Old and worn the washing hands.
used for her babbies,
over and over.
Can you see the cutting scars?
Washivg, sewing, baking, and such,
who knew it would lead to this?
Worn from work the results of time.
Printable View
Old and worn the washing hands.
used for her babbies,
over and over.
Can you see the cutting scars?
Washivg, sewing, baking, and such,
who knew it would lead to this?
Worn from work the results of time.
This is SO FINE! "Soft leather upon yellow kernels"! WOW!Quote:
Originally Posted by dramasnot6
This needed to be a little bit longer, I think - not much, because you do such a wonderful job in such a short space! (I assume "babbies" is not a typo, because I like it so much in place of "babies".)Quote:
Originally Posted by browneyedbailey
oops I'm not the best speller. although I'm better than mum and my grandfather (not poppy)
Thanks Prince! That means a lot coming from you! :DQuote:
Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin
http://www.courier-journal.com/blogs...nds-766633.jpg
Time is getting short and I wanted to post the picture again so it wouldn't be so far back.
bump...
Once upon a time
I remember
watch these hands, stormed and weathered, too many days
I remember when
wordless they clasp each other, old now, no others' grips left to warm
I remember when I
loose with memories, rising from the skin veins, grey-blue rivers of lumpy time
I remember when I was
alone to their thoughts, thinking of younger dreams, tighter skin unmarked and held
I remember
hands old time held
I remember when I was young.
Nice mir! :thumbs_up
six more days...
and 5 more days until I depart,once again, for Australia...I will be so anxious about the poetry contest whilst on the plane!
Old Mother Hubbard
Went to the cupboard...
Her hands lay bare upon the cushion
I saw them flutter briefly there
Her breath ragged in faint confusion
And sudden onset of despair
Her fingers looked each a chrysalis
I wondered about butterflies
Trapped in the moment of what is
And what would never now arise
Before she went I asked the question
As she drowned she answered me
In the moment of stark perception
Before her answers ceased to be
The cupboard was bare:
Three sons over there,
Not even a bone;
And her, all alone.
tomorrow is the deadline and I will judge and try to post on Saturday.
Don't mean to be a stickler but I think Saturday is the deadline, isn't it?Quote:
Originally Posted by motherhubbard
Yes it is. Saturday is the deadline and Sunday the judging. Thanks AmpQuote:
Originally Posted by ampoule
H ere they are, my hands, weathered
A nd old, but beautiful. I have
N ever thought how hands hold
D reams, but mine are right here, and
S o are the dreams they've made.
Did anyone notice that his hands form a heart? It's beautiful to me...Rebecca Tacosa Gray
I'll try to post on this tonight- I'm sorry for the delay
Pen, This was such a strong start and finish and I loved all that was in between. I love the way you focused on the story that can be read in the lines on those hands. You can see history and there is a story here. I hear love for your mother and the mother of your children in this.
DowningQuote:
Originally Posted by Pendragon
You took a very different turn with your poem and I really liked your interpretation of the picture. You let those hold love all the way to heaven.
I like to think of those hands feeling like this
JerryQuote:
Originally Posted by downing
This is wonderful, just wonderful. You are so good at being concise. I love the how these hands do find comfort in themselves. I loved the description of the human heart and the going from hand to hand to get there. I’m not going to pick just one part to quote, I liked all of the parts.
MazHur
This is a great image. I had not looked at those hands and seen unfulfilled desire and I’m glad you showed it to me. Young heart and old hands. This ending was brilliant.
NickQuote:
Originally Posted by mazHur
This is a great poem Nick. I love the repetition drawing emphasis to the passing and running out of time. I especially liked the way it moved from youth to maturity and left time for one more union. And this imagery was wonderful.
SchadenfreudeQuote:
Originally Posted by NickAdams
I love the scene you created at the opening of this poem. I smiled at the berry picking. It was interesting to go from where will you be later straight to the end
DramaQuote:
Originally Posted by schadenfreude
Wow, Drama. This was a wonderful and unexpected turn on the picture. This poem was full of imagery, sound and texture.
BaileyQuote:
Originally Posted by dramasnot6
Darling Bailey, I love your poem. I especially love the way you call them the washing hands. This last line is great I think that these hands are the result of work and time.
MirQuote:
Originally Posted by browneyedbailey
Weaving these two poems together was a fantastic idea. I like the use of repetition and the image of stormed and weathered hands. The ending was very strong.
AutolysisQuote:
Originally Posted by mir
Very clever! I had to read this several times and I liked it more each time I read it
This was my favorite stanza. I wonder what the question was and what answer it got.
Anonymous AngelQuote:
Originally Posted by autolycus
Short and sweet. I thought this was lovely. I think that old hands are beautiful. I like this part the best-
Quote:
Originally Posted by Anonymous Angel
Everyone did such a great job. I have a new appreciation for those who have had the hard job of judging. I’ve been so challenged by this, and I have spent hours trying to choose. There were three that I loved above the rest. It must come down to just one winner and even as I type I’m trying to decide. But the decision must be made. And so congratulations to our winner, Pen for writing a wonderful poem that I captures so much emotion.
I thank you. What amazes me is how fertile the blank page of Pen's is. So many threads, so much quality.
Thanks very much for kind words and encouragement!
Pen, excellent! Truly mightier than the sword.
*grin*
Woo-hoo! Congrats uncle Pen! :D Awesome work! :thumbs_up
Thanks to you all-- I don't know what to say... I am so amazed at winning that I cannot think...You are all too kind...
A picture now...
Well, this is surreal, and I drew it for a poem I once wrote. Let's see what you people can get out of it...
http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1...tureWithin.jpg
Best of luck. Will set closing date after I have three entries...http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1.../MightWork.gif
wow amazing picture, Pen! Congrats again for winning!!
i hope alot of people respond to that pic
i`m curious as to what they think of it
anyway`s i think i`ll give it a try
the widow sleeps within a rose
hides within beauty, fangs exposed
a demon rests inside our soul
losing patience, i lost control
my heart is racing, i need you now
my mind is tainted to a vow
i must have you, this i know
this dark seed, i must sow
pain gives me pleasure
death is my treasure
so rip it out, my roting heart
take this sorrow, tear it apart
only then will i show my face
when i`m lost inside your endless grace
Congrats, Pen! Great poem and great pic.
Deep down a demon possesses me.
Help, I cry, help me rid of this curse
None come to save me.
I failed.
I fell.
Death overtakes me.
Gone.
Yet light anew.
Someone has come to save me!
Oh, only judgment.
Sentenced to a pit of fire.
Burning for eternity.
Ah! Two great poems for a start! I must confess neither comes close to expressing (well, depends on your point of view), the original poem, which I will post with the winning poem, but show sides of my weird art. Keep them coming!
Pen
http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1...tureWithin.jpg
Wow, Pen is judging both contests this round! Better get out my best pen and write something worthy of such an illustrious judge. :)
A little belatedly, congratulations:thumbs_up :thumbs_up on winning the last competition!Quote:
Originally Posted by Pendragon
does that mean you drew the pic and wrote the poem? And does that mean we're not worthy writters?!?!?!:mad:Quote:
Originally Posted by Pendragon
Picking the phantom pocket of a mirror silent;
In-season-parents
assist the dextrous-abasement. Replacements
are assimulated
(and easily stitched).
They peel back the curtains to the papilla frame
to let hang,
the judges gaveled fangs, staged
below scarlet witnesses
(shadowed in the hollow trunk).
Herd the flock
to flock when heard
and ‘round and ‘round
the globe will turn
(to the tick of a one-hand clock).
I think Pen meant that the first two poems had a different take on the picture and his original intent. If he thought you weren't worthy he wouldn't have started his post with "Ah! Two great poems for a start."Quote:
Originally Posted by browneyedbailey
true.....
Whoa up! Yes, I drew this picture, and wrote the original poem but there is no one on this forum whose poetry is not worthy to outshine mine at any darn time! I got a little touchy a while back over poor voter turn-out in forum-sanctioned contests, (which is pathetic!), but my poetry is no better than the next person’s and I am no Prima Donna. Young Bailey, your poem is as dear to me as any that will be presented in this contest. I will not judge it unfairly or think it poor because it came from you. No. Ask anyone who has had me judge their poem before. I take my time with each poem and write to each poet personally.Quote:
Originally Posted by browneyedbailey
LET ME REINTERATE. THERE ARE NO BIG “I’S” AND LITTLE “U’S” HERE. WE ARE POETS!
EVERYONE WELCOME TO SUBMIT A POEM by 3/17/08 (tentatively)
Pendragon
2/27/08
http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1...asterCross.gif
I know, Just Kidding.
Jewels of Custom
Marry the sky to the horizon
and what do you have?
An image both typical and sublime,
treasured in every land
and idealized by empires,
since the bed of all seasons
began yeilding gilded fruits,
those edible
and those that are purely a feast
for tempted eyes.
Nature exists,
is abstracted,
stylizes forms and designs
in the homes of beauty
and invention
for the enlightened to conjure
at will
like a mutant, mosaic silkworm of destiny
spinning its tailored sleek gauze
in detectable grains
at the tenured periphery outlined
by civilized arrangement
Fabulous pic,Pen! Hmm...I will commence brainstorming :D
Great poems everyone!
Yours is the rose
Whose vibrant thorns pierce me
But I suppose
That though my tears fierce be
Nobody knows
For while the dead
Might think their sleeping cold
My love unsaid
Sleeps now unvoiced untold;
I lost my head
A demon hate
Within this shell abides
Love spoke too late
And now in fear still hides
Behind her gate
I am bereft
My right is wreathed in pain
My hands, once deft
Alarm with clumsy strain
And nothing's left
Lyrics I wrote
Which made all joy to men
Now slit my throat
I have become again
An awkward poet
who said the devil is ugly,
who said he doesn't have a heart?
who said he has not seen him,
who said he hasn't experienced him?
He lives in every heart
which is bereft of goodness
He beckons you to come,
to come and be his comrade,
He has no face, no arm, no legs,
yet he manages to grow up
a hand and hold a bough of flower
to attract, to lure people
towards him and be his disciples.
Do not judge him by his proffered kindness
look beyond that and further
all that appears pink is not rose,
even the best wine may seem amber,
crystal clear
but there are lees to it
which normal eyes cannot see !