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Thread: Subject Poetry Contest.

  1. #106
    Not politically correct Pendragon's Avatar
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    After the Flood

    After the Flood

    There came a time, in the early spring,
    when the creek overflowed
    like a stopped-up commode,
    and the Dark Clouds wept
    as if the Earth had died.
    The lightsabers flashed as the Duel continued,
    the Darkside of the Force battling to stay.
    We waded the water, and talked about Arks.
    Flat-bottomed boats took the place of taxies.
    We hung our keepsakes and memories out to dry,
    scraped up the gooey remnants of our lives,
    and sloshed on.
    Some things could be replaced.
    Some could not.
    We buried our dead quietly.
    Our tears rivaled the torrential rain
    that had caused all of this heartache, sorrow, and madness.
    But, it was time to rebuild.
    We intended to stay.
    Business as usualó
    almost.

    Pendragon
    Some of us laugh
    Some of us cry
    Some of us smoke
    Some of us lie
    But it's all just the way
    that we cope with our lives...

  2. #107
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    Thanks Silven and Pendragon. An almost claustrophobic, personal piece with insistent rhymes that I loved - and an epic-scale bleeding chunk of history. It's dawning on me that I'll have to judge these. Hmm.

  3. #108
    All are at the crossroads qimissung's Avatar
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    Gaia's hair, as black as night

    Every time it rains
    Gaia washes out her hair
    Washes out the dust and smoke
    The desiccated leaves
    The dung and the stink
    And the unfettered flotsam
    Of human endeavors

    Languorously she scoops
    Sea foam with a negligent hand
    Luxuriously lathers her
    Shining tresses, brown strands and gold
    Intertwined each lock reflecting
    the variegated hues of cinnamon
    and saffron and poppy and bark

    she runs her fingers through the
    valleys and crevasses of the mountains
    the towers and canyons of the cities
    the trenches and abysses
    of the oceans and the seas
    with a gesture smooths
    the desert and the plains

    then rinses in the downpour
    the foamy brew of beaches
    and the surf
    rinses in the torrent
    in the deluge in the shower
    glories in the water
    cascading from her brow

    with a flourish throws back
    her mighty mane
    creating without a thought
    a tidal wave a thunderstorm
    a hurricane of seas that make her
    locks as black as night
    oh to be a goddess, to be revered again

    with nimble fingers she
    brushes out the tangled glory
    shining in the apple sun
    lemon swirling in the air around her
    pink rosebuds to lay on her Madonna brow
    revels in the lightness of her being
    every time it rains every time it rains
    Last edited by qimissung; 07-03-2009 at 06:45 PM.
    "The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its' own reason for existing." ~ Albert Einstein
    "Remember, no matter where you go, there you are." Buckaroo Bonzai
    "Some people say I done alright for a girl." Melanie Safka

  4. #109
    Inexplicably Undiscovered
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    "Weather Report"

    Weather Report

    The gray outside invades the room,
    where the airís already a heavy drudge
    and the mood darkens into smoky glass.
    Plans drop as more thick clouds loom
    and drip, drip, dr Ė-

    now itís coming earnestly down.

    Faces segue from wince to frown
    With their favorite steeds washed off the grass,
    or their little picnics ruined, alas.
    Me, I can't see the silver behind the gloom
    But then, who am I to begrudge?

    When good turfís pounded into sludge
    worms will come up, but so might blooms,
    defying the odds. Splashing sad streams
    the weeping window doesn't reflect
    facts that we occasionally neglect:

    at the skyís soft edge the sunís dry traces
    mirror themselves in brightening faces;
    that after a storm, comes a cooling breeze,
    releasing pressure through a timely sneeze,
    and relieving brains and bones with lesser pains --

    sometimes -- but not every-- time it rains.

  5. #110
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    ...oh my goodness two magnificent poems. I am feeling unworthy! Thank you qimissung and AuntShecky for responding to my theme with respectively a beautifully, oh, preraphaelite-esque (ugh! but you know what I mean) allegorical scene, and with a poem that combines colloquial ease with tight musical patterning and produces that rare thing, wit...

  6. #111
    All are at the crossroads qimissung's Avatar
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    AusntShecky is witty, isn't she?
    "The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its' own reason for existing." ~ Albert Einstein
    "Remember, no matter where you go, there you are." Buckaroo Bonzai
    "Some people say I done alright for a girl." Melanie Safka

  7. #112
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    Quote Originally Posted by qimissung View Post
    AusntShecky is witty, isn't she?
    she is. And you are lyrical and vivid . Thank you all for sending these poems, there is something magical about having occasioned them.

  8. #113
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    OK, just a couple more days to go...

  9. #114
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    Last call...

    Four hours to go.

  10. #115
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    judgement hour

    is finally here. OK let's take a look:

    Waterford Crystal

    When we were starting
    a Zen couple in transit
    tears bound up our sighs

    We survived rivals
    honeymoon night together
    swore vows at the Falls

    Anniversaries
    at the neighbourhood fountain
    throwing pennies in

    Tomorrows pressed like
    dried rainbows in mesh scrapbooks
    beckon to the years

    Now, time after time, it rains
    like the times that bid their grace.

    (Alakungfu)

    I loved this. There's a hidden progression - tears, Falls, fountain, rainbows - that is so beautiful a response to the subject. And a sense of honesty, and being true to a relationship. The last line is very beautiful, and has a sweet mystery.

    These are the Rainy Days

    The great purge, of those dirty.
    It cleans with natures fury.
    The sky though wet may blaze
    These are the rainy days.

    As the window’s threatened with ever gust
    The hearth sizzles, and begins to rust
    The warmth sinks, in a dreary haze
    These are the rainy days.

    The lights flicker, with thunderclap
    The sockets simmer with a spark and zap
    As the clouds thicken, and look glazed
    These are the rainy days

    As hopelessness begin to sink
    The clouds part and one thinks
    That rainbows have the prettiest face
    These are, the moments of grace.

    (Rabid Reader)

    I am a complete sucker for poetic repetition-with-variations. I liked the way the idea of grace was picked up from the previous poem. We are writing to one another; poetry rarely does that.


    Then it rains...

    Closet closed, cant get away,
    not random, when you look that way,
    cant stand it, that one day I'll pay,
    lest right now - it rain again.

    a running score, me one them four,
    running faster, than thought before,
    brought to dawn, and struck my core,
    and look - its raining down some more

    Fate repay, and congregate
    and conjure spell to emulate,
    a normal life be mine today
    and fix the rain to go away!

    (Silven)

    This manages to be intensely personal and highly communicative at once. The rhymes add to the intensity. Yes it is just like a spell, Silven. Magical.


    After the Flood

    There came a time, in the early spring,
    when the creek overflowed
    like a stopped-up commode,
    and the Dark Clouds wept
    as if the Earth had died.
    The lightsabers flashed as the Duel continued,
    the Darkside of the Force battling to stay.
    We waded the water, and talked about Arks.
    Flat-bottomed boats took the place of taxies.
    We hung our keepsakes and memories out to dry,
    scraped up the gooey remnants of our lives,
    and sloshed on.
    Some things could be replaced.
    Some could not.
    We buried our dead quietly.
    Our tears rivaled the torrential rain
    that had caused all of this heartache, sorrow, and madness.
    But, it was time to rebuild.
    We intended to stay.
    Business as usual—
    almost.

    (Pendragon)

    An epic quality here. Also a sense of being sick of war, and not knowing how to get outside it: 'Some things could be replaced./Some could not.'


    Gaia's hair, as black as night

    Every time it rains
    Gaia washes out her hair
    Washes out the dust and smoke
    The desiccated leaves
    The dung and the stink
    And the unfettered flotsam
    Of human endeavors

    Languorously she scoops
    Sea foam with a negligent hand
    Luxuriously lathers her
    Shining tresses, brown strands and gold
    Intertwined each lock reflecting
    the variegated hues of cinnamon
    and saffron and poppy and bark

    she runs her fingers through the
    valleys and crevasses of the mountains
    the towers and canyons of the cities
    the trenches and abysses
    of the oceans and the seas
    with a gesture smooths
    the desert and the plains

    then rinses in the downpour
    the foamy brew of beaches
    and the surf
    rinses in the torrent
    in the deluge in the shower
    glories in the water
    cascading from her brow

    with a flourish throws back
    her mighty mane
    creating without a thought
    a tidal wave a thunderstorm
    a hurricane of seas that make her
    locks as black as night
    oh to be a goddess, to be revered again

    with nimble fingers she
    brushes out the tangled glory
    shining in the apple sun
    lemon swirling in the air around her
    pink rosebuds to lay on her Madonna brow
    revels in the lightness of her being
    every time it rains every time it rains

    (qimissung)

    Allegory is another of my favourite things, and this one works so completely, turning the rain falling on the earth into a living magic. The repetition of my title phrase in the last line was a charm!


    Weather Report

    The gray outside invades the room,
    where the air’s already a heavy drudge
    and the mood darkens into smoky glass.
    Plans drop as more thick clouds loom
    and drip, drip, dr –-

    now it’s coming earnestly down.

    Faces segue from wince to frown
    With their favorite steeds washed off the grass,
    or their little picnics ruined, alas.
    Me, I can't see the silver behind the gloom
    But then, who am I to begrudge?

    When good turf’s pounded into sludge
    worms will come up, but so might blooms,
    defying the odds. Splashing sad streams
    the weeping window doesn't reflect
    facts that we occasionally neglect:

    at the sky’s soft edge the sun’s dry traces
    mirror themselves in brightening faces;
    that after a storm, comes a cooling breeze,
    releasing pressure through a timely sneeze,
    and relieving brains and bones with lesser pains --

    sometimes -- but not every-- time it rains.

    (AuntShecky)

    I liked this worldly poem. 'and drip, drip, dr –-//now it’s coming earnestly down.' enacts a real moment dramatically and wittily. 'worms will come up, but so might blooms' has aphoristic power. I love the knowing caveat in the last line.


    OK which is the nearest to perfection. I'm hesitating between Alakungfu's suggestive haiku stanzas, and qimissung's grand-scale imagery. As a pure personal thing I think I like Alakungfu's best, marginally... but I'm just not totally sure about the last stanza,I mean I love the last line, but not sure I quite get the whole stanza... and qimissung's poem WORKS so well... So by a short head... qimissung is the winner!

    Now I'm going to go hide.

  11. #116
    All are at the crossroads qimissung's Avatar
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    Thank You, alexar. And my congratulations to alakungfu, Rabid Reader, Silven, Pendragon, and Aunt Shecky. I really enjoy pitting myself against myself, and I love writing with you all and I love seeing what everyone else comes up with. No lack of imagination in this group.

    And, alexar, I understand well the feeling of going to hide!

    Now, on to the next challenge. The subject is "...the letter in his pocket."

    Good luck, have fun, be brilliant. The contest will close July 24, at 8 p.m.
    "The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its' own reason for existing." ~ Albert Einstein
    "Remember, no matter where you go, there you are." Buckaroo Bonzai
    "Some people say I done alright for a girl." Melanie Safka

  12. #117
    Love of Controversy rabid reader's Avatar
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    From Me with love

    Speak with me, donít forget my son,
    The words which hold my thoughts as a locket.
    Donít bend, and donít fold, or crease
    This letter thatís in your pocket.

    For the love that I tell you,
    Cannot be fond in some general thought
    It is I your bearer to you my son,
    Which is love that cannot be sought.

    So please remain well, and brush your hair.
    Remove the dust and crumbs from it.
    If your lonely and need some care,
    Look upon the letter thatís in your pocket.
    A tragic situation exists precisely when virtue does not triumph but when it is still felt that man is nobler than the forces which destroy him.
    - Orwell

    Read of my Shepherd

  13. #118
    All are at the crossroads qimissung's Avatar
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    Thank you rabid reader! I was beginning to despair of any entries. Yours is a fine one. Love the second line..."The words which hold my thoughts as a locket."
    "The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its' own reason for existing." ~ Albert Einstein
    "Remember, no matter where you go, there you are." Buckaroo Bonzai
    "Some people say I done alright for a girl." Melanie Safka

  14. #119
    a dark soul Haunted's Avatar
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    the letter in his pocket

    there is this letter
    that wanted to belong
    to someone

    one day he came along
    and accepted it

    if a letter could feel
    it was happy and safe
    in his blue jean pocket
    warmed by his hand

    but who would wear
    the same jeans forever?

    They were left behind
    on the closet floor
    when he moved on

    still in the pocket
    now long forgotten
    is the letter...

    this little
    letter...

    i
    Last edited by Haunted; 07-26-2009 at 12:46 PM. Reason: punctuation

    "But do you really, seriously, Major Scobie," Dr. Sykes asked, "believe in hell?"
    "Oh, yes, I do."
    "In flames and torment?"
    "Perhaps not quite that. They tell us it may be a permanent sense of loss."
    "That sort of hell wouldn't worry me," Fellowes said.
    "Perhaps you've never lost anything of importance," Scobie said.

  15. #120
    Dreaming away Sapphire's Avatar
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    Here is my little contribution. I guess it shows that I have been focussing on lyrics a bit too much lately

    The mailman came today

    The door opened, the door closed
    he came in - but still alone
    His eyes show secret memories
    but he does not speak to me

    _____________There's a letter in his pocket

    I dipped a pencil
    into a well of many words[*]
    Careless, but no whispers [**]
    only silence to be heard

    _____________There's a letter in his pocket

    I am inscensed; I bottle up my fears
    and throw them in the ocean
    Let them never reach the shore
    All these fake emotions

    _____________There's a letter in his pocket
    _____________and it is not mine to read


    I wait for Monday [***]
    to wash it all away

    []
    * Robert Plant and Allison Krauss - Please read this letter
    ** George Michael - Careless whisper
    *** the Scaffolds - Today's Monday

    I can't figure out how to "outline" with just spaces so I used _____ to get it right. And I added[*] as references - I am not sure whether it is necessary but sometimes it is nice to know where an idea comes from.
    It is not too late, to be wild for roundabouts - to be wild for life
    Wolfsheim - It is not too late

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