Famous Quoted Line Poetry Contest

[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)

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.