Subject Poetry Contest.

[YesNo]

We found ourselves some enemies
To justify our hate.
They lived within each one of us.
Their deaths would make us great.

Unfortunately they became
Our neighbors one bright day
And we attacked them as we ought.
They all have gone away.

They left because they had to hide:
Our weapons were too strong.
We chased them till they reached the rock
And then we did them wrong.

The legend told us what we did,
Why on the rock they died:
They got to show us how our hate
Unfortunately lied.

[Dark Muse]

The Girl Who Loved the Man From Far Away

It was on a day like today
with gray skies
and the wind blowing in from the sea,
that she would sing her sweetly sad laments
of legends from long days of yore,
with eyes full of mystery and remorse
she told the story of the man she loved,
though he had died long before she was born.

He lived and died on war torn fields,
among the blood and bodies,
shattered bones, strewn limbs,
slept to the sound of battle cries,
mighty his sword danced
to cleave his enemies in two.

She was breathless as
she told this story,
imagining the man she was destined for
though fate dictated never should they meet,
in all the glory and splendor
of his heroic strength.

She became silent for a moment
which felt like eternity
gazing into the vast faraway,
as if searching for a glimpse of him.

Then her eyes swelled with tears
for she knew what came next
and she could only manage a whisper
of his death when at last even all his greatness
was not enough, and the gods
no longer watched over him,
he faltered, and fell
until the blood on the ground was his own.

A scarf caught in the wind drifting by
caught my eye, it was the sort of thing
she would wear, now only but a memory,
she will always be a legend in her own right,
the girl who carried to her grave, an impossible love.

But perhaps
in the end she had found him
after all, and he died
only waiting for her to arrive.

[moonbird]

The artist works.

His brush dips
The pale pinks and blues
Soft as babies' clothing,
Then drifts
Lazily
Like a horse's dragging tail
To its waiting canvas.

The hand hesitates,
Not nervous
But simply musing
Before its brush kisses the paper
With the tenderness
Of the gentle mother
Who strokes the fragile head
Of her sleeping babe.

The piece
Is begun.

[Pendragon]

I must say I truly enjoyed all of these entries. But one stands out

DarkMuse, I think you must live with legends to write so powerfully about them. Well done, and you're up!

[cacian]

Congratulations DarkMuse.

[Dark Muse]

I must say I truly enjoyed all of these entries. But one stands out

DarkMuse, I think you must live with legends to write so powerfully about them. Well done, and you're up!

Thank you very much.

I will have the new subject up soon, just have to think of a good one.

[Dark Muse]

Ok your next subject is Fear

[Pendragon]

What Is It?

What is it that comes in the dead of the night,
When everything is calm and still;
And lingers close, yet out of sight,
And sends through your body a shivering chill?

What is it that comes when you’re out all alone
And find you must pass the lonely churchyard;
And you think that you glimpse it, but lo! It’s gone!
Your heart skips a beat and your breath comes hard?

What is it that comes when the moon is full,
And the shadows outside are long and lean;
And you think that you see it, but your senses are dulled,
And you want to, but find that you cannot, scream?

What is it that comes in the gathering gloom,
And with icy fingers claws at your heart;
Then each tiny sound voices coming doom.
Each tiny movement gives you a start?

What is it that moans in the gnarled trees,
With eyes like two lanterns in the darkness aglow;
And suddenly you find you have wobbly knees
As each mournful note seems to bring you more woe?

What is it that causes you to shake and to shiver,
At each tiny rustle of unfamiliar sound;
That seems to rise in the mist from the river,
The gloom of the forest, the shadows on the ground?

What is it?
FEAR!

Pendragon
Copyrighted Material

[cacian]

fear of here
from now on
is gear
to rear and weir
to get it steered
faster then tears
towards the near
ether and mere

[YesNo]

The markets tank. The asteroids fall.
The virus spreads to kiss us all
And love us wildly though we try
To kill it. Yes, we all must die.
In the end it's death we fear
Assuming it is always near
Though mostly it stays far away
Surprising us some sunny day
Or drizzly morn when sick in bed.
We thought we'd wake up, but we're dead.
Depressing, yes, that's how life goes.
The optimist, though, thinks he knows.
He lets his serotonin start
To giggle up a failing heart
And turn the lights on in his brain
Although outside there's only rain
The kind that makes one cold and wet
But doesn't let the mind forget
That death will be here sharp at eight.
And death is what we truly hate
Since it requires dying to
Be done. There's nothing left to do
And when it's done, they say that's it.
How would they know? They've never quit
This life before until right now
When angels laugh as we go, "Wow!"

[Dark Muse]

Dealine Feb. 15

[cacian]

This one is due.

[Dark Muse]

Thank you all

cacian: I rather enjoyed your inventive use of language and the play on words with your use of rhyme. It was a clever poem.

YesNo: I loved the way in which the opening of the poem played upon much of the paranoia that exists in the world today, and all of the fears that people seem to have these days. I also really enjoyed the truth in this one, ultimately it is the fear of death (the one great unavoidable) that drives so many of four other fears. A very reflective and spot on poem that speaks to our current culture.

And the winner is......

Pendragon: I really enjoyed this one. The use of questions in poetry I find can at times be hard to pull off but I thought you did a splendid job with it here. It had a great flow, and I loved the atmosphere of the poem. It read almost like a dark nursery rhyme. It was both macabre and playful.

[Pendragon]

Thanks, Dark Muse

Subject: Imagination
Cit off date: March 17.

[YesNo]

When you haven't a clue, pretend.
That's what all the children do.
They play and soon the truth shines through
To help them with their early years,
Too young to waste their time on fears
Since guided by a friend.