Poetry Contest

[mir]

WHOA :eek2: !

didn't see that one coming!

thanks virgil! :D though seriously, i thought everybody's poems were great. i have to say, riesa's was my favorite . . . if only because it is the wordly incarnation of:goof: . :lol:

okay, for a picture . . . i just want to see what everyone makes of this. it's by my favorite artist, Rodin:

http://www.scultura-italiana.com/Galleria_Estero/Rodin%20Auguste/images/Rodin%20-%20Iris,%20messaggera%20degli%20Dei%20(Parigi,%20M us%E9e%20Rodin,%201890).jpg

it was either this or the Hand of God, but i couldn't find a good enough picture for that.

[Riesa]

What on earth is that person doing? :lol:

I'm glad you like a little :goof: mir. ;)

[Virgil]

WHOA :eek2: !

didn't see that one coming!

thanks virgil! :D though seriously, i thought everybody's poems were great. i have to say, riesa's was my favorite . . . if only because it is the wordly incarnation of:goof: . :lol:

okay, for a picture . . . i just want to see what everyone makes of this. it's by my favorite artist, Rodin:

http://www.scultura-italiana.com/Galleria_Estero/Rodin%20Auguste/images/Rodin%20-%20Iris,%20messaggera%20degli%20Dei%20(Parigi,%20M us%E9e%20Rodin,%201890).jpg

it was either this or the Hand of God, but i couldn't find a good enough picture for that.

I guess that's a female? :confused: Does anyone know for certain?

[AimusSage]

Okay, I justed made a little poem :) It's a little rough, but I'll leave it as is.

Sculpting day.

I’m not wearing any clothes today.
The sculptor makes me strike a silly pose,
Balancing on my small and nimble toes.
He slowly begins to shape me out of clay.

The pose is getting too hard for me now.
All he shaped is my little, nimble fingers,
And meanwhile the sculptor lingers,
as he’s working on my frowning brow.

A five-minute break is what I need.
Drinking some booze and eating a cookie,
The sculptor thinks I’m a rookie!
I wouldn’t be if he took up some speed.

He’s working faster than before.
The clay is slipping through his hands,
And an almost finished statue stands,
When there is no more clay galore.

The left arm is still missing.
The sculptor tells me to stop posing
He is now done with all the shaping,
And I look like a freak gone fishing,
On a sculpting day.

[mir]

What on earth is that person doing? :lol:

i have NO IDEA . . . but i still like the sculpture :lol:

i don't know if that's a female or a male, Virgil . . . but i'm leaning toward female because the name of the sculpture is Iris, Messenger of the Gods.

nice poem, Aimus! :D

[Dry_Snail]

The Satan lured her
The Apple lured her
The Snake lured her

HE came back and saw us hiding,
HE found the Apocalypse absurd,
HE left us with a bane.

Now,

I stand here
I watch my posterity
I regret.

[mir]

? nice poem, but . . . it's not really about the picture . . .

[holograph]

I love Snail's. Mir, when a pic is posted I don't think the poem has to be about it per se. It should be inspired by the picture. Here is what I got out of it:



The writhing past is cast
in weathered bronze

the changeless tides still
foaming at her rigid sides

[an eerie coo of rabid waves]

Push and pull
Waste and swell

cord grass beats against her thighs
the ocher skin of monotone
a broken statue’s metal sighs

[only the merry go round and
round on time’s decapitated rim]

Push and pull
Waste and swell

the vestige of a moving limb

Time has no head to rest no face
her neck is an industrial fence

one foot just one precarious knee
held high above her severed waist

What do they pray to?

Push and pull
Push and pull

Agony drunk with agony

Take her.

[Dry_Snail]

Thanx MIR,
well the poem is not about the statue per se, but i interepreted the statue in this way.
I felt that the statue represents Adam and the way he is standing is the personification of that regret....well its all about perception i guess....


and thanx Holograph!!!

[mir]

okay! sorry i misinterpreted! :)

[Dry_Snail]

Mir, I think...you didnt Mis-Interprete
...i think You interpreted it Differently ;)


ha ha ha :lol:

what say???

:brow:

[mir]

:p

so you think the statue's Eve?

heh misinterpreting things is fun . . . http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?t=4389&page=243

[Dry_Snail]

NO.....again Misinterpretation he he he

i think its ADAM

[mir]

ACK!

*hides head in shirt*

sorry . . the "her"s confused me . . .

[Dry_Snail]

lol
well i guess things are clearer now a bit !!

[Virgil]

ii don't know if that's a female or a male, Virgil . . . but i'm leaning toward female because the name of the sculpture is Iris, Messenger of the Gods.


Well, that answers it.

[Orionsbelt]

As I circumscribe a circle through the zodiac with my toe
I know
I stand at the center and all else expands outward from here
I realize
This is the only place that I have experienced since birth
I suppose
Others stand in the their center with me toes out
We dance
:D :thumbs_up

[Petrarch's Love]

Interesting pic, Mir. I was just wondering if you know where the statue in the photo is now. I seem to remember seeing "Iris, Messenger of the Gods" in Paris, but I thought that version was headless, so I'm confused. :confused: Maybe there are two versions? Maybe I'm just imagining things and it's had a head all along? :confused: :confused: Incidently, I happen to know a bit of background as to the subject of this statue, and the highly suggestive way it was supposed to have been placed into a larger work, but I'm afraid that fact might spoil everyone's fiction. Do people want background material, or would you rather know about that only after the contest is over?

[Petrarch's Love]

According to Michelangelo
Statues are born, not made.
Their forms are waiting
In the hearts of marble blocks
And in the hot essence
Of liquid bronze.
They are waiting to be brought forth
From the passionate heat of fusing metals
Like infants into a crying world,
And to bestow on that world their beauty.

What then, of this aborted birth?
This monstrous, misshapen birth,
Lacking an arm, with a visage of half-melted skin,
Most of all, lacking the decency to emerge stillborn,
Lacking the decency to calm those flailing, living limbs
Which she presents open and willing
To the initiation
Of another birth.

[mir]

Interesting pic, Mir. I was just wondering if you know where the statue in the photo is now. I seem to remember seeing "Iris, Messenger of the Gods" in Paris, but I thought that version was headless, so I'm confused. :confused: Maybe there are two versions? Maybe I'm just imagining things and it's had a head all along? :confused: :confused: Incidently, I happen to know a bit of background as to the subject of this statue, and the highly suggestive way it was supposed to have been placed into a larger work, but I'm afraid that fact might spoil everyone's fiction. Do people want background material, or would you rather know about that only after the contest is over?

Petrarch, you're right, i beleive the statue's head originally is missing - i think i remember seeing it in the New York Metropolitan museum, with no head. but i also found this picture when i google imaged the statue, so what i'm guessing is that other casts were made of the figue, and one still has its head. i used that because i thought it would be easier to write poems on.

i'll go for background material - i'm not writing the poems, though :p

thanks for posting your poem! it's great!

[mir]

alright, since this thread doesn't seem to have attracted any more poems for a while, i'm going to say that the contest will be closed this Saturday at 10 AM Eastern Standard time (for a reference, it's 3:05 here right now.) so if anyone else wants to submit, please do so! and thanks for everybody who has done so so far! :)

[Virgil]

OK mir, I will try by saturday. But personal reasons of the last month have prevent me from focusing on anything creative.

[mir]

Okay . . . i guess i can extend the deadline a little longer; i just thought everybody had forgotten about it so it needed a revival. :D

But i might not be able to get to it until the sunday after next if i don't do it next weekend (this coming weekend, that is). is that okay with people?

[Virgil]

OK with me.

[Riesa]

Okay with me too, I haven't had a chance to try yet, though I'm afraid it's gonna be tough to beat Petrarch's .

[Riesa]

Solidly made, the inherited sacrificial drive
comes easy, taught by other, older
Goddesses of Wondering

Once, her unlined eyes mesmerized
While her brushed cotton softness
won her a place as the artist’s muse

now her embrace is useless,
her discarded passion rusts

A shabby box nests the
few articles of affection
she’s gathered
from him who,
when memory stirs,
checks to see
if she is still capable
of affecting,
he finds
she isn’t, and disregards
the sentiment for a more
tangible ornament,
unconcerned with the woman
forever poised to give all
at the cost of her own
fragile balance.


Mir, did you ever see the film Camille Claudel?

[Virgil]

OK, I got one in before the deadline.


The Recumbent

Oh those bitter mountain peaks
Thin to meager pennies.
The recumbent feels the fever
The heart recoils into itself
The eyes look back to youthful strife
The end is here, this was life.

Dance, dance, little girl, dance
With crazy legs and arms contort
Dance, dance, my little girl,
For life is short.

Once there was a spring day
With warm Italian sun
Promenade and cigarettes
Recumbents lay in honeymoon
Honeyed days of husband and wife
That was then, that was life.

Dance, dance, little girl, dance
With crazy legs and arms contort
Dance, dance, my little girl,
For life is short.

Now the recumbent rides in casket
And in procession stroll the living
To a place of green and water
Beneath a tree an open hole.
Love and flowers and tears so rife
But that was all, that was life.

Dance, dance, little girl, dance
With crazy legs and arms contort
Dance, dance, my little girl.

[mir]

OKAY!

sorry this is late, i had a lot more to do this weekend than i thought. and i wanted to write something about each poem, because i thought all of them were wonderful.

But anyways, first here is the picture again:
http://www.scultura-italiana.com/Galleria_Estero/Rodin%20Auguste/images/Rodin%20-%20Iris,%20messaggera%20degli%20Dei%20(Parigi,%20M us%E9e%20Rodin,%201890).jpg

And the poems.


The Satan lured her
The Apple lured her
The Snake lured her

HE came back and saw us hiding,
HE found the Apocalypse absurd,
HE left us with a bane.

Now,

I stand here
I watch my posterity
I regret.

Snail, i didn't get this the first time i saw it. i sort of like that, though, because it made me have to think about what you were saying and try to interpret it. i love your last stanza, but i still have to say that the poem is confusing, especially in that it's hard to figure out if you're talking about Adam, Eve, or both, or something else. i think that it's a very good poem, but since you had to explain it to me before i got it, i couldn't choose it as the winner.



As I circumscribe a circle through the zodiac with my toe
I know
I stand at the center and all else expands outward from here
I realize
This is the only place that I have experienced since birth
I suppose
Others stand in the their center with me toes out
We dance


Orion, hello from Pittsburgh! :D

i liked your poem as well, especially the first and last lines. the last conpleted the imagery of the poem; the first was just a beautiful sentance that i thought was really cool. i did think that the poem could have used a bit of editing, especially in the little interspersing-lines - "I know", "I realize", "i suppose". But i still thought it was a great poem, and i hope you submit for the next contest!



According to Michelangelo
Statues are born, not made.
Their forms are waiting
In the hearts of marble blocks
And in the hot essence
Of liquid bronze.
They are waiting to be brought forth
From the passionate heat of fusing metals
Like infants into a crying world,
And to bestow on that world their beauty.

What then, of this aborted birth?
This monstrous, misshapen birth,
Lacking an arm, with a visage of half-melted skin,
Most of all, lacking the decency to emerge stillborn,
Lacking the decency to calm those flailing, living limbs
Which she presents open and willing
To the initiation
Of another birth.

Petrarch, your poem was very sequential, really telling a story and following a theme, something not many people did. i love some of your ideas - "Lacking the decency to emerge stillborn"; "the initiation of another birth". Your poem captured the contorted changelessness of the statue, forever stuck in a "monstrous, misshapen" form. i think that if the first stanza had been as good as the second, it might have been the winner. but i sort of felt that you really only hit your stride, and the rhythm you wanted, in the second part - although i do love the "infant into a crying world" in the first bit. i still thought that it was a wonderful poem, just a bit too storylike and not flowing enough in the first stanza.



Sculpting day.

I’m not wearing any clothes today.
The sculptor makes me strike a silly pose,
Balancing on my small and nimble toes.
He slowly begins to shape me out of clay.

The pose is getting too hard for me now.
All he shaped is my little, nimble fingers,
And meanwhile the sculptor lingers,
as he’s working on my frowning brow.

A five-minute break is what I need.
Drinking some booze and eating a cookie,
The sculptor thinks I’m a rookie!
I wouldn’t be if he took up some speed.

He’s working faster than before.
The clay is slipping through his hands,
And an almost finished statue stands,
When there is no more clay galore.

The left arm is still missing.
The sculptor tells me to stop posing
He is now done with all the shaping,
And I look like a freak gone fishing,
On a sculpting day.

Aimus, your poem really made me laugh. :lol: the first line is great! and a lot of the rest is very good and funny too, and keeps on track without becoming boring. however, i thought your poem could have used more editing - the rhythm was off in several places, and the rhymes didn't seem quite right to me, like "cookie" and "rookie". i did like your rhyme's form, though; i haven't seen that ABBA structure before and i thought the way you did it was really cool, especially when you moderated it in the last line. so good poem! :)




The Recumbent

Oh those bitter mountain peaks
Thin to meager pennies.
The recumbent feels the fever
The heart recoils into itself
The eyes look back to youthful strife
The end is here, this was life.

Dance, dance, little girl, dance
With crazy legs and arms contort
Dance, dance, my little girl,
For life is short.

Once there was a spring day
With warm Italian sun
Promenade and cigarettes
Recumbents lay in honeymoon
Honeyed days of husband and wife
That was then, that was life.

Dance, dance, little girl, dance
With crazy legs and arms contort
Dance, dance, my little girl,
For life is short.

Now the recumbent rides in casket
And in procession stroll the living
To a place of green and water
Beneath a tree an open hole.
Love and flowers and tears so rife
But that was all, that was life.

Dance, dance, little girl, dance
With crazy legs and arms contort
Dance, dance, my little girl.

One thing this poem did is teach me a new word! :p no, i didn't know what recumbent means. :bawling: but all the same, Virgil, i liked this poem a lot even before dictionary'ing recumbent. i thought that you had a really cool idea - the quick phases of life, so dance if you can, while you can - if i got it right. but though your second and third long stanzas (the ones ending with "that was life") were very good, i thought the first one wasn't really connected. i did like the "dance, dance, little girl, dance" interludes, but i didn't really get the "recumbent" connection in places. However, as always, your writing makes me feel like finding out where you live, going over, shaking you, and saying "Teach me how to write!!!" :p



Solidly made, the inherited sacrificial drive
comes easy, taught by other, older
Goddesses of Wondering

Once, her unlined eyes mesmerized
While her brushed cotton softness
won her a place as the artist’s muse

now her embrace is useless,
her discarded passion rusts

A shabby box nests the
few articles of affection
she’s gathered
from him who,
when memory stirs,
checks to see
if she is still capable
of affecting,
he finds
she isn’t, and disregards
the sentiment for a more
tangible ornament,
unconcerned with the woman
forever poised to give all
at the cost of her own
fragile balance.

These last two poems, Riesa and Holograph's, made me wish that there could be allowed two winners for this contest. both these poems were beautiful. Riesa, the last part of your poem - the longest stanza - was absolutely wonderful, especially from the "Unconcerned with the woman" until the end. Your imagery is lovely, and i liked the way that you humanized the statue while still sort of keeping her confined in her bronze shell. But, though your poem was very good, it did have a few things that kept me from choosing it as the winner. A lot of the things you said were confusing, and didn't really connect to the picture - for instance, "brushed cotton softness", "shabby box", or the very first stanza. after the first two stanzas, i thought the rest was great - but i think that the poem could use a different beginning, and be a bit more true to the statue. unless i've gotten completely confused about what you were trying to say. but anyways, great poem, i had a lot of fun reading it. ;)




The writhing past is cast
in weathered bronze

the changeless tides still
foaming at her rigid sides

[an eerie coo of rabid waves]

Push and pull
Waste and swell

cord grass beats against her thighs
the ocher skin of monotone
a broken statue’s metal sighs

[only the merry go round and
round on time’s decapitated rim]

Push and pull
Waste and swell

the vestige of a moving limb

Time has no head to rest no face
her neck is an industrial fence

one foot just one precarious knee
held high above her severed waist

What do they pray to?

Push and pull
Push and pull

Agony drunk with agony

Take her.

Holograph, your poem definitely gave me the most vivid images of any. the detached rhythm and the beautiful imagery, and the seeming disconnectedness the first time i read it, but which i was soon able to realize a common theme in - all of that made the poem a sort of great timeless, melancholy observation. i didn't really get the connection of several of the lines to the main idea - it was that the statue is like time, right? - but even when i didn't get them, they seemed to fit. you drew in a background for the sculpture, at least how i saw it; i felt like the statue was at the edge of a grey, endless sea, and i really felt something when i read the poem. Great job! can't wait to see your picture! :D

and thanks everybody for submitting - i loved all the poems.

[Petrarch's Love]

Congratulations Holograph!

And thanks for the comments Mir. :)

[Virgil]

Congratulations from me too Holograph. A very nice poem.

And thank you Mir.

[Riesa]

Congratulations Holograph! :D

Thanks for the comments mir. I'm glad you liked it, sorry it confused you. :blush: Ever since you posted the Rodin Pic, I was thinking of that film Camille Claudel, and those thoughts led to that poem, I suppose. Thanks for the comments!

[AimusSage]

Aye congrats Holograph. It's quite nice indeed :nod:

[holograph]

hey kids. mir, thank you so much for picking my scribbles as the winner of this very competetive, but very much fun, poetry contest. i don't think i deserved it. i read the one's everyone else posted and i thought, wow, i have no chance. virgil's, petrarch's riesa's aim's all were Amazing.

thanks again. I will post a cool pic, I promise. I need to be inspired. :angel:

[holograph]

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

[holograph]

I'm not religious, but this painting by Dali struck me. I'm not going to judge based on how close the poems are to my interpretation of the piece. I will look at the poem as its own entity, like a new critic would. Have fun, don't rush and good luck amigos. --Alina :)

This one's called "The Cross of St. John" by Dali.

http://www.heureka.clara.net/books/dali-crossofstjohn2.jpg

[Orionsbelt]

Holograph congratulations! I agree with the choice. Honorable mention for me goes to Virgil.

Mir - No need to worry. I write because I like to not to gain points with other folks. I do however appreciate comments letting me know how it has affected you and other folks. I have not been since childhood a very detailed guy. No news here -- Lol;) Poor mum!

Having said that I am intrigued by Riesa's words"

"she’s gathered
from him who,
when memory stirs,
checks to see
if she is still capable
of affecting,
he finds
she isn’t, and disregards
the sentiment for a more
tangible ornament"

There is a storyteller in NY named Judith Black who touches this theme in a kind of ballad that she performed at the National Storytller's Conference this past summer. When I heard her story and watched the reaction of the largely female group, I conclude that this casting of thought in this way must be something close to the minds of many females (pure conjecture on my part). It is an ancient theme sewn through many folk tales in many countries. Not judging here just noticing. I don't know if Riesa is male or female. From my point of view interesting... I wonder if Carl Jung is reading along?:p

Next Picture Wooah! I :eek: have to think some on this one!

Great day all. :banana: Looking forward to reading some more cool stuff.:thumbs_up

[Virgil]

Wow. I just saw the photo. That is a fantastic Dali. I have never seen it before, and may be the best Dali I've ever seen. For the most part I've never been overwhelmed with Dali. But this one is great. I will need a little time to think on this one.

[miss tenderness]

congarts Holo:)

[holograph]

Thanks Ms. T. :)

OK, so to keep this contest moving, let's make the deadline eh, next Wed. night at 9 PM. Let's get some entries kids. <3

[mir]

ack!!!

i'm working on it, holo!! i keep getting good ideas and forgetting to write them down! :p

[mir]

OK! sorry it took so long, Holo - we love you, we're just slow poets! :p

Empty Eucharist
Hung in endless sky
Below, the boats
Wait their own chance to die.

Consecrated cross
Clouds swelled red with blood
Shifting seas
High and low both the flood.

Prickling punishment
The thorns in his crown
Forgive the fishermen
And lay your burden down.

[Virgil]

Oh I'm working on it too. I hope I have a few more weeks.

[Orionsbelt]

I'm working on it too but the left brain stuff keeps stepping on the words...:goof:

[ktd222]

I'm suprised only one poem has been posted so far, for this image.

[Virgil]

I'm suprised only one poem has been posted so far, for this image.

We've only had the picture about a week. We normally get several weeks.

[holograph]

mhm. i won't rush you guys, even though I am russian. hehe. inside joke with myself. ----mmmm great entry mir.

[Petrarch's Love]

..........

[Petrarch's Love]

OK, here's my entry, since Holo is Russian into things ;) :
edit: I can't figure out why it's posting mine before thefemalemind's entry, since hers was already there when I posted, but I guess I'll just have to accept that the ways of computers are many and mysterious.:goof:

In Nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti
(In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit)

Water smooth and flat to conceal its sins,
Blameless face of blue presents itself
To the pillars of the light of heaven
Which pierce through the remnants of the storm.
The trinity stand by the waveless sea:
Papa distant where his old blue boat is tied,
Oldest brother with the nets in hand,
Middle brother ankle deep beside
The boat with a knot like an eye in its prow.
All have been witness to the same event.

Pater noster, qui es in caelis
“Our father, our father,” the words come by instinct
To the minds of the trinity on the shore,
Words come from the years of childhood kneeling
Between Mama and Papa in Sunday best.
Words come from the years of fatherhood kneeling
Beside their own children and wives. Words come
As they came to the youngest brother in his last moment.
Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra
“Our father, your will be done; your will be done.”
The words came by instinct to their son and brother,
Who had knelt beside them with his wife and child
Whom they’d watched as a baby carried with hope
To the priest for the blessing of water,
Whom they’d watched as the water choked him
In the midst of his prayer to an angry sky.

Et dimitte nobis debita nostra,
“Our father, forgive us, forgive us.
Our father, are you in heaven?
Our father, can we forgive the trespasses against us?
Our father, you know not what you do.
We ask you to deliver us from evil
And you take away our good, our brother and our son.
Our father? Our father?” The words come by instinct
From something born in them, from before birth.

And the unseen questions rise to where
Unseen nails suspend incarnate anguish
While the bones snap and muscles tear
And the neck, limp with suffering, drops the head.
The page above the bending neck presents no INRI,
No explanation, only a blameless face of white-a tabula rasa.
The light illumines pain on earth as it is in heaven
All else is darkness
As the Son lowers his head over the bending world.

[thefemalemind]

Hello! I'd like to try out this contest but it might take a while for me to get a poem done for this picture! how much time do we have left?

[thefemalemind]

He made a sacrafice
On the cross where He lay.
The work of His beauty
Stunned in dismay.
He looks down apon us,
His soul very tired,
A gentle smile
Was all that was required
To mend the bleeding,
Hurt,
Needing.
He looks down apon us
With love and care.
For his children,
He will always be there.
He floats softly
In vast skies of gray
Because He made a sacrafice
On the cross where He lay.

By: The Female Mind
Krista

[thefemalemind]

its been doing that to me too in other threads.

[Taliesin]

Okay, out of the blue it came, but it was fun writing it:


Out of the blackness
between the blue water
and blue mirage of heavens
a cross-shaped conture
hung out for forever
flies.
And all the sunken boats come to surface
dead bodies grasping air
people stepping out from the trees
into which they grew
in graveyards.
stepping out from the heat of the ovens
and boxes in museums.
"where the hell is my left foot?"
somebody, forgetting when he is,
speaks.
Somebody, whose body was long stored away
for the glory of history.
Everybody, in long patient files
waiting for Judgement.
But the figure flies on
uncaring of the files below
freely
without having to stand for anyones' hope
suffer for the guilty
with no responsibility left
it has all passed on
and he can rest now.
Last chance of
bading goodbye
to the blue skies
which won't be here tomorrow.
Sunset of the world.
The Son is free.
Flying
exalted
as if it was the last day of Earth
into the dying skies.
Lightness is unbearable.
How do they deal with it?

[Riesa]

Light
ever bound to dark,
as truth to deceit,
far below vertiginous heights



depths
whirl away,
flotsam and jetsam
grip and ride
sucking,
twist-
ing
waves

Hanged man
shimmering
in the oily heat,
flies tickle and drink;

but agony ends,
adjusts to pain by
turning numb,
and he has witnessed,
in a metamorphic flash


toed-fish
slink from the primordial deep
mammoth beasts fall,
and furred, grimy hunters
reflect fire in dark eyes

and
begin to sing

and
forget to sing as
blades dig, scrape earth and tender flesh,
flesh bathed in war's craze,
hate in hot and sultry waves,
the grim disdain of God's soldier
meting out ordered death.

Hanged man beyond broken:
this is not what I meant, no
You were mistaken,
let me go, Father
let me join the dead gods.
There was no hope.

(And yet,
salvaged from the muck
of humanity’s wreck,
deep in an expanse of
sea,
a sailor,
boat tied to the rhythm of
Southern winds,
sailing quiet
beneath
Cassiopeia;

Stargazer
on the clean wooden deck
night cracking open,
spilling starlight so potent
he opens his soul and howls
unsuppressed.)

[holograph]

nice. good job everyone. impressive, impressive. virg, cmon out with it. ill give you guys a few more days. woot.

[Virgil]

nice. good job everyone. impressive, impressive. virg, cmon out with it. ill give you guys a few more days. woot.

Oh please let me have one more weekend.:bawling:

[Orionsbelt]

Hi,

My appologies but I haven't been able to work on this at all so don't wait on me I'll catch up on the next one. :sick:

[holograph]

ok kids, ill give you another 48 hrs. but that's it. :) cmon virg and orion. you still have some time.

[Virgil]

Just finishing up, Halo. I'll post my poem within an hour. Thanks.

[Virgil]

OK, here's my poem. I don't have a clear sense of an assessment, but I'm sure you will tell me.



The Rivet

A thunderous evening and the last moments of human marrow.
This is the moment that life severs to spirit,
That timber crosses to pole,
When positive and negative lose static opposition.
As the earth spins in perpetual motion
It spins along the axis of this cross,
Along the axis of this body, poor and beaten.
I am the mandrel of this world,
The cosmic rivet of all that is stone and mineral and gas;
The universe here is concentered.
Can corporeality end this way, so notorious,
So lapsed of bowel movements,
And flowing of fluids,
Not even to have the dignity of recumbence?
Soon, forty days or so, another transfiguration,
To wheat, to vineyard, to an aroused rose,
Proud and red and facing the sky.
Endemic to all, having been burned into flesh,
And ripped out of flesh,
What thoughts to raise? The two halves of this cross?
What words to say as one breaks from this?
Insuperable, solicitous, metabolous.

And what then? To circle back to life?
In passing out this bread and wine
The spinning world returns to where it began.
To return to the sea and hook once more,
The camaraderie of line and tackle,
Of fish and water, of flesh and blood?
No, the flesh is gone, but the rivet remains.
The spinning earth, the expanding universe,
The hills are fixed to earth.

[miss tenderness]

you guys all are amazing, seriously, I couldn't make up my mind as to who's the best:thumbs_up

[Riesa]

nice poem, Virgil! yep. darn. :D oh, well.

[ShoutGrace]

Are we allowed to comment on the submitted poems, and ask questions of the submitters?

Maybe on an individually assented basis?

[Virgil]

Are we allowed to comment on the submitted poems, and ask questions of the submitters?

Maybe on an individually assented basis?

Why don't you do that, Shout, after a winner is chosen? Otherwise it might influence the decision.

[ShoutGrace]

I guess I will, but I wouldn't want to talk about someone's work if they weren't up for that (like the short story competition). Though the judges have been critiquing the submissions so far, so I guess it's expected.

[Virgil]

I guess I will, but I wouldn't want to talk about someone's work if they weren't up for that (like the short story competition). Though the judges have been critiquing the submissions so far, so I guess it's expected.

Well, the short story contest is an official lit net contest; this poetry contest is completely informal and done as a member inspired thread.

BTW, Shout did you read my short story in that contest, "Shop Talk?" What did you think? I didn't get many comments. Here I set up a thread for comments: http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?p=280447#post280447.

[thefemalemind]

so when is the judging?

[Petrarch's Love]

Are we allowed to comment on the submitted poems, and ask questions of the submitters?

Maybe on an individually assented basis?

Virg. is probably right about not wanting to influence the judging with comments beforehand, and I also wonder if the thread might get cluttered and hard to follow if people were commenting back to different past poems at the same time as new submissions were coming in. I've wanted to comment on peoples' poems too though, and been curious about other reactions to my own. Maybe what would work best is to do something like what's done with the short story contest. If people would like further remarks about their poems they could start up a thread for comments in the "personal poetry" section of the forum for that purpose. What does everyone think? Would that work? If you really wanted to comment on someone's poem and he/she didn't offer up a thread for comment on it in the forums, you could always pm her/him and ask if he/she would mind getting some feedback privately or would be willing to post a thread for further discussion of her/his poem.

[Petrarch's Love]

Virg.--I hadn't seen your story. I enjoyed reading it and left some (hopefully helpful) comments on the thread you started. :)

[Virgil]

Virg. is probably right about not wanting to influence the judging with comments beforehand, and I also wonder if the thread might get cluttered and hard to follow if people were commenting back to different past poems at the same time as new submissions were coming in. I've wanted to comment on peoples' poems too though, and been curious about other reactions to my own. Maybe what would work best is to do something like what's done with the short story contest. If people would like further remarks about their poems they could start up a thread for comments in the "personal poetry" section of the forum for that purpose. What does everyone think? Would that work? If you really wanted to comment on someone's poem and he/she didn't offer up a thread for comment on it in the forums, you could always pm her/him and ask if he/she would mind getting some feedback privately or would be willing to post a thread for further discussion of her/his poem.
Good idea, Petrarch.

[Janine]

Virgil, interesting poem. Fresh way of seeing the painting. The painting is phenomenal. One of Dali's best, my favorite actually; it is housed in a museum in Scotland. I missed seeing it at the Philadelphia Dali Show last fall; unfortunately it went back early. Dali's work is wonderful. I saw the show twice!

Hello, everyone else. I read 12 pages into this poetry contest and love it!!! I am truly impressed - so much talent here. Hey, how long does it take to write one of these poems? I don't think I should attempt one, or not yet. At any rate this thread is very entertaining and I love the photos. I loved the boat on the shore photo....really luminous. Nice poem Virgil, think you won that one - the epic! Petrarch's poems are appealing to me (kind of romantic), Reisa has some nice stuff, too. I really enjoyed and and liked most of the postings. I need to re-read many of them. Good job to all. Wish I had your talent! This thread is a smart idea.:idea:

[Janine]

There are many good poems for this photo. I forgot to say that. I wanted to commend everyone. It sure will be hard to judge. Everyone did such a fine job. The photo must really have inspired you.

[Petrarch's Love]

Thanks for your kind comments, Janine. I know I've been impressed with the contributions of the other poets on this thread. I hope you'll think about joining our happy band in the next round. Even if you haven't done much poetry, you may find it really enjoyable, and we're always glad to add a new voice to the mix. :)

[Janine]

Thanks Petrarch, so kind of you to ask me to join in. I am afraid I am a better artist, than a poet. I dapple once in awhile in words, but not too seriously, and later read what I have written and feel it is trite. We will see. Maybe I could come up with something simple to start with. It seems that people are naturals to post such original ideas one after another. How long does it take to write one? Or how long would one have to do it? It seems in reading them, they were just dashed off of ones head. But that is not to say they certainly are good and worth reading, because they really are! Quite entertaining to have found this thread. Thanks again everyone!

[holograph]

OK KIDS. CONTEST IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED. CERRADO. PUNTO. THE JUDGMENT (hehe) WILL ARRIVE SOON.

But, let me just say--you guys are great, really. Not only do you have souls (if you don't, at least you've infused your poetry with some [jk]) but you are talented, really. I will judge very soon. There will be no real basis for my judgment/ it will be subjective but well thought out and base don poetry not history of victories.. I apologize. I wanted to make sure everyone had a chance, and I have college apps. I hate my life. cheerios.

[holograph]

i just realized that my previous comment makes no sense.

[Janine]

holograph - what did you mean at the end? About hating your life? Anyway, I read your profile and "Demian" was my favorite Hesse book, the first I read. I read it many many years ago. Is the signiature on your post a quote from the same book? Just curious?

[Janine]

What happened to the poetry contest? When will it be judged. I been awaiting the results.

[toni]

Can I join the next contest? I just discovered this thread and regretted of not having found it sooner...

[Virgil]

Can I join the next contest? I just discovered this thread and regretted of not having found it sooner...

Of course. Just wait for the winner to post the new picture.

When is Holo going to announce the winner?

[thefemalemind]

What happened to the poetry contest? When will it be judged. I been awaiting the results.

i was wondering too....

[Janine]

Toni, welcome and certainly join in. It is fun. Bascially I am still an observer, but it will be interesting to see new talent in here. The poems so far have been really great! Can't wait till a new photo is picked. Hope to read one of yours soon.

[toni]

Thanks, Janine! I can't wait for the next photo either... Hope it won't take long..

[holograph]

Alright, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Life has been a bit hectic for me lately. Janine I was only joking about actually hating my life. When I’m under a great deal of stress my mind becomes a bag of noodles. Anyway, yes Hesse is one of my favorite writers, and the quote is from Demian. :)

I am not going to over-comment on the poems. Just briefly highlight some points to preserve each one’s integrity. This, as always, was a difficult decision. I take off my imaginary hat to you all--you did a fantastic job. Poetry is a painstaking art, I know that. There will be no negative comments from me by the way, only happy thoughts. However, what I was specifically looking for was a cold anguish omnipresent in the painting. The nothingness, the representation of Christ as the suffering of mankind. Etc.

And now…

MIR- your poem was great. Short and sweet with undertones of foreboding. “Empty Eucharist...lay your burden down.” Very nice. Kudos.

PETRARCH- descriptive, beautiful, story-like, holding true to your style. Capturing an anguish evident in the painting--As the Son lowers his head over the bending world.

Unseen nails suspend incarnate anguish
While the bones snap and muscles tear
And the neck, limp with suffering, drops the head.
[Awesome descriptions.]

FEMME- welcome to the poetry contest. good job on your first entry: pretty, very hymn like. It was very sweet and it rhymed, which was cute and refreshing.

He floats softly
In vast skies of gray
Because He made a sacrafice
On the cross where He lay.


TALIESIN- Interesting and pretty well done. I especially liked your spurts of rhyme in the middle. Oh, and "where the hell is my left foot?"ßlol.

Last chance of
bading goodbye
to the blue skies
which won't be here tomorrow.
Sunset of the world.
The Son is free.

RIESA- mmmmm. Beautiful. Every line is quotable, that’s what I like. Descriptions are rich. Nice rhythm, as well. Very, very well written. Oh, and there is the overtone of writhing anguish that I was looking for.

and
forget to sing as
blades dig, scrape earth and tender flesh,
flesh bathed in war's craze,
hate in hot and sultry waves,
the grim disdain of God's soldier
meting out ordered death.

In the colloquial language of my peers, I must say “word.” to this poem. If you don’t know what that means, it’s ok. It means I think it’s fantastic.

VIRGIL-Also a fascinating, very well written poem. Excellent descriptions, also all quotable. You, mi amigo, are a poet. I like the thought pattern in this one, and the conflict Christ is having with himself.

No, the flesh is gone, but the rivet remains.
The spinning earth, the expanding universe,
The hills are fixed to earth.

Yes, that’s all we have, isn’t it? Great job.

[holograph]

Wait, so who wins this one?

There are no rankings or winners or losers in poetry. :p

Congratulations, you all win. :bday_2:

But I would like Riesa to pick the next picture. :thumbs_up

[Virgil]

Thank you Holograph. That was fun!! All poems were very good. It would have been tough to judge, and i'm glad it wasn't me. Pick a good one, Riesa.

[ShoutGrace]

I agree, every entry was fantastic. It was PL's that I wanted to talk about. :blush:


That excerpt you took out was good, Holograph, and there were so many ideas there . . . one of the first things that struck me about the picture was the lack of the INRI on the cross - for some reason or another, so I was excited that she mentioned it. :D

Maybe I'll just send you a PM Petrarch's Love. :)

[Psycheinaboat]

I look forward to attempting to participate in the next contest. Hurry up and pick! :)

[Petrarch's Love]

Congrats Riesa! And great job everyone else too. I sympathize with the difficulty of Holo's judging task. Looking forward to the next pic.



That excerpt you took out was good, Holograph, and there were so many ideas there . . . one of the first things that struck me about the picture was the lack of the INRI on the cross - for some reason or another, so I was excited that she mentioned it.

Maybe I'll just send you a PM Petrarch's Love.

Thanks for showing the interests, David. I'll initiate the new option of opening ancillary threads for commentary by starting up a thread for my poem for this round where you and anyone else with a mind to can comment and question. It would be great if some of the other entries wanted to similarly start up threads so we could continue discussing this really good batch of poems even as we move into the next contest round. :)

[mir]

WooT! nice job, Riesa, and everybody else!! and welcome to all the new people joining this thread; it's really exciting to get some new poets.

Petrarch, that's a very good idea about posting the poems on new threads - i'll start a thread on mine, and anybody can comment or bash it all they want. :D

also, Holo, those were lovely critiques. thank you.

[Riesa]

all of the entries were amazing, it was a difficult image to write on. Thanks for the comments, holo, and entrusting me with choosing the next picture.

I'll try to make the new image as challenging as holos. I'm looking forward to all of the new contestants entries too, and I foresee a difficult decision ahead of me.

[ktd222]

Congratulations all! Good job. Some great works!

[Laura11]

Oh, yes yes yes, I'm very interested. It's just things to do, little time and... may I say I don't dare participate for I think Xamonas' poem is unbeatable. Waw I like it so much, it was a real delight.
I continue reading you all. It's really a pleasure.
Laura

[Laura11]

Oh, yes yes yes, I'm very interested. It's just things to do, little time and... may I say I don't dare participate for I think Xamonas' poem is unbeatable. Waw I like it so much, it was a real delight.
I continue reading you all. It's really a pleasure.
Laura

[Laura11]

I don't understand what's happening: I'm trying to reply to another thred and I find my messages here!
:crash:

[Laura11]

Well, I'm new and I hope you help me with this forum.

[Janine]

To holograph - this is really great since I feel this way very often, too often really. Nicely expressed in your quote - "When I’m under a great deal of stress my mind becomes a bag of noodles." Great analogy - all those noodles swimming around in ones head!

WELCOME - to all the new people expressing a desire to write a poem. Can't wait to see what you come up with. So far, I am on the sidelines observing and reading them - very enjoyable! Last contest was amazing and no wonder a winner could not be picked. I guess it was a tie. Well, that is fine, too. Everyone was a winner - how nice:D

Good points brought out on your critical reviews - holograph. Bye, the way, glad you don't really hate your life. No apologies necessary - everyone is busy with real life...not just virtual life, on this site.

Any luck finding a new photo - who's picking - is it you, Riesa? Anxious to see the next photo you post. I like your avatar.:)

[holograph]

:banana:.

[mm, Janina, I have to do college applications, so I am completely out of it. Essays, essays, essays, and I don't know what the heck to write about. Life is an "empty Eucharist" sometimes, isn't it? :)].

[Riesa]

Okay guys: after much deliberating and google image searching I decided on:

http://i71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/RiesaRiesa/SDM1524.jpg

I'm looking for this empty mirror to be filled with honesty and heart when all is said and done, don't be shy, indulge your vanity! Every artist must create a self-portrait at some time or another, now's the chance to show the world, or at least the interested readers, yourself. :D "Know Thyself", urges Plato, (I think it was Plato, anyway.)

[Virgil]

What a fabulous idea. Too bad you can't participate yourself, Riesa. I would like to see what ou come up for yourself. ;)

[Riesa]

I'll write my own version and give it to you for christmas. :lol: ;)

[Taliesin]

How much time have we got?

[Riesa]

how about December 4th? that gives two weeks plus a weekend. That's not set in stone but we could begin to wrap it up around then. Is that enough time?

[Virgil]

The old rule Riesa was when we had enough 5-6 entries to have a reasonable quantity. I have to admit I'm terribly slow at this.

[Riesa]

well, it's flexible. we'll see how it goes.

[Laura11]

I'm trying to reply here, what's happening?

[Laura11]

I don't understand what's happening, I was replying in another discussion and unce submitted I find my reply here, in a different thred.
Astonishing. Could you help me?

[Laura11]

no :( maybe i'll just give it a few weeks
I'm very interested in this matter and I liked poem with the rhythm, I can't say the author now....

[Petrarch's Love]

Laura 11--What are you trying to reply to? Was it to a post earlier on this thread perhaps (a thread is made up of multiple pages)? I noticed you quoted from something Blondeatheart posted back in May and I thought perhaps you didn't understand that you can only post a response after the most recent post on a thread. If you hit the "post response" button under the post you quoted from blondeatheart on the first page of the thread then your response would logically end up here on the last page of the thread. If you want to make comments on earlier posts you can do so by quoting them. Incidently, I haven't seen Blondeatheart on the forums in a few months. I don't know where she's got to.

If you mean that you're on a completely different thread with a different topic then maybe you should try asking Logos or one of the other mods for help with the problem. Hope this helps.

By the way, welcome to the forums! I hope you enjoy it here. :)

[Laura11]

I'm very interested in this issue, go on please.

[Petrarch's Love]

Riesa--What an interesting idea. I'll have to give this one some introspective thought (either that or stand in front of the mirror and make faces for a few hours :lol: ).

[Laura11]

Thank you very much, Petrarch. I'm new here and I'm so confused! But I hope I'll get the knack of it all in this forum. And I'll continue reading and posting messages here to learn.

[Laura11]

...and the poem I liked so much is Xamonas Chegwe's. The discussion is "poetry context".
I'll continue searching. This forum is not like the ones I've been to.

[Petrarch's Love]

...and the poem I liked so much is Xamonas Chegwe's. The discussion is "poetry context".
I'll continue searching. This forum is not like the ones I've been to.

Yes, you're still on the "poetry contest" thread. Xamonas' poem was on page 1 of this thread (you'll notice the page numbers listed to the upper left of where the posts appear). If you click on page 4 of the thread (post #48) you'll see that his poem won the contest for that round. Currently the thread is 25 pages long (with 363 posts counting this one), so any new posts will pop up on page 25.

By the way, unfortunately Xamonas isn't posting here anymore, but I'm sure he would be glad that you liked his poem.

[Riesa]

Riesa--What an interesting idea. I'll have to give this one some introspective thought (either that or stand in front of the mirror and make faces for a few hours :lol: ).


well, Petrarch, if you stand in front of the mirror and make faces for a few hours you'll certainly break through some kind of barrier, perhaps the sane kind of barrier, but the resulting poem will certainly be interesting. :p
:lol:

[Pensive]

Very interesting image! I hope to submit a poem soon. :)

[toni]

Very interesting Image there, Riesa. It will be my first time to join this contest and honestly, Im a bit nervous because you all are terribly talented poets! I will try my very best and it is really good that the deadline is still on December 4th! Very Good for me..I even saved it as my desktop background so I can always delve on the photo.

[Pensive]

Okay guys: after much deliberating and google image searching I decided on:

http://i71.photobucket.com/albums/i121/RiesaRiesa/SDM1524.jpg

I'm looking for this empty mirror to be filled with honesty and heart when all is said and done, don't be shy, indulge your vanity! Every artist must create a self-portrait at some time or another, now's the chance to show the world, or at least the interested readers, yourself. :D "Know Thyself", urges Plato, (I think it was Plato, anyway.)

This is my first free poem, without any rhythm and rhyme. I know it will be a heck but couldn't resist writing it down. :)

I am always unhappy
When I stop and think
Wake up and see what I am

I pushed her away when she asked me out
But I shouted, cried and wept bitterly
When the one I loved went for another man

While driving a car, I saw a begger
She asked me for money for her good
I shouted and sweared at her

In the meetings I talk about helping poor
Never did anything for them personally
Here I am dead sure

I am the one who provokes women rights
Every women should have them
Other than my sister, daughter, mother and wife

Peace, peace, peace and peace
That's what I say I always preach
But my own house resembles war ground everyday

Leg-pulling is what I do even with those,
Whom I call my very dear friends
Listen up friends! This is my profession

I like it when I am busy
Everything is then so different
From when I wake up and see
Realize what really I am!

I am a politician
A f****** b******!

[Virgil]

I am a politician
A f****** b******!

:lol: :lol: Is that the Pensy I know who actually wrote that? Goodness Pensy! But that was a wonderful poem and self portrait.

[Pensive]

:lol: :lol: Is that the Pensy I know who actually wrote that? Goodness Pensy! But that was a wonderful poem and self portrait.
Well, I imagined myself as a Pakistani politician (believe me they are artists in deceiving people) and that's what came into my mind. :( God forbid my crappy mood.

It is a famous Urdu proverb about siasatdan (Politicians)

Jab paida hoa siasatdan to shaytan ne kaha
Lo aaj mein bjhi sahab'e oolad ho gaya.

It means that when the politician was born, devil said that he had become a father.

[Virgil]

Well, I imagined myself as a Pakistani politician (believe me they are artists in deceiving people) and that's what came into my mind. :( God forbid my crappy mood.

It is a famous Urdu proverb about siasatdan (Politicians)

Jab paida hoa siasatdan to shaytan ne kaha
Lo aaj mein bjhi sahab'e oolad ho gaya.

It means that when the politician was born, devil said that he had become a father.

:lol: I think it's all politicians, everywhere. It's universal. Perhaps some worst than others.

[Pensive]

I think it's all politicians, everywhere. It's universal. Perhaps some worst than others.
I will have to agree here. Politics is a dirty game, whether played in Arctic region, or in Pakistan.

[Janine]

Interesting image and interesting idea Pensive! I may write something to this one....we will see. Atist's love picture/mirror frames and they all do self portraits....hummm......

[mir]

???????????

??!!!!!!!!!!

i posted a poem and it didn't display!!!!! and i didn't save it either!!!

[Orionsbelt]

OK here we go:D

Silver drop falls start to end,
Tracing ribbons bow and bend,

Top to bottom creeping down,
Seek the sea wherein to drown,

Pass ra shi da forth and back,
Right on left the glassy track,

What is real and what is not,
Regard brahman deep in thought,

Were I he and were he me,
Where in us would conscious be,

Is it whimsy, life, or dream,
Sun, and moon, or cosmic gleam,

Passing on, then return,
Fuel for corporeal eternal churn,

Contemplate those eyes staring at you, staring at you, staring at you

[Janine]

"Were I he and were he me,
Where in us would conscious be,

Is it whimsy, life, or dream,
Sun, and moon, or cosmic gleam"

I especially like this part - Orionsbelt. You must be the first contestant. Good job!

Poor Mir seems to have lost his poem and did not save it - that is sad :bawling: So sorry.....

[Orionsbelt]

Thank You Janine. I'd say I was the second since Mir's has taken flight over the net to land in some far off place. I missed the last round. The whole real life thing getting in the way. Anyway looking forward to see what others have to offer including Janine. :wave:

[Laura11]

Hi, could you tell me what is the difference between the post reply on the left and the quick reply on the right? Or is it the same?
I think now I'm responding to the entire thread, the other icon for reply must be for replying to a single message, isn't it?
Thank you
Laura

[Laura11]

Hello again.

[toni]

Hi Laura! :) The post reply on the left, you use if you want to use the other thingies like the bold or the italics and smilies. The quick reply, is, most definitely quicker, this is the one I use. It doesn't matter which one you use, it still counts as a reply. did I explain that well?:):)

[Janine]

Hi Laura, if you do the "Go Advanced" you can first view your post as it will appear; that way you can edit it first or correct typos or spelling mistakes or grammar, etc. I use that one, from now on, unless I am just posting a few lines. There is a full tool bar on that and you can underline, make bold, etc. your text....and add smilies if you choose to. It is more fun!

[mir]

okee, can't resist. here is a NEW poem. :p

Silvered glass, what does it show?
By now i should really know!
Staring in, what do i see
As myself stares back at me?

Bright-black eyes and button nose
Silky hair which grows and grows
Four long limbs, one head, two ears
Charcoal body, two white tears.

Every surface bears short fur,
Whiskers sprout from pink mouth's purr
Skinny tail, paws padding nearer -
Come on, cat, get off the mirror!

:D

[Janine]

Cool Mir using a cat. I love cats. Don't think Janine will be making a poem this month. Things got so busy (in real life) all of a sudden. Cleaning and decorating is beaconing me. If we had till about January I might settle down and think of something brilliant...we will see. It might come to me while I am drudging along with the hated tasks of cleaning and dragging decorations out. Can I say (?) - I liked you poem. Hope it won't influence the judging. I just wanted to stop by to see what has been happening on here lately. You guys all write terrific stuff!

[Taliesin]

Considering it being made on the last minute we wrote it out of the blue, with no plans or anything. But here it is. "Kiigele!" is a phrase meaning "to the swing!"in Estonian. Often used in older swinging folksongs as a one-word refraine.


Swing

Up and down
Before and after. (Kiigele!)
Up and down
Before and after. (Kiigele!)
Me and Us
I and We. (Kiigele!)
Verve is building high
from one side to another. (Kiigele!)
Before and after
Past-future-now. (Kiigele!)
Town before us
delicate little alleyways full of possibilities(Kiigele!)
Intellect and wit. Friends.
Culture. (Kiige-)
Me? Us. (-le!)
Marsh behind me
its bogs crying for the words and wisemen (Kiigele!)
and mittens with old patterns that ward off evil but what nobody can read anymore
besides the cranes but they fly off with aurora boreolis (Kiigele!)
to the land of Toonela, to visit the dead
and those unborn yet (Kiigele!)
Blood. (Kiige-
Us. Me? (-le!)
Town before us
little cafes, bookstores (Kiigele!)
Kafka and Rachmaninov
Coffee. Would you agree? No? (Kiigele?)
Very well then. Meet again at six o'clock tomorrow, shall We?
Shall I? (Kiigele!)
Crows and cyberpunk and midtown.
Punk. Hippies. Bohemianism. Postmodernism. (Kiigele!)
Till this evening is this morning life is fine.
Unless the Evening fails. God bless Spengler. (Kiigele!)
Culture. (Kiige-)
Me. Us. (-le!)
Marsh behind us
Polaris reflecting from the midnight bogs (Kiigele!)
Moss makes plasters to bind wounds and mouth
but also intellect? Will it free us of that? Will it free us of me? (Kiigele!)
Stones and trees are forgetting their songs
in the walls of the supermarkets. In the pages of books. (Kiigele!)
How old am I really?
How old are we really? (Kiigele!)
Blood. (Kiige-
Me. Us. (-le!)
Where can you find a smith strong enough to hammer together
the past and the future? Culture and land? Me and us? (Kiigele!)
With sheepswool and Internet bound together
into one thick yarn (Kiigele!)
both light and dark. Both day and night
and ink and paper (Kiigele!)
To bind together the two sides of the coin
into myself (Kiigele!)
by an old crone in the end of the world
who watches over the fate of humans (Kiigele!)
and also the movie adaptation of Agatha Christie novels
Her spinning wheel turns with the speed of light and thought. (Kiigele!)
Could it be?
Should it be?(Kiigele!)
Swing goes faster and higher
until I fly so high (Kiigele!)
that I make a circle
of past and future (Kiigele!)
there are no contradictions left.
And one equals many.

[Pendragon]

Of course the name at the bottom of this villanelle is me!

Carpe Diem

He wakes me up before the alarm clock rings,
And I rub my eyes and groan and grumble;
But he shouts, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

He goes downstairs, and starts to sing,
While, wondering if I actually got any sleep for my clothes I fumble.
He wakes me up before the alarm clock rings!

He plays cat’s cradle with a piece of string—
While I have my coffee—black and strong! A double!
But he shouts, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

He’s off again, like a new fledged bird on wings!
I rub my eyes, and stretch, yawn and stumble.
He wakes me up before the alarm clock rings!

Sighing inside, I try my best to keep up with his youthful springs,
Mouth ever ready to shout: “Keep out of trouble!”
But he shouts, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

Ah, wretched time! What a curse the passing years bring!
Now my son is the one watching a little son blow bubbles.
But I remember how He woke me up before the alarm clock rang!
And shouted, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

&#169; 1996 D. L. Harris

[Pensive]

These are amazing poems, Pendragon and Taliesin! :thumbs_up :D


And one equals many.
Got the mystery behind "we." :p

I (we?) better should start calling myself (ourselves?) "we"? Because I (we?) equal many. :p

This is an interesting idea man! :D Seriously

[Riesa]

As requested the deadline has been extended to Dec 18th. so the rest of you scribblers get busy! great stuff so far.

[Laindessiel]

Wow! Toni can still legally join! She'll be elatedly relieved. With all the books to read (she's bought 3 more while 3 books are still lined up on the shelf, waiting to be read), newspapers to flip, School and this forum, she hardly has time to make an entry for this contest. But she'll be able to now....Thanks Reisa!

*Shouts* "Toooooooooooooooonnnnniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iii, gueeeeeeeessss whaaatttt???!!!!!"

[bookworm246]

OK, so it's not rlly a contest, there's no prize, it's just a bit of fun.

Here's how it goes: someone posts a picture and everyone who wants to has at least a week to write a poem based on/inspired by that picture. After that, the person who originally posted the picture decides who's poem they like best, and that person posts the next picture and so on.

After at least ten poems have been submitted, the 'judging' begins. The final choice must be explained.

note: We should probably move this into the Games section at some point.
Anyway,
I'll start:
http://mtwatercolor.itgo.com/images/fairy_castle.jpg




Every road has en end, but my end isn't going to begin.
Without my beginnig, I won't have to worry about ending and losing you for ever. Without the chance of losing you, I won't have to cry. And without the tears in my eyes, I won't have to be afraid of not seeing you there at the end, where it all began.

[Laindessiel]

OK here we go:D

Silver drop falls start to end,
Tracing ribbons bow and bend,

Top to bottom creeping down,
Seek the sea wherein to drown,

Pass ra shi da forth and back,
Right on left the glassy track,

What is real and what is not,
Regard brahman deep in thought,

Were I he and were he me,
Where in us would conscious be,

Is it whimsy, life, or dream,
Sun, and moon, or cosmic gleam,

Passing on, then return,
Fuel for corporeal eternal churn,

Contemplate those eyes staring at you, staring at you, staring at you

If you can be like Clark Kent and read my mind right now, "THIS IS SO DARN GOOD" can be deciphered. And add to the fact that the last words in each line rhymes! I love rhyming!

Good job, Orion! :thumbs_up


Of course the name at the bottom of this villanelle is me!

Carpe Diem

He wakes me up before the alarm clock rings,
And I rub my eyes and groan and grumble;
But he shouts, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

He goes downstairs, and starts to sing,
While, wondering if I actually got any sleep for my cloths I fumble.
He wakes me up before the alarm clock rings!

He plays cat’s cradle with a piece of string—
While I have my coffee—black and strong! A double!
But he shouts, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

He’s off again, like a new fledged bird on wings!
I rub my eyes, and stretch, yawn and stumble.
He wakes me up before the alarm clock rings!

Sighing inside, I try my best to keep up with his youthful springs,
Mouth ever ready to shout: “Keep out of trouble!”
But he shouts, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

Ah, wretched time! What a curse the passing years bring!
Now my son is the one watching a little son blow bubbles.
But I remember how He woke me up before the alarm clock rang!
And shouted, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

© 1996 D. L. Harris

But ofcourse I can't resist my Uncle's villanelle. As usual, it's no surprise you made me smile again, Uncle Pen. Villanelles are hard to make! :nod:


This is my first free poem, without any rhythm and rhyme. I know it will be a heck but couldn't resist writing it down. :)

I am always unhappy
When I stop and think
Wake up and see what I am

I pushed her away when she asked me out
But I shouted, cried and wept bitterly
When the one I loved went for another man

While driving a car, I saw a begger
She asked me for money for her good
I shouted and sweared at her

In the meetings I talk about helping poor
Never did anything for them personally
Here I am dead sure

I am the one who provokes women rights
Every women should have them
Other than my sister, daughter, mother and wife

Peace, peace, peace and peace
That's what I say I always preach
But my own house resembles war ground everyday

Leg-pulling is what I do even with those,
Whom I call my very dear friends
Listen up friends! This is my profession

I like it when I am busy
Everything is then so different
From when I wake up and see
Realize what really I am!

I am a politician
A f****** b******!

Haha Pense, I can't even get myself to write those asterisks in place of the actual word. It's too horrid for me. But you are brave enough!

In politics, there is no good. There's only worse or worst. :sick:

Man, this contest is tight.:thumbs_up

[bookworm246]

I'm lost. No idea where I am. Just wondering around. Hoping I find my way. But if I don't. It's not the end of the world. Just of me finding out what I really knew in the first place. Nothing.

[mir]

? . . .

is that your poem, bookworm . . . ?

anyways, cheer up! :) it's not where you end up that counts, it's how you get there. 'cause we all end up dead anyways!

umm . . . . OK, perhaps that wasn't the most cheerful thing. But cheer up anyways. we love you! and existentialism/nihilism/solipsism (i never can tell them apart) are cool.

[Janine]

So happy we have an extended date. I will have to think of one when I am out shopping for gifts. Maybe by the 16th I can come up with a little one at least. I have some ideas. Thanks for extending the contest.

[toni]

Yeah, thank you, Reisa! I'll promise I'll work hard on it..:D

[Pendragon]

Originally Posted by Pensive
This is my first free poem, without any rhythm and rhyme. I know it will be a heck but couldn't resist writing it down.

I am always unhappy
When I stop and think
Wake up and see what I am

I pushed her away when she asked me out
But I shouted, cried and wept bitterly
When the one I loved went for another man

While driving a car, I saw a begger
She asked me for money for her good
I shouted and sweared at her

In the meetings I talk about helping poor
Never did anything for them personally
Here I am dead sure

I am the one who provokes women rights
Every women should have them
Other than my sister, daughter, mother and wife

Peace, peace, peace and peace
That's what I say I always preach
But my own house resembles war ground everyday

Leg-pulling is what I do even with those,
Whom I call my very dear friends
Listen up friends! This is my profession

I like it when I am busy
Everything is then so different
From when I wake up and see
Realize what really I am!

I am a politician
A f****** b******!

I have always thought free verse harder to write than form poetry, but you did very well, Pensy. I just cannot imagine you as even writing the last line, for you certainly are not that type of person! Too kindhearted! ;) But, yeah, we all have our days when we snap and snarl at the world like a rabid dog! :lol:

[Pensive]

I have always thought free verse harder to write than form poetry, but you did very well, Pensy. I just cannot imagine you as even writing the last line, for you certainly are not that type of person! Too kindhearted! ;) But, yeah, we all have our days when we snap and snarl at the world like a rabid dog! :lol:
I don't know. I just have a bad opinion about most of the politicians. (wouldn't give out the names for the sake of forum rules.) You might think that it is too cruel of me to say - but there are many politicians in this world who deserve to be hanged, in my opinion.

Kill thousands of people for their sake. Promisses people and never fulfill those promises. Talk about an individual's rights and are always the ones who violate those rights. Say that if they will take the charge, things would get better and those things never get better, sometimes get even worse. Power-hungrey most of them are. I just can't help hating such types. :(

I don't say that there are not good leaders/politicians in this world, but by seeing most of them in my country, I have come to this conclusion.

[Pendragon]

I don't know. I just have a bad opinion about most of the politicians. (wouldn't give out the names for the sake of forum rules.) You might think that it is too cruel of me to say - but there are many politicians in this world who deserve to be hanged, in my opinion.

Kill thousands of people for their sake. Promisses people and never fulfill those promises. Talk about an individual's rights and are always the ones who violate those rights. Say that if they will take the charge, things would get better and those things never get better, sometimes get even worse. Power-hungrey most of them are. I just can't help hating such types. :(

I don't say that there are not good leaders/politicians in this world, but by seeing most of them in my country, I have come to this conclusion.Not really to cruel. I can think of some I'd probably take to the "necktie party" (old West for a hanging) myself! http://www.invision.smileyville.net/smilies/vio (15).gif

[toni]

Here is my entry! Finished it last night.:) It doesn't have a title yet. Suggestions would be welcome, though. PM me. Thank you!:D




The throbbings of age
And the Immanent Song brought her to life
A thousand beastial stares she had to withstand
While carrying the burden of false principles on her back

From her twisted mouth flowed twisted ideals
But she runs, to the pebbles of light
But the fingers of debauchery were freed from its chains

And with an anguished cry she fell,
Withered,
Pasted in the pages of History.

[Virgil]

I'm almost done with mine, Reisa. Please don't close the contest yet. I just need to touch up. I promise I will post it by Friday, which is quite appropriate for this self-portrait since Friday is my birthday. *hint, hint* :)

[Riesa]

okey dokey. party time again?

[Virgil]

No party for me. Just dinner out with my sweetie.

[Riesa]

And what kind of meal out does Sadie prefer? :p

[Virgil]

And what kind of meal out does Sadie prefer? :p

Sadie? Well, it's my birthday so I get to choose. Our fancy Italian restaurant where I got the Limoncello. :D

[Riesa]

I meant Brandi. oops. ;) who's sadie?

[Virgil]

I meant Brandi. oops. ;) who's sadie?

Brandi will only get her dog food. :p :lol:

[Riesa]

but she's your sweetie. :( poor brandi, all those kisses she gives you and you wont even take her out to dinner.

[Virgil]

OK, here's my entry. I've worked on it long enough. It will never be perfect.



Self Portrait

The pencil shadows the face,
Rounds the head into a sketch,
The dark hair, the thin lips,
Features of a Roman bust,
Tied through DNA,
The blood at Cannae, victory at Zama...

What blood, what victory?
Does the mirror lie?
The face, fattened and graying,
Has never confronted a bayonet
Not even saddled arms upon the back
Or paraded upon a field.

Perhaps then the reflection is not a sketch,
After all, perhaps a schiacciato
From the Quattrocento,
Links of DNA reach there as well.

That figure on the left,
In sacre conversione,
That St. Francis figure,
Draped in rags with a skull cap,
Resembles the artist, touches and
Sooths hounds with upraised palms.

But St. Francis was a pauper
Passing up his coat to indigents.
What starveling life has pressed
Upon this face? You sip
Cabernet every night and
Whine about your taxes.

Possibly then this countenance
Could fit as a bronze head
Upon a majestic stallion,
A cavalry man, a statesman,
A gattamelata of Donatello?

What? Calvary, horse?
Don’t mind the saddle sores,
Statesman with a shriek,
More like un gatto malato
Sleeping on a chair.

The glass now shatters
Into composite fractions.

An irascible son
De quello paise d’o sole,
Narcissistic husband,
Abbraciatta with my honey pear,
Stoic and spoiled, lustful and laughing,
Adopted citizen and patriot,
Flourishing the flag,
Inseminating the garden,
Eagle and oriole from Brooklyn.

[I wear the Renaissance like a necktie.]

Dutiful and sinner,
Pius and pagan,
The caress of family on one’s back,
Petulant engineer, cleanly shaven,
Combative tactician, with that mustache,
A writer with eyes.

Does one have to crawl
Through Purgatory to bring
Oneself into syncretic form?

[Il Penseroso]

This is a terrible self-portrait, but I wanted to add something.



A semblance play of myself
this shadow sprung from the slanted sun,
the grey sidelong profile
stretched across the grassy stage,
leaning aside by leaden rays.

Eclipse of my shape that dims the ground,
accident of the angular beams
conformed by the orient sky,
an ornament of the earthen reply,
the dusky reflection that opens the void,
the double print impalpable.

Is this the shape my future stores?
This blurred copy of my form,
no custom figured, just the grey expanse?
Each color dropped by poorer light,
my existence fled to shadow?

Skimming the serrated surface
the hollow twin grafted like a stone
to tragic end, silent repose,
grades the inclination to sustain,
the reflection made too true.

[Poetess]

Well, I imagined myself as a Pakistani politician (believe me they are artists in deceiving people) and that's what came into my mind. :( God forbid my crappy mood.

It is a famous Urdu proverb about siasatdan (Politicians)

Jab paida hoa siasatdan to shaytan ne kaha
Lo aaj mein bjhi sahab'e oolad ho gaya.

It means that when the politician was born, devil said that he had become a father.

Hahahah believe me Lebanese politicians are much more deceiptive! Anyway, nice shot up there

[Riesa]

so is everyone finished? and where is holo? Janine? Susan Sonnen?

[Petrarch's Love]

It's still pretty rough, but since the contest is either closing or already closed, I thought I'd go ahead and post. If I'm too late for contest entry purposes, this can just be considered a decorative entry. :) Of course, given that we can't see ourselves in the image of the mirror, I was sorely tempted to pretend I as a vampire in this round, but I'm not sure there's enough out there to rhyme with Dracula. :p


Reflections

Two eyes, seeing and seen,
Gazing through the looking glass
To what is and will be and what’s been
Fresh skin of the child; red blotches of the teen;
Plucked brows of the woman; laugh lines of the mother;
Folds and wrinkles of the grandmother;
And the eyes are the same.
Two eyes seeing and seen,
In the vision passing like stop-motion animation
Of what is and will be and what’s been.
Gleaming surface bordered by flowers.
Childhood on tiptoe
With only eyes peering over the painted edge;
Standing tall with pale hand pinning up hair
While a fresh corsage waits downstairs;
Standing too calm and stoic
In clothes blackened by loss;
Glint of gold on the hand;
Standing back to see the belly’s growing crescent;
Standing behind child on tiptoe
With only her eyes peering over the painted edge.
Eyes watch the child’s eyes,
And the eyes are the same.
Two eyes, seeing and seen
Changed and unchanging
By what is and will be and what’s been.

[Riesa]

all right, great Petrarch! I guess the contest will close tomorrow.

[Il Penseroso]

Sweet, I still would like to edit mine - I just hate editing however.

[Triskele]

uh, well, i might as well swing, here are my somewhat meager effort, enjoy, or not, not my problem


simple sway of time
echos of a wishful past
winding word blow
down the road at last

the sad lament of time
sad creaks tell the tale
of loves lost garden
and how it came to fail

still the image lives on
the oily swirls dry
leaving dust a bit more
then an ancient sigh

[Riesa]

Pensive ~ interesting poem. a nice portrait, you managed to give him depth at the same time as painting them so shallow. I like your spunk, kid. :D Grow up and become a politician, will ya? but remember this poem and when you look into the mirror- don't see someone like this, but instead a beautiful free bird!! :goof:

__________________________________________________ ___________
Orionsbelt ~ as always your poem has such a wonderful rhythm and imagery I can sink my teeth into…


Were I he and were he me,
Where in us would conscious be,
And I really felt like I was getting a glimpse inside your head..which was very cool and what I was hoping for when I posted that image. Intriguing, guruesque type of person, eh?


Contemplate those eyes staring at you, staring at you, staring at you
A little eerie, but I know that sensation, I like the whole poem very much.

__________________________________________________ ______________

Mir, you have such a delightful wit, sometimes I think you are Jane Austen reincarnated. (lots of coffee on those days) darling poem. With a funny twist, you had me going there for a while…feeling a little confused by the


Every surface bears short fur
I was relieved when I realized you were talking about the cat.

__________________________________________________ ___________

Taliesin!
Excellent through and through, I loved the (Kigele!’s)
And wow, did I ever get a sense of your culture and the integral part it plays in who you are, not to mention discovering more about you, I’ve always been fascinated by the We thing, I just thought you were some locked up royalty somewhere with access to the net.


Marsh behind me
its bogs crying for the words and wisemen (Kiigele!)
and mittens with old patterns that ward off evil but what nobody can read anymore
besides the cranes but they fly off with aurora boreolis

Where can you find a smith strong enough to hammer together
the past and the future? Culture and land? Me and us?

Swing goes faster and higher
until I fly so high (Kiigele!)
that I make a circle
of past and future (Kiigele!)
there are no contradictions left.
And one equals many.

What else can I say, I loved your poem. Thanks.
__________________________________________________ _________

Pendragon,
You astound me with those villanelles and sonnets you write, this one had such a sweet wistfulness to it, drew me in and showed a lot of love, and I liked the circle of life in it too.

__________________________________________________ ________


Bookworm:
I'm lost. No idea where I am. Just wondering around. Hoping I find my way. But if I don't. It's not the end of the world. Just of me finding out what I really knew in the first place. Nothing.Cool. just great. Feels familiar to me, and very honest. Love the shortness of it, don’t really know if it is an actual entry or not, but tempted to give you the contest based on originality if nothing else, but I haven’t seen you since…so.
__________________________________________________ ____________

Toni ~ wow, very dignified and a little dark, cool.


From her twisted mouth flowed twisted ideals
I really like your language here.

__________________________________________________ _______________

Virg ~ another epic poem. Some great lines.


What starveling life has pressed
Upon this face?
I liked the integration of your Italian heritage, and Catholicism, building blocks of yourself. And there was brutal self-honesty in there I have to admire…


The face, fattened and graying,
Has never confronted a bayonet
Not even saddled arms upon the back
Or paraded upon a field.


An irascible son
De quello paise d’o sole,
Narcissistic husband,
Abbraciatta with my honey pear,
Stoic and spoiled, lustful and laughing,
Adopted citizen and patriot,
Flourishing the flag,
Inseminating the garden,
Eagle and oriole from Brooklyn.


The glass now shatters
Into composite fractions
(that reminded me of my Light poem)


[I wear the Renaissance like a necktie.]


A writer with eyes
All wonderful lines.

__________________________________________________ ______________

IP ~ ok, I’m probably going to get in a little trouble for this, but honestly I think you are the best poet around here. :D Imagery is always stunning, your layered depths make me want to talk philosophy, words are always beautiful, and there is this timeless quality to your style I absolutely love.


Eclipse of my shape that dims the ground,
accident of the angular beams
conformed by the orient sky,

Crap, I wish I could write as consistently well as you do.

__________________________________________________ ______________
Petrarch ~

Cool. You got it all in those lines, past present future, admirable feat!


Changed and unchanging
By what is and will be and what’s been Nice feel of watching a montage of your life..

__________________________________________________ ______________

Triskele ~ I enjoyed it anyway, so thanks.

__________________________________________________ _________________
But....
Please, Taliesin, choose the next image!

[Virgil]

Congratulations Tal. I thought it was excellent too. Besides the ones Riesa mentioned, I loved these lines too:




Polaris reflecting from the midnight bogs (Kiigele!)
Moss makes plasters to bind wounds and mouth
but also intellect? Will it free us of that? Will it free us of me? (Kiigele!)
Stones and trees are forgetting their songs
in the walls of the supermarkets. In the pages of books. (Kiigele!)
How old am I really?
How old are we really? (Kiigele!)
Blood. (Kiige-
Me. Us. (-le!)


What does Kiigele mean?

[Riesa]

Congratulations Tal. I thought it was excellent too. Besides the ones Riesa mentioned, I loved these lines too:




What does Kiigele mean?


this is from's tal's entry, Virg.


Considering it being made on the last minute we wrote it out of the blue, with no plans or anything. But here it is. "Kiigele!" is a phrase meaning "to the swing!"in Estonian. Often used in older swinging folksongs as a one-word refraine.

[Petrarch's Love]

Congrats Tal. I really enjoyed your poem too, and had a suspicion it might win. :) Looking forward to the next pic.

[Pendragon]

Nice going Tal! A good, strong poem, and actually the inspiration for the villanelle I posted (already written :blush:) as it spoke of childhood to me, and I actually never saw the picture we were all writing about! I'll look forward to this one, though! http://smilies.vidahost.com/ups/poeminister/poemi.gif

[Pensive]

Pensive ~ interesting poem. a nice portrait, you managed to give him depth at the same time as painting them so shallow. I like your spunk, kid. :D Grow up and become a politician, will ya? but remember this poem and when you look into the mirror- don't see someone like this, but instead a beautiful free bird!! :goof:

World will be better off with all of us as birds, wouldn't it be? :D But even in birds, there are always some birds who eat each other's eggs. :(



Taliesin!
Excellent through and through, I loved the (Kigele!’s)
And wow, did I ever get a sense of your culture and the integral part it plays in who you are, not to mention discovering more about you, I’ve always been fascinated by the We thing, I just thought you were some locked up royalty somewhere with access to the net.





What else can I say, I loved your poem. Thanks.
__________________________________________________ ____________
But....
Please, Taliesin, choose the next image!

And he says that he can't write good English poems. :flare:

Congratulations! And keep on writing poems, it is not always good to be so modest! :D

*waiting for the next picture eagerly*

[mir]

Great job, Taliesin - and everybody else!! :D

Come on, Tal, post, post! :lol:

[Orionsbelt]

Congrats Taliesin, I wasn't sure how to pronounce "Kiigele" so my brain kept saying "ching!" Yes I'll have to get it fixed one day but right now I just listen to it with quiet amazement. I looked up Estonian mythology to find Toonela. Now I'm curious about the whole genera. Looking forward to the next picture.

Thanks all for your very kind comments.

For those to whom it has meaning; Have a great holiday season. For the others: Have a great holiday season.

[Janine]

Congrats Taliesin, I wasn't sure how to pronounce "Kiigele" so my brain kept saying "ching!" Yes I'll have to get it fixed one day but right now I just listen to it with quiet amazement. I looked up Estonian mythology to find Toonela. Now I'm curious about the whole genera. Looking forward to the next picture.

Thanks all for your very kind comments.

For those to whom it has meaning; Have a great holiday season. For the others: Have a great holiday season.

My mind would probably say "Kringle" like in Kris Kringle.:santasmil

[Taliesin]

Oh us.
Thanks, Riesa, for choosing our poem.
It seemed like a tough competition looking at the other competing poems, but well, it is now up to us to post the next picture, it seems.



http://ewancient.lysator.liu.se/pic/art/p/a/pallestrin/celphone2.jpg


"Anything that can be done to a rat can be done to a human being. And we can do most anything to rats. This is a hard thing to think about, but it's the truth. It won't go away because we cover our eyes. That is cyberpunk."



The deadline? We think that everybody will be busy around the christmas and new year so perhaps 7th January 2007?

[Triskele]

Moon

Dark suns of fiery grace
Parade the sunshine of lost souls
Who dares the shrapnel of the heart?
What thought drives men to love
Darkened spires of desire, tipped with poison
The jagged shaft of deaths arrow
Speeding onward, driving we to act
In desperation before days moon ends
Lack of light skies in our minds
As thoughts travel onward… past… present
Life’s love of action drives men to fly
Pushes women to deaths edge
So all can say they have gone

[Virgil]

Oh us.
The deadline? We think that everybody will be busy around the christmas and new year so perhaps 7th January 2007?

Oh I'll try, but it never seems to come together in two weeks. :blush:

Very interesting photo Tal.

[mir]

Speared Sky

In paths of darkness
Walk the worker
Only ever
Looking down;
Though the sun
Fell ever slowly
To its end,
He looked not round.
What meaning
Are worlds given
When each tenant
Never sees them
Trapped inside
Their own dimension
With wireless
To disease them?
If the sun,
The moon, the stars,
Should quietly
Implode
Wishing only
To be noticed
For their work -
A heavy load! -
No cell phone
Would ring a query,
No email
Comment
On how dark
It seems these days
Or where the
Rainbows went.
For no one
Looks anymore
Or has a care.
These mumbles -
As skies fall down
Upon our heads,
We watch our feet
For stumbles.

[mir]

meep . . . my interpretation, anyways . . . it's a cool picture.

[Pensive]

Oh us.
Thanks, Riesa, for choosing our poem.
It seemed like a tough competition looking at the other competing poems, but well, it is now up to us to post the next picture, it seems.



http://ewancient.lysator.liu.se/pic/art/p/a/pallestrin/celphone2.jpg





The deadline? We think that everybody will be busy around the christmas and new year so perhaps 7th January 2007?

A Toy

The immensely dark clouds are over him
Night has fallen on everything;
To him everything looks very dim

He can't guess what's happening around
Whoever is playing with him, he can't merely think
From a human being, he is made a machine
Who can't sing, who in front of his controllers, can't even blink

Holding his briefcase, he is ready for the bomb blast
Ah this terrorism, wasting and killing lots
Just the battle of race and sexes
It has already killed enough with its cruel shots

Out of his mind
He works and works
Keep on doing his dirty work
In the alley, the little girl shrieks
"Beware of the evil that lurks!"

A very dark night
Full of silent horror
Evil again regaining power

Using him as a tool
Making him a fool
Controlling him
His mind, his soul
His doings and his fate
Developing his personality
Into what everyone would hate

Treating him like a toy
After it, they will destroy
Destroy the world
Destroy the very him

After all he is just a toy they are playing with
A doll being used as an actor in this drama of world

These gods
His creators
Have no pity
They try to be witty
But killing people
And creating a DEVIL
I think is really ****ty

I just wrote this poem down. I am looking forward to read other poems! :) And can't wait for the result. What a pity, 7th January is so far far away. :(
Oh well, time passes quickly. :D

Good poems, mir and Triskele! :)

[dramasnot6]

I FINISHED MY POEM FOR THE CONTEST! YAAAAY!!! :D And ,for once, i actually like it :)

[Pendragon]

http://ewancient.lysator.liu.se/pic/art/p/a/pallestrin/celphone2.jpg




The Stork's Nest: Changes

High above precariously perched atop the highest chimney,
The bundle of sticks seems to be a monstrous thing;
Down below, all the lights are on, and people are so busy—
A young man ducks to one side as he hears his cell phone ring.
Progress has came, and with it taken many of the legends we once heard,
The television set replaced the books and nursery rhymes.
In that nest of sticks up there, there lives a very special bird—
Who would have never gone unnoticed in those slower times.
Now the story that she brought humans their babies is only fairytale,
Told by parents too embarrassed to try to explain the truer word.
But when she built her nest upon the housetop, o’re the eves it’s shadow fell—
And everyone rejoiced with gladness, for it was a good-luck bird!
Time does more than change a village into busy cities that never are still:
It steals from us things that we should treasure while we have them with us still…

Pendragon

One good picture yields so many great interpretations! Great poems everyone!

[Triskele]

very... interesting Pen, i like it, kinda provoke thought, it really does kinda sneak up on you, i read it through once, then again before it hit me, very very thought provoking, still kinda thinkin about it, thanks

[Orionsbelt]

Well here we go. I'm not sure if it egg nog in the noggin or cookies in the can but I'm having trouble getting into this one. Here is what struck me first. I may re-visit this one. :brickwall

Dooooooooooooooooooooo, Dooooooooooooooo, click, Joe?
Yeah! George. Look, I need you to know.
Later, can we meet?
There are unspoken things that I need to say.
Face to face seems the best way.

Sure George. Say four. Starbucks OK?
We can meet at the office and walk a short way.
Plan for a treat!
They have in the window a white icing truff,
Expresso, Frappuccino, and the regular stuff.

Ahhhh, great! Don’t worry. Forgive my tone.
Some years I have carried a secret alone.
It’s good, a warm place to eat.
The weight this burden I do want to end.
Joe as always you are a good friend

Say George can you give a glimmer or hint?
I’m not a fast talker, my thoughts do not sprint.
Simple, and sweet.
As a friend I have moved to some concern.
What ails my companion, I would like to learn.

The trouble grows larger each passing day.
It’s not easy to keep things from you in this way.
Please wait to meet.
Like a dark cloud in the air it presses on me.
Some sun in the sky I am longing to see.

:santasmil

[Petrarch's Love]

OK, here's my attempt:


The roots of heaven descend in a balled up mass,
And below in the dingy light
The message is lost in a bad connection,
The coming unseen in the night,
The eyes below fixed on streets below as they pass.

Tall spires reach out toward heaven to touch the gray
Some end in the sign of the cross
Some finish in an offering of smog incense
And all blink with a pulse of loss
As red lights keep things that fly in the dark at bay.

With his hearing trained on the faint voice in the phone,
The young man misses the sharp scream
That emerges from the alleyway behind him
And he walks, wrapped in his own dream,
With all the others, through a nightmare, toward home.

Passing through the maze of streets, at last they also pass
(They hope) to heaven and to bliss.
But those creatures below, How can they blame God’s sins?
How can they hope for grace when this
Is the earth the roots of heaven grow in?

[Petrarch's Love]

An additional request for any mods that might be viewing. Is there any way this thread could be made a sticky? It's obviously a very popular thread, but because it sometimes takes a few days between people posting contest entries, and because so many other threads are started in this section of the forum to showcase peoples' works, it often gets bumped down to places where it's a tad hard to find.

[Pendragon]

An additional request for any mods that might be viewing. Is there any way this thread could be made a sticky? It's obviously a very popular thread, but because it sometimes takes a few days between people posting contest entries, and because so many other threads are started in this section of the forum to showcase peoples' works, it often gets bumped down to places where it's a tad hard to find.Second the motion! :thumbs_up

[mir]

yeah, me too - i think this is a really great thread, and tons of people would join if it was more obvious!!

[Triskele]

i'm down with that, i like the connection b/w a picture and words, makes work for pictures fun.

[dramasnot6]

only 5 more days till i can post up my poem :D how exciting!

[Taliesin]

Well, as the unspoken rule goes, there will probably be an extension of time anyway. ;)

[Pendragon]

Yeah! A STICKY! The squeaky wheel gets greased! :thumbs_up

[ktd222]

I wish blondeheart, the starter of this thread, was here to witness this. She tried so hard to gain other's interest in this thread.

[Triskele]

when does the the judging begin...?

[Petrarch's Love]

Thanks to whichever mod took up the suggestion and made it stick. :)

[Scheherazade]

Thanks to whichever mod took up the suggestion and made it stick. :)No worries! :)
when does the the judging begin...?We are being judged all the time... Be warned... Be very, very warned!

[Arania]

Funny, you know
How time presses forward
In scenes such as these --
And you call me a coward!

Sit tight and I'll show you
Ambition's the key
To removing the madness,
Miss Earth? Who is she?

Have you noticed I see it?
The thing passing by
Oh there -- to the side now
That man with one eye.

Sit tightly! I'll teach you
To see what is there
Relax - Watch the teacher
Don't worry, I'll share.

Remember the task now
Look closely, you'll see
Right there - by the trashcan
The real world? Who's he?

[dramasnot6]

it ends on the 7th right? maybe i should end my 2 week procrastination and post mine soon....

[Virgil]

Please don't wait for me. I haven't worked on this one. I've been a little busy.

[Matsiah]

Either way, concluded or not, I'm going for it; straight from the mind of me (me being he who scribes freely) to you. Don't "achew' this one away because it's off the top of my fatigued mind in one day - after hold need for rest at bay and stashed away... One day again allowed to show itself and play... Anyway, here I go...

P.S. After attempting to quickly review the picture I previously bore my eyes upon, I realized that I am either typing in a different thread that what was reviewed, or they changed to a new picture within an instant... huh. I'm currently torn between two, so, what should I do. I'll obviously choose one or the other and go from there, so I see no point in further pondering the dilemma.


Lacy metal overpass,
I've seen shades of the greenest grass,
Among other shades are cool glades,
'Twas beside a brick barrier, fortifier, or gate,
'Twas of perfect use, when shown irate,
'Tis of induced serenity when near,
What is there to fear here... nothing,
Even the trees cast sightly songs of peace,
A true place of freely existing,
All who've seen left missing and longing,
Picture this long and tapered entrance of stone,
Stone that reflects radiantly... all shown,
Behind stone of romancing,
'Tis many 'o species prancing,
Faint singsong stretches my way,
This home reminds me of pure joy within today,
Seeing species casts at me meanings,
If I weren't there I'd still not it's steaming hot,
Almost as Palm Springs, but not,
Picture this threefold heat mold,
Though humidity keeps a far from deep fold,
'Tis shallow,
For whom can swim?
Not I,
Perfect.



First and foremost, I'd like to apologize for any drastic punctuational mishaps, for I'm far from faliliar with correctly punctuation poetry; as well as writing it....here you are...Oh, slightly botched here and there but I'm sure there'll be more of these awards... Right?

[dramasnot6]

ok....here it is.


"The Conversation"
Branching from the orb of human existence
Enclosing my thoughts in designer bags
As I step from my building
With the others, all identical with tags

Hello, it’s me, I’m calling
Sorry, but I’m terrible with names
Just thought I’d be remembered
An exception in midnight games

Only freckled neon that surrounds me
Red lipstick and red lights a brush from bright
Yet my dim composure insidiously blinds me
Trading livelihood for bitter sight

Just hoped you got home safe
Watched the news, I think there was a storm
You left so quickly
What scene did you perform?

My mind turns to sweeter days
When the heart, boundless, sunk its teeth
Back then misty evenings had no ways
Ending nights with sheets beneath

Oh, I’m terribly sorry
Will your mother be okay?
You used my favorite story
Lies are great fillers of the day

A passion becomes clandestine then turns to dust
Impaled by carnal candles from the gut
My fingers pinch the cell phone, kills candle’s flame
Door creaks open, found the window firmly shut

Do tell me when we meet again
Preferably when you are coldest to touch
Don’t bother with a note this time
Easier when there is emptiness to clutch

Immune to city smoke selling whispers
Retching from the alienation of my soul
Crosswalk lined with paths of solitude and hiding
The looming darkness of urban control

I’ll have to call you back.

[Matsiah]

Postscript: Did I manage a placing? Oh, or are we not racing. Of how many weeks wait would you say I'm facing? Face to facing with a mere inch spacing. Well, I suppose I should have been pacing; however, no regrets in life, I'm macing. Not really though, because I don't boast. Not really lucky so I'm never acting cocky; for he who saw me, has permission to sock me, should I be blinging and singing of winning and chanting of prizes that are dies, roll and see how long ye cries. Tis this which I despise, mellow dramatic sadistic sadness to rob ye of all gladness. Matsiah's blast is madness. Anyway, you people who wonder what the devil does, will probably see this sporadic sadness plastered automatic. I don't think, I'm scribe addict. DONE! NOW! UGGHHH!!!!

[Matsiah]

Whew damn... Can I say that? Anyway, I'd like to acknowledge dramasnot6's recent success with her entry of the poetry contest. When in comparison with mine I'm simply like the rest, so to you I toast, a crest of your own one day; for your entry - when in comparison - proved best.

[Matsiah]

Hey dramasnot6,
I just wrote out a lengthy acknowledgment pertaining to the success of your latest entry; however, I encountered an unexpected misfortune - that is my web browser fatally losing mountains of potentially valuable information - thus, not allowing my to say what I had originally written... I can tell you this: I'm loving the entry...LOVING IT. But really, I'm pondering over the potential that my participation holds now. A splendid work from the mind of a mystic.

[Matsiah]

PFFT...and there it is! Suddenly, Matsiah looks up after posting his newly written post only to see the previously written edition thought to be missing right there glistening. Ah. I just can't get right today.

[Petrarch's Love]

Hi Matsiah--I see you're new to the forums, so welcome. I think you wrote your poem on the first picture in this thread. A lot of new people have done that because it's the first thing they see. The picture we're writing about now is on pg. 29, post #423 of this thread. I think this round of poems will be judged in the next few days (not sure exactly, it's kind of an informal thing around here). The winner doesn't get a prize or anything, just the joy of winning and the privilege of posting the picture for the next round of the contest and being the judge for that round.

[dramasnot6]

Hey dramasnot6,
I just wrote out a lengthy acknowledgment pertaining to the success of your latest entry; however, I encountered an unexpected misfortune - that is my web browser fatally losing mountains of potentially valuable information - thus, not allowing my to say what I had originally written... I can tell you this: I'm loving the entry...LOVING IT. But really, I'm pondering over the potential that my participation holds now. A splendid work from the mind of a mystic.

Thank you so much for your praise of my poem Matsiah! :D I really like yours too, although like Petrarch said, you might want to take a look at the most recent pic on this thread. Welcome to the forum! Glad to see another passionate poet :)

[Riesa]

interesting image, tal. great poems, all.

mine written quickly but wanted to be a part of the games.




falling evening beats it’s
slow pulse,
pushes
grey to black,
obscuring
day’s shimmering
nucleus
in an obsidian nest

a million mill-stoned
voices rise
above the bones of a church
to the hovering
technical God engorged to
starry magnitude
by the city’s
electric impulses

The voice of
home tempts
in candlelit tones,
(Come, be still.)

but he blends elementally
with the undercurrent
and finds it is
increasingly difficult
to deny
the hinting shadows.

[Taliesin]

So.
We are busy now, unfortunately.
We'll try to get finished rating these poems for Friday, let's say, but We can't be sure even on that.

[mir]

That's okay, Tal! Take your time! :)

[thefemalemind]

when's the next pic gonna b up?

[ktd222]

when's the next pic gonna b up?

There's not even a winner picked for this contest yet.

[thefemalemind]

There's not even a winner picked for this contest yet.

oh... ok. then is it ok if i post, when i get a poem finished?

[ktd222]

oh... ok. then is it ok if i post, when i get a poem finished?

I don't know if there is a deadline yet. I'm not the judge for this round. You will have to pm Taliesin, I think.

[Janine]

Hi everyone, I was wondering when this contest would end and when a new picture would be posted? I think I might like to take a crack at it next time around.
Riesa, I like your new avatar.....I love nautilus shells...good choice and interesting word beneath your name...unfurling....very creative!

[dramasnot6]

Hi everyone, I was wondering when this contest would end and when a new picture would be posted? I think I might like to take a crack at it next time around.
Riesa, I like your new avatar.....I love nautilus shells...good choice and interesting word beneath your name...unfurling....very creative!

Hi janine! :wave: Taliesin is busy right now so we are waiting for her to judge our poems and pick a winner to post the next pic. If you want to know you should probably PM her :)

[Janine]

:banana: Hi Drama, thanks - I won't bug her, I will just hang in there and wait, knowing soon now we will have a new picture to write to.

[Il Penseroso]

I'm pretty sure Taliesen is a male, although referentially an androgynous (think Woolf) one I believe.

[Pensive]

Hi janine! :wave: Taliesin is busy right now so we are waiting for her to judge our poems and pick a winner to post the next pic. If you want to know you should probably PM her :)

It is not her. It should be them! :p

[Janine]

It is not her. It should be them! :p

:wave: Hi Pensive, thanks, Who's "them"? Is/are "them" the judge?
Are they arguing :argue: over the winner?:lol:

[Pensive]

:wave: Hi Pensive, thanks, Who's "them"? Is/are "them" the judge?
Are they arguing :argue: over the winner?:lol:

Maybe they are arguing over the winner? Maybe they are enjoying mead in their secret chamber? Maybe they are reading a very interesting book? Maybe they are having fun with their fellow crows? Or maybe they have forgotten about the contest? There are many possibilies. :D

[Taliesin]

Choosing a winner is much more difficult than we imagined.

[dramasnot6]

Choosing a winner is much more difficult than we imagined.

That's fine Tal! Take your time choosing. :)

[Pendragon]

We will still await you choice-- prehaps the picture was too interesting-- left open so many doors! :thumbs_up :)

[Il Penseroso]

One thing I've been thinking about, to relieve some pressure; how about making choosing the winner a voting process? What are your thoughts?

[mir]

well - that might be nice, but i also like it being the last poem winner's prerogative. sort of makes it more special to be the one picked. and the person who posted the picture might also have an idea of what they wanted to see in the interpretations.

i guess it's up to the winner each week though . . .

[dramasnot6]

The problem is there would be the bias of people choosing their own poems, that is why the winner does not write one. We have the everyone voting system for short storie competitions though,right?

[Riesa]

It's an interesting idea, I like it, however there is such a challenge in reading, thinking about and ultimately choosing the winning poem, I think it would let the winner off the hook if there were a common vote. Poets could vote for their own, but in an open poll, everyone would know because the poems wouldn't be anonymously posted.

[Virgil]

I've thought of this too, but all the poems would have to be in at a deadline and someone would have to collect them an set up a poll and a new thread for each time.

BTW, I think Tal is taking too long. I think it's been two months. I mean I hate to rush people but I think it's getting rediculous. I mean he could just pick a winner and not have to explain.

[ktd222]

I love the idea of one person judging the contest. The part I love best about this is that that person judging gets to comment on everyone's poems. If we did a group polling, too many comments from too many different people might just lead to confusion.

[Virgil]

Yes, I like the current method.

[ktd222]

BTW, I think Tal is taking too long. I think it's been two months. I mean I hate to rush people but I think it's getting rediculous. I mean he could just pick a winner and not have to explain.

Yes. Tal? maybe you should provide a definite deadline.

[Petrarch's Love]

Yes, I think we'd all like to see a winner for this round so we can get to writing some more poems. Don't worry about responding to everyone, Tal. Just relieve us all from the suspense. :D

[Janine]

I think there should be a time span or limit - maybe a month for each poetry contest. Two months is too long...some people may lose interest in the thread and depart forever.

[Riesa]

It hasn't been two months, not even a month yet. He posted his picture on the 22knd. and Virg, if I'm not mistaken YOU are repeatedly asking for more time to write them, what's the big deal if he takes a few days to judge them?

[ktd222]

It hasn't been two months, not even a month yet. He posted his picture on the 22knd. and Virg, if I'm not mistaken YOU are repeatedly asking for more time to write them, what's the big deal if he takes a few days to judge them?

I think he meant it felt like two months:p But I must say I lean towards agreeing with you. We Lit-Net members are just going bananas for this poetry contest deal!:banana: :banana:

[dramasnot6]

Let's just wait for Tal for as long as it takes before we brainstorm big changes like this. Everyone goes through busy times.

[Pendragon]

Well, as I said, the picture left so many interpretations. Give Tal a break, it must be hard to chose. I agree there should be a time limit. However, if we say poems must be in by a certain date, then there should be no extension of writing time if one is not willing to wait on judging time. It would only be fair. Then the one judging would have "x" amount of time to review and judge. The day for the posting of the winner would be known to all from the start. Sound reasonable? :)

[Janine]

Sorry, I was thinking also from what others said it was two months. If it was just over one - understandable with the holidays and all and eveyone tired and sluggish afterwards. I agree with Pen, maybe some kind of loose structure would be good....some time limit and some guide lines.

[dramasnot6]

Sounds good! Of course, like the contestants, I think under reasonable circumstances the judge should be able to request an extension for maybe a few days? But we can limit extensions too?

[Virgil]

It hasn't been two months, not even a month yet. He posted his picture on the 22knd. and Virg, if I'm not mistaken YOU are repeatedly asking for more time to write them, what's the big deal if he takes a few days to judge them?

Oh you are quite right. :blush: :blush: I just cheked and Tal posted his picture on December 22nd. My humblest apologies Tal. For some reason it does feel like a long time ago. ;)

[Riesa]

btw...where is tal? :lol:

[Pendragon]

Sounds good! Of course, like the contestants, I think under reasonable circumstances the judge should be able to request an extension for maybe a few days? But we can limit extensions too?It would certainly have to be guidelines everyone is involved in drafting, or someone is going to get their feelings hurt. So we should perhaps all be thinking about this, how much time limit is reasonable for writing of poems, how much extention is reasonable, how much time limit is reasonable for judging (always taking into mind the number of poems submitted!) and how much extention is reasonable before making a decision. But it must be a team effort, not crafted by any one of us. Virgil makes a good chairman, if no one (besides himself!), objects, we could pass the info on to him, or run a poll. What say you? :)

[Virgil]

Let me say that when I've been a judge, it has taken me about two hours to read the poems and come to a decision. It's usually just a question of finding two straight hours available. And then perhaps a third hour to write up something which offers comments. I don't really understand what takes so long.

[ktd222]

I think that this round is just the rare exception. Every contest before this one I felt was done in a timely manner.

[Taliesin]

We are sorry for being so late judging the poems. :blush: But anyway, here goes.




Moon

Dark suns of fiery grace
Parade the sunshine of lost souls
Who dares the shrapnel of the heart?
What thought drives men to love
Darkened spires of desire, tipped with poison
The jagged shaft of deaths arrow
Speeding onward, driving we to act
In desperation before days moon ends
Lack of light skies in our minds
As thoughts travel onward… past… present
Life’s love of action drives men to fly
Pushes women to deaths edge
So all can say they have gone


A good, eerie poem.

We especially liked these stanzas:


Who dares the shrapnel of the heart?
What thought drives men to love
Darkened spires of desire, tipped with poison



As thoughts travel onward… past… present
Life’s love of action drives men to fly
Pushes women to deaths edge
So all can say they have gone


***



Speared sky

In paths of darkness
Walk the worker
Only ever
Looking down;
Though the sun
Fell ever slowly
To its end,
He looked not round.
What meaning
Are worlds given
When each tenant
Never sees them
Trapped inside
Their own dimension
With wireless
To disease them?
If the sun,
The moon, the stars,
Should quietly
Implode
Wishing only
To be noticed
For their work -
A heavy load! -
No cell phone
Would ring a query,
No email
Comment
On how dark
It seems these days
Or where the
Rainbows went.
For no one
Looks anymore
Or has a care.
These mumbles -
As skies fall down
Upon our heads,
We watch our feet
For stumbles.


We like the short, rhyming stanzas. The rhythm of the poem feels punctured, almost broken. And these lines were fantastic:


What meaning
Are worlds given
When each tenant
Never sees them
Trapped inside
Their own dimension
With wireless
To disease them?
If the sun,
The moon, the stars,
Should quietly
Implode
Wishing only
To be noticed
For their work -
A heavy load! -
No cell phone
Would ring a query,
No email



***




A Toy


The immensely dark clouds are over him
Night has fallen on everything;
To him everything looks very dim

He can't guess what's happening around
Whoever is playing with him, he can't merely think
From a human being, he is made a machine
Who can't sing, who in front of his controllers, can't even blink

Holding his briefcase, he is ready for the bomb blast
Ah this terrorism, wasting and killing lots
Just the battle of race and sexes
It has already killed enough with its cruel shots

Out of his mind
He works and works
Keep on doing his dirty work
In the alley, the little girl shrieks
"Beware of the evil that lurks!"

A very dark night
Full of silent horror
Evil again regaining power

Using him as a tool
Making him a fool
Controlling him
His mind, his soul
His doings and his fate
Developing his personality
Into what everyone would hate

Treating him like a toy
After it, they will destroy
Destroy the world
Destroy the very him

After all he is just a toy they are playing with
A doll being used as an actor in this drama of world

These gods
His creators
Have no pity
They try to be witty
But killing people
And creating a DEVIL
I think is really ****ty


Interesting interpretation, Pensy. And you know, somehow, when we first read the poem, we missed the rhyme sceme and read it “Reality” and thought why you should censure it, but then we understood.

And


He can't guess what's happening around
Whoever is playing with him, he can't merely think
From a human being, he is made a machine
Who can't sing, who in front of his controllers, can't even blink
:thumbs_up
***


The Stork's Nest: Changes

High above precariously perched atop the highest chimney,
The bundle of sticks seems to be a monstrous thing;
Down below, all the lights are on, and people are so busy—
A young man ducks to one side as he hears his cell phone ring.
Progress has came, and with it taken many of the legends we once heard,
The television set replaced the books and nursery rhymes.
In that nest of sticks up there, there lives a very special bird—
Who would have never gone unnoticed in those slower times.
Now the story that she brought humans their babies is only fairytale,
Told by parents too embarrassed to try to explain the truer word.
But when she built her nest upon the housetop, o’re the eves it’s shadow fell—
And everyone rejoiced with gladness, for it was a good-luck bird!
Time does more than change a village into busy cities that never are still:
It steals from us things that we should treasure while we have them with us still…


We liked the general tone of the poem, uncle Pen. It’s atmosphere is different from the others – lighter, more happier. The more classical form of the poem also stresses the point, in our opinion.

***

The call

Dooooooooooooooooooooo, Dooooooooooooooo, click, Joe?
Yeah! George. Look, I need you to know.
Later, can we meet?
There are unspoken things that I need to say.
Face to face seems the best way.

Sure George. Say four. Starbucks OK?
We can meet at the office and walk a short way.
Plan for a treat!
They have in the window a white icing truff,
Expresso, Frappuccino, and the regular stuff.

Ahhhh, great! Don’t worry. Forgive my tone.
Some years I have carried a secret alone.
It’s good, a warm place to eat.
The weight this burden I do want to end.
Joe as always you are a good friend

Say George can you give a glimmer or hint?
I’m not a fast talker, my thoughts do not sprint.
Simple, and sweet.
As a friend I have moved to some concern.
What ails my companion, I would like to learn.

The trouble grows larger each passing day.
It’s not easy to keep things from you in this way.
Please wait to meet.
Like a dark cloud in the air it presses on me.
Some sun in the sky I am longing to see.


We liked the last stanza, and that the form of the poem was a cell phone call. Starting it with “Doooooooooooooooo, dooooooooooooo” made us smile.
And we miss sun too.
***

The roots of heaven descend in a balled up mass,
And below in the dingy light
The message is lost in a bad connection,
The coming unseen in the night,
The eyes below fixed on streets below as they pass.

Tall spires reach out toward heaven to touch the gray
Some end in the sign of the cross
Some finish in an offering of smog incense
And all blink with a pulse of loss
As red lights keep things that fly in the dark at bay.

With his hearing trained on the faint voice in the phone,
The young man misses the sharp scream
That emerges from the alleyway behind him
And he walks, wrapped in his own dream,
With all the others, through a nightmare, toward home.

Passing through the maze of streets, at last they also pass
(They hope) to heaven and to bliss.
But those creatures below, How can they blame God’s sins?
How can they hope for grace when this
Is the earth the roots of heaven grow in?


Wow! This poem has a nightmarish, dark tone that we enjoyed very much. Especially these lines:


The roots of heaven descend in a balled up mass,
And below in the dingy light
The message is lost in a bad connection,

Some end in the sign of the cross
Some finish in an offering of smog incense
and the last lines really have impact:

How can they hope for grace when this
Is the earth the roots of heaven grow in?
***

Funny, you know
How time presses forward
In scenes such as these --
And you call me a coward!

Sit tight and I'll show you
Ambition's the key
To removing the madness,
Miss Earth? Who is she?

Have you noticed I see it?
The thing passing by
Oh there -- to the side now
That man with one eye.

Sit tightly! I'll teach you
To see what is there
Relax - Watch the teacher
Don't worry, I'll share.

Remember the task now
Look closely, you'll see
Right there - by the trashcan
The real world? Who's he?


We found these lines especially amusing:


Miss Earth? Who is she?


The real world? Who's he?

[Taliesin]

Lacy metal overpass,
I've seen shades of the greenest grass,
Among other shades are cool glades,
'Twas beside a brick barrier, fortifier, or gate,
'Twas of perfect use, when shown irate,
'Tis of induced serenity when near,
What is there to fear here... nothing,
Even the trees cast sightly songs of peace,
A true place of freely existing,
All who've seen left missing and longing,
Picture this long and tapered entrance of stone,
Stone that reflects radiantly... all shown,
Behind stone of romancing,
'Tis many 'o species prancing,
Faint singsong stretches my way,
This home reminds me of pure joy within today,
Seeing species casts at me meanings,
If I weren't there I'd still not it's steaming hot,
Almost as Palm Springs, but not,
Picture this threefold heat mold,
Though humidity keeps a far from deep fold,
'Tis shallow,
For whom can swim?
Not I,
Perfect.

We like the a bit archaic style (‘twas, ‘tis) but we think that your poem was inspired by some other picture - you mentioned in your comment that somehow you saw two of them.
But a good poem anyhow, serene and full of greenery.

***


The Conversation

Branching from the orb of human existence
Enclosing my thoughts in designer bags
As I step from my building
With the others, all identical with tags

Hello, it’s me, I’m calling
Sorry, but I’m terrible with names
Just thought I’d be remembered
An exception in midnight games

Only freckled neon that surrounds me
Red lipstick and red lights a brush from bright
Yet my dim composure insidiously blinds me
Trading livelihood for bitter sight

Just hoped you got home safe
Watched the news, I think there was a storm
You left so quickly
What scene did you perform?

My mind turns to sweeter days
When the heart, boundless, sunk its teeth
Back then misty evenings had no ways
Ending nights with sheets beneath

Oh, I’m terribly sorry
Will your mother be okay?
You used my favorite story
Lies are great fillers of the day

A passion becomes clandestine then turns to dust
Impaled by carnal candles from the gut
My fingers pinch the cell phone, kills candle’s flame
Door creaks open, found the window firmly shut

Do tell me when we meet again
Preferably when you are coldest to touch
Don’t bother with a note this time
Easier when there is emptiness to clutch

Immune to city smoke selling whispers
Retching from the alienation of my soul
Crosswalk lined with paths of solitude and hiding
The looming darkness of urban control

I’ll have to call you back.

A very good poem.
We like the rhyming and the touches of irony:


Hello, it’s me, I’m calling
Sorry, but I’m terrible with names
Just thought I’d be remembered
An exception in midnight games



Oh, I’m terribly sorry
Will your mother be okay?
You used my favorite story
Lies are great fillers of the day


Do tell me when we meet again
Preferably when you are coldest to touch
Don’t bother with a note this time
Easier when there is emptiness to clutch


And the last line stands out because it is out of stanzas and therefore one notices it better and it has more effect to end the poem.
***


falling evening beats it’s
slow pulse,
pushes
grey to black,
obscuring
day’s shimmering
nucleus
in an obsidian nest

a million mill-stoned
voices rise
above the bones of a church
to the hovering
technical God engorged to
starry magnitude
by the city’s
electric impulses

The voice of
home tempts
in candlelit tones,
(Come, be still.)

but he blends elementally
with the undercurrent
and finds it is
increasingly difficult
to deny
the hinting shadows.


We like the freeform lines, it gives the whole poem an interesting rhytm.

And these lines we especially liked.

obscuring
day’s shimmering
nucleus
in an obsidian nest

a million mill-stoned
voices rise
above the bones of a church
to the hovering
technical God engorged to
starry magnitude
by the city’s
electric impulses


The decision was difficult but the honour of posting the next picture belongs to Petrarch's love.

[Riesa]

hey Tal! thanks.

Congratulations, Petrarch! :D whoot. pick a good one!

[Petrarch's Love]

Wow, thanks Tal. I'm honored to be chosen among such exceptional competition.:) O.K. folks, give me a little time and I'll go find a picture to post.

[Petrarch's Love]

I figured it's probably about time that the Lit. Net. poetry contest had a book related picture, so here it is. The recent to do over the ambiguity of the judging process has awakened the teacher in me, so I'm going to set up a deadline for three weeks from now (that seemed to have been a reasonable time for past rounds). That means this round of the contest will close at the end of Saturday, February 10th. The results will be posted by the close of Monday the 12th. If people have serious objections to this for some reason, or want to plead for a short extension or something, then either post here or pm me.

Good luck everyone!

http://i43.photobucket.com/albums/e386/LeonardoD/30276840_b45d7b3557.jpg

[Il Penseroso]

That's a sweet picture, PL, and I'll try my best to work up a poem.

[Virgil]

Congratulations Petrarch. Neat picture. I wonder if h's naked behind that book. :D Well, I'll have to get my creative juices going.