qimissung
07-20-2010, 04:51 PM
Hey guys, it's summer, it's hot, it's boring. Maybe you'd like to enter a contest? I'm currently moderating the Subject Poetry Contest. The subject: an epiphany, and the poem should include the line"...and then fell I under friendly fire." Here is an example (mine); for another, Dark Muse has set the bar with a fantastic first entry.
Anywho, thanks for reading, and commenting.
Q
Don't forget to laugh
The tin man sat by my side, smoking,
Thin and empty-eyed and hollow;
“for years I stood in the enchanted forest,
Rusting, I ain’t joking,
My ax held above my head and my shoulders aching.”
Slivers of smoke drifted round his head,
And the absent-minded music,
Which we blew out our nostrils
In one long blue stream.
I might as well be dead
For all the buried treasure here.
“I thought they were my friends,” he mused,
Lighting another from the first.
“We wandered all over that damn place, looking for something…
I never thought…
And then we all dispersed.”
“My posse grew up,” I whispered
I picked up my drink and sipped.
“I could have used some ruby slippers,
And a friend.
I thought, I really thought there’d be flying monkeys,” I added,
Tight-lipped.
“Look at this,” he swiveled round
To show me. A wicked tear rose
Like a mountain range across his chest.
“The witch,” he said.
“One of her later salvos,” he added, with a grin.
“Oh, I’ve got one for you.”
I slapped down my drink and showed him mine,
Flecks of gore still decorated the suppurating flesh.
“It was then I fell under friendly fire.”
There isn’t any more. I finished my drink and left.
“Ain’t it a b*****,” said the tin man, putting out his cigarette.
“Bartender, give me another.”
Qimissung
Anywho, thanks for reading, and commenting.
Q
Don't forget to laugh
The tin man sat by my side, smoking,
Thin and empty-eyed and hollow;
“for years I stood in the enchanted forest,
Rusting, I ain’t joking,
My ax held above my head and my shoulders aching.”
Slivers of smoke drifted round his head,
And the absent-minded music,
Which we blew out our nostrils
In one long blue stream.
I might as well be dead
For all the buried treasure here.
“I thought they were my friends,” he mused,
Lighting another from the first.
“We wandered all over that damn place, looking for something…
I never thought…
And then we all dispersed.”
“My posse grew up,” I whispered
I picked up my drink and sipped.
“I could have used some ruby slippers,
And a friend.
I thought, I really thought there’d be flying monkeys,” I added,
Tight-lipped.
“Look at this,” he swiveled round
To show me. A wicked tear rose
Like a mountain range across his chest.
“The witch,” he said.
“One of her later salvos,” he added, with a grin.
“Oh, I’ve got one for you.”
I slapped down my drink and showed him mine,
Flecks of gore still decorated the suppurating flesh.
“It was then I fell under friendly fire.”
There isn’t any more. I finished my drink and left.
“Ain’t it a b*****,” said the tin man, putting out his cigarette.
“Bartender, give me another.”
Qimissung