Poetry Contest

[dramasnot6]

The Bibliophile

I fish for my spectacles
My hearts beloved tool
Armed with sight
I retrieve my waiting stool

Toes tipped as dancers in their sleep
I sway upon my elevation
Ascending the shelves
What I seek grows near
As the fall grows steep

Scanning as hope is drawn to the floor
Meticulous inspection, no one to ignore
Then she is spot like sunlight to a prison cell
Judgment not needed, title alone cast the spell

Caught in the moment, I lunge at her rim
Collapse from this paper fortress
So entranced by her sight
That a ten story fall wouldn’t come close to grim

My conscious closes then for the night
Body swimming in stories, but being escapes on a weary flight
Wake without confusion to the morning sun
Only concern in my fingers grasp
To see if my 1000 page angel had been undone

Head unstable and limbs semi-dead
All insignificant when there’s a heaven to be read
A gasp of elation makes it way through
As I impatiently sink
Into this foreign worlds debut

A letter hits my vision like cupids arrow to the mind
Taken with so few words, I leave the day behind
A cacophony of conflicts all shove to steal the stage
Some endings strike bliss, some aim to enrage
Each voice slipped on as if shopping for disguise
All seem to fit when reaching their unique demise

This entwinement of thought
Melting pot of fears
Ignites so much laughter
Right after it evokes endless tears
The moment finally comes
Where my thumb presses on a single line
Saying goodbye to this friend
For whose life I pine

[Petrarch's Love]

Thanks for the congratulations Virg. and Riesa, and thanks for the first entry dramasnot. :) Let the games begin.

[Pendragon]

Thank's for the comment, Tal. Good picture choice, Petra, if you don't mind my shortcut on your name. Have to think on this one a bit. ;)

[Janine]

I am thinking hard, too; I jotted some words/thoughts down last night. I just may make this one in time. Then may have the nerve to post it, but I have to say I was quite impressed with the last batch of poems. Good work everyone! I like this current picture.

[Pendragon]

Well, here goes: The Sonnet Freak's Sonnet

The Open Book

The God of Knowledge holds the giant tome open—
Below the human race gathers beneath his feet.
In darkness still, like blind men they are groping;
Yet before them lies the source of victory or defeat.
Many see nothing there except for blank pages—
Pages unmarred by writings of wisdom of any kind.
Others see marvelous things, the work of many sages—
Some just turn away, and choose to remain forever blind.
But The God of Knowledge turns the next sheet over,
Inviting all to read and to act upon the truths they see.
What one may read may not be the same as another—
Wisdom comes to each in various ways and degrees.
Don’t blame the one who holds the open tome:
If what you know for truth is yours, and yours alone…

Pendragon
© 1/22/07

[Orionsbelt]

Wow this place is like a flash flood. No rain for a bit and then woooshhh. Thanks for all the great comments Tal. I have to say that was a little weird for me. I was trying to break the rhythm to express a bit of trouble and chaos. I'll take another crack at that idea again I think when I'm not so holidayed up. Great picture though very dark with lots of stuff in it. Congrats to Petrarch's Love. I think that would have been my choice too. Great picture. I'll get back with something soon.

[Petrarch's Love]

Congrats to Petrarch's Love.

Thanks, Orionsbelt.

[Pensive]

Congratulations, Petratch! Thanks for the poems, everyone! Thanks for the comments, Tal! :)

[Janine]

Glad we are rolling along again....people posting interesting poems to read. Good responses so far!

[mir]

The huddled masses at his feet,
He stands giant to men
And offers ants the learning
That would too enlarge them.

Words which make the mind grow
And raise the soul from soil,
To deify the daily grind
And form Heaven from toil.

Here is written wisdom,
And meaning, such as known;
The lines which teach the children
And guide them when they're grown.

But here, the page is open
Not to sages' delight:
For greater than reading a life
Is power, that to write.

[mir]

woo! five minutes between math and arts! :p

sorry, i didn't have much time. But congrats, Petrarch, and i really like that picture!!

[Triskele]

hey y'all

Challenge of Word

what times are these, when the pens power wanes
fading to feint grey shadows, dust to dust
motes of age that float to dark tides of war
where swords gleam bright, beneath the white tooth snarl
growls and screams of rage echo across worlds
decades of gnarled growth, shattered by the ink
smooth curves and dots fight the red stains of bleed
who now dares to stand, neath the tall blank book
the unwritten page, that holds thoughts of old
words they dared to speak, but could not bear to write
for fear the future might judge their mind
cowards did fall, but now there needs to stand
the one who would be judged, by the white book

[Neil Thomas]

Swell of Spring’s Night Sweet Sadness



Evening’s glow falls upon gathered stones

As nights silver shimmer unveils by suns warmed moon

Shallow breath, quick glance

Bristle winds blow through leaves of many

I sit and wait patient no more

Cool night's silk embrace my self as soul

While he runs phantom on fences of light and crystal

tunnels with whispered roar

My mind races with fear and loss

then numbed in despair

For not cut of brow by viscous brawl quells the spirit

of tigers call

For love of night and sweet scent

As the night shown bright by suns warmed moon

And crystal tunnels under fences of light fall silent

With swells of spring’s night sweet sadness……..

[Will Press]

sorry it's been awhile, but I did write something for this one.

[Will Press]

Mercury Rises

Winged herald standing solemn
Scouts for hope through misty eyes
Resilient as a brilliant column
Gazing down from opaque skies

He stands above the world, aloof
From sublunary sorrow
The seraph’s name called Providence
The book he brings: “Tomorrow”

The writ he wields will fan the air
Its cover coarse and torn
The pages like its bearer bare
And likewise unadorned

Tomorrow’s text unmarred by ink
From troubling years now past and gone
Men free to rise, or free to sink
In vast Horizon’s crystal dawn

[Lil Stras 007]

I know this isn't very good but I thought I'd give it a shot. It was kind of rushed and unedited but oh well. I haven't had much expirience with poems since I am only in 6th grade and I hope you my poem doesn't scar you for life with it's terriblness. ( is that a word?)
Truth
A man holds the book of truth,
of light, of knowledge ,of power.
For if your words should grace those pages
they shall be cherished for ever.
If you would be so bold,
to spill your mind onto the paper,
to let the vivid colors of your imagination,
paint this blank canvas full.
Of dark and bright and in between,
colors that make a beautiful world.
For you to explore,
For you to Love and enjoy.
In this world which is your own,
You are truly free
To think and feel however you please.

Books are the key to the door
Which leads to enlightenment and understanding.
Be sure you are ready, for once you open that door,
There is no turning back.
Light will come pouring through
And you can not stop it
No power can, for this is
Truth. Pure unblemished truth
And with the Truth comes power
It makes you feel big and strong
You tower over the weak ones who
Do not know the truth.
So open your eyes,
Pick up a book
And let the Truth be known

[ktd222]

Congratulations Petrarch! Looks like you have your work cut out for you judging this rounds poetry contest.

[Pensive]

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

I worked on it hard;
Day and night
In every kind of weather
Even in the candle light
I could not afford a tube-light
I could not afford a good dinner in the restaurant
Just because of this book, my wife and I had a big fight
She was angry with me because I did not earn much
Dear Lizzy was right on her place; children had to survive on a poor lunch
But still I kept on working on this very book, with no other thought
"Work and earn for yourself, children and wife," I forgot what my mother had taught
Dreams of being a writer were over me
So most of my time was spent under a tree
Away from home; children and Lizzy
And then one day, I completed this book, I was fizzy
So lively, happy and I was on the moon
But the published threw the copy away - my happiness he had to ruin!
He took away everything at that very moment
My dreams - my hard work of many years
Things happened according to Lizzy's fears
Now I am standing here, with this book in my hand
A poor man, but not as much poor as I was before
The experience has taught me well
I have started to work to have bread on my table; work other than writing
But am I going to make up for the past years?
Is this book going to cover me up well?
Is this book going to cover me up well?

[Petrarch's Love]

Congratulations Petrarch! Looks like you have your work cut out for you judging this rounds poetry contest.

Thanks, ktd. Yes, it would seem I have my work cut out for me. Great seeing the submissions so far and look forward to reading more. :)

[Lil Stras 007]

Yeah! Some of these poems are pretty good! Would you guys please read my story? http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showthread.php?p=322090#post322090

[thevintagepiper]

He stands there
Holding his world it seems
And it feels empty
Maybe just invisible
Maybe just foreign
Maybe hidden
Maybe locked away.
Perhaps he is crying
Pushing himself back
Perhaps he is rejoicing
That no one will remember.
The pages of his life are
Not as invisible as they look
Rather they are filled
Line upon line upon line
Of scribbled ink and mystery
Of hope and dream and crime
Of love and pain and faith
Of struggling and suffering.
Or maybe they are filled with
Nothing but longing
Longing to show themselves
Longing to be read
Longing to be loved back
Longing to feel fulfilled.
Perhaps he is a facade
Perhaps he wears a mask
Perhaps he feels a giant
Perhaps his life feels
Far too overwhelming
His struggles too hideous
To show the world
That to him is both
Worse and better
Than himself.
Perhaps he was forced
Into hiding his soul
Perhaps he is afraid
Of revealing his mind
Of rejection
Of hate
Of distrust.
Or perhaps what he shows
Is merely the flyleaf
Of some great and
Beautiful work.

[Orionsbelt]

Hail Titan’s spawn,
Conceived in earth by time,
Midwived by thunder,
What would you add?

Re-returning again,
The words of our fathers,
As if from your brethren,
And none are their own.

Words carried, never possessed,
Forever given, never at rest,
What part of our soul
Shows on the cave wall?

Genesis, Sutra, I-ching, sing
Isaiah, Oyasama, Joe Smith, Bramah, bring
Hope, peace, charity, and love
How shall we call you?

[barneythebear]

Music that speaks with accents

Where others’ plainsong rasps the air and jars
That harmony to which it might aspire,
Two-part invention, loudly screeching, mars
A flimsy manuscript that’s born of ire.

Yet you, whose chant beguiles my dirge within,
With added fortune truly worth the name,
Will fashion soothing pulses on my skin
And sing so sweet the birds shall die of shame.

For some, the birthing blood of music rests
In dark discord where bitter rankling stains
Biopsy of lineage. Yet, perverse, attests
Denial of which; its wriggling whelp disdains.

Such sucklings we then, who, with vision joint,
Sing on in love ... with heed to counterpoint.

[Triskele]

ooh, barney, that is i think my favorite so far

[thefemalemind]

when's the contest over??? i think i might enter

[Petrarch's Love]

Hi Female Mind--The contest closes February 10th, so you still have ten days. Here's the original post with the picture for this round:


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

[Virgil]

Oh good. I have time. I wrote one, but I wanted to give it a little time to digest.

[thefemalemind]

ok. thanks Petrarch

[Triskele]

can we post more than one? or is that a fairly arrogant and intrusive concept?

[ktd222]

can we post more than one? or is that a fairly arrogant and intrusive concept?

I don't think that would be fair to the other contestants or the person judging the contest. I mean if you have more than one poem for an image then just choose the one you believe is best and sumbit it. Don't water down the pool of entries.

[Virgil]

I agree. One submission per person. If you wish to substitute for the one you submitted, either you can edit that previous post by deleting the first and replacing it with the second. Or you can tell Petrarch which one you want in.

Sorry Triskele, but it will get too confusing otherwise. But if everyone else agrees, then what can I say.

[Petrarch's Love]

To second the above posts, only one poem per person can be judged. It's fine if you're inspired to post two poems, but only one can be considered for the competition. If you do post two, please clearly mark the one you want considered for contest purposes versus the one that's just for fun. :)

[Triskele]

I don't think that would be fair to the other contestants or the person judging the contest. I mean if you have more than one poem for an image then just choose the one you believe is best and sumbit it. Don't water down the pool of entries.

i certainly agree, in retrospect probably a bad thought. thanks for setting me straight and remaining true to the contest.

[Pendragon]

Besides, the person judging has enough to do deciding on a winning poem and commenting on each entry with only ONE per person! ;) And Petra has only given herself two days to do all of that! Take pity on her! ;)

[Virgil]

OK, here's my entry to this one.



The Point of Hinge

The pages pivot across,
While words animate to a conclusion,
A maelstrom of logic inveigles the reader.
We can parse all we want,
But the pages still pivot.

Is it logic we seek?
Is it logic that connects the soul with life,
The life that breathes the pine smell
Of trees that will be ground to pages?
Every pivot has a point of hinge.

The pages pivot but the pine trees
Sway to the artic gust beneath the cloudy sky.
Upon a crusty branch,
A cerulean warbler finagles the earth.

[ktd222]

Wow! This is the most entries I've seen for a poetry contest.

[mir]

Yeah, this thread is really warming up for this contest. :D I've just been reading through some of the entries - these are all amazing! I love everyone's poems; great job, all! :)

[Petrarch's Love]

Besides, the person judging has enough to do deciding on a winning poem and commenting on each entry with only ONE per person! ;) And Petra has only given herself two days to do all of that! Take pity on her! ;)

:lol: Thanks Pen. This contest is shaping up to be especially challenging to the judge since, as ktd and mir point out, there are quite a number of entries. Since they're all such good entries, though, it makes it an exceptionally pleasant challenge. :) Besides, I'll just have finished grading a big stack of student papers that weekend, so I'll be in top form for meting out judgment. :D

[Triskele]

:lol: Thanks Pen. This contest is shaping up to be especially challenging to the judge since, as ktd and mir point out, there are quite a number of entries. Since they're all such good entries, though, it makes it an exceptionally pleasant challenge. :) Besides, I'll just have finished grading a big stack of student papers that weekend, so I'll be in top form for meting out judgment. :D

wow, hell of a workload, i wonder if you do not have time turner to do all of that in a mere 48 hours

[ktd222]

wow, hell of a workload, i wonder if you do not have time turner to do all of that in a mere 48 hours

You need to subtract the amount of sleep out of that 48 hours:D What's left?

[Janine]

Oh good Feb. 10th is the deadline then....I have a few more day to come up with something. Who knows maybe I just might scribble something down and enter this time. 7 more days may be enough time to find a spark of brilliance...ha~

[Virgil]

Give it a try Janine.

[Petrarch's Love]

You need to subtract the amount of sleep out of that 48 hours:D What's left?

47 hours :D

[thefemalemind]

lol. i think im just going to skip out on this contest

[Petrarch's Love]

lol. i think im just going to skip out on this contest

Sorry to hear it F.M. Just too busy? I guess there's always the next round.

[Susan Sonnen]

ok...I took a shot at it! Please keep in mind that this is spur of the moment and unedited!

Welcome, Child!
Look and see the empty pages -
a life yet unfulfilled,
a world not yet created.
Only empty pages that await your touch.
Pick up your quill
and take part in your life!
Every page is in your hands.
Your every word is life itself.
Now breathe!

[thevintagepiper]

ok...I took a shot at it! Please keep in mind that this is spur of the moment and unedited!

Welcome, Child!
Look and see the empty pages -
a life yet unfulfilled,
a world not yet created.
Only empty pages that await your touch.
Pick up your quill
and take part in your life!
Every page is in your hands.
Your every word is life itself.
Now breathe!


That is beautiful! It reminds me a lot of Calvin Miller's trilogy, The Singer, The Song, and The Finale. They are all powerful stories written in beautiful freeverse.

[ktd222]

ok...I took a shot at it! Please keep in mind that this is spur of the moment and unedited!

There is still five days to edit and get to a final draft. As for me, inspiration will not strike, although I'm still hoping it does in the next few days.

[toni]

Was awake till 6am trying to produce something... got 2 brilliant lines, but other than that, nothing more. :(
Let's see tonight, though.

[ktd222]

Was awake till 6am trying to produce something... got 2 brilliant lines, but other than that, nothing more. :(
Let's see tonight, though.

Sometimes a poem is not about length, but content. You should just submit what you have when you feel it's done and not worry about finding extra lines.

[toni]

Sometimes a poem is not about length, but content. You should just submit what you have when you feel it's done and not worry about finding extra lines.

Oh, okay! Thanks, KT! mio amicco:)

[Orionsbelt]

Was awake till 6am trying to produce something... got 2 brilliant lines, but other than that, nothing more. :(
Let's see tonight, though.

Well that's two more than me... keep rolling.

[Janine]

When does the poetry contest end? I have been working on something and it is almost done. Don't want to miss the deadline. I thought it was the 7th, but I could be wrong. Please let me know.

[Virgil]

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


When does the poetry contest end? I have been working on something and it is almost done. Don't want to miss the deadline. I thought it was the 7th, but I could be wrong. Please let me know.

Here you go Janine. You have a few days still.

[thefemalemind]

Sorry to hear it F.M. Just too busy? I guess there's always the next round.
well its not that i'm too busy, i just can't think of what to write for this paticular picture. its challanging for me. :(

:bawling: :bawling:

[Janine]

Virgil, thanks for refreshing my memory. Yes, good, then I have a few more days to revise my poem, or redo it completely...I keep thinking of new things or a different ending. I will work on it. At least I did put down something in print and will post it this time, as feeble an attempt as it may be.:D

Toni, keep on writing but if you only come up with 2 brilliant lines please post them. I want to read them.:)

[Triskele]

Was awake till 6am trying to produce something... got 2 brilliant lines, but other than that, nothing more. :(
Let's see tonight, though.

hate when that happens, yah, get an incredible start, two lines and a structure to rock the world, and the words just don't fit, its like trying to fit a jugsaw into a rubix cube... ;)

[Gazette]

"Things have changed, and people have died, but unless we try all the harder to keep the rights of freedom and true happiness uncorrupted then those people might have died in vain. If it is that we are to be the last generation that recognizees freedom, then what of the future. Is it that in later years both the bond and free will be as slaves to some forgotten king. And will all the people of the Earth be brought down to the dusts of the Earth from which they were created. Maybe so, but as for me I shall preserve the rights and statutes which I do so dearly cherish."

[rintrah]

I walked up on some bright evening
The sounds of the village in my ears,
Voices prickling with the intensity
Of old men, making good their promise
To not go gently into the night,
The hush of the heavens above my head
A few arrayed stars marking out
The bounds of men, the faint
Glistening edge of the sun
Making the presence of the world
Seem thin and narrow, a squinted
Place, an awkward squinted place
And I drew in the air, clearing my
Head, and I thought of the man
Who once told me that the last
Thing the world needs is another book,
he, trim-framed and arrogant,
Placing himself as a the solution to
His own pointless problem

And I thought of the volumes and pages
That dot the sky like stars, endless, seemingly
Like an ocean of mens ideas and womens thoughts
The crashing of waves, clusters of cloistered keepsakes
Bookends washing up on the shore by the harbour,
Floating folios spewing their ink onto the gravel
Mixing the tide-spill with hushed voices and dead thoughts
Thought no more by dead men

And I wondered if there was just one book, only one
A drawstring that pulls us in, makes us fit.
I sat up there for some time, and said
It's just one book, its all one book.
I made my way back down, stumbling in the
Evening light, hearing the men again talking
Their way through life, laughing at old Evans
When he lost his way home and slept in Geraint's
Shed, they slapped their legs and the
Table and howled, and I said, I think you
should write that down.

[rintrah]

Perhaps a little off target, but it's what came out.

[toni]

Well that's two more than me... keep rolling.
Many Thanks, Orion!:)


Toni, keep on writing but if you only come up with 2 brilliant lines please post them. I want to read them.:)
Thanks, Janine:) . Fortunately, I finished it this morning-slept at 5am.
I thought my Mum would kill me:lol: .

hate when that happens, yah, get an incredible start, two lines and a structure to rock the world, and the words just don't fit, its like trying to fit a jugsaw into a rubix cube... ;)
Tell me about it. I worked on it for 3 nights-I mean 3 dawns and got 2 lines.
I finished it at last, though.:alien:

[toni]

Slave of the Spine

The heart of the tale lay down the spine,
his eyes, glued on the revelations,
knocking on the surface that once were flapping tides.


Spiral musings sit on every line,
Hios screeching tongue now silenced,
snapped shut by pages of lips,
bathed by sweet candlelight.


Once, he went catching silver sunlights on leather palms;
And tied songs in paperback rhyme.
But he marched a tune, once upon a time,
walked hand in hand with sunrise;
strigs of manuscripts, passages, gripped in aging hands,
watched forever unfold in his old eyes;
The immortal- Slave of the Spine.

[dramasnot6]

WOW TONI! ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT! I loved it dear! Best work yet! :D
Congratulations on quite the success!

[Petrarch's Love]

Just a reminder to any interested parties that tomorrow is the last day for submissions to the poetry contest. So if you have a mind to add your work to the wonderful group we've collected so far, then get scribbling. :)

[Gazette]

Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the flowers gone?
Young girls have picked them everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Where have all the young girls gone, long time passing?
Where have all the young girls gone, long time ago?
Where have all the young girls gone?
Gone for husbands everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Where have all the husbands gone, long time passing?
Where have all the husbands gone, long time ago?
Where have all the husbands gone?
Gone for soldiers everyone
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Where have all the soldiers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the soldiers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the soldiers gone?
Gone to graveyards, everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Where have all the graveyards gone, long time passing?
Where have all the graveyards gone, long time ago?
Where have all the graveyards gone?
Gone to flowers, everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?
Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago?
Where have all the flowers gone?
Young girls have picked them everyone.
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Oh, when will they ever learn?
Pete Seeger (Born on May 3rd 1919) and Joe Hickerson ( Born in Highland Park IL. 1935.) :D

[Gazette]

How do you join the poetry contest?

[Gazette]

BECAUSE ALL MEN ARE BROTHERS
Bach/Glazer- Amrita Music Corp. ASCAP
Because all men are brothers wherever men may be
One Union shall unite us forever proud and free
No tyrant shall defeat us, no nation strike us down
All men who toil shall greet us the whole wide world around.
My brothers are all others forever hand in hand
Where chimes the bell of freedom there is my native land
My brother's fears are my fears yellow white or brown
My brother's tears are my tears the whole wide world around.
Let every voice be thunder, let every heart beat strong
Until all tyrants perish our work shall not be done
Let not our memories fail us the lost year shall be found
Let slavery's chains be broken the whole wide world around. From the cd Songs of Conscience and Concern. :)

[mir]

Gazette, you join the contest by writing an original poem about the picture the last contest winner posted. (it should be the only picture in the thread for the last few pages, so you can just find it by looking there.) Anyone can join, but the poem has to be your own work. :) Welcome!

[Riesa]

here's mine, strange and odd, but it's all I could come up with, and it kind of suits me, being strange and odd myself. :p

Illumination
offered plain and bold
from the whetted stylus
dips the fantastical nib
into intrinsic stillness

fright ties simple
involuntary knots
inside the huddling timid,
peering ever sideways down
and never fixing forward.

As winds carve the ripening clouds
painters spill and leisured lovers drift
on waves of deepened honey
against the canvas’ pale skin they melt
unraveling inner boundaries

they reach as winged gods do reach
by urging away reality
glazing the barest page
with truth and lavish beauty.

[Riesa]

and can I just say, rintrah, that I absolutely loved this.



I walked up on some bright evening
The sounds of the village in my ears,
Voices prickling with the intensity
Of old men, making good their promise
To not go gently into the night,
The hush of the heavens above my head
A few arrayed stars marking out
The bounds of men, the faint
Glistening edge of the sun
Making the presence of the world
Seem thin and narrow, a squinted
Place, an awkward squinted place
And I drew in the air, clearing my
Head, and I thought of the man
Who once told me that the last
Thing the world needs is another book,
he, trim-framed and arrogant,
Placing himself as a the solution to
His own pointless problem

And I thought of the volumes and pages
That dot the sky like stars, endless, seemingly
Like an ocean of mens ideas and womens thoughts
The crashing of waves, clusters of cloistered keepsakes
Bookends washing up on the shore by the harbour,
Floating folios spewing their ink onto the gravel
Mixing the tide-spill with hushed voices and dead thoughts
Thought no more by dead men

And I wondered if there was just one book, only one
A drawstring that pulls us in, makes us fit.
I sat up there for some time, and said
It's just one book, its all one book.
I made my way back down, stumbling in the
Evening light, hearing the men again talking
Their way through life, laughing at old Evans
When he lost his way home and slept in Geraint's
Shed, they slapped their legs and the
Table and howled, and I said, I think you
should write that down.

[Janine]

Well, I have read some of these great poetry entries and been quite impressed. I had better post this since I have been working on it for awhile now. Here is my humble attempt. My first entry in the contest. Hope to enter many more times in the future. It was fun to write.



Aftermath

Banished, blank, blanched.
Anticipative eyes stare
Into pulpless white pages;
Stark stone’s potential space
Stares back – waiting.

Black type, bleached white,
No trace of inky time,
No smudge of knowledge,
All lost forevermore -
Eradication of all wisdom!

History purged away,
Kingdoms crumbled,
Goverments turned to ash,
Empires lie pulverized,
Democracy a dream.

Statue stubornly stands
Imitating man, stonecold;
Behold his empty book
World’s “past” evaporated.
Fragments locked in minds?

World with an end!
Books burned to embers,
Art’s ultimate destruction,
Rare treasures shattered;
Time, banished, left dustless.

Keepers of knowledge,
Curators of cultural realms,
How did you not notice
Arts' slow disintegration,
Dust settling mighty pyramids?

Is there no trase,
No particle or tiny cinder?
No seed to nuture us
Kindle new knowledge -
Thoughts to render fresh ink?

Where shall we begin,
Seek identity, in history's extinction?
Can one miraculous speck
Bring "past" back to blank pages;
How to begin history anew….

They weep, emersed in questions
World stands still as stopped clocks.
Knoweledge extracted and lost,
In the rubble of future's fatal hour;
Ignored we all the warnings.

Now worlds look on stone tablets,
Great minds grasp for hidden clues,
Barely recalled, we see through obscurity -
Labyrinths of history, timespan recalled
Man surfaces, past shattered truths.

Witness history’s total destruction?
Can the past be recovered;
Extracted from inward seeing minds?
Is seed born from flames;
Can dormant "time" be restored?

Man grasps at memory eternal -
For that which a few once knew,
Recalled in their humanity alone,
To steer the course of history anew,
Now glorious "hope" dawns our renewal.

[rintrah]

and can I just say, rintrah, that I absolutely loved this.

Thank you Riesa. I have just read your wonderful poem, and I am deeply touched by your compliment.

[Petrarch's Love]

Just so that everyone knows, this round of the contest is officially closed. Thanks to all who participated. You all have certainly made my job as judge a tough one. Results will be posted by the end of tomorrow (that's tomorrow, U.S. central time). :)

[Laindessiel]

To supply my Italian hunger, Petrarch, what does your Italian signature mean? I can't do 1+1 on this one. Hehe, I'm not an accomplished translator yet. :p

[Laindessiel]

Everyone's are marvelous!

[Janine]

Lain, how sweet of you to say that. There sure were a lot of entries. Can't wait to see the winner and the next neat photo to write the poem to.

[Janine]

Toni, I see your all nighter payed off. Wonderful work and more than two brilliant lines! Glad you completed it. Will say more after the contest ends. Good work, Toni!

[Gazette]

Maybe not the best but here it is;




Why is it that we live, what is our motive? Do we only exist to live and breathe, and then leave? Or is there some sort of divine entity in us, and when will we cross over the mortal line and become beings that cannot be harmed by the disappearing time.

[thevintagepiper]

I hate time zones :( I have to go to bed without reading the winning poem.

[thefemalemind]

hey guys. what's the new pic and who was the winner?


tfm

[Janine]

hey guys. what's the new pic and who was the winner?


tfm

Petrarch has her work cut out for here - there were so many good entries this time. Be patient. She said we would get a winner today. Will be interesting to see the new photo, I agree.

[Petrarch's Love]

Just to feed the suspense, because everyone's expecting my next post to be the contest winner, I'm going to answer Lain's question first.:p


To supply my Italian hunger, Petrarch, what does your Italian signature mean? I can't do 1+1 on this one. Hehe, I'm not an accomplished translator yet.

Lain--My signature is the opening lines from the first sonnet of Petrarch's Canzoniere, also known as the Rime Sparse because of this opening line. It translates roughly as "in scattered rimes the sound/ Of those sighs with which I fed the heart/ In my first youthful error." Here's a link to the whole poem with translation: http://petrarch.petersadlon.com/canzoniere.html

[Petrarch's Love]

And now, having got my students' papers graded, I've had a chance to finish agonizing over the winner of this contest (no easy task). First a few comments to each:

dramasnot (“The Bibliophile”)—I think all we readers can identify with desperately seeking that desired book and then getting lost in it when it’s found (why is it that the book you want always seems to be at the top of the library shelf, so you have to get one of those little step stools and…I digress). Nice rhyme, and I like some of your phrases: “armed with sight,” and your “1,000 page angel.”

Pendragon (“The Open Book”)—Another sonnet from the maestro. I like the idea of the pages being blank so that each person reads his or her own truth into them, just like life. I especially liked the final couplet.

mir (untitled)—Good rhyming poem. I like the line “deify the daily grind,” and the call to not just read but to write at the end of the poem.

Triskele (“Challenge of Word”)—Very nice. The words have a strong sound and a natural flow. These lines particularly stood out to me:

growls and screams of rage echo across worlds
decades of gnarled growth, shattered by the ink
smooth curves and dots fight the red stains of blood
who now dares to stand, neath the tall blank book
I like the contrast of the smooth curve of the lines with the rough deeds and history that they record. Good ending too.

Neil Thomas (“Swell of Spring’s Night Sweet Sadness”)—A nicely written poem with a lyrical lilt to it, but I’m not sure how it connects with the picture for this round of the contest. Maybe you just didn’t know how this thread works? We write on a different picture each week.

Will Press (“Mercury Rises”)—Very nice poem, with an even meter, and a strong sound. Your penultimate line, “Men free to rise or free to sink,” reminds me of the line in Paradise Lost: “Sufficient to have stood though free to fall” (P.L. 3.99). Were you consciously channeling Milton, or was that by chance?

Lil Stras (“Truth”)—A nice prosy poetry. I like these lines especially:

paint this blank canvas full.
Of dark and bright and in between,
colors that make a beautiful world.


Pensive (Untitled)—I like the story you’ve imagined behind the creation of a book. Love the repeated line at the end. It really brings together with an emotional impact.

thevintagepiper (untitled)—I like the rhythm of your short lines and your use of anaphora. My favorite part is the end, though:

Or perhaps what he shows
Is merely the flyleaf
Of some great and
Beautiful work.

Orionsbelt (untitled)—Beautiful rhythm to this one, and I liked the theme of divine inspiration. I love the phrase “Midwived by thunder,” and I like the ending question, “How shall we call you?” Nice.

Barneythebear (“Music that Speaks with Accents)—A very nice love poem, but I don’t think it goes with the contest picture. All the same, I like the way you handle the music conceit. Parts of it sound like imitation of old love poems, like those by Donne.

Virgil (“The Point of Hinge”)—This is an interesting one. I like the sense of the eternal pivot, the points on which the book and the world hinge. The last line feels like a bit of a non sequiter, but in a delightfully absurd and fascinating way.

Susan Sonnen (Untitled)—I like the simple delight of this one. It has an understated charm about it. I like the inviting imperative of the final line.

rintrah (Untitled)—An elegant, lyrical narrative. It’s like a combination of a real world story about storytelling, and a mystic vision. I love the whole stanza with the “ocean” of books, especially these lines:

Floating folios spewing their ink onto the gravel
Mixing the tide-spill with hushed voices and dead thoughts
Thought no more by dead men
and the ending brings us back wonderfully to the connection between the poetry and the prose, so to speak.

toni (”Slave of the Spine”)—Some really interesting descriptions here. I like the “revelations,/ knocking on the surface that once were flapping tides,” and the “pages of lips.” The ending has an almost fairtale-like quality to it, especially the final line “The immortal—Slave of the Spine.” Glad you finished it in time to submit.

Riesa (Untitled)—As always your words have a graceful and distinctive sound to them. I think my favorite stanza is the third one:

As winds carve the ripening clouds
painters spill and leisured lovers drift
on waves of deepened honey
against the canvas’ pale skin they melt
unraveling inner boundaries
Beautiful. The only thing that bugged me was in the second stanza where you never seem to find an object for the following:

inside the huddling timid,
peering ever sideways down
and never fixing forward.
Maybe it’s just the English teacher in me, but I kept wondering what was huddling, timid, peering etc. Overall I enjoyed it though.

Janine (Aftermath)—I’m glad you slipped this one in at the last minute, Janine (almost literally the midnight hour I think), since I enjoyed reading it. Lots of interesting ideas coming out here. I think I like the first stanza the best for its alliteration and description.

[Petrarch's Love]

And now you’re all wondering who won. As you can see from the list above, there were quite a number of entries this round. All of the writers are undoubtedly talented and I was really torn between some when making a decision. So many wonderful poems, how is one to choose?! That said, I’ve decided in favor of Rintrah’s poem:

I walked up on some bright evening
The sounds of the village in my ears,
Voices prickling with the intensity
Of old men, making good their promise
To not go gently into the night,
The hush of the heavens above my head
A few arrayed stars marking out
The bounds of men, the faint
Glistening edge of the sun
Making the presence of the world
Seem thin and narrow, a squinted
Place, an awkward squinted place
And I drew in the air, clearing my
Head, and I thought of the man
Who once told me that the last
Thing the world needs is another book,
he, trim-framed and arrogant,
Placing himself as a the solution to
His own pointless problem

And I thought of the volumes and pages
That dot the sky like stars, endless, seemingly
Like an ocean of men’s ideas and women’s thoughts
The crashing of waves, clusters of cloistered keepsakes
Bookends washing up on the shore by the harbour,
Floating folios spewing their ink onto the gravel
Mixing the tide-spill with hushed voices and dead thoughts
Thought no more by dead men

And I wondered if there was just one book, only one
A drawstring that pulls us in, makes us fit.
I sat up there for some time, and said
It's just one book, its all one book.
I made my way back down, stumbling in the
Evening light, hearing the men again talking
Their way through life, laughing at old Evans
When he lost his way home and slept in Geraint's
Shed, they slapped their legs and the
Table and howled, and I said, I think you
should write that down.

Congrats Rintrah, and we’ll look forward to seeing the picture you select for the next round. :)

[thevintagepiper]

Congratulations Rintrah! It's lovely. I love how it has quite a story in it...

[rintrah]

I feel very honoured! Thank you. I haven't written poetry for some time and this thread has got me going again. I was not envious of Petrarch's job judging this round, and now here I am!

I'll have the next image up soon . . .

[rintrah]

Here goes . . . hopefully not too many groans on this one. I thought it would be interesting how everyone responds to some form of human interaction . . . I look forward to reading everyone's entries.

Taking into account how the thread has developed shall we set the closing date for this in three weeks from now - that means this round will end close of day 6th March, results to be posted by 8th March.

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/85/225095400_bc3ba8bbf9_b.jpg

[Riesa]

Congratulations, rintrah! I truly did enjoy yours, such a smooth poem, excellent lines:

Making the presence of the world
Seem thin and narrow, a squinted
Place, an awkward squinted place
and great story. I think Petrarch's decision was a sound one, not to say I didn't enjoy all of the contributions!

Thanks, Petrarch, for your kind comments, and just so you know, the huddling timid are all the people at the feet of the book-holder. :D

[Virgil]

Very good poem, Rintrah. Congratulations. I particulaly liked this passage:

... the faint
Glistening edge of the sun
Making the presence of the world
Seem thin and narrow, a squinted
Place, an awkward squinted place
And I drew in the air, clearing my
Head, and I thought of the man
Who once told me that the last
Thing the world needs is another book
"edge of the sun," "the presence of the world," "an awkward squinted place," wonderful imagery and phrasing.

Kudos to Petrarch. This was probably the hardest of all our competitions to judge, not only in the quality of the poems, but the quantity too.

Hey Riesa, you're up early.

[Riesa]

Hey Virg! Yeah, I'm getting used to early rising, part of getting old, I guess. :D Asleep by 10, awake by 5. good lord, what has happened to me.

[Susan Sonnen]

Rintrah, your poem is wonderful! I love the flow of thought... Congratulations!

[rintrah]

Thank you all! Your comments and feedback are very much appreciated.
@virgil, you are certainly right, kudos to petrarch indeed.

[Pendragon]

Very nice poem, congradulatios, Rintrah! http://www.cosgan.de/images/midi/sportlich/a040.gif And Petra, thank you for your comments! Mastero! Ah, shucks! :blush:

[Pendragon]

Sorry. I had an inspiration from the past...

Stairway Proposal

She listens in wonder to the tale that he spins—
As they sit all alone on the stairs.
With gesticulation he measures out words,
To describe what he is trying to make her understand.
Thinking maybe this will be the right time…

She’s cloaked her eyes behind darkened lens—
Hoping that he won’t see into her soul.
She hears all the words as if from a distance,
Far greater than the one that keeps them apart:
Watching and waiting for something…

He still talks of roads taken, of places he’s been—
The things that he’s done and he’s seen.
Then as his hands form a small circle,
He looks straight into her heart:
And talks about how he’d like to share it all with her…

In half disbelief, she leans her head over—
And she returns his look with one of her own.
How did he get past her barriers so easily?
But there is a smile on her face as she looks in his eyes.
And a nod of acceptance, she gets up and meets him halfway…

Pendragon
© 2/13/07

[Susan Sonnen]

now I like that, Pendragon!!

[Janine]

Hey Virg! Yeah, I'm getting used to early rising, part of getting old, I guess. :D Asleep by 10, awake by 5. good lord, what has happened to me.

Riesa, I think I am older than you and that rule does not hold true of me. If I stay up any later I will just have to not go to bed at all and then maybe I can reverse my silly schedule.

Yes, I agree with everyone. Petrarch had a tough job and did a fine one - I like the way she commented on each poem - very professional and well critiqued.
Petrarch - in Eastern time my poem says I posted it 10:14 PM. It must have been the time difference. I did sneak in just in time. I was not happy with my poem, but decided to make a first effort; had to break the ice someway. It was then or never. Thanks for your kind comments. I look forward to trying the next one. Should be fun.

Congratulations, Rintrah! I liked you poem and the great idea behind it. How true it is! I especially like the lines that Virgil pointed out and quoted in his post. :thumbs_up

Interesting new photo. Yes, interaction "live" sure is nice. This one should be fun to write about.

To everyone else - great poems! Nice to see so many this time around. Hope the flow continues. :)

[Petrarch's Love]

Kudos to Petrarch. This was probably the hardest of all our competitions to judge, not only in the quality of the poems, but the quantity too.


Petrarch had a tough job and did a fine one - I like the way she commented on each poem - very professional and well critiqued.

Thanks, both of you. It was indeed hard to choose a winner, though it was such a pleasure to get to read and comment on all the poems.:)

Rintrah--Nice picture. I'll have to give it some though. It'll be fun to get to write a poem again this round. :)

[Laindessiel]

Just to feed the suspense, because everyone's expecting my next post to be the contest winner, I'm going to answer Lain's question first.:p


Lain--My signature is the opening lines from the first sonnet of Petrarch's Canzoniere, also known as the Rime Sparse because of this opening line. It translates roughly as "in scattered rimes the sound/ Of those sighs with which I fed the heart/ In my first youthful error." Here's a link to the whole poem with translation: http://petrarch.petersadlon.com/canzoniere.html

Thanks a lot for the time (and for having a reason to suspense the people :lol:) The message is nice. :thumbs_up

Althought Toni didn't win, I'm sure she'll be happy you gave it interest. :)

[thevintagepiper]

Here goes . . . hopefully not too many groans on this one. I thought it would be interesting how everyone responds to some form of human interaction . . . I look forward to reading everyone's entries.

Taking into account how the thread has developed shall we set the closing date for this in three weeks from now - that means this round will end close of day 6th March, results to be posted by 8th March.

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/85/225095400_bc3ba8bbf9_b.jpg

Interesting photo...hmmm...I like it! I had to go through an anonymous websurf to get to it though, cause flickr is blocked here :(

I'll be back! :)

[rintrah]

Sorry to hear you had problems, vintagepiper. If anyone has any difficulty seeing the image just let me know. It is my image, and I can email it. Glad it is provoking some thought . . .

[GimmyDiamond]

Arg! I always hated contests, but, well, I sorta, kinda wrote a poem for the pic so I might as well post it . . . right :) Don't ask why I saw it this way, maybe cuz the neighbourhood I live in or b/c I have bad manners ;)
Anyways . . . here it is . . . :D

Good grief!
What is it this time?!

Is he selling something?
Or is it money?
Lost and can’t get home?
Man that line is old . . .
Or is it more???

Either way
Can’t he see feigned interest for just that
FEIGNED . . .

OH bloody hell,
He keeps leaning further
Like that’s something I haven’t seen before . . .

Why do I always get these people who ramble
Who seem to think I was born yesterday
Do I need a leave me alone sign

Damn manners and
Not feeling right about ignoring him
But the hell with it, if he’s here again tomorrow

One thing’s for sure
These steps aren’t big enough for the both of us

Well, there it is . . . think what you will . . . :D

[mir]

Nice poem, Gimmy! :)

[GimmyDiamond]

Thanks mir! :blush: I wasn't too sure about it . . . :)

[dramasnot6]

You have a unique, strong voice Gimmy :) Well done.

[Susan Sonnen]

Gimmy, Your poem made me smile!

[Pendragon]

A Gem from Gimmy! :thumbs_up

[GimmyDiamond]

Thank you guys Dramas, Susan, and Pen!!!! I was worried someone (or everyone) would think I'm mean or something . . . :)

[thefemalemind]

http://farm1.static.flickr.com/85/225095400_bc3ba8bbf9_b.jpg

Okay, here it is.

Rap

Look at how he’s swinging his hands.
Nonsense is filling my ears.
What is it with these people?
Or do I just not understand.
His rhymes tell a story of how he lives…
Feel the beat of his life.
Feel the words calming your mind.
Get lost in the rythm of his heart
...His soul.
And just listen...
Then maybe you’d understand
It's Who They Are...
It's All They Are...


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay so there it is. i havent written in a while and ive never written something like this but i figured i had to enter something. its different...

:)

[thevintagepiper]

I love the poem, Pendragon!


Sorry to hear you had problems, vintagepiper. If anyone has any difficulty seeing the image just let me know. It is my image, and I can email it. Glad it is provoking some thought . . .

Don't worry about it, it's just that the internet company here is extremely strict.

[Adolescent09]

Well, I gave it my best shot. I'm glad to be participating for the first time in this contest and I truly admire some of immaculate poetic works that this enduring thread has produced. In time, perhaps, my work too may be comporable but as of now, it's constant work and enlightenment :)

Here is my banal attempt to classify the most recent image presented in poetic terms:

Blocked
Upright on a surface of stony layers we cast our thoughts into the wind,
adjacent, though physically it seems,
our minds self reflect, rendering speech, prolonged and dim
a pole of steel, in my wake, lays an impregnable boundary
where I may sit and he may watch,
telling swashbuckling tales,
while I am huddled in my cubicle,
and neither his speech,
or his tone,
leaves me desirous of hearing more.
I tell him this is so
but my words flow over him,
as does his over me,
for blocked we are, barricade in between, on this endless pillar of stone.

[Pendragon]

Nice one, 'Dole! ;)

[rintrah]

I have enjoyed the entries so far . . . you have 2 weeks left to post your poem in this round. Good luck!

[Adolescent09]

Your last poem was fantastic Rintrah. You are very adept at this.

[Pendragon]

Took me a few readings to really grasp the poem, but I like it, Female Mind! :thumbs_up Not bad at all. Good show! ;)

[AdoreroDio]

OK I'll try this "contest", here goes

A twenty-one year old runaway



I sat there listening
just listening
his tale fascinating
drawing me in
yet all that ran through my head was
a twenty0one year old runaway
running away is for two year olds
maybe 12
but not twenty-one
you cannot runaway from life
he will find it were he's going
he's a twenty-one year old runaway
bags packed
cigarette in hand
and I can't help thinking
Can I run away to?



I don't know if it's that great but.....

[Orionsbelt]

Right hand, Left hand
Yinging, singing, yang
Two by two by two by two
Bilaterally symmetrically similar

North Pole, South pole
Four floating orbs
Two turtle doves
Divided there, in the middle

Man made, stone brigade
Natures shade
Cascading barriers
Falling down grey stone

Hey you
Seek you
Reach you
Similar not the same

;) || ;)

[dramasnot6]

LOVED the poem Orion!
Very...balanced :D

[jab]

Your poem was moving and convincing at illustrating the impossibility of successfully running away. And, to top it all off, as I began to feel like an expert on such things, for being educated by your poem, you turned it all around in the last line and reminded me that we mustn't condescend the runaway. Very moving, in sum, connecting me with emotional insight, brotherhood, and introspection!

[rintrah]

Some more wonderful entries! Thanks to all who have submitted. If you haven't submitted yet you still have some time.

BTW, thanks Adolescent09 for your kind compliment - very much appreciated.

Good luck all!

[Orionsbelt]

LOVED the poem Orion!
Very...balanced :D

Thanks! Especially since balanced is the last word people use when they talk about me.:lol:

[AdoreroDio]

Your poem was moving and convincing at illustrating the impossibility of successfully running away. And, to top it all off, as I began to feel like an expert on such things, for being educated by your poem, you turned it all around in the last line and reminded me that we mustn't condescend the runaway. Very moving, in sum, connecting me with emotional insight, brotherhood, and introspection!

Thanks! I like turning things around and giving different views of one thing in one poem. Some people say I'm contradicting myself but I think it makes for a more interesting poem.:D

[autolycus]

Introduction

An electron has four quantum numbers,
A human being made of dust has five:

Friendships - number and degree, deception;
Hardships - in sense of quality and weight;
The will - to live, or die, or vegetate;
Strangeness - of the inner mind's perception;
Magnetism - attractive kinds of state.

These are the things which keep our songs alive,
Distill the stuff of dreams from our slumbers,
Make sense of both pre- and post-conception.

Deduction

Given that electrons exist
Here is a little human list:

Humans can be bond-paired
Humans can be non-bonding
Humans can be so very scared
When other humans are responding

Humans can be lone-paired
Humans can be radical in bent
Humans can be startlingly shared
By what seems a human accident

Reduction

I realise I am a singularity
I look out of a window which cannot be:

And I see at once with blinding clarity
Electrons are fortunately not like me.

[ktd222]

Nice poems. Seems like people are waiting till near the due date to enter their poems:nod:

[Pendragon]

Nice one, Orion! Could almost hip-hop to that one! Are the smiles the last line? If so, neat idea!

Pen

[Pendragon]

OK I'll try this "contest", here goes

A twenty-one year old runaway



I sat there listening
just listening
his tale fascinating
drawing me in
yet all that ran through my head was
a twenty0one year old runaway
running away is for two year olds
maybe 12
but not twenty-one
you cannot runaway from life
he will find it were he's going
he's a twenty-one year old runaway
bags packed
cigarette in hand
and I can't help thinking
Can I run away to?



I don't know if it's that great but.....


I think it's very good! I'm 46, and God knows there's times I feel like running away myself! You hit the bullseye, Dore'do! :thumbs_up

[thefemalemind]

Took me a few readings to really grasp the poem, but I like it, Female Mind! :thumbs_up Not bad at all. Good show! ;)

thanks. i usually dont write like that. ill do better next pic.

[Orionsbelt]

Nice one, Orion! Could almost hip-hop to that one! Are the smiles the last line? If so, neat idea!

Pen

Thanks Pen,

The smiles occured to me as I was posting it. I thought it would be a fun addition. Glad you liked it. :thumbs_up

[dramasnot6]

OOo that gave me an idea for the personal poetry forum, does anyone like the idea of a smiley poetry game/contest/misc. poetry thread?
Maybe it will turn out better than the How do you do EMOTICON STYLE? thread

[Pendragon]

Could work, Drama. One vote, anyway! http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Smilies/acc32.gif

[rintrah]

OK, time for an update: there's one more day to post your entries in this round! I'm in the UK, so I will post an 'event closed' message 8am GMT 7th March. Thanks for all our entries so far!

[Petrarch's Love]

Well, since the deadline is upon us, here's a last minute effort:

He has traveled and he has traveled
To Iraq and back
Then with backpack
And army issue duffel
Along the long highways
Of the fifty states,
And again across an ocean.
Now backpacking through Europe
To round out the experience of youth,
To find excuses to keep moving on,
To make an army cut a rebel’s shaved head,
To change into the uniform
Of a wandering poet,
Twenty-first century bard.

The beat of the same songs,
Still the beat of the same songs
Have accompanied him through the experience
Of food, sleep and death
In lands of war and lands of peace.
Now he wears those songs about his neck
Prepared to try, in the beat of his own words,
To fill the space between his hands
In which he suspends the whole round earth as he has seen it.
He searches for the words to show
The way the wide curious eyes of children are the same
As they watch him pass
In a Jeep through Baghdad,
In a Ford through Kansas,
In a bus through London
Searches for the words to show
The white teeth of welcoming smiles
The white teeth of grimacing pain
Searches for the words to show
Dirty alleys
And long stretching grasslands.
Hot desert sun
And long northern nights of questioning darkness.

She has lived her whole life in the same city
And in the same city
Of tree lined streets she walks to work each day
And each day takes a break
To have a smoke at noon.
Sits on the steps
Leans forward in the bright noon sun
To hear the words of a stranger
What he has to say
What he has to share
And he pauses before
Simply asking for a light.

[rintrah]

OK, it's a little late - but here's the notice; this round of the contest is now closed. Thanks for all your entries. I shall post the results anon!

[rintrah]

Congratulations everyone - what an interesting and diverse poetic response to the image! I'd like to respond to each of the entries before posting the final results:

Pendragon: Stairway Proposal
I love the tension which builds up as you contrast the seemingly opposing forces, and then it is all finally resolved into harmony. The ending surprised me, a welcomed unexpected denouement! I loved the imagery completeness offered:'Then as his hands form a small circle', as if he is offering a symbol of wholeness, which she desires.

GimmyDiamond: These steps aren't big enough
This is a wickedly accurate internal monologue - haven't we all felt that at times! I was particularly struck by the 'Damn manners and/
Not feeling right about ignoring him'. Here the woman has pressures from both sides; the more obvious force which is trying to engage her in conversation, and the more mystical sense of social responsibility and etiquette, which struggles and competes for attention. Though she wants to shut it out with, 'But the hell with it', it doesn't every really go away - this is the real tension at operation here.

thefemalemind: Rap
Wonderful rhythm here! And 'swinging his hands' gets us into the meter. Again there is a theme of social norms here - the central question 'how do I fit into society' is picked up with the idea that either I am crazy for not understanding this guy, or everyone else is crazy but me; 'What is it with these people?/ Or do I just not understand.'

Another interesting theme here is the notion that a person is what they say - their speech defines them in some way. People are what they talk about, or even HOW they talk. The poem ends with the sense of mesmerizing trance that the rhythmically spoken words can induce - like a spell.

Adolescent09: Blocked
Wonderful use of oppositional ideas such as 'a pole of steel, in my wake' giving a sense of motion and movement, when in fact the 'action' is inert, the will stifled and the characters arrested. This tension builds; words 'flow' and move, as the wind may carry their ideas, but our protagonists are planted in concrete, boxed in and framed.

AdoreroDio: A twenty-one year old runaway
The poem draws you down one chain of thought and that cleverly inverts in the final line, making us want to reread to see if there is any hints that this was to happen! So we must examine the sincerity; the tone from the fifth line introduces the rejection of running away, but line eight is the one to watch - 'perhaps' hints at possibilities, if 12 maybe older still? The poem, while disparaging, 'you cannot run away from life', maintains the appeal; 'bags packed' sounds all too alluring!

Orionsbelt: The Problem
This clever poem picks up on several motifs from the picture and draws them together to develop the theme of polarity - oppositional but connected forces, 'similar, not the same'. I love the lines 'Man made, stone brigade/ Natures shade'. It operates to contrast the artifice and the natural so succinctly, and stone brigade for the steps is wonderful, as is the 'Cascading barriers'. There is a feeling of magnetism from the poles to the orbs, and push and pull of gravity, like some big generator or electro-magnetic engine turning over, and this is picked up by the rhythm of 'Two by two by two by two'

Autolycus: Both ways at once
The poems introduces us to the closeness we share with electrons, having five quantum numbers, and gives us a quantum recipe for humans: Friendships, Hardships, The will, Strangeness, and Magnetism. The rest of the poem seems to examine these notions, and shows that while we are made of the same 'stuff', we are so different; 'Humans can be bond-paired/Humans can be non-bonding'. There is a fascinating rhyming scheme at play here, which changes and develops, shifting like the variations and unpredictability of humans. The instability of humans is examined, and the closing remark sets us at odds with the natural world, which is more fixed and definite. Thus the poem sets out with our closeness to electrons, then in examining that closeness shows that we are in fact opposite.

Petrarch's Love
I love how the weight of experience and adventure is drawn to a an ironic 'Simply asking for a light'! The clever lines 'The white teeth of welcoming smiles/ The white teeth of grimacing pain' show us that things which appear the same can have very different meanings, setting us up for the ironic ending. I also loved the motif of transition: 'To make an army cut a rebel’s shaved head'. The woman here is offered as a willing ear, the man is presented as an perhaps an unwilling speaker, perhaps as one who fails to draw lasting conclusions about his experience. Yet it could be said that the woman operates at a much needed level of grounded reality - while the man is all ethereal experience.

[rintrah]

Needless to say, a horribly difficult choice, and I'm sure you don't envy my job right now. But the conventions of the contest force me to select a single winner, so here goes. Congrats to everyone who participated in this round, your entries were a joy to read!

The winner is autolycus with his poem Both ways at once.

I loved the interesting definitions, the almost scientific quirkiness, the sheer dog-gone silvery slipperiness of the rhyming scheme, and the line 'These are the things which keep our songs alive/ Distill the stuff of dreams from our slumbers' is mesmerizing! Well done!


Introduction

An electron has four quantum numbers,
A human being made of dust has five:

Friendships - number and degree, deception;
Hardships - in sense of quality and weight;
The will - to live, or die, or vegetate;
Strangeness - of the inner mind's perception;
Magnetism - attractive kinds of state.

These are the things which keep our songs alive,
Distill the stuff of dreams from our slumbers,
Make sense of both pre- and post-conception.

Deduction

Given that electrons exist
Here is a little human list:

Humans can be bond-paired
Humans can be non-bonding
Humans can be so very scared
When other humans are responding

Humans can be lone-paired
Humans can be radical in bent
Humans can be startlingly shared
By what seems a human accident

Reduction

I realise I am a singularity
I look out of a window which cannot be:

And I see at once with blinding clarity
Electrons are fortunately not like me.

[Virgil]

Congratulations Autolycus. That was very good and innovative. I like the originality of that.

[Pendragon]

Congradulations Auto! What new picture awaits us now? http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/acc31.gif

[ktd222]

Congratulations Auto!!! A very productive piece:D

[Orionsbelt]

Congratulations Autolycus. I really like your poem. Shape changer ... good fit....

Rintrah - your analysis is outstanding thank you for all of that effort.

[Petrarch's Love]

Congratulations Autolycus! I think Rintrah made an excellent choice. :) Lovely sense of rhythm, with some memorable lines. I also particularly liked the ones Rintrah quoted and the whole "deduction" section.

And, come to that, thanks to Rintrah for doing the work of judging and for giving us all some great feedback.

[dramasnot6]

Congratulations Autolycus! I loved your unique interpretation of the structure of that poem.

[Adolescent09]

autolycus, without a doubt that is one of the greatest pieces of poetry I've seen around here. Terrific job. You definately deserved to win..

[Adolescent09]

Man, the more and more I read these poems, the better and better they get. I'm sorry for double posting but I just had to profess my compliments to everyone. I'm so fortunate to be just a little part of this great site..

[Janine]

Hi Everyone, Good job! Congratulations to autolycus, the winner! Excellent - I loved your unique poem. I have not read all but the entries yet but what I did read I felt highly impressed. I will try to read all that entered this round.
Adolescent09, don't be so modest. I am so happy to see you finally posted and entered the contest. I always enjoy your wonderful insight and sensitive poetry and know you will be an asset to this site.
Will be interested to see what the next picture will be.

[rintrah]

And, come to that, thanks to Rintrah for doing the work of judging and for giving us all some great feedback.

Thanks Petrarch. By the way, I got your PM and replied. Sorry, I forgot to look at it for some time.

[seasong]

Congrats to Autolycus! That was a wonderful poem. I adored it, especially since I've studied molecular orbital theory. It was so fun to see it applied to relationships. Amazing.

[autolycus]

Argh. I've been away submerged in marking term papers... Sorry. I am overwhelmed by the sheer positivity of the comments here. *grin* I almost wish someone had said something negative, but I'm not a saint. I must thank all of you (especially <rintrah> for selecting my poem, and - although I'm not sure how it will be received - <Petrarch's Love> for writing excellence under pressure) very much!

Picture:

http://www.imaginativepencil.com/images/bg_p0500.jpg

Artist acknowledgement: Justin Jenkins, Imaginative Pencil

I still can't get my head around his art.

Deadline: April Fool's Day, 0001 GMT. Thanks!

[ktd222]

Great image, auto!

[Pendragon]

Abstract images... huummmm. Challenging... http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Smilies/rainbow16.gif

[Virgil]

I love that image too. :thumbs_up Fabulous. :)

[Petrarch's Love]

Fun picture, Auto. Should be interesting to see what people come up with.


and - although I'm not sure how it will be received - <Petrarch's Love> for writing excellence under pressure) very much!

And thank you for the compliment, Auto. Can't imagine why it would be received other than happily. :) Congrats again on your win.

[hockeychick8792]

You need to expand! People do not just want to write about a single painting. Sure you may sensor it a bit by giving a general topic, but let the creativity flow through there bodies. Get them to think!!!

[Adolescent09]

nice to have you here hockey, although I really don't know what you mean lol... I hope you have a pleasant time on these forums. They are really great. And yes! Kudos to Auto for the great pic! My poem is already done, but I'd rather wait until other entries are submitted so I can um... steal ideas :D. no..jk.

[dramasnot6]

Very interesting image, I have only just started boiling up some ideas :D Good luck to everyone!

[ktd222]

You need to expand! People do not just want to write about a single painting. Sure you may sensor it a bit by giving a general topic, but let the creativity flow through there bodies. Get them to think!!!

I don't know what you mean, hockey. I thought every poem entered was very creative and thoughtful. Do you mean give them a math problem, or an image that can only be deduced in one way? Do you mean post two images, side by side?

[ktd222]

nice to have you here hockey, although I really don't know what you mean lol... I hope you have a pleasant time on these forums. They are really great. And yes! Kudos to Auto for the great pic! My poem is already done, but I'd rather wait until other entries are submitted so I can um... steal ideas :D. no..jk.

Ahhh! I used to have that ability to write, write, write...but now I'm full of pauses. What happened to me?:confused: I might just have to wait till you post your poem so I can have something to work from.:D

[rintrah]

Nice picture, Auto. I'm looking forward to Adolescent's entry - the speed of your composition has got me thinking about what your first impressions of the picture may be - like when you're playing chess and you're considering your options and someone says 'I can see the move you need to make' . . . and you just can't see it for yourself . . . lol! Hey. Wait a minute. There's a poem there! Can I submit a poem about Adolescent's posting about his poem about the picture? Ha! Made myself chuckle then. Good luck everyone.

[Adolescent09]

I'm flattered by your cynical anticipation for my entry, Rintrah :P I'll be posting at the half of the deadline (a fortnight I think it is?). Then I'll be posting in a week. Goodluck all and keep up your open mindedness :)

[rintrah]

Oops! Sorry, Adolescent, not cynical, just interested.

Here's my entry:

So I got up, shook the leaves from my coat
And made my way up past the Serpentine,
Dappled grey mirror punctured with fat ducks,
And I walked on past Albert's Memorial
It's golden spire stifled by the dim light
And I prayed to the muses that brought me
And gave such triumph to life, such hope.

I thought of the boys of the town, too young
To shave without pain, standing at bus stops
Where the girls smoke cigarettes and dream on,
The clustered noisy chatter echoing
On the black roof tops, the thin slates hanging
Clacking nailbound, clinging to chimney stacks
They appear to adore, they want to save.

And I looked up across the street to the
Albert's Royal Hall, where buses laden
With travelers disembowel their innards
To the sprawl, and I saw some young girls there,
Mothers pestering, steering them to the
Entrance, bags and wire hangers with black sacks
Shielding costumes within I supposed, and
I looked and saw some street performers decked
Out in colours green and orange, leg-swung
And head-high, spinning and poised upon toes
Too small for the feat, and I watched them leap,
Those gaudy marionettes, whirling round
In a froth of pink netting, hair tightened
Back to perfection, mothers looking on
Casting one eye to the seem stitching
Laboriously laid at one a.m.

And I smiled at those girls, their cheeks beaming
Bright red in the autumn air, and I walked
On past Old Albert, making my way home.

[Xeryous]

He was silenced, for a want of faith -
Re-imagine. For the sake of restless states
And crumbling empires.
Settling instead in the dust of shaken echoes
The future foregone, given up to dissolution.
He cannot perceive the light, clouded
As it is by the hypocrisy of now
Against that which had been.

Lost minds, lost souls, by the choking dust
Asphyxiated by unchecked lust
This is all for me.
Ishmaelites. No longer a care
For the benign, in much-malign’d stares
Fateful, awful, dissolution

Awake! And see the poverty.
Our wounds caressed by the tongues of greed.
Awake. In the midst of crashing waves
And howling gales, a slow lament sees us stripped
Of all design, and folly,
Exposed for all we are. There
Are survivors.

[Adolescent09]

That's a fabulous poem Xeryous although I don't see how it ties with the image... I guess different people have different ways of viewing art :)

[Pendragon]

Nice poems so far. Araugggh! Bogged on mine right now! It will come through!

http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Smilies/mute.gif

[mir]

The ideal not flesh
But spirit inside contained
Beauty in chaos of mind

hm. half haiku half tanka . . . ?

[autolycus]

*grin*

Keep 'em coming; what with the view of London and the oddly Byzantine (in the manner of W B Yeats) and the half-tanker (heh heh), I am beginning to feel like the picture looks. And I haven't been on any hallucinogenic drugs...

[Adolescent09]

Here you go Rintrah ;P. At least with this I stand a chance at barely comparing with you! I tried really hard:

In the following poem I present minute descriptive imagery
of the most recent contest picture. All of the imagery (covert and overt)
might not be noticed if read over too quickly, so I'd ask
that the readers/critics/judge read it slowly line by line,
while looking at the picture periodically to notice
exactly what I'm describing. Thanks in advance and good luck
to all. :)

http://www.imaginativepencil.com/images/bg_p0500.jpg

Geometric Tropic Saints

The Pervasive song is mosaic twirls,
warmly inviting Carribean Color,
giving shape,
in form and grace,
to postures painting rainbow wonders,

Taking intuition,
Making passion,
through angular knee
geometry

low rectangle, low triangle,
with outpost block to rest a hand,

a left leg, a swan end,
a high hand, a white head,
one foot down, its three-toed leg

for nature's drift on brick walk,

brown faced sweetness, cocked far left,
in bows of greatness,
in motley's twists,
in oily skins to mark saints' meekness,
in gracious flow.....
http://img353.imageshack.us/img353/4102/aznsigmz7.png
for which it stands

Adolescent09
&#169; 3/12/07

[Pendragon]

Order From Chaos

Vibrant yellow and pink slashes
Form a bodice and tutu—
Seemingly meaningless scrawls become
Dancer’s arms and legs in poise.
Roses bloom among controlled chaos—
Faces finely formed lost in the artistic surf,
My artist’s eye looks for perspective,
That single focused vanishing point.
Note the leg just right off center—
Formed in bold scrawls like all the rest,
Careless, daring, seemingly random whorls.
Focus microscopically upon it just a moment—
Hidden meaning in plain sight may be found—
Naked is the best disguise—
Al Hirschfeld would enjoy the irony.
In his works you find the hidden “Nina’s,”
What message is there hidden here?

Pendragon
© 3/12/07



To show you what I mean, here's an Al Hirschfeld. Can you find Nina? Look closely...

http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/hirschfeld.jpg

[dramasnot6]

Wow guys, looks like some amazing poetry there! Everyone has used such gorgeous imagery, Im going through a little block right now myself but am pretty certain of my participation later on. :)

[mir]

Pen - I used to look at those Hirschfeld paintings all the time!! They're great! :)

[Pendragon]

Pen - I used to look at those Hirschfeld paintings all the time!! They're great! :)I loved them, and was addicted to finding the "Nina's" Nina was his daughter's name, and he incorporated in into every drawing as often as possible. Knowing where to look, I count at least five in this one, with several other possibles. It has been said that Hirschfeld drawings have been used for mental training. If you can find his hidden "Nina's", you are sharp, but that is only hearsay...http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/picasso.gif

Pen

[rintrah]

Here you go Rintrah ;P. At least with this I stand a chance at barely comparing with you!

Love your work as always, Adolescent, particularly "in motley's twists/
in oily skins to mark saints' meekness". I blush at your compliments.

[decon_blue]

She never taught one,
How could she. She was worried.

Still that could not become her fate.
She might have started late.

Tust me, I’ve poured over her ‘form’
(Her thighs are great :)

[decon_blue]

Here's one from the one-frame future.
Sorta...: )

In our father’s sunshine, we were just outlines
In our mother’s orchards, we were shade
My sisters and I, we were free.
Till he came by, taught us why
The sunsets butchery exists.
How we could never die.

[Adolescent09]

Love your work as always, Adolescent, particularly "in motley's twists/
in oily skins to mark saints' meekness". I blush at your compliments.

What can I say? Your poetry shows great imagination. All the poems this round are sounding great! It's going to be a daunting task chosing a winner...

[decon_blue]

...just wondered if there was an art forum out there posting sketches to poetry.

[ktd222]

...just wondered if there was an art forum out there posting sketches to poetry.

Drawings from poetry written? Not that I know of on this forum.

[thefemalemind]

To show you what I mean, here's an Al Hirschfeld. Can you find Nina? Look closely...

http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/hirschfeld.jpg

....i cant see it. :( :( :(

[Petrarch's Love]

All this talk of hidden Ninas has put me in a playful mood, so I had a little fun with this one with a little hidden "art". Great pic. to write on.

"Telling the Dancer from the Dance"

Drawn to the barre like birds to fruited branch,
Alighting with detailed poise and skill,
Nodding, swaying gently as they start the dance,
Controlling every move with focused will
Every muscle tautened into grace until
Limbs turn to lines and color streams from sweat:
Instant metamorphosis when lungs fill,
Veins course and flesh fulfills its debt,
Inspiring the spirit to forget
Nagging sins and fears that it is heir to.
Glowing more bright than eye can see they let
All themselves be transformed and created new.
Routinely, while in quiet practice they devote their hours
The air around them bursts, and moves, and changes with their power.

[ktd222]

"Telling the Dancer from the Dance"

This is a line from a Yeats poem, right Petrarch?

[Pendragon]

....i cant see it. :( :( :( Most obvious one, focus on the center singer's skirt. ;)


http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Nina.jpg



The others are hard, I have seen many of these drawings and know where Al usually hides them, but you might not see them without a real good magnifying glass and some imagination. :) :thumbs_up

[Petrarch's Love]

This is a line from a Yeats poem, right Petrarch?

Yes, it's a shameless paraphrase alluding to the final line of "Among Schoolchildren." Yeats' much finer line is "How can you tell the dancer from the dance" and the complete poem isn't here on Lit. Net, but can be found here: http://www.web-books.com/Classics/Poetry/Anthology/Yeats/Among.htm.

[Dante Wodehouse]

Sonnet by Wodehouse

As the pentangle fades the saints stir souls
Their knee-joints be cufféd, no more to move
Their crowns unfast'ned, invaded by shame
Yet, they dance, life, to them be still the same.

The shackle no more a hurt to the pride
Than humility inflicted by the breast-plate.
As the first light shone Godly, so the saints
In this new light appear to us, the saved.

Accoutered so bravely, they catch the soul's eye,
And in this new inspection they stand firm
Calling their audience like a **** for the sun
'Out come ye, up and rise, strike at the dark!'

Called at by them, the souls up and do rise,
With intent of ill's premature demise.
Their faith leads them, as holy words,
Faith, they are lead, these artificial birds.

This is for the dancing saints picture. I always like, if I can, to throw an unexpected little anticlimax in the end.

[Adolescent09]

I wrote about them as dancing saints as well but took a geometrical side to my stanzas. I don't know what the **** word is for sure but if it is the "S" word or the "F" word (or any other four letter crude/curse word for that matter) it really undermines the poem's overall quality..

[Pendragon]

Wodehouse, it’s a very nice, vibrant poem, but no sonnet. It has the wrong rhyme scheme and number of lines. 'Dole, I believe the **** is for another name for a rooster, which is not vulgar used that way, but still gets blanked out. Happened to me once when I wrote something on preparing a gun for firing, so I remember! That line would be

"Calling their audience like a rooster for the sun" in other words. http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Smilies/Rooster.gif

Call him "Chanticleer" perhaps next time, Wode? http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/dumb.gif

[Dante Wodehouse]

Thanks for the advice. Yes, the word means rooster, but rooster has two syllables, which overides my poem scheme, and is less poetic than the word which I used (I believe shakespeare would have liked it more). I called it sonnet because I wanted to do the 16-lines in iambic pentameter with a rhyming couplet, which is a lot longer of phrase than sonnet, so for succinctness, I said sonnet.

[Pendragon]

Thanks for the advice. Yes, the word means rooster, but rooster has two syllables, which overides my poem scheme, and is less poetic than the word which I used (I believe shakespeare would have liked it more). I called it sonnet because I wanted to do the 16-lines in iambic pentameter with a rhyming couplet, which is a lot longer of phrase than sonnet, so for succinctness, I said sonnet.As I said it is a very vibrant, solid poem. After a re-reading, yes, I like your sticking to your iambic pentameter. It's something I have never really accomplished, is sticking to a precise meter, even in my song writing. It will vary by a bit one way or the other. Don't you hate the way that very poetic word gets blanked out because people misuse it? It's hard on mystery writers to post a story, because you have to invent new ways to say something like this: "Adams jammed his gat to the moll's skull and and thumbed back the hammer. "Make wit th' dough or it's curtains for youse, sweetheart. And shut yer yap!" since you cannot use the other word. :thumbs_up

[autolycus]

What, now I have to cope with missing words in poems too? Not only acrostic sonnets but le coq sportif en la quatraine as well? Oops, I am getting a bit translingual here (or is that a banned word too?)

Keep the poems coming. Hmm, I don't see a judgement emerging before April 6 at this rate... :)

[Virgil]

Picture:

http://www.imaginativepencil.com/images/bg_p0500.jpg



OK here's my entry:


Three Sisters At The Dance

Triple meter unset,
Melody rounds roulette
They turn to pirouette.

Three sisters at the dance
Stop their legs in coy stance
Eyes balk with girlish glance.

Synch in legs, arms and feet
Pitch and hurl to the beat
Fold midriff to a pleat.

Balance, poise, ballet springs,
Mother glares in the wings
Violins sway in swings.

Sister one spins on toes,
Sister two roughly flows,
Sister three down she goes.

To the left arms in crown
To the right swirls the gown,
Butterflies, faces frown.

Giselles cross, interlink
Leotards in faint pink,
Peering eyes cannot think.

Nocturne composes the air,
Applauses from everywhere,
Stirs eyelashes and hair.

Apart in Balanchine space
En Pointe spin into place,
Ankles glissade with grace.

Attenuation sways
Lights in inverse square phase,
Patrons, parents in praise.

Rapid theme swells the breast
Keeps ballerinas pressed,
Cadence refuses to rest.

Staccato in triplet
In accompaniment,
They turn to pirouette.

[Adolescent09]

"Triple meter unset,
Melody rounds roulette
They turn to pirouette.

Three sisters at the dance
Stop their legs in coy stance
Eyes balk with girlish glance.

Synch in legs, arms and feet
Pitch and hurl to the beat
Fold midriff to a pleat.

Balance, poise, ballet springs,
Mother glares in the wings
Violins sway in swings.

Sister one spins on toes,
Sister two roughly flows,
Sister three down she goes."

This first part of your poem sounds so similar to the style i've inherited in my recent poetic works. It's using short stanzas and repetition of words such as "sister" but conveying points of very strong imagery. Isn't it so effective? I like it! Keep it up :thumbs_up

[Virgil]

Thank you, kindly Aolescent. I think it gave this poem a nice feel.

[Orionsbelt]

Well here goes... this one was fun.:cool:



Immersed in a sea of silver blue harmony
Schools of white notes swarm in pastel chord
Currents of color turn symphonious whirlpools
White waves splash cross a sandy sound board

Ride the grey back of the tuba phone tortoise
Hop the bright fin as the angel fish prance
Blue fish staccato then red porpoise allegro
Shadows of manta rays three in a dance

Orange brass ensemble vibrate yellow amoroso
Bright red pitches swirl round the dark green refrain
A dark minor scale fish lead light major dolphins
Stepping the time of the rainbow quatrain

Swim with musical mermaids
Drift river lyric to chromatic sea
Join the ballet of color and music
Rest three beats caper the colorless lee

[ktd222]

It's amazing how certain individual's poetry writing skills are getting better each round. I guess practice does make perfect.:)

[Adolescent09]

"Certain individuals"? I'd say every individual here is getting better with every round. That's no anomaly. And what makes you guess that practice makes perfect? Of course it does..lol

[ktd222]

"Certain individuals"? I'd say every individual here is getting better with every round. That's no anomaly. And what makes you guess that practice makes perfect? Of course it does..lol

No, I mean certain individuals. Practice only makes perfect if you know what you're are doing.

[Adolescent09]

Then again we don't always know what we are doing even when we think we do. This is how practice makes "perfect".. Keep doing what you think is right until you find out the actual way of doing it. The whole object of being a "perfect" writer is writing the way you do until it gets better and better. And technically there is no "perfect", because the writing you think is "perfect" is just going to keep getting better the more you practice. So practice always exists but perfect is the false notion we feel when we believe that practice is no longer needed, which we term perfect. But practice is always needed so perfectness is never sustained.... Writing is all about trial and error so no "certain" individual is going to advance, but mostly everyone who engages any form of avid writing.
________________________________
Well this is my thoughts of that matter. I don't intend on debating or anything because firstly this isn't the topic to do it and secondly, I don't want to, but I just wanted to clarify my view.

[ktd222]

You’re reasoning is moving in circles. Not everyone knows what they’re doing. I’m not trying to ruin this thread by arguing with you.

[Pendragon]

I feel that encouraging people should be the goal of any poetry circle. Myself, I see improvements in everyone's writings as time goes by. To say that there are some here that do not know what they are doing seems a bit harsh, KT. Every poet has to start as a neophyte, get their proverbial feet wet, catch a few criticisms along the way, pay their dues, and improve. Not even Shakespeare came from his mother's womb spouting the lovely prose and poetry that made him immortal. He undoubtably had his flubs and periods of writers block.

Ah, but if we write the words about our friends
And say they have no clue what they do—
The things our enemies shall say may be without end,
And time, alone, the judge of which is true.

Wisdom from the Dragonhttp://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l108/AbsalomKane/Smilies/innocent.gif

[Virgil]

Nicely put, Pen. :)

[ktd222]

Well then it’s harsh. I’m sorry. Do you want me to lie? I don’t see improvement in every person’s poetry.

[Petrarch's Love]

Given the above post, it looks as though ktd is channeling the brutally honest spirit of a certain Unnamable former member. :lol:

[Adolescent09]

Well then it’s harsh. I’m sorry. Do you want me to lie? I don’t see improvement in every person’s poetry.

You'd have to be "perfect" to make a statement like that. You're no one to decide who's getting better and who isn't, frankly because all of the poetry here is good. You say you don't want to argue but you post offensive stuff like this and say "I'm sorry"? Get real. You're just asking for others to argue with you.

And...my extremely simple reasoning makes perfectly good sense once you get past your confounded ego.

[autolycus]

Errr... could we get back to the poems? :)

"To Errr... is human, to forgive is fine."

[ktd222]

What? It is called an opinion. You’re not welcome to it. Frankly, I’m glad I have my own judgment on which poets are making progress. “Perfect”? No. I have an opinion. You have an opinion. You are just taking offense to mine because…well I don’t know why? What does this say about you, your work?

[thefemalemind]

oh my goodness... just stop arguing... both of you.
lets get back to the thread shall we?

[ktd222]

Errr... could we get back to the poems? :)

"To Errr... is human, to forgive is fine."



Picture:

http://www.imaginativepencil.com/images/bg_p0500.jpg

I'm sorry, autolycus. My intent was not to ruin your contest. I think the contest is still open for a couple more weeks so please people, entries are still welcome.

[autolycus]

Thank you! :)

[ktd222]

Here is my entry:



Fundamentally we do not exist.
Compare Nature in our being:
the light which spirals in
to shape our hands shapes
the motion of Her grace,
and spills dawn, and noon, and evening light
into our bodies, shaping, Her radiance,
and whirls our legs, in stars, in bright stars, Her elegance;
and our looks, like blocks projecting:
black black black black black

[ktd222]

Does someone know how to insert extra spacing between words? When I do it in the reply box, and hit submit, the spacing reverts back to single space

[Scheherazade]

Please resolve your personal differences via PMs.

[dramasnot6]

Sometimes i feel that I can over-write. Once i tried to do many different poems in a short period of time and at the end they were pretty bad. I think we can all agree that constructive practice with consideration of the author to improve and actions taken to better one's writing does lead to improvement. I think ktd was just commending people for constructively improving by being more conscious and careful for the second time they wrote in order not to make the same mistakes. It is up to the individual whether to continue making mistakes or to fix them in the course of their practice. :)

and back on track...well done to everyone for some great poems!
Orion- The rhyme scheme is lovely
Ktd- I loved "like blocks projecting:
black black black black black" this last line serves as a great contrast to your description of color in the rest of the poem

[AdoreroDio]

here's my entry:

A whirl of colors
spinning
muscles stretch and warm
toes point
a swish of a hand
the soft thump of a landing
twisting legs
hearts soar
so do bodies
colors dance across the floor
music plays softly
each person dances
to the beat that flows through
their bones
A whirl of colors
spinning
muscles stretch and warm
toes point
but all that is seen
by simple eyes
is a ballet class
but I see different
I see the faces move across the room
their emotions flowing
through their movement
I see the heart
I see the color

I see the soul.

[autolycus]

my only regret is that i can't chuck out many of the posts which are obscuring my easy access to the poetry... *grin*

[Il Penseroso]

Her ankles move
like tufts of string,
a rhythm unravels
as she steps.

The dress defies
its frame of threads,
a gown painted,
chromatic shards
drip beauty like
a morning petal.

And her fingers
dissolve each color,
sweep the rays
like curling waves,
spreading to fill
the yawning moon.

[autolycus]

hmmm... some time has passed
the last pensive post betrays
should i end it now?

:-)

[dramasnot6]

oh please dont! im still trying to finish mine up :( sorry im taking so long...
though if im not done by deadline dont wait about, thanks!

[autolycus]

No problem! Please take your time! I did say 1 April, just after midnight GMT...

[mir]

mm, lovely poems, everyone!

[kandaurov]

Here is mine. Simple rhyme, four feet per line. Hope it's good enough for your attention, since English is not my mother tongue...


The dismal landscape, grey and dark,
He beholds with jovial bliss
The wind that blows fierce and stark
He feels as soft as a heartfelt kiss.

No larks or nightingails, but crows
Whose caws he heeds like lullabies
And as the dreadful night is close
He regrets his sight's demise.

The clouds draw near; they threat to rain
And boom a frightening thunderclap
Though joy he wants to feel or feign
In his soul persists a gap

He tried to run away from pain
But pain pursues his every step.

[dramasnot6]

Dance of life

Red
A tango of touch commences-
Disperses, she writhes-hospital gown billowing around her
Tiny cries muffled by flesh and longing
The curtain falls- the cord is cut
Sweaty lips speak of swollen worries
Heart beats tap out cautious joys

Orange
Ah the giddy tap continues with Astaire-like perfection
Her partner has not missed the cue
She wails with will and wonder
At the sudden spotlight trained upon her
Backstage in the dark there was no performance
No lines, no blocking, no need to kill or die for my public

Yellow
To waltz alone- concerto solo uno
Accelerando! Accelerando!
Liquid gold covers the field
I peel off each soft strand of the clover flower
Sick with spinning I drop to my knees
Drowning in a solar shower

Green
Leap across the moss-streaked stage-Bravissimo!
We pirouette in verdant passion
Scent of sage clouds our senses
Winks and giggles in the fashion
Hair and leotards pulled tight
Unravelled by the rhythm of the night

Blue
Wrinkles sachet across weary skin
Bones creak and hairs thin
Dancers body sinks into deep sea
Tear-stained leotards and stolen grace
A life long shore washing up my plea
Feet ache to reclaim the pace

Indigo
Floorboard echoes
A rainbows shadow
The demise of a decrepit dance
Ballet plunges
Cut-off lunges
Left with shards of stance
Violet

[autolycus]

OK OK I am going to close this competition after giving a bit of leeway for late submissions... *grin*

Give me a few days, everyone. The entries are mind-blowing enough already, without deeper analysis.

Thanks!

[Angie Mae]

Beautiful work posted on this forum. Enjoyed.

[AdoreroDio]

Yes, that was the general idea I believe- winner posts a picture and everyone writes a poem to go with it then the original picture poster judges the poems and chooses the next winner. Read the first post on this thread.

[kandaurov]

[...] winner posts a picture and everyone writes a poem to go with it then the original picture poster judges the poems and chooses the next winner. Read the first post on this thread.

Shoot. Was it? Disregard my poem then, I didn't know about the picture thing :brickwall

[autolycus]

OK, I have not forgotten... I hereby promise to make a final decision this weekend! Grr. Tough tough tough.

[dramasnot6]

Thanks autolycus! Good luck.

[AdoreroDio]

can't wait!

[Pendragon]

Good luck! you'll need it! ;)

[autolycus]

In keeping with the newly-established tradition of agonizing over excellent poetry, I am going to put my thoughts down first, in this post. The next will announce the winner. If I don't get this down now, I shall just drop dead from nervous tension...

Rintrah: Yours is the London of the late-19th and 20th centuries, the London almost of Neil Gaiman and Christopher Fowler; the poem is a poignant balancing act between the poverty of the world and its concurrent moments of richness. I love the narrative style. I must think about the inherent bias I bring to this, though, having been a Brit for half my life. *grin*

Xeryous: I think you see three figures crucified. I could be wrong, but your poem seems to suggest it, and you have taken the picture into the realms of spiritual transcendence. A very thought-provoking piece, very dark against the jolly colours. It is even more disturbing when I opened the text up alongside the picture.

Mir: Heh, this mode of poetry doesn't go well with explicit pictures. But it comes very close to some sort of trinitarian (triadic?) exposition - flesh, spirit, mind. I think your piece probably contains almost the fewest words which can do justice to the picture.

Adolescent09: 'Geometric Tropic Saints' makes a good attempt to capture the meaning woven into the intense emotional colouring of the picture. I especially like the line 'Making passion/through angular knee/geometry' - it made me laugh in pleasure; it just sounded so naughty. ;-)

Pendragon: "Order from Chaos" sounded like part of Mir's poem, heh. Ah, for some reason (I don't quite know why, though), your poem reminded me of Browning's 'My Last Duchess'. That, too, examines a painting. Your poem makes one want to examine the picture obsessively; for that reason, it belongs in a museum guide to such pictures. *grin*

decon_blue: Hmm. Not sure which is your entry, but I was amused by the six-liner that began with "She never taught one,/How could she. She was worried." The last two lines didn't do justice to the first four though, I feel. The second one is a little obscure to me though; maybe I'm just being obtuse.

Petrarch's Love: "Every muscle tautened into grace until/Limbs turn to lines and color streams from sweat..." could almost be about the poem itself, 'Telling the Dancer from the Dance'. Somehow, the cadence gathers to fullness; the whole piece, especially the last line, reminds me of Keats's 'Ode to Autumn', rather than the imagery of Yeats. And it's an acrostic poem too! *grin*

Dante_Wodehouse: 'Sonnet' really reminds me more of Yeats - specifically, -Sailing to Byzantium' - because of the artificial birds, the dancing saints, the sense of pervasive light. The rhythm does a good job of emulating the marionette-like behaviour of the subjects of the picture.

Virgil: 'Three Sisters At The Dance' is a tour-de-force of triplets, I think. But why twelve triplets? *grin* I almost expected 3 x 3. It's a very dynamic poem.

Orionsbelt: Hey, this one was really entertaining. I read it at least four times, trying to see it without reference to the picture. It actually implies its own picture, one which is at least as entertaining as the one I provided. It's a very active, iridescent, kaleidoscopic sort of image that it leaves in my mind. "Orange brass ensemble vibrate yellow amoroso... dark minor scale fish lead light major dolphins... " indeed!

ktd222: Nature in three persons, ending in black. I love the first seven lines, from "Fundamentally we do not exist./Compare Nature..." to "...into our bodies, shaping, Her radiance..." I wonder, though, if you could have done better with the rather too abrupt last lines - "black black black" would have done well left at three, perhaps?

AdoreroDio: I see a dance teacher in the zone... Sometimes, when I look at my students, I feel the sensation which your poem describes. Yours is a very (I hope I do not insult you) teacherly poem. It brings out that particular essence of human experience.

Il Penseroso: There is something very beautiful about the imagery in your poem, especially after "...drip beauty like/a morning petal... " and to the ultimate "...spreading to fill/the yawning moon." It makes me wonder which of the three dancers is the protagonist here, or whether all three dancers are actually one...

Kandaurov: I'm so sorry that you missed the rules. We certainly would welcome you to the next round. Your poem doesn't fit the picture, but it's a very intense piece of writing; it would do well with a little editing to fit another picture, perhaps? For some reason, it reminds me of Virgil's wolf avatar.

dramasnot6: 'Dance of Life' is a marvellous piece, melding rainbow and stages of life. It ends with a fabulous denouément as well. Each of those verses could be a poem in its own right. In fact, personally (and of course, I don't hold you to it!) I would like to see each section developed into a full poem. Otherwise, it seems too great to fit into the small matrix ordained for it. *grin*

[autolycus]

After much agony (and four unmarked stacks of essays which will now return to torment me), I declare the winner of the competition to be...

Petrarch's Love

for an outstandingly developed concept which just 'happened' to have some great lines and manage to be an acrostic poem all at once (http://www.online-literature.com/forums/showpost.php?p=343800&postcount=676).



"Telling the Dancer from the Dance"

Drawn to the barre like birds to fruited branch,
Alighting with detailed poise and skill,
Nodding, swaying gently as they start the dance,
Controlling every move with focused will
Every muscle tautened into grace until
Limbs turn to lines and color streams from sweat:
Instant metamorphosis when lungs fill,
Veins course and flesh fulfills its debt,
Inspiring the spirit to forget
Nagging sins and fears that it is heir to.
Glowing more bright than eye can see they let
All themselves be transformed and created new.
Routinely, while in quiet practice they devote their hours
The air around them bursts, and moves, and changes with their power.

I would have liked to award further prizes; thank goodness I don't have to - seeing as the rising level of excellence makes it brain-bustingly difficult.

Congratulations to PL! *grin*

And now I shall go away and bury my head in a tun of cold beer. Considering that at one point I found myself drafting essay outlines for commentary on some of your poems, I deserve it. Thank you, everyone, for giving me a good Friday night (and the many days before that)!

[dramasnot6]

Thank you so much for all your time and effort autolycus. And also thank you for the wonderful, thorough commentary you gave us all.

Congratulations Petrarch!

[rintrah]

Congratulations PL! Victory well deserved. And thanks Auto for your thoughtful response to our entries.

[kandaurov]

I agree! PL won fair and square, congratulations! Autolycus, thank you for your zeal and patience! I appreciate all the trouble you went through by commenting all poems, even the ones completely off-the-mark, such as mine :D

[Logos]

No, nobody's been naughty...ok well maybe a few of you have :lol: This has been a great contest! but this thread is getting reeeeeeally long (and was started almost a year ago), there is tons to read here, especially for a newbie who might want to join in, so, I think it is time to start off fresh with a new one.

Someone /anyone feel free to start another thread for this contest with the rules etc and maybe with a link to this one too, I will make the new thread a sticky once its been posted :)