Subject Poetry Contest.

[zoolane]

The Lonely Grave.

Lonely grave is were I be.
Cold within the darker box.
Waiting for my time.
To become one with earth.
My bones are hurting cramp in these clothes.
Just laid bear beneath the dirt.

[moonbird]

The Stone Angel

There is a graveyard near my house.
I'm not allowed to play there,
But, of course, I do anyway.

It is an ancient graveyard,
So old that there aren't any mourners left
For the dead who lie below,
Rotting away to dirt
As their stone monuments remain
Cold and brittle above the ground.

The wind has long beaten away
The names and dates
From the weathered old stones,
Because the people buried there were poor
And couldn't afford
To buy nice rock
To preserve their legacies.

There is an angel in the graveyard.
She lives above a grave
Tucked away under a willow tree,
And I can tell she was once beautiful
But now her face is worn away
And her wings tarnished.

I like to sit and talk to her,
And sometimes I wonder
If the girl whose grave she guards
Can hear what I say
But cannot reply
For her voice is only the wind.
She must have been beautiful too.

When I die, I would like to have
An angel above my grave,
One that could last
Through the wind-blasted years,
And children would play on my grave,
And they'd wonder who is buried there
Below the lovely angel
All alone in the graveyard.

[Dark Muse]

The Forgotten Grave

Silently
(as silent as death itself)
they make their gentle
windswept decent.

Each a burst of flame
(brilliance, the last spark of life)
before they cover the grave,
like whispers of a forgotten
soul within.

Beneath the blanket
of sweet aromatic decay
(which ever fades)
in serenity lies the stone.

But its gray is ever
painted anew as the
seasons change,
and the sun alights
the dreary gloom
with the birth of each day.

While sweetly may the birds
sing their funeral hymns
and softly may the rains
awash gathering debris.

Gravestones
may begin to crumble
(even they must return to the earth)
and engravings of names and dates
fade, while flowers long dried
are blown away.

The beauty of life still
abounds unafraid, without
hesitation and now
and than a passing soul
(those still among the living)
may rest a moment.

With the dead and their thoughts
their only companions
and the world briefly
seems to stand frozen.

Even where the passage
of time remains ever
present.

[Pendragon]

With this nice turnout, I will now set the ending date at 9/15/2011. Wonderful entries so far! :nod::nod::nod::nod:

[krymsonkyng]

Out in Domenigoni
beneath the reservoir and buried in years,
there is sunshine and ranchland fields
of summer soaked grass
long sunk and gone.

On a visit to where
my father was raised,
back before his home was bought and buried by Diamond Lake,
my brother chased goats into the field and found
a simple mound
and a lonely cross.

[The Comedian]

Here's mine:

The Empty Tombstone at Mount Hope

Over and down the hill
My friends and I ran
Until we made it to
Mount Hope Cemetery:
A few graves, under the
Wyoming sun and heat,
Rounded by barbed wire,
And that surrounded by pasture.
All flat stones on rough land
Except the metal one:
An iron monument,
Tall, narrow and hollow.
“Sackett” -- the old plate read
On the old gray metal stone.
We twisted the rivets
Off of Sackett’s iron plate
And, one by one, we kids
Squeezed into the opening
And stood on Sackett’s ground,
And breathed the dying air.
When we all had turned,
We ambled from Mount Hope
Like monarchs in the clouds:
Milkweed to Mexico.

[Pendragon]

Welcome! This is Subject Poetry Contest: The Results!

We had a super turnout for this round and I am truly grateful for all of your wonderful poems.

Yesno: A very fine poem from a viewpoint I hadn't thought of: the corpse eye view! Especially liked:


A crypt was now his coat.

jajdude Touching piece. Especially good lines:


I doubt he feels anything now,
under the ground,
or if he does, it's better than the misfortune he endured.


cl154576 I don't recall meeting you before, but you had an excellent poem here, building nicely to the climax:


Tore them from his lifeless breast

until he lay

alone –

zoolane Nice minimalistic poem with a solid ending. Loved the line:


My bones are hurting cramp in these clothes.

Can just imagine a corpse trying to stretch its legs in that tiny, confined space!

moonbird My grandfather made stone angels as grave markers for young children that had passed. Sadly, graveyard vandals have destroyed almost all of them. I loved these lines:


When I die, I would like to have
An angel above my grave,
One that could last
Through the wind-blasted years,



Darkmuse A worthy poem with your usual careful crafting! I really enjoyed the lines:


Beneath the blanket
of sweet aromatic decay
(which ever fades)
in serenity lies the stone.

Reminds us that even death gets destroyed by time.

krymsonkyng Again it is your wrap-up that appeals the most to me:


a simple mound
and a lonely cross.

The Comedian

We twisted the rivets
Off of Sackett’s iron plate
And, one by one, we kids
Squeezed into the opening
And stood on Sackett’s ground,
And breathed the dying air.

Reminds me of my own youth when we cousins played in Round Hill Cemetery and the day the Lincoln's Tomb was left unlocked...

All poems were wonderful and deserving of the win, but I must choose only one: The winner is:

Moonbird You brought back so many memories of my grandfather and his stone angels watching over the lonely graves of children. Congrads. You're up next! :hurray::hurray::hurray:

[moonbird]

Thank you, Pendragon!

Here's the next subject: Homecoming Dance

All the high schools around my house have a dance coming up and the teens are going nuts. Romantic slow-dances, spiked punch... Ah, the memories. Can't wait to see the poems for this one.

I'll set a deadline for October 15. Good luck!

[Dark Muse]

Pageantry

Primmed like peacocks on their fool's parade
petty lives in a vain masquerade
shallowness at the core
gossip for this years whore
waiting to see thier Barbie Queen made.

[The Comedian]

Congratulations Moonbird!

[moonbird]

Congratulations Moonbird!

Thank you! :)

[YesNo]

Homecoming Dance

No need to worry Mom or Dad.
She didn't want to go,
But had Bill Johnson wanted to,
It's something she'd not mind to do.
He was too busy though.

When Bill asked Sarah to the dance,
That didn't seem quite right.
It doesn't matter anyway.
Another guy will come someday
And they'll dance through the night.

[Pendragon]

We danced for the first time at homecoming
I wasn't much of a partner having never danced before
You were gracious to put up with me
And a slow dance was the only thing that I could manage
I think sometimes about the ones who were skilled at dancing
And knew just how to party and "get down"
Now their marriages have failed and their children used as pawns
And we're still together after all these years
So I thank you for your love and for my children
For my home and for the memories that we share
But I'll never forget that homecoming moment
When we put our arms around each other and slow danced

Pendragon
9/21/2011

[jajdude]

What the hell is a homecoming dance?
I didn't attend it; I had no chance.

And when the girls smiled I felt miles behind.

[moonbird]

Today's the last day. Any last-minute entries?

[moonbird]

Here we go!

Dark Muse: A darker take on the Homecoming vanity.

YesNo: Felt almost like it was pulled right from the mind of a teenager.

Pendragon: This felt very honest and touching. Well done.

jajude: Short but not too sweet. I liked the bitterness.

And the winner is...

Pendragon! You're up!

[Pendragon]

Thank you very much, Moonbird, and congrads to all my fellow poets on truly wonderful entries!

The new subject is, in honor of the season, A Haunting
Contest ends November 5th. Good luck!

[breathtest]

His life became parched of
tears and,
like a haunting,
he became a ghost
in his own home.

[Dark Muse]

It Is Not the Darkness I Fear

It is not the darkness
which I fear,
it's solitude has always
spoken to me in a way
I have welcomed openly,
but as Ligeia I have sought
to penetrate its secrets.

Now what was revealed
never can I be blind to,
no it is not the darkness
white I fear, but I have
discovered there are things
which live there
waiting eagerly
hungry eyed
and salivating
for those wandering souls
who have ventured
too far to turn back.

While others sleep
safely in their beds
unaware that the night is alive
with the unseen,
I know they are there
and they can feel me breathing
awaiting for the moment
when they may steal
away with my still beating
heart.

No, believe me
when I tell you truthfully
that it is not the dark I fear,
but it is the ones who dwell
in the shadows which
make me shudder
as I wave good-bye
to the vanishing light.

[moonbird]

There is a creature that has no eyes
Eyes ripped from bloody sockets
And replaced with stones
Cold
Unblinking
Unseeing
Seeing all

There is a creature that has no face
Like chunks of meat, mutilated
Shredded and clawed
Ears hang in ribbons
Flesh rotting away
Blackening
Sick with decay
To dirt, to worms

There is a creature that has no soul
Blown away in the wind
Wispy
Delicate
Like tissue paper
As the sun sits bleeding
And dying crows wail

There is a creature that lives in death
Animation suspended
Choked off, life corrupted
Tainted, stained
Ripped open
Sewn together
Mutated
Ravenous
As it eats

[YesNo]

And Then It Fell

A beetle buzzes overhead.
Both Tom and Bill should be in bed.
The storm torments the moonless night.
The attic never had good light.

Tom says, "The devil likes to creep
Around your soul while you're asleep.
He saves the scary shapes for fun.
He'll get your soul when he is done."

"That buzzing beetle bothers me,"
Bill says, "It bounces aimlessly.
Its noise annoys me. Why don't you
Just claim it is the devil, too?"

Tom's index fingers aim a cross.
"Release that bug!" They're at a loss
Explaining why the buzzing stops.
The light bulb flickers till it pops.

The beetle falls upon the floor.
The boys rush out the attic door.
Are beds a safer place to hide
When beetles want to get inside?

[Pendragon]

I'm going to wrap up this contest a day early, since no one has posted for sometime. First, a big thank you to all who submitted poems!

breathtest A short but great little poem!


he became a ghost
in his own home.

That is how I've felt for a long time now. There's more than one kind of haunting...

Dark Muse

Loved the repeating line that underscores exactly where the fear lies in this case of a haunting!


no it is not the darkness
white I fear, but I have
discovered there are things
which live there
waiting eagerly
hungry eyed
and salivating
for those wandering souls
who have ventured
too far to turn back.

YesNo

Interesting approach, kind of "a logical explanation for everything" and a touch humorous at the same time! Nice!


"That buzzing beetle bothers me,"
Bill says, "It bounces aimlessly.
Its noise annoys me. Why don't you
Just claim it is the devil, too?"

But the winner is: (drumroll) moonbird!

I really loved your description of the creature, detail following upon detail.


There is a creature that has no eyes...
There is a creature that has no face...
There is a creature that has no soul...
There is a creature that lives in death...

Great stuff! And moonbird, you're up!:hurray::hurray::hurray:

[krymsonkyng]

Woops. Ninja'd by the conclusion... Mine wasn't much anyway :D Congrats Moonbird!

[moonbird]

Thank you, Pendragon! I will start thinking of the next subject...

[moonbird]

Sorry for the delay. The next subject will be...

Controversial Issues

By this I mean for you to choose an issue which has caused heated debates recently to write about. For example, I recently read an excellent poem about abortion. Politics, religion, war... Whatever you choose, the more scandalous the better.

Deadline November 30. Good luck!

[Pendragon]

Um, moonbird? Politics is a forbidden subject here on the forum, and religious topics are some of the fastest lock-up threads on the forum due to massive disagreements with little or no compromise, do you think you could choose another subject?

[jajdude]

Ah but Pen, with clever wit, we shall surpass all doubts.

[moonbird]

Well I guess I could think up a new topic then, although if you'd still like to take a shot at something controversial be my guest.

Here ya go, subject numero dos: Rebirth

Have at it!

[Pendragon]

He went to war because he was a patriot,
They shipped him off to some foreign land
No one will ever know just how much hell he caught
Or just how many died by his hand

Somewhere in between the slaughter and the sacrifice
In a blood soaked fog he lost his way
He signed on for two years but he was called back twice
Then his mind just couldn't take another day

The good man died in the dark of the firefight
The one who returned thus reborn
He shudders at shadows, hears faint noises by firelight
Waking up still in the battle each morn

For my Dad the voices beckon and the shadows have come to day
I can't really blame him if alcohol is the only thing that makes them go away...

Pen

(For my father Delmer Neal Harris who never really came home from Vietnam. I lost him in my life then, and for good around 8 years ago. Still loving and missing you, Dad!)

[Dark Muse]

Priestess Walk

I bathed within the sacred fount,
as the sweet waters of Lethe
to wash away the past
and memories fade as one
just woke from a vague dream.

Emerging from Avalon's well
born anew into the world,
blessed within the glow of the moon,
walking from death back into life.

All that once I knew now forsaken,
and all never known before
awakens like a new born spring bloom.

For one brief moment I stood at
the pinnacle where all was one,
past, present future existed in
a single space of time, but now
the time has come to step upon
earthly ground again.

Unburdened by mortal concerns
with the freedom now to walk
upon the path of the Goddess
and follow her into unknown destiny.

[RobinHood3000]

Sitting in the illuminating glow
Fist to chin, eyelid to eyelid,
He pondered.

Were they right?
Could they be?
So many reasons to disbelieve.

Too young. Too naïve.
Without expertise. Without perspective.
But a grain of truth.

The name to the voice
Irrelevant to the
Truth of the words.

He bowed his head.
He had been wrong.
A wiser man now.

(Apologies in advance, out of practice.)

[moonbird]

10 days til the deadline. Keep em coming.

[YesNo]

Rebirth Again

Wheels turning,
Cycles burning
Through the lives we make.

Death, rebirth
On heaven, earth:
Joy is ours to take.

[krymsonkyng]

A born again suicide-girl
decked in spade, heart, diamond and club
trip pants
nursed her illegal habits.

She spent her high school days fawning
on misspent youths
and the highs and company
they offered. But the morning after.

One day she realized
those railroad tracks up and down
her legs
either end in the womb or
in the dirt.

She's clean now.
Her scars are covered in cherry blossoms.
Coy birds and wizened koi flit about her thighs.
Now the only needles she handles are
sterilized.

[cacian]

horizon fills
a picture brill
of nature thrills
ribbons and clips,
further afield
appears the moon
hazy, asleep
looking to board
the skies amour,
the morning dew
captures the moods
of winter drops
wrapping the shades
of flaura's coats
whilst freshest dawn
sums up the scene
and
warmest sun
sparkles the fun

[breathtest]

Please open flower, you are
withered
and I am old.
Make me young,
flower, remold
me.

[IceM]

I am almost finished with my entry and should have it up early tomorrow (I'm from California, in case your time zone is different.) I'll do my best to have it up by noon PST!

[IceM]

A Leaf in Autumn

Like a feather floating in the wind,
the leaf glides along the morning dew,
surfing from drop to drop like an ocean buoy that,
gazing upon the beach’s white banks,
bobs from the perpetual crests
of the afternoon tide.

Coming to rest on the damp earth,
he watches the waking sun
poke through the distant mountain range,
blanketing him in amber rays.

Perhaps this is the end, he thinks.
Shriveling under the blanket,
he now waits for death and decomposition,
hoping someday to be reborn as a blade of grass.

[The Comedian]

Mono

Why not once?
A single bursting forth
In nine months
Would elevate our worth.

Supply-side
Cuts to boost our demand
For one ride
After the infant's arm band.

Life's a game
Of stout, hardcore players--
Still the same
For cocooned, winged flyers.

Not this soul,
Nor this time, and not this earth
Have this goal:
To be again in rebirth.

[moonbird]

I apologize for the brief comments but there were a lot of excellent submissions to read.

Pendragon: A very original idea. I liked the phrase "blood soaked fog."

Dark Muse: Very elegant and lyrical to read.

RobinHood3000: An interesting and solemn poem. Not entirely sure how it relates to rebirth but I enjoyed it nonetheless.

YesNo: Simple yet powerful in its few words.

krymsonkyng: Sad and very lovely.

cacian: Very good imagery complemented by interesting rhymes.

breathtest: I had to read this a few times before seeing its simple beauty.

IceM: Lovely descriptions. I liked the last line.

The Comedian: A bit difficult for me to understand but the gist I got was unique and interesting.

And out of all these the one I liked the best was.........

Dark Muse. Your poem was beautiful and a worthy winner. You're up.

[Dark Muse]

Thank you very much, I will have the next subject up shortly.

[sundarramchand]

Homecoming

Sometimes,
In the mellow and mature twilight of dusk,
Heavy and laden with
tender memories,
One glimpses the rose bud like face
Of morning
with its promise of renewal and rejuvenation
The flames of hope are rekindled
And mysterious evening unfolds

[Dark Muse]

Recently I have been having this fixation with owls, so I have decided to make your next subject "owl"

I know this will be a busy time for a lot of people so I am going to hold off an a deadline and see how things go before establishing one.

[Pendragon]

People claim that the old owl says "Who"
They only show the facts that they don't know
Some eared owls indeed mummer "Who! Whoooo!"
But other have different voices as we will show
There's a owl called a "Screech Owl" which actually wails
There is a "Barn Owl" that actually screeches
Some owls are huge, massive shadows that sail
Some are small enough to hide in a crack in our beeches
An old hollow "Whooooo!" can give me a start
The wails sound like lost souls adrift in the night
The screeches are harsh, demanding voices that quiver the heart,
Silent shadows in the darkness, who scan the woods at low light
So read up on owls, the large and the small
Learn their sizes, their names, and the sound of their call
But you know little or nothing, yeah, nothing at all
If you think that they all say "Whooooo!"
Study their feathers that make them stealthy and quick
Study their eating habits. WARNING: You may get sick!
Study their prey, so tiny and yet so quick
And remember, they don't all say "Whoooo!"

Pendragon

[YesNo]

Owl

Songbirds fear the owl's strike
And torment it by day.
With darkness near the owl's like
Death coming out to play.

[cacian]

OWL

oblongs are wings in flight with speed of light,
willows in awe of such, a wonder bird,
leaps upon cretes are raised in joy of splendor owl.

[sundarramchand]

My thoughts on the possibility of the next subject (Love)

Loving an Amazon

There she was,
The rough tomboy
Could ride the horse
And float with the buoys

This was her fourth
Of many such
Delicate ways as befits a court
And Amazonian (yet maternal and feminine) ways like a butch

A cloth around her neck tied
Like an adventuring fisherwoman dressed
Dagger against her dress pressed
Her opponents like brides cried

Could gut the whale
And cut the wolf rabid
Take care of her followers avid
Yet tame and shear the recalcitrant male

She takes her fifth shot
I am struggling with my second
Her scars the “medals” from battles fought
Mine arise from feelings for her heightened

She treats me by turns
As a fool, a stool pigeon, a clown
And at times an idiot to be controlled by treatment stern
Or more often ridiculed and humiliated for the edification of the town

She hoists me up to be exhibited like in statues
In tarred finery, hugging mannequins
Prompting me to ask : Is My love for her fatuous ?
Am I doomed to be hoisted on pedestals only to be let down by my self indulgent sins

One day, like a painted and (pinned and pained) bird,
I rise on the wings of my feeling seared
I cry out both for myself and the amazon I have loved
Who across the oceans of the world has rowed

Like a ruddy and swarthy female version of Othello
Myself the male Desdemona to whom she at last consents
To relate the tales of the seas , black to yellow
Through which she has sailed up to times present
The characters whom she has met , rascals and saints
And of every hue in between
Her tales were enough to give a delicate lad like me the faints
Telling of a world beyond what he had ever seen

She wonders and marvels at my innocence
Like a diver , she means to torment and bully me out of my shell
And extract the pearls of good sense
That lies buried in my dell

At last we give way to the feelings of mutual affection and love
A mating like that between land and sea
Between the fiery eagle and a gentle dove
Each loving the other, both know “Who is me ?”
The Amazon warrior in star like hues her lover dyed
Who in pain filled ecstasy cried

Zen like, In the morning after,
Things are the same fore and after,
The sun still shines, the birds still sing
But the lovers view it as the beginning of eternal spring

[tailor STATELY]

Unlucky Owls

We brought the owls in
'twas above the hearth
from which they did survey
And lo! before our eyes
our beloved raccoon
was kil't to our dismay

:tailor STATELY

[sundarramchand]

Actually, the whole process of pearl formation in oysters seems to be linked to the following universal themes :

- Creation / Birth following labor
- The act of shedding tears / crying as a cleansing . cathartic process, whatever the catalyst (Of course it may be private and be subdued) and in a sense enriches and realizes our most delicate emotions in a profound manner, no cause is shallow in this sense
- The act of sex

There seem to be actual similarities between the process of tear and pearl formation with the tear drop acting as a metaphysical hologram of reality

[sundarramchand]

Also swarthy is intended to mean wheatish complexioned and not dark

[Dark Muse]

Because I do not know how much time I will have for judging this month and so not to leave people hanging I decided to set the deadline for January 1st.

[Dark Muse]

Thank you to everyone who participated. This one was a very touch call.

Pendragon: A very charming and humorous little poem, as well as being quite educational. I enjoyed the exploration into the various different types of owls and dispelling the common misconception and stereotype about "who." There was a child-like feel to the poem. I cracked up on the line "Some are small enough to hide in a crack in our beeches"


YesNo: I enjoyed your more dramatic approach to the subject in exploring their expertise as predators. I liked the darker aspect of the poem and loved the last line "Death coming out to play."

cacian: I loved your use of the acrostic form for this poem. I thought you had some very beautiful imagery and portrayed the owl in an elegant and haunting way. It was a very worthy tribute to these most fascinating birds.

And the winner is......

tailor STATELY: Your poem cracked me up. It reminded me of something by Edward Gorey. I loved the humor of it and its originality. And the classical feeling of the language of the poem gave it an extra charm which I quite enjoyed.

[cacian]

Dark Muse I thank you again for such a lovely feedback and congratulations to the winner

tailor STATELY
well done a very well deserved win:hurray:

[Pendragon]

Thanks, Dark Muse, although "beeches" are trees and I fail to see the humor of that line! :) :) :)

Anyway, congratulations to tailor STATELY! Our newcomers are showing their skills quite remarkably! :seeya:

[tailor STATELY]

Thank you everyone ! I'll have to look up Edward Gorey.

My inspiration came about over a rough wood carving of four or five owls that we put above our woodstove. The subject of owls being unlucky in the home had come up but ignored. Prior to the owls roosting we had a ceramic raccoon which shared the tile floor with the woodstove. Evidently the roost was too unstable and the wood carving fell directly on the poor raccoon. No more owls grace the inside of our home... in fact, where did the owls disappear to ?

Next subject: music.

[Dark Muse]

Thanks, Dark Muse, although "beeches" are trees and I fail to see the humor of that line! :) :) :)

Of course.....I knew that....I just find trees really really funny, yeah that is it. :ihih:

Oy, I have a natorrious habbit of misreading things from time to time, and somewhere I got it in my head that it said breaches. :blush:

[Pendragon]

Of course.....I knew that....I just find trees really really funny, yeah that is it. :ihih:

Oy, I have a notorious habit of misreading things from time to time, and somewhere I got it in my head that it said breaches. :blush:

I figured you read it as beaches, or even britches! Don't worry about it, no poet of your caliber can ever be said to loose her mind! You may be like me. I read so fast that I find it almost impossible to read aloud, as my mind is already anywhere from 5 to 10 or more lines ahead of my voice. It's a source of great amusement to my kids, who will ask me to read something (and mind you, they are 24, 23, and 21) just to catch the mistakes I make! Wooo-woooo-wooooo! As Curly of the Three Stooges says. :willy_nilly::willy_nilly::willy_nilly:

[Dark Muse]

Music Written In Love

A subtlety of sound,
the memory of your breath
upon my neck, harp strings
quiver in the air and my
nerves vibrate.

The music in your eyes
which your fingers
create, and I recall
each stroke
upon my flesh.

A melody
once written
on a night we were
alone together,
and every note
is a touch of your
lips upon my body.

You have transformed
me into an intangible
infinity, and I hear
my own soul singing
at the end of your
fingertips.

[YesNo]

Music's Entrainment

Pendulums swinging,
Lovers singing--
The music has begun.
Once out of tune
They both will soon
Sway nicely one by one.

Entrainment: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Entrainment_%28physics%29

[cacian]

music be the wave
that drifts you away
to a world of uptunes,
decibels of sounds
filter your rays
and sweeten
your ways

melodic is the ring
that takes you afar
as highs as the
sighs and
strings you a line
of rythmes and light.

[Pendragon]

LET THE SONG BE SUNG

Let the song be sung
when the fingers weave the twilight,
when the moon rises from her bath
and the stars try not to peep.

Let the song be sung
whenever shadows gather,
when the twisting shades entwine
and the night strides out on stage.

Let the song be sung
and the stars and planets tango
while the North Wind whistles his applause
and the ghosts come out to play.

Let the song be sung
from throats and tongues unseen
telling all the sorrowful tales
of the way things are—and must ever be…

Pendragon
(C) 2000

[tailor STATELY]

I'll give this contest 1-more week - final entries by 12:00 mid-night tSst ( tailor STATELY standard time ) February 7th.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

[moonbird]

Pianissimo
A whisper of
Smoke
A shadow
A ghost
Massive in its
Fragility

Crescendo
It swells
Builds
Overlaps itself
And folds over
Enveloping
The world
In sound

Fortissimo
The grand
Moment
The epiphany
Ringing out
Echoing in
Triumpth
Silencing all else
Deafening

Fermata
Infinity
The sound pours out
Forever
Into
Oblivion

Rest
Sound still
Ringing
In the silence

Pianissimo

Diminuendo
Fades gently
And
Dies

[moonbird]

*crickets chirping*

[tailor STATELY]

Again, my apology. I needed time away from the web. Will render judgment soonest.

[cacian]

Again, my apology. I needed time away from the web. Will render judgment soonest.

welcome back tailor STATELY:wave:

[tailor STATELY]

Thank you cacian.

So many wonderful poems. I enjoyed them all. In order:

Dark Muse - Passionate and poignant.

YesNo - A wonderful synchronicity.

cacian - If I might hazard a modest rewrite:

music is the wave
that drifts you away
to a world of uptunes,
decibels of sounds
filters your rays
and sweetens
your sways.................................... (I had a vision of dance while reading)

melody is the ring
that takes you afar
as high as the
sighs and
strings you along
in a line
of rhythm and light.......................... an allusion back to "waves" and "rays" earlier

Pendragon - I really liked this poem. What distracted me was the date (please forgive me).

moonbird - I must say that the last line "Diminuendo Fades gently And Dies" was a bit abrupt for me. Perhaps: Diminuendo Fades gently and yet live on in one's mind...
or something to convey that the music lives on even when not at the auditory level.
.
.
.
And the winner is: Dark Muse... Congratulations !

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

[Dark Muse]

Thank you! I will have a new subject posted soon.

[cacian]

Thank you very muchtailor STATELY.
I agree the poem needed a rewrite and it reads better now!:)


congratulations Dark Muse :hurray:

[Pendragon]

congratulations Dark Muse

[Dark Muse]

Thank you cacian and Pendragon!

Ok next subject is Photograph

Tentative Deadline is March 15th

[Pendragon]

Frozen image, forever chained
A moment in time where time has no meaning
People long gone, events long past
Captured for posterity by light and film
The windows of the soul, sealed in a golden frame
Watch over me daily from grandma's wedding day
Dad looking so young, my mom at sixteen--
He has passed death's barrier, and she's gone grey
That little boy with the ball and bat
Now has kids of his own, and even grandkids
I stare at our photograph, and wish from my heart
That time really could stand still for us...

Pendragon
(C) 2012

[YesNo]

Memory Required

I wish I brought my camera but
I left it in the car.
The leaves were changing by that fall,
The river flowed, the sun pushed all
Our futures from us far.

A picture would be better but
My mind will have to do
Recalling on this winter's day
Those times now gone, the very way
I felt while there with you.

[cacian]

an image came into the light
and caught on time a camera lense
it flashed a ray of colour pearls
and turned into picture frame
a perfect shape
a perfect place
the view it paused was scarlet fame

[moonbird]

There is no time
Only a memory

Our smiles are frozen
Captured and printed
Colors enhanced
Flaws corrected

Immaculate
Eyes glittering in the
Artificial sunshine
Toes in gritty sand
Bleached white

Arms around each other
A ruse of affection
A white lie
To make life sweeter
With a bitter aftertaste

Manufactured beauty
False perfection

The camera flashes
Whirs

We pull away

[Dark Muse]

Thank you all, this was tough as there were some really good entries.

YesNo: I liked the way in which you created the idea of a mental picture, and I thought there was a touch humor in the idea of having forgotten your camera. The end I found to be quite touching. I really enjoyed you capturing the changing of the seasons, but I have to say I did find some of the line breaks a bit awkward in reading.

cacian: I thought this was a beautiful poem. There was something quite original about it and I loved some of the descriptive language you used. I particularly enjoyed the line "it flashed a ray of color pearls" I liked how you captured that moment of the picture being taken. Rather than just describing the picture itself I liked the way this seemed to be from the point of the view of the one behind the camera snapping the photograph.

moonbird: I loved this poem you used some great and powerful language to convey your thought. And I very much appreciated the fact that your poem reflected my own cynical view that I often take towards photographs. I very much enjoyed your point of view on the subject. I really liked these lines "A white lie To make life sweeter With a bitter aftertaste" I also really enjoyed the ending, it leaves the reader something to ponder about, it left me with questions about the people in the photograph and what there story was. I like the things which one could read into the poem.

But the winner is...........


Pendragon: I thought you did an excellent job in creating the essence of a photograph. The first lines really leapt out at me and caught my attention enticing me to want to read more and I thought the last lines were a fitting end which rounded off the poem. You had such vivid language which captured the feelings of melancholy which a photo can often create and using words were able to create a mental picture in the mind.

[tailor STATELY]

Congratulations Pendragon ! and everyone else; what wonderful poems.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

[cacian]

Thank you DarkMuse for the feedback!
congratulations Pendragon!:smile5:

[Pendragon]

Thank you, DarkMuse, and one and all.

I want the next contest to focus on REMEMBERING, for good times, or for struggles. Good luck, God bless, and Best wishes.

[BookBeauty]

I'll tell you something,
And make it good,
A day in the life,
Of a memory's bad mood.

It starts with knowing,
You've got it all figured out
Check off the list,
Leaving no doubt.

As the day wears on,
There's one thing amiss
Then another and another,
Who says ignorance is bliss?

Suddenly it seems that
You're losing your mind,
And you thought that your memory
Was one of a kind

Well,
Turns out you were right. :D

[YesNo]

Finally Getting Over It

Remembering what Joey did
With his sweet Suzy lingers on
Except he's now no longer mad
But glad that crazy Suzy's gone.

[cacian]

in the beginning there was nothing
in the middle there was something
and in the end it was little but known
that remembering synergies of love
is everything that meant,went and
faded against a sentinelle of laughter
the make up of faster safer and better
if only the end was lighter
it would make a figure say louder
the words that lay hidden in jouster
if only the middle was later
the beginning would have waited
longer
remembering each moment that
spheres around us
for us
and reaches up to us
in motions of slow
in time for a new
end

[jajdude]

Good and bad the laden spirit carries through its time,
and through its time the laden spirit carries right and wrong.

It reads those rights, it rights those wrongs,
it tries, it falls, it makes up songs.

The laden spirit carries these.

[Thomas Novosel]

Of swings or things,
she wore an abundance of sunflower rings,

her love was that of a dove,
when she hugged me,
we were as snug as a slug in a miniature golfers glove,

But once upon a stormy afternoon,
I sat till dusk and let my hopes flutter high like a balloon,
my devotion was met with no one but a silence which was that of doom,
and so she left me and my heart would begin to stutter,

so now i sit and recollect,
of days gone and when emotions did collide,
and how my love is now a sunken wreck,
which is why i am alone,

becuase no matter how far anyone will trek,
no one may ever resurrect a defected heart like mine,

______________________________________________
whoever made this post is awesome...

[Veho]

Hello, so I'm very uncreative so please forgive my amateurish attempt:


Thinking of that summertime
How I wish I could forget
You made me a daisy-chain
That night I ran and left
Now, when my memories fade
And my wish is coming true
I take out your wild gift
To remember me and you.



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

[Pendragon]

Very nice entries, and wonderful to hear from new poets! Contest ends March 31. Keep 'em coming!

[breathtest]

I don't know where to start.
If I start at the beginning
I'll have nothing to tell for a while
but then it'll end with a bang. But
if I start at the end the story will
slowly fizzle out like life
and hope and endings.

[Dark Muse]

Dreams of the Dead

A remembrance
of the sunlight,
now becomes but a distant memory
muted and beyond reach,
a soft saffron dream
which seems ever more to begin
to abandon me, while existing
in eternal night.

Where there is silence
once there were voices,
a tickle like the rain never more seen,
or at moments a roar as the long
ago seas.

And how vivid was the color blue,
it was endless, but do I still
remember the subtle shades,
of has it been reduced now only
to a word within my mind,
an impression that once in the world
something known as blue existed.

There is no color here, there is nothing,
but the dark earthy smell of decay
and the cold comfort of solitude,
do I yet still remember childhood
aromas that lingered through the kitchen.

So it seems that the dead still do dream.

[moonbird]

Oh, my dear girl,
My mother whispers softly,
How I miss those sweet days
When you were so young
And I would sing to you
To make you go to sleep.

Oh, dearest mother,
I think but do not say,
How I miss those lost days
When you were so pretty
And knew very well
That you'd never sung to me.

[Pendragon]

Contest now closed. Extremely close race, hardest decision I've ever made in a poetry judging! Here goes:

BookBeauty Welcome to the contest 1Loved these lines:


As the day wears on,
There's one thing amiss
Then another and another,
Who says ignorance is bliss?

YesNo A captivating hilarious poem! :rofl:


Remembering what Joey did
With his sweet Suzy lingers on
Except he's now no longer mad
But glad that crazy Suzy's gone.

cacian Wonderful beginning!


in the beginning there was nothing
in the middle there was something
and in the end it was little but known

jajdude

Great lines here:


Good and bad the laden spirit carries through its time,
and through its time the laden spirit carries right and wrong
....The laden spirit carries these.

Thomas Novosel First, welcome to the competition! you had some fantastic lines:



so now i sit and recollect,
of days gone and when emotions did collide,
and how my love is now a sunken wreck,
which is why i am alone,

Veho Welcome to the competition, good to have you! Not the least bit amateurish! Loved this:



I take out your wild gift
To remember me and you.

breathtest Very strong beginning:


I don't know where to start.
If I start at the beginning
I'll have nothing to tell for a while
but then it'll end with a bang.

Dark Muse Always your sweet, lovable, macabre self!


There is no color here, there is nothing,
but the dark earthy smell of decay
and the cold comfort of solitude,
do I yet still remember childhood
aromas that lingered through the kitchen.

moonbird I won't hesitate to declare your poem virtually perfect for this contest. Two memories, same event, differing perspective! Bravo! :hurray::hurray::hurray:YOU ARE THE WINNER! :hurray::hurray::hurray:

And moonbird's winning poem once more:


Oh, my dear girl,
My mother whispers softly,
How I miss those sweet days
When you were so young
And I would sing to you
To make you go to sleep.

Oh, dearest mother,
I think but do not say,
How I miss those lost days
When you were so pretty
And knew very well
That you'd never sung to me.

[cacian]

Pendragon thank you for the feedback.
moonbird well done and congratulations!!!:hurray:

[Veho]

Yes, thank you for your comments, Pendragon. :)
Well done, moonbird! Well-deserved!

[moonbird]

Thank you! Wow, I almost didn't enter this one, but I'm glad I did.

Our next subject will be macabre.
Deadline April 20.

I hope to get lots of entires. Good luck everyone!

[YesNo]

Disposing of the Remains After the Interrogation

The lack of sleep wakes sadness to its grind
Of nervous pacing, wishing he were fed.
He's blamed but then he can't hear what they said
And words that weaken spirits are not kind.
His anus opens as they hope to find
If they could squeeze some shame into his head,
And blows make sure that sleeping on the bed
Would make him wish they'd knife him from behind.

And then there comes that final contact on
His head which breaks without a warning shout.
Their spit now stains his blood that flows around.
His wife's in pain and wonders where he's gone,
But should they care if she cannot find out?
They'll lay him where he never will be found.

[Pendragon]

Danse Macabre

Around the silent headstones
in the cold moonlight,
burnished bones gleaming with unearthly glow;
they dance to the beating
of each fearful heart that’s pleading
for this nightmare to simply vanish! Enough!
But as the rat-tat-tat of the heart continues
and the blue lights flicker
on the top of every tomb,
the shades weave in and out of shadows
in a ghastly tarantella,
the moonbeams dancing with them
in unrestrained revelry.
The heartbeats pick up the tempo
and the dancers keep the rhythm,
finger bones all clattering, clinking
like Spanish castanets;
whirling, spinning, bowing
‘til the heart reaches a crescendo,
and the sleeper jerks awake
with a horror filled scream!

Pendragon

[Dark Muse]

Lost Beyond the Sea

Annabel Lee, she haunts me
in my dreams, her name a whisper
within the night, the death bringer
upon owl wings, hath stolen her
soul away.

Yet her eyes, as dark as the
waters of the sea, drawing me forth
into the abyss, burn through me
in accusation, and as I breathe
I know I am condemned.

The Hanged Man, my shadow
waits upon the black sands of the
hour glass, he grins contemptuously,
bitter the laughter of the Fool of the Damned.

What I have lost, that can never be found,
I watched her slip away from me,
my Annabel Lee, a wisp in the wind.

They came for her as I knew they would,
it had been foretold by the gypsy's fortune,
and the night before I awoke amid raven
feathers.

Rather would I embrace oblivion
than move corpse like through another
day, while the nights are a torment to me
for how her name, my Annabel Lee haunts
my sleep.....

[jajdude]

These are your bones, I presume,
and those of your children

While I step over them and recall
how well they tasted,
I feel no sympathy.

I was hungry then and I still am,
the meat was good but they were rude.

They cried while I enjoyed the food.

[moonbird]

Reminder that the contest ends April 20th. Keep those macabre entries flowing in!

[miyako73]

Last Will

Weave a hammock
Out of my hair
For the oak tree.

Then Pull my skin,
And write on it
My saddest poem.

Dry my guts
And make leis
Of sweet marigolds.

Into the sea,
Let my blood flow
With the waves.

Leave my flesh
For the garden ants
Not for the vultures.

With my bones,
Grow roses and lilies
For my dead eyes.

[moonbird]

Results time!

YesNo: That may be the creepiest sonnet I have ever read. Not a form I would have expected for this subject. Way to think outside the box.

Pendragon: I actually was thinking of Danse Macabre when I suggested this subject. Great minds think alike! I definitely enjoyed your poem.

Dark Muse: I expected you to do well with this subject, and I wasn't disappointed. Very grim, very dark. Well done.

jajdude: Is it just me, or it is impossible to read this poem without picturing it being recited from Hannibal Lector in "Silence of the Lambs"? I love how you completely made it work with so few words.

And the winner is...

mikayo73: The other pieces were great but yours stood out to me. By far the creepiest, most macabre entry, in my opinion. I simply loved it. I look forward to reading many more of your pieces in the future!

[miyako73]

Thanks, Moonbird. I'm humbled by the poetic quality of other entries specially Dark Muse's and Pendragon's. I propose the following:

Subject: Imagined City

Deadline: May 10

It can be a city of the past, present, or future or of all three dimensions defying the linearity of time. It can be nostalgic, realist, futurist or whatever you want as long as it is imaginative and about a city peopled by humans.

Thanks again.

[Pendragon]

Nay, mate, ye won that contest fair and square! Congratulations!

[cacian]

congratulations miyako73!!
great choice of topic by the way, 'Imagined City' is a great title, will think up few words and see what I can come up with!!

[Dark Muse]

Invisible Cities

We watched the invisible cities
falling from the sky
and knew our world was starting
to crumble into ruins,
standing upon the edge,
the street becomes a tidal wave,
rising up, towering above,
before it starts to come crashing down.

Something was lost along the way
now it was collapsing in upon itself,
as we ran through labyrinths
of corridors seeking an escape,
but at every turn there was another dead end.

We have become trapped within the dreams
of our creation that have now moved beyond
our control, and showers of glass fall
each one reflect another shattered perception.

They speak of castles in the air
but we wanted so much more, and gone too far,
beneath our streets civilizations dwelled
and above our heads a floating metropolis.

Architects without limitations, but it was
only a matter of time before it began to crack,
and now cannot get past the layers,
every way out is another way in,
every exit is an entrance in disguise.

[YesNo]

Finding One's Way to the Mountain

The morons that he lives with in this city
Are more than what's required to make one mad.
They do deserve his scornful, restless pity:
What's stupid is too dumb to know it's bad.

But life can make a mountain move within one.
Today he sees the springtime every where.
The city's still the same but he'll begin one
Special journey through the wonders there.

[MystyrMystyry]

A Magickal Place! This Ancient Realm!
Old Atlantis' Sister, Mountain Paradise
Where none shall visit nor none leave
The Watery One it survives in Legend
Which Mystickal Towne bene unknown
For Today Tomorrow and of Yesterday
Enshrouded in cloaks of crystal mists
Striated plateaux in mirrored octaves
Towers of Volcanic Obsidian embedded
Brick-size Jewels and Gems construct
Rivulet roadways snake them around
And in Sapphire Palace a Wizard Dark
Cast spells to promise it eternal hid

[jajdude]

There's space enough, no clutter here,
no shuffle, no ugly crowds
with their rudeness and disdain;
no arrogance that casts its spiteful
weak shadow upon strangers.

Ah, but this is still a city,
and these are still people,
fanciful and falling, each and every one.

[cacian]

a place somewhere
a room of great
a city where
nature has born under
a ray of skies and birds
a house with flairs
that looks a rare
but has a glare
history fares
a road ahead
in stones and bray
it takes you there to
river and planes
sanctums of lanes
wholesome and sane
they lead you to
stairways
of sun and river airs

[miyako73]

A Magickal Place! This Ancient Realm!
Old Atlantis' Sister, Mountain Paradise
Where none shall visit nor none leave
The Watery One it survives in Legend
Which Mystickal Towne bene unknown
For Today Tomorrow and of Yesterday
Enshrouded in cloaks of crystal mists
Striated plateaux in mirrored octaves
Towers of Volcanic Obsidian embedded
Brick-size Jewels and Gems construct
Rivulet roadways snake them around
And in Sapphire Palace a Wizard Dark
Cast spells to promise it eternal hid

The language used and the images conveyed are creative and imaginative, and they work. I can paint this poem on a canvas. What a unique landscape of a city imagined!

Thank you all for your entries. Congratulations, Mystyr.

[MystyrMystyry]

Thankyou Miyako

Congratulations to everyone!


Up next: Pluto

[YesNo]

It used to be a planet, but
It ain't no more. And you say, "W-H-A-T!
Those rocket scientists don't know!"
No doubt they don't, but even so
Does Pluto care? And either way
Why worry what the critics say?

[cacian]

pluto is always a miss
when it comes down
to writing down myths
one time it's plato
and the next it's
a pluto
greeko is rico
let's call out
a cludo for a scene
down in tricot

[Dark Muse]

Lord of the Underworld

He dwelt
among the shadows
within his halls
decked in gloom,
hallow-eyed souls
bemoan man's shared fate,
enthroned upon the
bones of the dead.

[Delta40]

I was told
that pluto was cold
but I thought how odd
when pluto's a dog!

[jajdude]

Pluto: Hey you guys, I feel left out.

Neptune: Well, no doubt.

(Uranus: Nah, too easy.)

Saturn: Ha, should have got a fancy ring.

Jupiter: Bigness is my thing.

Mars: Sorry, dude, you got the boot.

Earth: We have life and tons of loot.

Venus: Look at me, I'm so hot.

Mercury: I'm burning here in a sunny spot.

Sun: Shut up, you stupid planets, I rule.

Universe: No you don't, you silly fool.

[Pendragon]

The planets once were were nine in number
We were taught all this in school
But frosty Pluto has been downgraded
A planetoid, yet not a planet
Perhaps Pluto is a moon
That serves a planet we cannot see
And still discounting frigid Pluto
The planets nine remain
Pluto an anomaly

Pen

(c) 5/12/2012

[moonbird]

Dead frozen eye of
Hades

Lord of Death's
Unbeating heart

Twisted soul
Of Beelzebub

Diseased ice of
The cushing vacuum

Blackened corpse
Of the Underworld

[tailor STATELY]

http://i129.photobucket.com/albums/p219/bomrox/Number9c.gif?t=1338285982

With apology for the size;any smaller and it degrades and I wanted to keep the format.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

[MystyrMystyry]

Sorry everyone, but I'd completely forgotten about this!

You've all put in such incredible effort that I've had a tough choice, but there was something about an invisible planet for which Pluto served as a visible satellite and indicator which got to me the first time I saw it, and I still think it is a wonderful leap!

Congratulations Pendragon!

[Pendragon]

Thanks, MystyrMystyry!

Next subject: Solitude Think outside the box and dare to be different! I'll set a close date later! Good luck

[Dark Muse]

The Voices

At last the voices stop
the world holds still
and darkness enfolds,
the voices which followed me
wherever I go,
no longer tormented by their
tittering, taunting, whispering,
no more pushed and pulled,
in a heart beat I succumb
to serenity, pure silence
uninterrupted, finally
free to think my own thoughts,
in a single breath
I find peace at last,
blissful nothingness,
freedom from the
sneering, jeering voices,
at the end of the noose,
it all dissipates
and there is only myself
and quiet at last.

[YesNo]

Solitude

How goes it, dude?
Hey! Don't be rude!
You know that I
Hate solitude.
I don't know why
I never try.
My jokes aren't crude!
Alright. Goodbye.

[jajdude]

And the word was solitude,
Was it given by god,
or was it an idea?

When solitude was in the mood he danced,
and he flew, he took a chance,
He decided the given attitude was against
all the things he wanted to be

So he went on his way,
He declared solitude was a mood,
One he'd choose.

No one touched his mood.
No one touched solitude.

[cacian]

solitude a harsh of crude
finds itself untuned and fueled
departed solo for a muse
only to find no single dude
to keep it lary and amused
and so it went back to find a bude
a something to do and unimprove

[cacian]

Bump!! haha

[Pendragon]

I have to say this one has to go to jajdude. what a wonderful poem!

Congratulations jajdude

[Pendragon]

Ah, well, I contacted jajdude by PM advising him of his win, but he hasn't ever replied. Since that was sometime ago, I declare him in default, and the winner of the contest is now Dark Muse! Congrats! jajdude, you snooze, you loose

[Dark Muse]

Oh thank you, I will gett thinking on a new subject

[Dark Muse]

Ok next subject is

"Masquerade"

[Pendragon]

I wake up crying each morning,
And stare at my face in the glass
It'll never do to show red eyes and tears,
So I cover them up with a mask

Today someone will ask how I've been,
I'll lie and say I'm doing fine
I'll give a crooked smile and tell them I'm happy,
To cover that I want to cry

I'll run into people that have wounded me,
My masquerade won't let them know
Under my painted face sorrow is hidden,
I'm damned if I'll let it show

I'll laugh at their jokes, talk about anything,
Bury my feeling so deep
Smiling outside but under this mask,
I find myself wanting to weep

At the end of the day, I'll return home,
Where my mask will fall from my face
Go crying to bed, get up the next morning
Continue my lifelong masquerade

Pendragon
(C) 7/21/2012

[ampoule]

Bian Lian

You say I am a quick changer,
too many faces, too many places
for you to hold on to.

You grasp and squeeze too tightly,
I schmooze and ooze between your fingers,
you shake them off, amazed.

You watch with fear succumbing,
my crafty craft molds your audience,
first one thing and then another.

You want to walk away, maybe run,
but you are too mesmerized by me
my many masks, entertaining.

You soothe me into dreamy sleep,
upon your bedside perch you search
the secret doors of my hidden faces.


ampoule, July TwentyFirst, TwoThousandTwelve

[YesNo]

Dance

While algae's greening in the swamp
And ogres in the forest romp,
The villagers would have a dance,
A masquerade, and take a chance
Some ogre with a fairy might
Pretend to waltz then start a fight.

They've never liked each other much
Although it's heard they sometimes touch.
It's even heard they sometimes kiss!
But I'd doubt all reports of this.
It's rumored that they even love.
What can these fools be thinking of?

The dance will give them roles to play.
For some there might be words to say.
It's safe to meet behind disguise
To look into each other's eyes.
Of course, they know what each has done,
But from the present, who can run?

We'll have that dance, no matter what.
Yes, worried folks will worry, but
Tonight we'll take a chance on change.
Let something, somewhere rearrange,
Then, whether they like it or not,
They'll get the love they've always got.

[cacian]

masquerade

masquerade
does it parade
amongst the fails
smile to hires
and then erase?
or
does it loom trials
aloof for miles
and then delude?

masquerade
it's such a rade
over a way
that lures
in ruse
but
then drop
fumes
over
a truth

[Dark Muse]

Pendragon: A very truthful portrayal of the subject. I think everyone to some point can relate to this. Who has not played that game before, hiding their feelings, pretending they are fine when really they are not. I enjoyed the honesty of your words, it was emotionally moving.

ampoule: I quite enjoyed your take upon the subject. I loved the concept behind the poem, and there were aspects of it I could relate to. There were some really good lines here. I particularly enjoyed "I schmooze and ooze between your fingers,"

cacian: Very original, as always I enjoyed your rather unique voice as well as your use of language and vocabulary. I enjoyed the way in which just as a masquerade can impart a sense of mystery, your poem itself was elusive.

and the winner goes to.......

YesNo: I loved the fantasy aspect of your poem. I thought it was a charming approach to the subject which made me chuckle at times. It painted a very lovely and whimsical picture. I rather enjoyed the idea of the fairy and ogres having to play the part of enemies, while becoming secret lovers.

[cacian]

Dark Muse thank you for the lovely feedback and congratulations to YesNo:hurray:

[Pendragon]

congratulations yesno

[jajdude]

Congrats yesno.

(been away for a while, still alive)

[cacian]

Congrats yesno.

(been away for a while, still alive)

Hi jajdude nice to see you back and alive :p

congratulations YesNo

[YesNo]

Thank you, Dark Muse! I've been traveling and missed this. Thanks cacian, jajdude and Pendragon!

I have been hearing news of the Mars Curiosity rover with one of its mission goals being to look for fossilized microbial life on Mars, so the next subject is

Aliens

Deadline: Sunday, September 9th, three weeks from now.

[Pendragon]

Alien Invasion

They came from beyond the bright, shining stars;
From the planet D’vork, the land of their birth—
Traveling with a technology that was uniquely theirs
To the tiny blue speck that we know as “Earth”.
They moved into orbit around our small world,
And spied on us with their scanners and scopes.
From the mountains to the depths of the oceans they scoured—
Now dashing expectations; now raising new hopes.
They even swooped down on nights damp and muddy
And hovered in the tree line, just out of sight.
In the hope of capturing new specimens to study,
And return in the concealing hours of the night.
All of this to answer a question that their scholars had often discussed:
“See! I told you man didn’t evolve from us!”

Pendragon

[cacian]

aliens spin
a game of dice
they see through
wins but can't
device
the human shield
is deeper cast
it's steel and deemed
unmoved for life

aliens feel
they must trespass
but can't conceal
the earth is vast
its roads are heights
rockfelt and mast
impossible
seems real fast

[cacian]

Anymore entries here would be great!

[Dark Muse]

Starchild

From where do you come
my strange one,
with galaxies in your eyes?

You who are of Nowhere
and yet Everywhere
are no Earthbond one.

You speak in tongues
but it is not mere gibberish,
the significance of your words
is something felt not heard.

You died too soon
and lived forever,
laughter in the rain
and tears in the sun.

Your beauty was painful
to watch, and awkwardly
you seemed aware
while doing your best not to care.

And every shooting star
broke your heart
in ways that were beyond
comprehension,
but silently, quietly
understood.

All you ever wanted
was the impossible,
and somehow when you
asked, was that too much?
It seemed absurd to say yes.

It was destined to be over
long before it begun
and though we could
never forget you,
and it all seemed like
a strange waking dream,

We never quite believed
you had been here at all
and too late we realized
we never remembered your name,
and just perhaps you never
had one.

[YesNo]

Thanks for all the entries! It is time to pick a winner.

Pendragon: I liked the story of the aliens from D'vork which built up to the unexpected ending in the last line.

cacian: I liked the phrase "impossible seems real fast" that I think is related to the game of dice and perhaps chance that life happened at all, if I understood correctly.

Dark Muse: I liked the contrasts used to describe the star child such as dying too soon yet living forever or not remembering its name or perhaps never having one. They added mystery to this creature.

They were all good entries, but I have to pick one, so the winner is

Pendragon

Congratulations! I enjoyed the last line which to me was totally unexpected.

[cacian]

YesNo thank you very much and Pendragon congratulations!

[Pendragon]

Thank you YesNo and cacian!

Now I know this subject is very dark, but give it a chance. I am in the middle of extensive study of the Jack the Ripper murders. Recall that there were at least five victims, dozens of viable suspects, no one ever convicted!

So the subject of the next round of poems is:

Jack the Ripper

[YesNo]

Jack's Victim

She hoped her poverty would end
But knew that could not be.
Jack slid the blade. It left its mark,
A message that when hearts grow dark
They act so needlessly.

[Dark Muse]

Jack the Ripper

Does the eye deceive
or was there a flicker of movement
beyond the shadows
amid the London fog,
hanging heavy,
like the taste of fear
in the air.

Hollow footfalls ring
upon the cobble stones,
but what is that faint
eccho that seems to follow,
a sudden silence, strangely
ominous, bated breath.

Relief floods,
giddy laughter wells up,
as fear dissipates,
the carriage appears,
gentlemanly smiles,
an offered hand.

Dawn rises,
sprinkled sunlight
splashes across
blood stained stones,
where the body lies,
wayward lass,
eviscerated.

The last sight
she saw,
a gentleman's smile
in the dark fog.

[zoolane]

Jack My Name.

Jack my name,
ripping is my game.

On mist full night with candle in it glass cage.
With my yummy ladies of night.

With my tall hat with swoosh of my cloak.
Silence strike with silver in the beam.

Against the they flesh with ruby flowing to cobble streets.

[Jaked]

It was the perfect crime,
but it slayed him to know
that they'd never call him
by his real name.

[jajdude]

Jack came through the dark,
and all he wore was black, and sad.
He was a son of a b-itch,
Rode on through the clouds.

His mother was a drunk,
She drank low spirits.
He blamed her of course.
He was a son of a b-itch.

And so he came through the dark.
He had his butcher's knife.
Let the games begin.
He was a son of a *b-itch.



(edited 'cause couldn't type "b-itch")

[Pendragon]

OK here are the results:

YesNo: Nice little poem that reminds me of poems printed at the time of the murders, in 1888

Dark Muse: A chilling account of what could be any of the murders

zoolane: I liked it, but the last line throws me

Jaked: Interesting, and I'll bet, true

jajdude: And a cold SOB at that!

One winner only can be chosen:

DARK MUSE you captured the horror that was Jack the Ripper best of all :seeya::seeya::seeya:

[Dark Muse]

Thank you very much, I will think of a new subject soon.

[Dark Muse]

Ok since it is almost October, the next subject is

"Graveyard"

[Pendragon]

Innards

With precision the surgeon aligns the knife,
For the operation intended to save your life.
They make an incision deep into your skin,
And pull it away to peer within—
For they want a look at your innards!

Now you lie in the morgue all cold and still.
And the Coroner comes in for his usual thrills.
He slices you open from pubic bone to throat,
And spreads your body-cavity open like a sacrificial goat—
He wants to examine your innards!

They bury you deep in the damp moldy clay.
But the worms will come around one of these days.
With tiny mouths they burrow through your skin,
Desperately trying to get within—
They want to devour your innards!

Pendragon

[cacian]

graveyards
troubles passed away
silence has it laid
for pains to step away
to a quiet den and slow
adjourned they shall grow old
and fall apart and go
there is a place for all
no matter how grave the fall
a place where hurtful
blows
decide to stop
forever and for all

[YesNo]

Walking Through St. Paul's Churchyard in Manhattan

The rain and wind attacked the stones
That marked where George and Sarah rest.
Somewhere their flesh and fragile bones
Decayed. The gravestones did their best
To let us know who's lying where,
But weather wore their faces bare.
These markers still have much to tell:
The chapel stood when towers fell.

[Jaked]

Sorrow wanders absentmindedly down the grassy lane
lost, perhaps, in her daydreaming;
she stoops randomly, pulls weeds, picks flowers:
daisies, dandelions, a black eyed susan.

She pauses, inhales earthy scent, recalls Passion,
his bed, another loamy scar,
saline kisses; Sorrow licks cracked lips,
treads lightly past her stoic sentinel.

Closer, Sorrow slows, slips off her sandals;
wears goosebumps, mourning dew’s tears
upon this sacred ground, Sorrow’s mistress,
tightly grips her bouquet of memories.

Laughter, a glint of sunlight, Sorrow catches her sound
darting here and there through the mist,
she blushes, caught in her infidelity, lays her bouquet,
bends, and gently kisses Laughter’s head.

[Dark Muse]

Thank you all, there were some great poems here to choose from.

Pendragon: I loved it. I very much enjoyed the darkly humors twist of your poem. I laughed out loud throughout the whole thing. A very fun and entertaining poem which approaches the topic death with a light hand and a sense of humor that I can appreciate.

cacian: A very elegant and beautifully written poem. I enjoyed your use of rhyme. I also quite liked that almost serene feeling that your poem catches. I really liked your interpretation of the subject. Death as the great equalizer and a means to offer peace at last.

YesNo: I enjoyed the way your poem told a story and I thought your poem was very atmospheric. It captured some very nice imagery and I liked the visual image which it produced in my mind.

And the winner is......

Jaked: This was beautiful with some wonderful imagery and really great lines. It was very moving and emotionally provocative. I really liked the way in which it balanced teh feelings of sorrow with the offerings of hope. A vividly descriptive poem.

[cacian]

Dark Muse thank you very much and congratulations Jaked!!

[zoolane]

Well done to all and congrats Jaked.

[Jaked]

Thank you very much, all. Well done to all the entrants.

Continuing in our seasonal theme, our next subject will be:

"and all (s)he heard was hollow laughter..."

(You do not have to use this line in your piece - this is the subject - but you may use the line if you wish.)

I look forward to seeing where folks will take this...

The submission deadline will be Halloween, 10/31, and the winner will be announced 11/1.

[YesNo]

Hollow laughter. Hallow ground.
From the grave came not a sound.

[Dark Muse]

Padded Cell

Forsaken in the darkness
where hope has no meaning
silence becomes a fiend
obstinately taunting,
but the voices,
they are a comfort,
abandoned by all others
they remain, always there
always a reminder,
even in the deepest darkness,
in the pit of despair
she is never alone,
the hollow laughter
becomes the only sound she hears,
but she never becomes aware
that the laughter
is her own.

[cacian]

hollow laughter
it bounces
real faster
ready to strike
fuss
when sound is
hushed
and all else
is rushed

[moonbird]

how jealous must be the night
for only can she echo the day

like a shadow, trailing limp
behind the sun
chained to its ankles
dragged along

i hear her laughing
but it is hollow
only a thin reflection
of the jovial sunshine
and her face
pale, lovely
as her needle-thin beams of
light

[Pendragon]

Fractured Fairy Tale

We've all heard of Cinderella
The mice for horses and the pumpkin coach
But reality isn't always
In the tales that get told the most
Stepmother and sisters came home, found Cinderella in rags,
Legs astraddle an pumpkin, whip in hands
Mice attached with long white string
And she smiled as she cracked the whip o're their heads
Now stepmother and girls stood in shock
At the ruin of Cinderella, staring up into the rafters
The girl smiled manically, "Fairy!, Fairy Godmother!" was all she spoke
The cellar rang with hollow laughter
Froze even their cold hearts solid
Stepsister One used the telephone
The guys in white coats took Cinderella
They wonder if she'll ever go home...

Pendragon
(C) 10/28/2012

[Jaked]

Drumroll, please, it is time for the results!


YesNo: A fun little minimalistic poem. I like the play between hollow/hallow.

Dark Muse: A haunting and profound piece: "she is never alone...but...the laughter is her own." Well done!

Cacian: An interesting piece. I really like the lines "when sound is / hushed / and all else / is rushed."

Moonbird: I really like the notion of night being a shadow of day!

Pendragon: Ah, Pendragon, a fun piece as usual. Like passing a car wreck on the interstate, I cringed, couldn't bear to look but just couldn't help but gawk!


Great entries all, but there can only be one winner... And this time it is: Pendragon for ruining the story of Cinderalla for me!!! ;) Congratulations!

[Pendragon]

Sorry, Jaked, just meant to fracture the tale a bit! :lol: :lol: :lol:

Next subject... Mad Scientists
I'm taking that from a line in the novel Frankenstein by Mary Shelly, viz: "It was on a dreary night of November that I beheld the accomplishment of my toils." There is no obligation to include this in your poem except by your own choice. Good luck

[YesNo]

The world outside need never know,
Asleep, amused with dreaming.
Bartholomew has left to go
Back to his work and scheming.

His back is bent. His robe is white.
His giddy eyes are red.
His victory will come tonight.
"Hey! Bart is not in bed."

The calculations look OK.
The chemicals stand ready.
"I'll show them death without delay,"
He laughs. His hand is steady.

"You've solved the problem, sir, I trust?"
His servant Terry wondered.
"I have and all that's evil must
Obey me now!" Bart thundered.

"That's nice, but now we have to take
You back to bed," scorned Jim
Annoyed by all the fuss some make
To fantasize with him.

[Pendragon]

I give up! This one goes to you, YesNo. Sorry about the lack of competition...

Pendragon

[YesNo]

Thanks, Pendragon, even if I was the only contestant. :) Hmmm. Now I've got to come up with another subject. :idea:

Ah, I've got it! The next subject is


Autumn

Deadline: Sunday, December 16th

[cacian]

Congratulation YesNo and what a 'cosy' subject it could not have been better.
Will see what we can do.

[cacian]

autumn world
__________________________________________________ ______________________________________


autumn
a promise of a simple
rose
it comes in bows
to drench our lows
its colours symbols
of our hopes
it swiftly glows
our deepest worsts
and luminates each
life with growth

autumn
a lightful prose of
winds that blow
slightely
drifting cones
to rows
and lifting leaves
to skies in lows
bringing nature
to expose
feelings of a simple
rose

[Dark Muse]

Autumn Lover

She was the November lover
but Autumn was always the season
of the dying, and she found only
coldness was left to greet her now.

No more flowers were in bloom,
while the flame within her heart
began to fade she fell, it seemed endlessly
among the fire colored leaves.

While the trees appeared in shades
of crimson just like her dreams,
the world spun as she closed her eyes,
bitter the early frost upon her breath.

It may be the last exhale she ever breathed,
while the color dissipates from her waning cheeks,
only those bone chilling biting winds
are left to touch upon her flesh in subtle mockery.

She died for love on the cusp
of the season which whispered of decay
but her grave would lie beneath a shroud
of natures beauty, beneath the gloomy skies,
as melancholy of the last beating of her heart
she was covered in all the shades of the sun.

[Pendragon]

Autumn Sonnet

The trees break out their glad threads
For one last ball before they go bare
The evening brings frost that everyone dreads
There's a touch of Winter in the air

The last of the flowers bloom and they fade
The migratory birds begin to drift south each day
The squirrels pad out the nests they have made
The hoar frost turns the mountains silver and gray

I'll sit by the fire with a good book
Sip coffee laced with rum to keep warm
I see out the window the ice on the brook
But Autumn has never caused me any harm

Autumn brings dog days, the summer is gone
No one ever mentioned that they were so long...

Pendragon
(C) 11/24/2012

[cacian]

anyone here to add a piece?

[tailor STATELY]

Before the Autumn Storm

While staring
out my window
a stir of wind brings
hundreds of brown
leaves carpet-bombing
our property
I think then of the
sound of singing
rakes to follow
soon after
the storm

11/27/2012

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

[prendrelemick]

Autumn in Yorkshire

Whoosh
What was that?
That was Autumn mi lad!
Mists and mellow friutfullness?
Tha can forget it!
We don't have any of that up North,
Fall! Them leaves don't fall,
They get blown into Lancashire,
I 'ope tha's got tha coyle in
And thi longjohns on,
It'll soon be September.

[moonbird]

We sat in silence
Watching the leaves fall
And the gentle grace
Of their quiet descent
Moved her to tears

They fell like rain
And whispered in the air
And kissed the earth
With a lady's soft lips
And the autumn wind blew

[miyako73]

Ah! Silence, solace, solitude--
I learned from the old woman
By the half-opened window
Watching the yellowing leaves,
Touching the lost gust of wind,
Waiting for long-gone Autumn.

[YesNo]

Thank you for the entries! This was very difficult to judge. I enjoyed all of them.

cacian: The "o" sound in your poem hypnotized me and made me read it multiple times. I felt the last word should have been "rose" rather than "flows" to tie this back to the beginning, but that might have broke the spell. I counted the meter as five lines of iambic tetrameter in each stanza after the word "autumn" regardless of the line breaks.

Dark Muse: I could feel the melancholy in the last stanza and yet peacefulness in the portrayal of the shroud made out of all the shades of the sun.

Pendragon: This was a nice sonnet. I liked the idea that autumn never caused harm. It is one of my favorite times of the year.

tailor STATELY: I remember seeing trees drop their leaves almost overnight in some cases which your poem reminds me of.

prendrelemick: Being unfamiliar with the geography of England, I looked up Yorkshire and Lancashire after reading this. I see the wind must blow from east to west in that area. Nice portrayal of place.

moonbird: I liked the idea of the leaves being lips that softly kissed the earth.

miyako73: The "lost gust" and "long-gone" sounds pulled me into this poem along with the "s" alliteration of the first line.

These were all very nice and I could see a good reason to pick each. Thanks for submitting them!

Since I was enchanted by the sound that kept me wanting to reread her poem, the winner is cacian!

Congratulations!

[cacian]

YesNo thank you so much I am so glad you enjoyed the piece.
I see exactly what you mean by ROSE and so I put it back instead of FLOWS to tie it back. It sounds much better.

OK the next subject is:

ART

Good luck:seeya:

[YesNo]

On the walls of this cave
In the dark let me place
A red sign from my heart with my hand.
May these halls show we're brave
Like this mark, like my face.
All is fine. Till we part here we stand.

[Pendragon]

Self-Portrait

Charcoal pencil is used to sketch the outlines
Of the points of central focus in the painting
I am designing. The pencil moves quickly, creating shadows.
I leave the paper white in areas I intend to highlight
As the work progresses. Slowly, surely the picture gains definition.
I love abstract surrealism! It makes the viewer decide.

Blush is best for the first gentle wash, before I decide
More fully on the colors that I will need to outline
The image. Painting is like photography in resolution and definition.
The correct color choices and technique—and is it a painting—
Or a photograph? The shading and the highlights
Must, of course, be perfect: Not too bright and yet not too much shadow…

A medium grey is what I almost always choose for shadows—
The world itself is far too dark. One must decide
On a method of proceeding from shadow to highlights:
Back light? Front? Side? Diffused? This will determine what part of the outline
To darken, and what part to leave alone. Each and every painting
Must have something that catches the eye, a defining

Characteristic of its own. In color, some art seems to defy definition.
Perhaps it would be better rendered in black and white, to focus on shadow.
But one artist should never criticize another’s paintings.
What we disguise as “criticism” is truthfully and decidedly
Merely professional jealousy! Ah, the painting has begun to emerge from the outline.
It is a self-portrait in shadows! Now for the highlighting!

Banana-cream is a color I like to use for the purpose of highlights.
It mixes well with the shading, and brings forth real definition!
The places I left white in the charcoal outline
Become gloriously shiny; the others softly fade into shadows.
There are not quite enough shaded areas, I decide.
I pick up another brush and turn back to the painting.

My pallet is a rainbow of colors, though few are required fir this painting.
Grey, white, blush, sepia, blue, and of course banana-cream for highlights.
That’s about it. The eyes of my portrait stare at me as I decide
Whether or not they need to be a bit more clearly defined.
No. They are sad blue-grey orbs, surrounded by dark shadows.
But the face in the painting is mine, ever outline.

Self-portrait. By definition, then, the man in the painting
Is me. A pale, sad face outlined by very heavy shadows.
Perhaps, I decide, turning back one more time, just a little more highlighting…

Pendragon
Copyrighted Material

[Dark Muse]

The History of Art in Words

The colors melt
down the walls,
fading, loosing focus,
realigning, sharpening,
obscured, twisting
into new dimensions,
shapes emerge,
redefine,
hover, collide,
appear and disappear,
hard edges,
smoothing out,
organic,
geometric,
a face,
a distortion,
mismatched,
nothing but lines,
loopy, sweeping,
graceful
or ragged and bitter,
as tears upon a canvas,
a hidden grim smile,
beauty,
grotesque,
masquerading
truth and lies,
revealing and hiding
evolving.

[tailor STATELY]

Art Reflection


Art is a lark -
a creative park
of mind expanding
subjectivities

Spin-dizzy or melded
forms glazed
and fired
Ming, Qing, and
Dave the Slave

Splashing colours
or dots Seurat whatever
canvas' imagine;
challenges:
Lillies on a pond, faces,
textures - Dali spectres
rampant form

Literature with or without
poetics: creations evoking
mimsies and whimsy momies:
Invoking Sapphic prose to
Dickinsonian poems
Keat me, beat me
with Milton and His
monstrosities; Shelley
comes to mind...
Don Quixote upon
a rampant thesaurus

Quilts and rag-a-tug rugs;
patches and threads
warp weeping wefts
Need a clew ?
Weave me a tapestry
to stain my walls

Acetylene hardened
plasmas or blobs of liquid
cooling glass -
creations of fire; and
sculptures formed
of building up and
or tearing down -
a gnarled hand: with hammer
and chisel,
rock, plaster, wood, and steel
noble wetted cardboard
Smokes sting the eyes
turn the nose
Tongs

Wires walking on air; mobiles -
life in the balance...
with wings!

Chimes ching-a-ling
sing with a voice
that can make one sigh

Curlicue notes
denote and ascribe dance or tap or cry
blues zep adele-like yo-yo ma
Psychedelic lyrics: songs
kaleidoscopic fly and
linger

Wagnerian plays
entertain cats and fools
Verde: the green master
Comedy and tragedy
intertwine
Ballet

Art: A reflection,
a celebration, of life well
trodden - a dance amidst
strife and laughter
and light

12/27/2012

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

[cacian]

Ok I must admit all three entries are delightful and interesting reads. It is been a difficult choice to make for all three are worthy of winning but there is only one winner and it is this time the winning goes to PENDRAGON!! . The piece is entertaining and simply smooth floating to read.
Congratulations PENDRAGON and thank you all for posting such great poems:smile5:

[Pendragon]

Thank you, cacian

The Next subject will be "Legends" Anything from Bigfoot to Paul Bunyan, Pecos Bill to Mothman. The word "Legend" must appear in the poem! TWO WEEKS. Good luck

[cacian]

in a world of legends
nothing stands a pagant
against
a name
defiant
famously painted
drastically fainted
through pages densely
a mind is waited
over a history
that's long gone hastly

[YesNo]

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

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

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

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

[Dark Muse]

The Girl Who Loved the Man From Far Away

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[moonbird]

The artist works.

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

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

The piece
Is begun.

[Pendragon]

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

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

[cacian]

Congratulations DarkMuse.

[Dark Muse]

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

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

Thank you very much.

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

[Dark Muse]

Ok your next subject is Fear

[Pendragon]

What Is It?

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

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

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

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

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

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

What is it?
FEAR!

Pendragon
Copyrighted Material

[cacian]

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

[YesNo]

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

[Dark Muse]

Dealine Feb. 15

[cacian]

This one is due.:)

[Dark Muse]

Thank you all

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

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

And the winner is......

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

[Pendragon]

Thanks, Dark Muse

Subject: Imagination
Cit off date: March 17.

[YesNo]

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

[tailor STATELY]

Imagination
"... that inward eye Which is the bliss of solitude"
- William Wordsworth (from "I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud")

On a woodstove once
uniformly black
Now aged on its sides
to gray and lesser grays
amoungst the black
There abides (easily
conjured up by the
imagination) the image
of a rabbit in twilight
before a great hole -
gazing upon runes

Sometimes I'm the rabbit
contemplating the unknown;
other times, like Alice,
I follow into a world
already created, or soon
to be, separate to mine own

3/1/2013 r.3/2/2013 r.3/12/2013

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY


http://i129.photobucket.com/albums/p219/bomrox/HeatStove_rabbitHole_pix_resized.jpg

[cacian]

let the imagination
fly
it should encounter
high
and when it comes back
down
it will enchant me
with
its voyages of shere
eternities and
still be
my companion will
to free my self to real
wihtout it I am
hill to mountains
highest tiers

[Pendragon]

OK

YesNo: Loved the opening line

"When you haven't a clue, pretend."

Tailor:

This is great!

"Sometimes I'm the rabbit
contemplating the unknown;
other times, like Alice,
I follow into a world
already created, or soon
to be, separate to mine own"

cacian:

Love this transition:

"and when it comes back
down
it will enchant me

But in the end there can only be one:

Drumroll:

Tailor STATELY congrats! That sometimes Alice sometimes the rabbit was brilliant!

[Melanie]

...yes, congratulations tailor stately!
I thoroughly enjoyed your poem along
with the rabbit image on your wood stove.
Fun to see the image that sparked your
imagination, ultimately leading to an
awesome last stanza

[cacian]

tailor STATELY congratulations!!

[tailor STATELY]

Thank you all !

Next subject: Spring

Deadline April 15

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

[Dark Muse]

The Shades of Spring

I can see the colors
of the sound of rain
in various shades
of blue and green,
muted gray, and sprigs
of yellow like dandelions,
which make firecrackers
as the waters burst open
upon the ground.

I can taste the tingle
of new life, the earthiness,
something soft and wet,
small, indistinguishable
microscopic raptures
which break forth from
the darkness.

A fragrance stirs
within the air,
it is subtle, yet undeniable,
at times even overwhelming,
and I feel myself falling
amid the daffodils,
cast adrift upon the sea
of green valleys.

I touch the very air,
beneath my finger tips
at first it is hard-edged,
it is sharpened steel
but it tempers into warmth,
it is malleable, even soft,
it becomes feathers
that I may dissolve into.

[YesNo]

Another chance to make things right
The rush of spring delights to fight
While patience once more has to wait
And trusts this dissipates old hate.

Hope is what spring stands upon.
The past at last is winter-gone
And buried fertilizing those
Who rise above last winter's snows.

Life moves freshly over ground
Summer warms with lively sound.
Autumn harvests stand mature
Judging hopes for love impure.

Winter's isolation brings
Loneliness to cover things
With white what once was springtime's best
When winter lays what's spring's to rest.

[Adolescent09]

Another chance to make things right
The rush of spring delights to fight
While patience once more has to wait
And trusts this dissipates old hate.

Hope is what spring stands upon.
The past at last is winter-gone
And buried fertilizing those
Who rise above last winter's snows.

Life moves freshly over ground
Summer warms with lively sound.
Autumn harvests stand mature
Judging hopes for love impure.

Winter's isolation brings
Loneliness to cover things
With white what once was springtime's best
When winter lays what's spring's to rest.

Phenomenal stuff, YesNo. It is going to be hard to compete with your poem but here goes...

O! Justice to Javert at the River Seine
by ©Adol09

One preached "a cube"!, Physics retorted "a sphere"!
Morality teaches a view, judges learn not to hear
I am akin of Javert on the River Seine
Fishing for truth on the great divine

From what branches of justice do ethic's fruit spring?
From what crystal chords, do angel's lungs sing?
So many questions need answers in so little time
So willing am I to cast doubt from a pole with no line

---

How the heck I just came up with that, I have no clue. Maybe writing while tipsy can work wonders :p.

[cacian]

springs imagines
suns of athens
goddesses of Florence
and singapors of pageants
turn hither to salute
in vigour the Nile
to river
from flowers of tannin
to colours of saphires
birds in satins
to choir in matin
the atmosphere is
melic
springs imagines
the world is magic
and
history
is lavish

[Pendragon]

Tiny fragrant flowers, bright colored birds
The feeling that Spring brings is superb
Soft warm rain, a rainbow sky
It comes in a flash then says goodbye
So I listen to birdsong, smell the lilac
Inhale the aroma of newly mown grass
Enjoy the showers, the warm spring sun
Because summer is hot, and it's next to come

[cacian]

I think time is up for this contest. :)

[tailor STATELY]

Yup. Back with the results asap.

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

[tailor STATELY]

Dark Muse -
I can see the colors
of the sound of rain... and sprigs
of yellow like dandelions,
which make firecrackers
as the waters burst open
upon the ground. and

... becomes feathers
that I may dissolve into.
Fanciful and surreal; all the senses come alive; and daffodils!
and dandelions!

YesNo - Your rhyme scheme worked well throughout.
Enjoyed this:
Winter's isolation brings
Loneliness to cover things
With white what once was springtime's best
When winter lays what's spring's to rest.

Adolescent09 - I found these lines memorable (note my small edit):

From what branch of justice do ethic's fruit spring?
From what crystal chords, do angel's lungs sing?
and
One preached "a cube"!, Physics retorted "a sphere"!
tickled my sensibilities. Seine/devine grated on me a little; funny that time/line did not.
The last line reminded me of a time of depression when I went on a fishing
trip just so I wasn't alone, but declined to bait my hook - negating the bother
of catching anything. O! Javert, thou racked with double-bind torment unto death.

cacian - I found this surprising, and quite charming (note my small edit):

to choir in matin
the atmosphere is
melic
spring imagines
the world is magic

Pendragon - Loved this:
Tiny fragrant flowers, bright colored birds
The feeling that Spring brings is superb
Soft warm rain, a rainbow sky
It comes in a flash then says goodbye

Your poem made me wax melancholy for some reason.
My lilacs are intoxicating - near in full bloom. I've found delicate blue
flowers only millimeters in size hidden in the green grasses - their fragrance
lost 'cept to a pea pod fairy.

Amazing poems from all: and the winner is after much deliberation: Dark Muse

Congratulations to all !

[cacian]

Thank you very much tailor STATELY and congratulations Dark Muse :)

[Dark Muse]

Thank you! I will get the next subject up soon.

[Dark Muse]

Ok next subject is Still Life

[cacian]

still life
breaths height
nature is bite
to quiet
that's light
energy tice
rise
slow may wise

[Pendragon]

Apples to oranges
Peaches to pears
Blueberry garnish
Grapes every where
Starfruit to Kiwi
Bananas to plums
Cranberry here and there
Durian smells some...

[cafolini]

Still the stiff achieved
the hard salami status

[Melanie]

Gallery Archives Room
Keep Door Closed!
when left open
all of the Still Lifes
leak out and
~daNcE~

[Adolescent09]

Still Life : Red Queen Hypothesis

Pallor caresses the youth's cheeks
Her heart skips bumps on celerity's ride
Paradox pens chapters in an ageless creed
Concerning the intent to bustle by staying still

---

This is an abstract poem on one of the principles/tenets of genetic and evolutionary theory.

[YesNo]

While frantically thinking that thoughts should be still
Unnerved that the brain won't report to his will
The monk in the cave in some mountain up high
Reacted and said that he might as well die,
But death wasn't ready to give him relief.
There's nothing to justify fantasized grief.
His lonely, cantankerous, mind's having fun
With no one to blame for those thoughts except one.

[Dark Muse]

Thank you for the entires so far. You have until May 5th if you have not already entered

[cacian]

I believe this is due. :)

[Adolescent09]

Since this is due
if you don't post soon
I will resort to socking you
with my rancid rhyming poo!

[Dark Muse]

All great entries, it was a difficult task.

Pendragon: I rather like the way in which the compassion of the various different fruits also bring to my mind specific colors which can be associated with each of these fruits. In this way the poem really draws upon many of the different senses which I enjoy.

cafolini: An amusing and suggestive poem A fun play upon words.

Melanie: I really like how there is an almost surreal quality to this poem. I think it is a great concept.

Adolescent09: There is some wonderful descriptive lines here, and I enjoy the clever use of language. Very skillfully written. Captivating as well as thought provoking.

YesNo: I love the originality of this poem and the way in which it went in quite a different direction. A great concept

And the winner is.......

cacian: This is beautiful and elegant. It creates quite a vivid image within my mind. The words are captivating.

[cacian]

Dark Muse thank you very much!!:)

the next subject is:

blue bell

deadline: 31st May

Good Luck:seeya:

[YesNo]

The long way through the woods led me
To bluebells growing peacefully
Beneath the open canopy
Where leaves were yet to sprout.

The wrong way through the woods would be
The one that frolicked carelessly
Through bluebells so the fairies see
They'd have to get me out.

[Pendragon]

The Bluebells ring in the woods in Spring
And the harebells tinkle all down the lane
The trumpet vine really sounds divine
As the Fiddleheads play in the shade

Wearing a Turk's Cap a tiny chap
Dances in a Fairy Ring all alone
The Dutchman Pipes are finally ripe
And Jack in the Pulpit's voice intones

The Bluebell's call to one and all
The Monk's Hood's all attend
Lady Slippered feet as the Fairies meet
In their little meeting in the glen!

[Dark Muse]

Bluebell Dreams

I become lost in your dreamy skies,
sleeping beneath the sweet elixir,
bluebells chime their lullabys,
and somewhere inside,
I know they are all lies.

But I can only see fields of blue,
one forgets the distance
between the earth and the heavens,
but it is only an endless delusion.

Like the shifting colors of your eyes,
while drinking honeyed and flower wine,
here within the carnivores mouth
we all succumb to sweet little offerings.

[Adolescent09]

This Bell’s Life

One coarse ore block temper’d fine
Its pear-like visage seeks for peace
it strikes to summon the slaves of God
it uncloaks the laud of oppressive Brits
It lays by the clouds to bathe in blue
while the seraphs sigh as repenters rue

[Melanie]

Blue-eyed Belle

There once was a blue-eyed belle from the South
Who was born with a silver spoon in her mouth
"mah darlin', I think
Mah petticoats, pink
Should be covered in mink or I'll pout."

[prendrelemick]

Little Sis

Remember picking the wild bluebells,
Little sis?
Dancing in and out the woodland's dappled light,
Skipping through the bright forest glades,
Hands blackened by gummy sap,
wading knee deep in pale blue.

Remember how their green stems turned to white,
As we drew them from the dark mould,
How the bells shook a silent alarm,
When we tore them from their birth bulb,
Great armfulls we gathered,
Giddy with the excess of plenty,
Leaving careless trails of discarded plants.

"Some for Mum, some for Aunty Ivy,
"And for Grandma and for Fred",
We piled up the heaps of our generosity,
Greenwhite stems already wilting,
Pale blue flowers darkening to purple in death.
Then we found a wood ant's nest,
Newly awakened in the spring sunshine,
And ran to find sticks to poke it with.

[cacian]

OK after much deliberation I must say that all entries were excellent and fun to read and therefore a very close contest and hard to decide. but there can only be one winner and that is:

prendrelemick
I enjoyed the little story going on and the imageries within the piece which took me back to my childhood and flower picking. nice piece congratulations!!!:)

[Melanie]

...Dancing in and out the woodland's dappled light,
Skipping through the bright forest glades...
beautiful image...I wanna do that...
yes. right now. why not. dancing and skipping and twirling. Be right back.
congrats prendrelemick

[Adolescent09]

Grats prendrelemick! That was a wonderful entry :)

[prendrelemick]

Thankyou. It was one of those which wrote itself, almost.



Next up, a message.

[Dark Muse]

Accidental Delivery

The first time it happened
it was quite subtle, a postcard
came within the mail
from a place I never heard of,
no return address,
and only a single line
scowled in a child's hand.

It was easy to dismiss,
some mistake,
or perhaps an idea of a prank
so I stored it in a drawer and never
gave it another thought.

The second time
it was a bit more adamant,
a knock upon the door,
a package left upon my doorstep,
with no way to send it back,
I wondered what I should do,
and picked it up to my ear
shook it a little,
in retrospect perhaps not the wisest choice,
but nothing happened,
at last I opened it, and what was inside
I cannot name.

In time this too was forgotten,
but it was a bit much to take,
when at midnight I was awakened
by the sound of a singing telegram
outside my bedroom window,
in truth, I never knew those were still around,
when I attempted to question them
they only smiled and walked away.

I was soon at my wits end,
when a phone call arrived,
I was half-afraid to answer it,
the postal service calling to apologize
they explained to me, that there was some glitch
in the interdimensional delivery system
but by now it should all be fixed and they
are sorry for any inconvenience.

[YesNo]

Deep and wondrous, dimly lit
The forest's edge, no more in sight.
The message promised. What of it?
Where is that witch that she must fight,
That heartless witch who stole her man?
Unseduce him if she can,
The present never will be right.

The past keeps open its old door.
She draws her sword, "Hey! Gwendolyn's here!"
The forest waits. "Where is that whore?"
She swings at shadows swaying near.
The message said--what did it say?
The forest, too, dissolves away,
Retreats within a passing year.

[cacian]

to a message
a cautious note
fall not too short
elongate
strong
and the meaning
is wand

[Pendragon]

For if the trumpet give an uncertain sound, who shall prepare himself to the battle?

Just a whisper in the night, scarcely heard
Faint traces of ink on an old dusty letter
Telegraph wires singing, cell phones chiming tunes
Teleconferences on the internet, echoes of words
Seems they are all written in cipher, no one has the key
The code isn't complex, but the message unclear
What are people saying, and what do we hear
When the trumpet sounds an uncertain sound...

Pendragon
(C) 6/18/2013

[prendrelemick]

This is going to be very, very difficult.


Anyone else? I'll give it a couple of days.

[Melanie]

The Message
(a personal true story)

There I stood, facing his closet's deafening silence
Stunned by his sudden and untimely death
Paralyzed to purge all his worldly essence
Alone, I could hear my breath.

Each item lingered at the touch of my fingertips
As one by one, they were boxed and sorted
A sepia-toned photograph gently touched my lips
Alone, I could feel no comfort .

Time passed, the daunting task neared completion
Only a brown paper bag of his things remained
Atop were mere oddments, the bag's darkness deepened
Alone, I could taste my pain.

I saw a light in the bottom of that bag; a collection of
God's words, life's meaning, encouragements to cope
The last one I touched was a poem of inspiration
Alone, I could see a message of hope.

"...all the pain and grief are over, every restless tossing past;
I am now at peace forever, safely home in heaven at last.
...Then you must not grieve so sorely, For I love you dearly still;
Try to look beyond earth's shadows, pray to trust God's will." *

"There is work still waiting for you, so you must not idle stand;
Do your work while life remaineth, you shall rest in God's land.
When that work is all completed, He will gently call you home;
Oh the rapture of the meeting! Oh the joy to see you come!" *

Then a peace that passes all understanding
Filled my soul, and my senses were freshened
As a promise from above for life everlasting
Alone nevermore, through God's grace.
__________________________________________________ _____
* the writer of the italicized 2 stanzas is unknown, quoted, in part, from a poem titled "Safely Home"
and printed by the American Tract Society, although it appears anonymously in various other venues.
To view the entire poem, google "Safely Home poem"

[prendrelemick]

I honestly don't know what I'm going do to here.