating?"

Have fun with this. The funnier, the better. Closing date is December 15.

[jajdude]

Come and sit down at the table
And let us eat 'til we're unable
To look down at our feet;
And then when we can't even stand,
Can hardly even lift a hand,
Let's force ourselves to eat.

For darling, you we made for this,
Surely there's no greater bliss
Than overindulgence and gluttony;
That's it, dear, keep on eating,
There'll be no stopping or retreating
Though your pants may say, "Unbutton me."

There'll be no stopping or retreating
'Til we explode from overeating.

(Have you seen yourself retreating?
Then you must continue eating.)

[Pendragon]

Good opening poem! That's the kind of thing we're looking for. Nash was a great poet for comedy. I think he'd approve!

[jajdude]

you we?

you were

[jajdude]

For darling, you we made for this,


Really miswrote here.

[Pendragon]

No one else? Hello out there! This is supposed to be a contest!

[Pendragon]

Oh, well. Sigh... :(

Jajdude wins by default, but it was a poem worthy of winning

For those interested the Original Ogden Nash poem went like this:


Sure, deck your lower limbs in pants
Yours are the limbs my sweeting
You look divine as you advance
Have you seen yourself retreating?

You're up next, Jajdude!

[jajdude]

Thanks. Surprised no one else wrote. : /

"Eros Turannos" by Edwin Arlington Robinson begins:
-----------------------------------------------
She fears him, and will always ask
What fated her to choose him;

full poem: http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/eros-turannos/
----------------------------------------------
Until early January I guess.

[Pendragon]

Walking on Thin Ice

She fears him, and will always ask
What fated her to choose him;
She wonders whether to take him to task
Yet she fears that she will lose him

What is it that makes women stay
With men that are abusive?
To endure torment day after day
Is true love that all elusive?

She tries hard to deal with painful days
Making excuses for the bumps and bruises
Ignoring all the many ways
He hurts her with his abuses

We hope one day that she wakes up
Before his mistreating leads to dread
Before he makes her drink of that bitter cup
And someone weeps because she's dead

Pendragon
12/17/10

[YesNo]

She fears him and will always ask
What fated her to choose him.
What Bill has had has made him mad
And now she fears she'll lose him.

[jajdude]

Good. Hope there's more. Pen, did you mean "lose"?

[Pendragon]

Good. Hope there's more. Pen, did you mean "lose"?Yes. Sorry.

[hillwalker]

AN ETCHING

She fears him, and will always ask
What fated her to choose him;
Perhaps that button on her blouse
Marked ‘self-destruct’ amused him.
Her father beat her mother
Like a dog when she was younger;
She vowed that she would never take
Such treatment from another.

But once she spies the flame
Behind his eyes, and feels his ardour,
His longing grafted to her soul
Makes every heartbeat louder.
She knows what love might lead to:
“Yes, I’d die for this much passion”
So wretchedly she now prepares
For lust to etch her gravestone.

H

[jajdude]

Sad stuff. I'd say I like hill's best. Go ahead.

[hillwalker]

Thanks jajdude - and everyone else who took part.

So something slightly different for the new year - a complete poem is the starting point (entitled 'Cake' by Roger McGough) - please continue.....

i wanted one life
you wanted another
we couldn't have our cake
so we ate each other.

Good luck - all entries will be judged after midnight (GMT) Saturday 29th January

H

[Pendragon]

i wanted one life
you wanted another
we couldn't have our cake
so we ate each other
the undead love not the undead
one of us has to be living
but both of us walk in shadows it seems
who's blood are we supposed to be giving
in four hundred years of life
you think we would learn
not to give into temptation
until both of us turn
lusting for warm, rich blood
it just makes me shudder
neither of us had it to give
so we just ate each other

Pendragon

[Dark Muse]

Dracula's Bride

She trembled
with anticipation,
how pale and pleading
her blue eyes as she watched
from behind her veil of fright,
and yet, within, her heart beat
faster for the desire of the cold touch
of his fingers against her supple fair flesh.

She was captivated
and yet imprisoned,
wondering, wanting,
like a gravitational pull
drawn by indivisible force
towards him, always propelled,
and still it seemed repulsed,
a rabbit within a snare
panic infused wanting to flee,
but yielding to the ruby red
of his lips.

Always regretting
that world of warmth
and life, of which she walked away,
and ever knowing
that death forever was calling her name,
she fears him and will always ask
what fated her to choose him,
when he smiles she shivers
from the inside vibrating out along
her spine, and when he touches her
she melts into his embrace

Enthroned, enraptured
hypnotized she will take his hand,
willingly, thrillingly, deliriously
she follows into his afterlife
and her heart bleeds
into his darkness.

[jajdude]

I wanted one life
you wanted another
we couldn't have our cake
so we ate each other.

"You taste like regret"
you said to me,
"And you taste like bitterness"
I replied, bitterly.

In the end there were crumbs
all over the floor,
Then the cat came into the room,
Ate them all and wanted more.

[krymsonkyng]

i wanted one life
you wanted another
we couldn't have our cake
so we ate each other.

i in your belly
and with you in my gut
we were full of ourselves
so we each made a cut.

we severed all ties
for a monstrous unbirth
spread out on the tiles
to be measured for worth.

i weighed out your pulp,
sifted through each past meal.
you picked through my entrails
and you learned what was real.

the cake was a lie
and we gnawed ourselves out
to our component points
to remove every doubt.

[hillwalker]

Aplogies for a delay in the judgement - and thanks to all who entered.

@DarkMuse - no surprise in your choice of topic. You created the atmosphere with some marvellous writing - 'wanting,/like a gravitational pull' was particularly effective.
The only problem is that you've included the FQL from the previous month's comp - but it was worth the read and more deserving of the prize than my efforts I feel.

@Pendragon - it was great to see someone entering into the spirit of the absurd - a loose love poem from one vampire to another. Great fun to read.

@jajdude - that darned cat. This one put a huge grin on my face.

@krymsonkyng - rather macabre; a self-administered autopsy performed by cannibals. There were some clever, punning lines balancing the corporeal with the spiritual or emotional - 'we severed all ties' for example. But I did feel the ending was unfortunately a little weak.

So after much (in)digestion I declare jajdude the winner for maintaining so neatly the whimsicality and absurdity of the original.

Congratulations jaj - and well done to the other competitors for doing such a good job.

H

[Dark Muse]

Aplogies for a delay in the judgement - and thanks to all who entered.

@DarkMuse - no surprise in your choice of topic. You created the atmosphere with some marvellous writing - 'wanting,/like a gravitational pull' was particularly effective.
The only problem is that you've included the FQL from the previous month's comp - but it was worth the read and more deserving of the prize than my efforts I feel.

Thank you for your kind remarks, clearly my eyes skipped over your post in the thread and I presumed the previous comp was in fact the one that was still ongoing, and I did not realize since a new quote had been posted.

[jajdude]

Thanks Hill and well done all. Will find something to quote from soon.

[jajdude]

"There's nothing ever gained by a wet thing called a tear"

From "Streams of Whiskey" (1984) by Shane MacGowan (Pogues)

[Pendragon]

Sorrow strikes like a bolt from a blue sky
Depression settles in, a foggy grey elephant
That sits on one's chest whispering
Things too painful to hear, too hard to ignore
The tears form a deluge down the cataract of the face
Sometimes cold relief, sometimes heated rage
Remember in all problems and grief
There's nothing ever gained by a wet thing called a tear
Worry never cured anything, despair cold comfort
Dry your eyes and behold the future
The next moment could be what changes your life forever
You don't want to waste it drowning in tears

[jajdude]

Since this thread seems to have gone idle, I'll turn it over to you Pen, and perhaps you can offer a more enticing quote.

[Pendragon]

Perhaps we can get some competition going this round, please?

The quote is: The fog comes
on little cat feet.


From Carl Sandberg's famous minimalist poem.

Good luck.

Cut of date for entries is March 30

Write poets! Write!

[YesNo]

The fog comes in on little cat feet.
The dog comes in on little fat feet,
Annoys the cat, disturbs the fog,
But acts like a good hearted dog.

[jajdude]

A sad November day
On a dull and lifeless street,
The fog, thick and gray.

Things move slow.
With nowhere to go
The city sighs defeat.

I heard a poet say,
"The fog comes on little cat feet."

Is there a way
To make it go?

I think so.
I'll chase it off the street.

[Dark Muse]

London Fog

Disquiet the stillness
breathless
the lingering winter air,
echoes follow,
imagined, or realized,
isolated within
the descending white.
Predatory
the fog comes
on little cat feet,
soundless
boundless
the eeriness
creeping into the blood,
Eyes not seen
but felt watching
and waiting
for the moment
to spring.

[jajdude]

Muse, which Poe story is your quote from? I'm a fan.

[Dark Muse]

It is from the pome The Raven

[jajdude]

ah, thought it was

[Pendragon]

Contest ends tomorrow, for you late entries.

[Pendragon]

TIME'S UP! I find the turnout disappointing, but the poems were terrific. In the end, however, there can be only one.

YesNo you had a lighthearted approach that I liked

jajdude I think you had the best use of the quoted line

DarkMuse you were creepily great as ever.

My choice is jajdude. Good luck with your contest!

[Dark Muse]

Congratulations jajude, I really liked your poem.

[jajdude]

Thanks. Will find a line later. Not many participants it seems.

OK, even though I disagree with the following, the time of year at least is right for it:

"April is the cruelest month."

[YesNo]

Congratulations, jajdude! Here's something for your contest.


April

"April is the cruelest month,"
Some say. What do they know?
I think it is the coolest month.
I've had my fill of snow.

[Pendragon]

The rain pours down outside my window
The blues have come to stay
There's too much sorrow in my little world
For the rain to wash away
April is the cruelest month
I remember how hard I cried
Eight years ago on April 12th
Was the day my daddy died

Pendragon

[Dark Muse]

My Love Begins to Fade

It is for gray skies that I long,
where is the frozen ground
which once painted the world
in bridal white.

How I loved
your icy touch, the biting
blue of your unresponding lips,
but now your snow begins to thaw
as if your heart will melt.

A blush of red begins to appear
upon the former pallor of your cheek,
alas April is the cruelest month
for it steals you away from me.

My Lady Winter begins to fade,
for Spring has stolen her away
with her fickle flaunting
and abounding youth,
her beauty no rare thing
for all may come and gawk
upon her.

But I loved you most
for those bitter cold days
when others shuddered in
fright, and shunned you so,
now you leave me far behind
to sit alone within the shade
and watch the horizon for the signs
for the return of your frigid somber love.

[jajdude]

Tough choice. Only 3 entries. Got to go with the Muse on this one though.

Must say though Pen I nearly cried reading yours.

[Dark Muse]

Thank you! I will begin thinking over what the next line should be.

[Dark Muse]

Ok the next line comes from one of my favorite poems by Blake "The Sick Rose"

O Rose, thou art sick!


Have fun, I look forward to seeing what you do with this.

Deadline May 30th

[Pendragon]

Tough choice. Only 3 entries. Got to go with the Muse on this one though.

Must say though Pen I nearly cried reading yours.

Thank you J, a compliment like that is almost as good as winning. Congrads, Dark Muse! I liked yours the best myself!

[Dark Muse]

Thank you!

[Pendragon]

Scratchy thorns; flowers with stench, not scent
Bilious coloring that churns the stomach
Why is it that thou art allowed to encumber the earth?
Oh, rose, thou art sick
Is it rottenness in thy roots or blight on thy leaves?
Is it an infestation of petal chomping insects?
A failure to be fed the choice nutrients thou hadst need of?
I seek for beauty but thou givest me deformed flowers
I seek for incense yet thou givest me the smell of offal
I seek tender young branches but thou givest me sharp thorns
Oh, rose, thou art sick!
Who then among us hath the cure?

Pendragon

[YesNo]

O rose, thou are sick!
Your beauty makes me long for you.
Why grow those thorns the way you do?
If that is what you want, OK.
An orchid's cuter anyway.

[jajdude]

Rest my dear, thou art not well.

I'm fine as far as I can tell.
I feel not ill, I feel not pain,
No fever afflicts me, I feel quite sane.

But yesterday as you stood in the hall
I saw you staring at the wall,
The same spot once your mother stood -

Stop! I said I feel quite good!
Of my mother no mention make,
She was weak, her heart did break,
She was not loved, nor loved she,
The same cannot be true of me!

Then why were you shouting at the wall,
"Come death and put an end to it all"?

I - I do not recall,
Perhaps you misremember dear,
You are not young, your mind's not clear -

Oh I remember, Rose, the things you said
About your mother and your wish to be dead,
Now rest yourself upon this bed

Oh dear, now I feel not well,
Perhaps you're right but I can't tell
Whatever may be the matter with me
For I am brisk and strong and free

No, my dear, thou art not well,
Be still a while and I shall tell
The affliction which hath beset thee,
And why you must listen to me:
Your shouting as you stood in the hall,
Just as your mother, please recall
The stories you have told of her,
Locked in trances, unable to stir,
Occurred before that awful day -

Oh my darling, please delay,
For now I feel quite ill
And so to bed and rest I will

Oh Rose thou art sick I fear


And then his eye did shed a tear,
And soon his love did disappear.

[jajdude]

By the way dear Muse, as things have been going, we are unlikely to have more entries, that is why I never set a deadline. After a week or so, feel free to deem what you like. Seems like Pen, yesno, you and me, are all here on this thread these days, but wait if you must. I find deadlines silly. Those were for school. Even then, were not they silly? You must have your paper in by January 17th? Bunch of nonsense, was it not?

[Dark Muse]

Deadlines do have a purpose in contests, for though it may be true that this thread in the past has suffered particpation, I think it would be quite unfair to soemone if no time frame was given, and I decalred a winner right when another was about to post thier entry without even knowing they were in danger of posting too late.

[jajdude]

Sure, deadlines are OK, I guess. (I was a bit off on my previous post) I just meant the way I do it, after several entries, is to wait a week or two, and if nothing new, then make the call. If someone else wishes to join, great, they can join the newest one then.

[Pendragon]

Is this thread going anywhere? Will there be more entries, or should Muse just judge now? I remember when we'd have a long list of poets to choose from. What happened?

[Dark Muse]

I will give it a little more time to hope others join in, but if indeed there is no change than I may not wait the full length of the deadline.

[Dark Muse]

Ok becasue this thread has been slow and I don't want to make those who have submitted have to wait too much longer, I am changing the deadline.

New deadline is May 15

[hillwalker]

THE MORTAL ROSE

Oh Rose, thou art sick,
but no remedy sent
for the stab of thy thorn
or the sting of thy scent,
for the blush of thy petals
when fevered with dew
or the fade of thy beauty
when days bid adieu.

H

[zoolane]

Sorry if sound like Hill, but I did not intend to be.

You are rose by nature.
But you're thorn by deceit.
With your gleaming petal by reflection sun.
With your touch to the skin as prickly as they come.
Your perfume drain the scent of me away.
O Rose, thou art sick!.

[jajdude]

I was wrong dear Muse, new entries. Sorry. I gotta stop posting while drunk.

[jajdude]

Is this thread going anywhere? Will there be more entries, or should Muse just judge now? I remember when we'd have a long list of poets to choose from. What happened?

We may have more life yet, but this depends on you Pen.

haha

[Dark Muse]

I want to think everyone for taking the time to partake with your great entries. I had a really hard time with this one, as there were a few different poems I had considered for the winner but had to narrow it down to pick only one.

So here goes:

Pendragon: I enjoyed the dark humorous aspect of your poem. Though perhaps it was not meant to be humorous, it tickled my macabre funny bone. I also really liked the way in which you kept with that Old English style of writing in your poem. And I really liked how you took the common image of the rose, and the cliche of how much the rose is commonly used in poetry and twisted to make it something grotesque.

YesNo: I enjoyed the playfulness of your poem. It is short and to the point, and the ending made me laugh which is generally a good thing. I also liked the aspect of the spurned lover (as it seemed to me) turning away from the hard to get rose. I liked the idea of snubbing the rose so often used to being celebrated in poetry for favor of the orchid instead.

hillwalker: Your poem reminds me the most of the original poem. I thought it was very well crafted and elegantly expressed. You did a very good job of keeping in the tone of that Romantic style which is something I generally enjoy. It was a beautifully mournful poem. The ending was a perfect conclusion to this poem and was quite moving.

zoolane: I loved the opening line of your poem. It was one of the few poems that did not use the quote as the first line, and it caught my eye off the bat and really drew me into the poem. You produced some great imagery and I really loved the line "With your gleaming petal by reflection sun." You managed to play upon the originally concept while at the same time still being original with your poem which was quite enjoyable.

But alas without further ado the winner is............


jajdude: I love the originality of turning Rose into a name and instead of speaking purely metaphorically creating this story about a woman. I also really enjoyed the back and forth aspect, of the conversation between the two different figures, and the dark tone behind the story. It brought to my mind issue of women and insanity during the Victorian era. There were times when I was not certain if indeed the presumed lover was not intentionally trying to convince her that she was insane, and I liked that touch of the ominous about it. Also I enjoyed the use of rhyme.

[hillwalker]

Thanks DM - and congratulations jajdude!

H

[Pendragon]

Thanks Muse - and congratulations jajdude!

[zoolane]

Thank you Dark Muse and well done Jajude.

[jajdude]

Thank you muse and all above me. It took a piece out of me to write that actually on a caffeine-laden morning. Was somewhat about my dear old mumsy, nice old bird, crazy as a duck. Schizophrenia, so they say. She's 75 now god love her. Daddy died 20 years ago.

Been having major internet issues at my crib in China, in coffee shop now, works ok.

Next Quote: I,m Just going to invent one:

" The beauty of life is without forgiveness"

Deadline: Whenever no one writes for a while.

[Pendragon]

The Beauty of Life is without forgiveness,
The Reality of Life is a feast unknown
The Temptations of Life are omnipresent
The Road of Life is narrow and trecherous
The Love of Life is all too fleeting
The Joy of Life turns swiftly to tears
The Pain of Life is often all we know
The River of Life is wide and deep
The Decisions of Life are what truly makes us
The Living of Life our one true choice
The Twilight of Life can be sunshine or shadow
The End of Life but a return to start...

Pendragon

[Pendragon]

Am I the only one playing this game?!! :(:(:(

[jajdude]

So it seems, Pen. Oh well. Maybe I should have found a proper quote?

[Dark Muse]

Life is Beautiful

Weep not
for your despair
how cruel it may to you
now seem
the darkness in which
you were cast
unjustly,
but such suffering
comes from
your own short-sightedness
you perceive not
the greater truth
of the gift you have been given,
for the beauty of life is without
forgivness, so rise from
your prostate position
and greet the day
that you are yet still alive
for all else that may befall.

[zoolane]

My World.

My world had to crumble.
When you saw fit to deceiver me.
My world had to crumle.
When you rise you hand to me.
You ask for forgivness.
My heart will give in.
My head stand firm.
I said to you.
"The beauty of life is without forgiveness".

[jajdude]

Thanks for the entries. I guess it's time to continue the game. I've read them several times and liked them all well enough. I'll even make a few comments for a change, not that I'm much for critique.

Pen, a fine job in summing up many aspects of life with single lines like that. An enjoyable poem in structure and full of meaningful words.

Muse, a solid work about responsibility for oneself, and the need to take hold of each day, to try and make the most, even if dark. Has the sound of truth.

Zoolane, I liked the dignity of yours. Despite being wronged, one was strong enough to forgive, yet self-respecting to not allow the wrong to be repeated.

Hard choice as it usually is, but I'm going to hand this one to zoolane. Well done.

[Pendragon]

Good going zoolane! :):):)

[zoolane]

Thank you Jajdude. Hmm let me think of one? be back soon.

[zoolane]

Famous quote is from a poem called 'My Little One' by Tennesse Williams.

I hold him not. Indeed, who could?


Good luck everyone who taken part the date line June 30th.

[Dark Muse]

The Gravity of His Love

I stand in stillness,
sentient,
before the gray of the grave,
bitter the wind
upon my skin.

How could I not
remember?
Last words spoken
unknown than
the full weight
they would carry.

I hold him not.
Indeed, who could?
when somewhere
on the other side
of the world
he died.

Just as he
once lived,
alone,
while his last breath
escaped
into the desert sun
and his eyes
began to fade.

All that remains
to me
are ashes, bones
and memories,
but did I ever
know the full
gravity of his love?

Why is it now
that the distance
between us has
never been so
small?

Because now
that he is gone
he is ever more
present than
when once I knew
he lived
while yet he
kept apart.

[YesNo]

Gone

I hold him not, indeed, who could?
The world outside is looking good
And he is off upon some whim,
Forgetting me forgiving him.

[zoolane]

Four days left to enter.

[Pendragon]

For Jonathan

He was a hard-head man out on his own
Married now with a home of his own
He's still my son, it's so hard to let go
But children grow up, it's inevitibe you know
And I hold him not, who could
Life with a wife is one thing that's good
But I miss him so he seems so far away
But one "Dad, I love you" always makes it OK
I gained a daughter, I did not loose a son
Family is all that matters when all is said and done

Pendragon

[zoolane]

All three poems great wonderful.

Dark Muse- I adore your poem because first stanza is old fashion style what mean is a sense of Victoria era, I imagine a person stand at graveside saying this poem as words hit cold air. The tone change I think in the throed stanza to soldier who dies for country but also bring back current conflict against terror so the western world said. The end of the piece show that person who lost him is moving on but he still has a impact on them.

Yes- It great little poem remind me of being child and found bird that injury. Wanting the bird to be freedom but also could be refer to person who illness and died. The person reach out for forgiveness for a act of kind show to person who was ill.

Pen- I absolute love this poem because it show parent love for their child which I can relate because aviate with three daughters that time will come. I think it spot on to point how parent would feel.


Winner is............... Dark Muse only because I felt feel the atmosphere when reading it.

But in my book you all are winners.

[Dark Muse]

Thank you very much, I will start working on thinking up the next line.

[Dark Muse]

Here is a quote from one of my personal favorites, Sylvia Plath. Quote taken from Lady Lazarus

Dying
Is an art, like everything else.
I do it exceptionally well.

[jajdude]

Well Done, Muse. I forgot to enter this one.

[Dark Muse]

Well since no one seems to want to tackle this I will provide an alterntive line. For those who may still want to use the original you are welcome to, so you have a choice. But still only one poem per person so you don't get extra credidt for writing a poem for both.

So in honor of Moon Day here is you altenrate line

With the silver seas around us and the pale moon overhead

From "A Ballad of John Silver" by John Masefield


Deadline August 10

[YesNo]

The Silver Sea

They have got us with their pranking,
Caused more damage than they ought.
We can see them move the planking
To have fun with those they've caught.

With our hands bound we are waiting
Till as one by one we fall,
Water-logged, our lungs inflating:
Does it take much time at all?

With the silver seas around us
And the pale moon overhead,
There's now nothing to astound us.
We're beneath those seas and dead.

[Pendragon]

Visions

With the silver seas around us and the pale moon overhead
We struggled hard against the waves, but our hearts had turned to dread
It was strange to see a boiling sea on so clear a night
And sailors wailed about seeing ghosts, the St Elmo's fire alight
It was then she rose like a spouting whale from the troubled sea
A fairy child with glistening skin and eyes terrible to see
The moon reached down with glowing arms and raised her like a babe
And the sea grew calm and smooth as glass, without a single wave
And we knew we'd seen a sight mortals were never meant to see
And we crossed ourselves and said a prayer as we sailed on across the silver sea

Pendragon

[Dark Muse]

Thank you for starting us off. Anyone else?

[Dark Muse]

Well seeing as there are only two entries, and it is kind of late, but I don't want to put off judging any longer because I have already got quite behind as things have been a bit hectic here, forgive me for not giving a detailed critique as usual. But think you both for entering.

The winner is Pendragon, I loved the haunting imagery of your poem and the fluid and elegant style. Beautifully written.

[Pendragon]

Thank you, Dark Muse!

From "Some Hallucinations" by Lewis Carrol

"He thought he saw a banker's clerk descending from a bus"

We will wait on a ending date when I see how many poems we have. :willy_nilly:

[jajdude]

He thought he saw a banker's clerk
descending from a bus
at 5:19, just after work,
he looked like one of us;
his clothes were neat, he didn't stand out,
he slipped into the crowd;
he followed routine, there isn't a doubt,
deviation wasn't allowed.

He'd hidden himself over the years,
unnoticed like the trees,
unnoticed like the shoes one wears,
unnoticed by degrees.

Aside from this a smiling glance
would tell you of the time he had spent -
for now there isn't any chance
anyone knows where the money went.

[YesNo]

Some More Hallucinations

He thought he saw a banker's clerk
Descending from a bus,
But now he knows that aliens
Will soon get all of us,
And though he thinks that might be bad
He doesn't make a fuss.

The last time that he told his friends
That aliens were here,
They laughed, so now he drinks alone,
Consuming Belgian beer
To wash away what's in his brain
Should aliens come near.

He should have told them bankers' clerks
Had landed over there.
They might have seen those ray guns raised.
Perhaps then they would care.
But as he lifts another glass:
"There's aliens everywhere!"

[Pendragon]

Har! Two good ones to start us off, very much in the spirit of the original! Keep 'em coming!:smilielol5::smilielol5::smilielol5:

[Pendragon]

Any other poems? The deadline is September 15th.

[krymsonkyng]

He thought he saw a banker's clerk
descending from the bus.
He looked again and saw it was
a fat rhinoceros.
'You're quite well rounded sir' he said,
'without being pointless!'

He thought he saw an eagle scout
preparing for a game.
He looked again and saw it was
an empty picture frame.
'If you won't do your job' he said
'I shall not take the blame!'

He thought he saw a devil dance
upon a poor pinhead.
He looked again and saw it was
whatever Sarah said.
'But why Ben Bellingham' he cried,
'must all love end up dead?'

He thought he saw a falling star
beneath the blushing moon.
He looked again and saw it was
the jolly month of June.
'Were I to pocket you' he said
'your heat should not leave soon!'

He thought he saw a plagiarist
getting his forum kicks.
He looked again and saw it was
graffiti upon bricks.
'The writing's on the wall' he said,
'of all the dirty tricks!'

[Pendragon]

Well the time has come. Small turnout but excellent poems. I will say right up front that I was very pleased with all the poems. All of you must have read Lewis Carroll's original poem, for you all kept faith with the original intent.

jajdude Liked the closing couplet best:


for now there isn't any chance
anyone knows where the money went.

YesNo

That final line is priceless! So that's what hallucinations are, alien induced! It explains so much!


He should have told them bankers' clerks
Had landed over there.
They might have seen those ray guns raised.
Perhaps then they would care.
But as he lifts another glass:
"There's aliens everywhere!"

But the winner has to be krymsonkyng for the lines:


He thought he saw a plagiarist
getting his forum kicks.

Congrads, kyng! You are up next! :hurray::hurray::hurray:

[krymsonkyng]

Woops! Sorry all! I must have missed this Friday :/

Thanks a million, and great work to everyone who entered!
(YesNo, yours got me to belly-laugh. Jajdude, My favorite stanza was the "unnoticed" second that set up for the big reveal at the end. Fun stuff)
:drool5:
So, let me find a line and we'll get this contest back in business...

[krymsonkyng]

And now for something completely different:
"That I am weak, and she has horns" from T.S. Eliot's unpublished "Cows" which may be found at the below link.

http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/books/poetry/article6439548.ece

Judging shall commence upon the 30th.

[YesNo]

No Excuse Accepted

She knows that I am weak, and she has horns.
Her lips drip foam. From them she scorns
Whatever I might do to rectify
Whatever I have done, except to die.

[Pendragon]

That I am weak and she has horns
Is a fact I cannot deny
She flaunts her power and she scorns
My every feeble try
Her eyes burn bright with an eerie glow
They watch me in the night
I try hard to leave her but I know
I'll never escape her sight
She purrs with pleasure and snuggles close
But I shrink away in fear
She's about as warm as an ice-cold ghost
I cannot bear her being near
Doom awaits the both of us
I'm haunted by a succubus

Pendragon
9/21/2011

[Dark Muse]

Indian Summer

In the sweltering heat
beneath the angry sun
I lie among blood stained
sweat drenched sheets,
still I would half believe
it was only a fever dream.

She knows that I am weak
and she has horns, while
once more she is on the
rampage, she would tear
my life apart.

I hide behind cynicism,
cloudy eyes, and tobacco
colored fingertips, a ready
wit dangling from parched lips.

But she charges through
these defenses like a bull
with red in its eyes and a
one track mind, she is taut
full of electric physical energy.

I always manage to laugh
just at the wrong time
with a smile that betrays me
in a sneer, and she reads
all of my lies.

I know it is only a matter
of time before she aims her
knife right for my heart
and even I could not
lay blame.

Helpless, caught between
the unyielding glare of Summer
sun and her smoldering inferno
I no longer keep track of the
countless things I have done
to turn the temper of her moods.

[krymsonkyng]

High champion and Alabaster warden, YesNo- Short, sweet, to the point (horn humor anyone?), I enjoyed your poem for its quick rhyme and ambiguity: It brought thoughts of my ex.

Pendragon the Great- Fun, creepy, and I could relate (again with the ex, heh). The rhyme scheme and the breaks in meter were effective. My favorite lines were:
She purrs with pleasure and snuggles close
But I shrink away in fear

Oh Darkest of Muses- For an epic post I should have talked about your poem first, but I'm sure you'll forgive me seeing as I liked yours best. Here's why:
I hide behind cynicism,
cloudy eyes, and tobacco
colored fingertips, a ready
wit dangling from parched lips.

Well done to all and you've each more than earned the titles I offer, but I must volunteer Dark Muse as this contest's latest master.

[Dark Muse]

I thank you very much

[Pendragon]

Congrads, DarkMuse! :yesnod::yesnod::yesnod:

[PrinceMyshkin]

Yes, I must agree with your praise for each of these entries and a salutation to you for having found & posted those opening lines!

[Dark Muse]

It is my favorite time of year. Halloween time! Becasue for me the whole month of October is all about Halloween in honor of the ocassion I present you with your next line:

For the soul is dead that slumbers,~ Henry Wadsworth Longfellow- A Psalm of Life

[FozzieFunk]

A puzzle piece snugly fit
within the mind of the quibbling jester
crafting a clever reprise
a universal truth set forth to the numbers
recited with great assurance
no one awake is safe
"for the soul is dead that slumbers"

[YesNo]

Winter Hibernation

For the soul is dead that slumbers,
But winter soon is here
And darkness makes me sleepy.
The silence wraps my fear.

The sun gets bright in springtime,
But maybe not next year.
Alone my dreams will blanket
My mind and hold me dear.

[Pendragon]

Don't find yourself sleeping on the road of life
Because what happens depends on your choices
For the soul is dead that slumbers--
You've got to see where you're going to choose well
There will be times of glorious opportunity
There will be obstacles to dodge
Bridges to burn and bridges to build
The choice remains truly yours, and yours alone
Life sometimes is a shaky tightrope
Across the gap between heaven and hell
The soul that dozes will slip and fall
The soul awake seizes each moment
If the soul is dead that slumbers
The soul awake shall never die...

Pendragon

[krymsonkyng]

She writes sadder poetry
than anyone would want read
and writes "She'd be better dead"
and forces herself to cry.

What is there that she lives for?
The soul is dead that slumbers
but dreams feign life! She wonders
what is past death's brambled door

She joined a scene for allies
in her self waged pity war
but became a fashion whore
and learned to live for parties.

Now it's happy ending's all around!
She drinks to sleep on, not in, the ground.

[Dark Muse]

Thank you everyone so far for your entires. I am going to set the deadline of Oct 25.

So please keep them coming!

[cafolini]

Soul and body are the same
So guess the meaning of the game
Confuse the two and you are proven dead
For well before you can do that
You have to split it; gone like mad
And soon ask your living hell
A soul that slumbers's a body's wealth?

[Dark Muse]

Thank you to all who have entered so far. If you have not posted yet there are 5 days left for the deadline!

[Dark Muse]

I am going to be flying out tomorrow so I haven't really been able to think about judging today, so I figured I will just give you a few more days while I am gone.

You have until the 31st.

[Dark Muse]

Thank you everyone who entered, I enjoyed reading all of your entries, it was a touch choice, but here are the results.

Fozzie Funk: I really enjoyed the imagery of your poem and the playful way in which you approach the theme. I think you were able to invoke the macabre but at the same time there is a humor to it that I appreciate. It puts me in the mind of a carnival which often does join the morbid with the comic.

Pendragon: You have created a very profound poem and I enjoyed the way in which you were able to take the line and give it an inspirational message. I liked how that did take things in a rather unexpected direction and was an original take. I also enjoyed your word play with the line and how you reversed the meaning. Wonderful work as usual

krymsonkyng: I really liked the way in which the ending of the poem took me by surprise. I was not expecting it to take the sudden cynical turn and I thought it did provide a rather interesting twist. While on the one hand she managed to save her life, but in a way it seems as if she is still dead inside to achieve the goal.

cafolini: Though you did not directly quote the line within your poem I do think you found a creative way to allude to it. I liked the humorous touch within your poem and I really liked the line "You have to split it; gone like mad." I think you did have a very unique approach.

And the winner is...................

YesNo: I love the imagery of your poem and found it to be captivating and enchanting. It was elegantly written and of all the entries this one most spoke to my own soul. It captured the beauty in darkness. In particular I loved these lines:

"And darkness makes me sleepy.
The silence wraps my fear."

[Pendragon]

Congrads, Yesno! :smile5:

[YesNo]

Thanks, Dark Muse! And Pendragon!

I was walking on a wooded trail last weekend in a park that I had not been to before and came to a division in the path. I suddenly recalled Robert Frost's poem, The Road Not Taken: http://www.bartleby.com/119/1.html, and wondered what I should do. So here is the line for the next contest:

"I took the one less traveled by"

In my case, both paths looked equally well-traveled, but I realized I had to turn around because it was getting dark.

Deadline: Saturday, November 25th.

[Pendragon]

Life is a long, one-way street
that, often as not, takes the long way around.

Frost spoke of “The Road Less-Traveled By”.
I’ve been on it all my life. What’s the difference?

Then again, how could you tell any difference
when there is really nothing to compare it to?

Nothing. Something. Are they really the same?
“I think, therefore I am.” Or is it. “I am, therefore I think?”

But in choice of roads I, I took the one less traveled by—
They all reach your final destination—that’s fate…

Existence is like a soap bubble:
it’s pretty, but it doesn’t take much to burst it.

One thing about a less-traveled road:
there are fewer rest areas.

Oh, and don’t break down along the way.
“Less-traveled by”, remember? So who’s going to fix your car?

Pendragon
(I wrote this one all the way back in 1996...)

[MarkBastable]

Ask a Local



He has a lot to answer for, does Frost.
Who knows how many fences have been trashed,
Walls pulled down, and vital boundaries lost
Because of one quite catchy opening line?

And who can count the earnest undergrads
Who’ve justified a dumb, though novel, choice
By citing Robert’s quandary in the woods
As if his verse were GoogleMap, in rhyme?

But - hey - the grassy, pristine path Bob chose
Might well have been untrod simply because
It had been tried, and rightly shunned, by those
Who’d come upon this clearing many times.

Perhaps they’d found it led to a dead-end
Or ran the long way round, did one but know it.
I’d trust those guys – and so you should you, my friend.
I took the one less-travelled by the poet.

[Dark Muse]

A Heart Divided

My heart was torn in two
for twice taken it was
between two loves
as much the same as
night and day.

There was the ever
enchanting Gwendelon,
a fair Aphrodite was she,
for she walked in a halo
of golden sensuality,
for with each upturn of her
sanguine lips I felt my death
come near as my heart stopped
beating.

Her skin was soft as silk
and in her wake she left
the lingering aroma of jasmine
and rose oil, truly she tasted
divine, but alas who has not
thrown their hearts at her feet,
for what man lived did not breathe
the name of Gwendelon, and who
left had not her taste upon their
lips.

No rival in beauty I must confess
but still far from uncomely, for
what mortal maid could compare
to the Goddess born?

There was my second love
Eleanor, so tender of heart
with sweet shy looks, a pale moon
beside amorous Gwendelon
she made up much in singular
devotion.

For never an ill word had I heard
bespoken against my Eleanore,
and I knew her love for me to be
true, though so gentle and soft
a love it was, but still I knew
what more could I be to Gwendelon
but yet another trophy and my heart
to her a cheap token.

But in the eyes of my little
Eleanor I knew there was me
and me alone, and so in the end
I took the one less traveled by
thus Eleanor may forever become
my own true and only love.

[YesNo]

Thanks for all the entries. They all deserved to win, but I have to make a choice.

Pendragon: I liked the practical advice of not going down the road less traveled by. There will likely be fewer repair stations for the car and both paths ultimately lead to the same end.

MarkBastable: This is a similar argument to the one Pendragon presented with additional criticism of Frost's influence. I liked the last line.

Dark Muse: This was a very nice comparison between the well-traveled Gwendelon and the faithful Elenor. I think the narrator made the right choice in picking Elenor.

I enjoyed all of these.

The winner, the one to pick the next line for us, is MarkBastable because of the way he incorporated the quoted line in the last line of his poem.

[MarkBastable]

Thank you.

Here you go - a line from Eliot. The deadline will be December 13th.


I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker

[Pendragon]

I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker
Just a candle in the wind, blown out before its time
Fame is so fleeting, heartache travels quicker
Life sometimes seems to have no rhythm or rhyme

I lived for the days when the sun shone so brightly
Now shadows, fog, and rain are all I can see
Where I once announced myself, now I creep away quietly
This hall of lost memories I'm forced to call me

Will the darkness never lift, nor shadows pass away?
Will the pain deep inside me grow still?
Will I ever again rejoice in the breaking of day?
Do my dreams still have a chance of becoming real ?

While my two natures like Jekyll and Hyde ever bicker
I have seen the moment of my greatness flicker

Pendragon

[Dark Muse]

Queen Warrior

I watched my world begin to crumble,
the land became soaked with blood,
while the screams would echo on
never ceasing.

Standing on the eve of the end,
in one last rally cry, we would not
go on bended knee in submission,
but let us die fighting tooth and nail,
for the spirit of this land they desecrate
beats in our hearts.

Let me become Morrigan incarnate,
mother protector of my people,
warrior queen to lead us into victory,
this is our final hour and through the
fear reflected in the eyes of our enemy
I have seen the moment of my greatness
flicker.

Take heart, and know even if we loose
this day, I will live forever and through
the ages they will speak my name,
remember, never surrender and you
will die not in vain.

[MarkBastable]

Tough choice, because for me - taking the purely subjective view - there were pros and cons to each of the entries.

I'm not sure it'd be fascinating to detail the thought processes in-thread, so I'll cut to the chase and say that the winner is Pendragon.

[jajdude]

Ah, I've been missing this thread, haven't been on the site much these days. I would have entered on this one. Good to see Mark participating. I'll try to get back into it when I can. Find a good quote pen.

[Pendragon]

Thanks, Mark. The new line is from Emily Dickinson: "Hope is the thing with feathers, that perches in the soul."

Deadline: January 15

[YesNo]

Hope

Hope is the thing with feathers,
That perches in the soul
Patiently wondering whether
There's love to make it whole.

[Pendragon]

Two days to deadline and only one entry? Where all my poets at? :confused::confused::confused::confused:

[MarkBastable]

Alright, alright...as I had ten minutes.... [Edit: I say ten minutes, but I've been fiddling with this all weekend...]


---------------------------------------------------------------

For reasons too complex to go into here
These four Scandinavians, named after tribes,
Go to a jeweller's in animal gear,
For gifts for their girlfriends and wives.

They figure that watches will be just the thing,
So Blackfoot, from Sweden, disguised as an ibex
Plumps for Omega, while, dressed as a chimp,
Norwegian Apache buys Timex.

A Dane wearing moleskin and known as Mohican
Picks Diesel to give to the Queen of his Soul.
Which leaves only Hopi, who’s come as a toucan.

Yep.

Hopi’s the Finn with feathers, that purchased Ingersoll.

[Pendragon]

Well only two...

Mark, I thought your highly inventive, would have won a comedy poem contest hands down. Unfortunately, this was not a comedy contest.

So, YesNo, your neat little poem wins sorry if it seems to be by default.

You pick next line...

[MarkBastable]

I'm crushed. I demand a recount.

[YesNo]

Thanks, Pendragon! And I enjoyed your poem, Mark.

The next quote is from Gerard Manly Hopkins, "To a Young Child": http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/to-a-young-child/

Here is the new line:


"Margaret, are you grieving over Goldengrove unleaving?"

The deadline is in 3 weeks on Sunday, February 5th.

[Pendragon]

I'm crushed. I demand a recount.

Recount? Hummmmm... 1st Place, 2nd Place... No real room for a recount! Perhaps, considering the quality or your poem, Mark, we need a comedy/pun poem contest. If I can get someone to second the motion, perhaps I'll start one

God bless

Pen

[YesNo]

I second the motion for a comedy poetry contest.

[cacian]

''Margaret, are you grieving over Goldengrove unleaving?"
''no'' said the voice
''I am simply upheaving
sorrows cost wires
and
smiles drown fires
I see no pleasing when it comes to chosing''
''I see'' said Margaret
''how about some teasing
reasoning arth due meaning?''
''Howdy''!!! said voice
''tis all this weaving!!
must trickle it some loosening''!

[YesNo]

Five days left to enter something!

[Pendragon]

Margaret, are you grieving over Goldengrove unleaving?,
Could it be he's overstayed his welcome but he's still hanging around?
Is it worth the nights of crying, over love now lost and dying,
Coupled with depression that's just dragging you down?

Margaret, dwell on past happiness, and let the dreadful feelings pass,
Trust that someone can comfort you when everything seems lost
Because when you feed depression, heartaches will never lessen,
Sometimes you got to let things go because they are not worth the cost

See, that handsome guy is smiling, thoughts of you beguiling
Longing to get to know you better if you are so inclined
Though black thoughts may you imprison, looking through rose-tinted vision
Can bring back the sunny days you thought so far behind

Today is all we that we can travel, the past begins to ravel
It breaks apart like faded smoke about a funeral pyre
Take a chance on love and win it, as for the past just forget it
Regain the sparkle in your eyes, and relight passion's fire

If Goldengrove unleaving, has turned your joy to grieving
Don't waste time but tell him he's not welcome any more
Then set your sights on someone else, don't feel sorry for yourself
Your true love may enter once Goldengrove is out the door!

Pendragon
(C) 2012

[YesNo]

Thanks, cacian and Pendragon for the entries! As I think back on it, the line was difficult, but you both met the challenge.

I liked the line "smiles drown fires", cacian. And I enjoyed the metrical pattern in your poem, Pendragon.

I enjoyed reading both of them. They both deserved to win, but since I must choose a winner, the next person to present us with a line is

Pendragon

Congratulations!

[Pendragon]

Thank you, YesNo!

Let's see... I Choose...

"Up from Earth's Centre through the Seventh Gate I rose, and on the Throne of Saturn sate" from The Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám

Love to see what our poets can do with this!

Ends: First of March

Good luck and God bless!

[YesNo]

Enjoying Saturn's Chair

Up from Earth's Center through the Seventh Gate
I rose and in the throne of Saturn sate
Till Saturn thought it time for me to go
And though he might get angry I said, "Wait!"

"There's more to life than sitting on this spot
And watching Earth evolve perhaps or not.
Go take the missus out to see a show,
Or I'll take her. Let's see what Neptune's got."

It's then I felt the power of his hand.
He knocked me off his chair. I understand.
Those jealous husbands always seem to know
More than they should, far more than we had planned.

[Dark Muse]

The Fate of Gods and Man

I was as Persephone
living among broken souls
and old bones within a hopeless
darkness where none never
from thence returned again
to the light of day.

But I remembered the stories
they told me, of Inanna's Descent,
how from heaven's gleam she
came, passing through the seven
gates into this land of the dead.

With each gate she left a piece
of herself behind, until at last
she stood before her sister
Queen of Death, and she felt
no shame in her nakedness
with nothing but courage to cloak her
while pleading her request,
starry-eyed and resilient.

So I wondered why must I
linger here like Shallot,
with curses as my only chains,
if once a goddess had descended
confronting her fears and grief,
than so could I instead rise
towards a breath of freedom.

Up from Earth's Centre
through the Seventh Gate
I rose, and on the Throne of
Saturn sate, twas a bold move
and I was elated to achieve
celestial power from the bowls
of former despair.

He who had once been the
mighty Father of the gods,
broken by prophecy and his own
divine seed, usurped, leaving
his seat vacated, may I once a
Daughter in the House of the Dead
rule over the lost and Forsaken.