with a final desperate lunge
she leaps into the wind
tears herself from the earth
(bare frayed roots
sway in the dusty wind
retreat from the sun)
and moves elsewhere.
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with a final desperate lunge
she leaps into the wind
tears herself from the earth
(bare frayed roots
sway in the dusty wind
retreat from the sun)
and moves elsewhere.
Here's my entry:
Emphasis on the Tock
Spaces stand still,
And we revolve
Round and around
In-lines and tick-tocks.
Verb: "venues in time";
"movement"; touche.
Tonight until
Noon anon --
I will never
Be me again.
So, anyway, I'm a terrible judge. I like all your work everyone.
"YesNo "
Your turn
and I have no idea what you said
haha
This line in particular though struck a chord:
"The trees are different in this park"
Thanks, jajdude! :)Quote:
Originally Posted by jajdude
I re-read my submission to see if it still made sense, at least, to me. Hmmm. Not sure. It's getting late. What was I trying to say anyway?
Here's the new subject because the tragedy in Japan is on my mind:
Tsunami
Deadline: 3 weeks from now, April 2nd
YesNo
I reckon yours was one of your best. Perhaps? But it is all subjective I guess.
I'll never forget the day
the wave came for us.
The dry just packed up
and migrated north;
seems doubtful
if it will return
again,
for now
the whole world is wet
and heavy
with its soggy burden.
The wave was angry;
I think it hated us.
It was a disease, you see,
for one moment
we had our pretty ocean,
so cool and blue,
but the water got sick
turned gray
and shrivelled up,
and when it swelled
broke
crashed
I'd swear I heard it roar
as it hurled water at us,
agonized with fury
unable to stop
its explosion.
My mother screamed
my sister cried
but I just sat
at my seat by the window
watching the wave
watching it choke the streets
the people
and waiting
waiting
as it approached.
Love Like Water
There are breathless
heartbreaking moments
unspeakable; indeniable
moments
in which the whole
of your love
can be contained
within a single
drop of rain
and it is beautiful
so fragile,
yet so easily
may it fall,
disperse; splatter
before dissipating
fading, without
a trace.
And than suddenly
unexpectedly
without question
your love is seismic
like a tidal wave
rolling over me,
with crushing force,
smothering; drowning,
sending out shockwaves,
as the full of your weight
bares down upon me
with a desnity
that is unmovable
reckless
leaving me within
your wake.
In the aftermath
I am left,
exhausted; exhilarated,
with bone crushing
ecstasy
and the tremors
proceed to ripple through me,
motionless I await
upon your devastated shores,
and than your love
becomes a river
and it flows
steady
gently
but unceasing
unrelenting,
but there
always moving
away from me
and towards me
simultaneously.
Wonderful imagery in both poems.
I especially liked the line "the dry just packed up and migrated north"
In the second poem, i liked the way the allegory for love smoothly changes from a tidal wave possibly wreaking destruction to a perennial river
The awe inspiring “ice-water” mountain towers above us,
Majestic in its stillness and yet zipping across the “vast” semi-frozen oceanic wastes,
The spirit of the "dancing nataraja" in the form of a goddess
Awe inspiring and yet maternal
The pilgrims climb the terraced steps
Some light lamps along the way,
Singing songs of love, worship …
moving glass/ice sculptures
Mirrors all around that seem to hold the structure up
Like Messages in a floating bottle / glass ship
Yet still keeping the warmth of the spirit within, wine like
They reach the pinnacle
And time stands still
There is a hushed silence
Embraces all around
The snake hood shelters in both directions
The sun is setting
The shore is visible in the distance
Both Mohammed (and his companions !!) and the mountain have crossed the bar
I would like to stress that the "ice-water" mountain retains its integrity and does not become a breaker !!
I taught this word to the kids the other day,
told them it was from the Japanese,
to Chinese 15 year olds with sparse English
Some frowned
I know others smiled.
Some themes that seem to recur through all the poems on the subject seem to resonate with the motifs occuring in Samuel Taylor Coleridge's "Kublai Khan" especially the following :
"Caves of ice" , "The shadow of the Dome of Pleasure Floated midway on the waves" (allusions to a boat or rather raft like craft ??).
The sunless sea seems to evoke images of a submerged river / ocean which is the bare remanant of a much vaster ocean of an earlier age
Also, the chasm seems to evoke images of cities / monasteries etc within mountains
I suppose there could be psychological allusions to the unconscious, both collective and individual.
Reminder: Contest ends Saturday, April 2nd! You still have time to enter on the subject tsunami.
Thanks for the submissions moonbird, Dark Muse, sundarramchand and jajdude!
Thanks, moonbird, Dark Muse, sundarramchand and jajdude for your entries.
moonbird, I liked the way you made the "I" character remain calm, waiting for the wave and describing it, while the others screamed.
Dark Muse, you provided a very interesting contrast between the single drop representing love in the first stanza and then the tsunami of love in the second.
sundarramchand, you introduced both a Hindu deity at the beginning with the "nataraja" and then ended with "Mohammed" and the ice mountain crossing the waters that I found intriguing.
jajdude, I sensed in the smiling and frowning of the different Chinese children as you explained the word "tsunami" to them that they represented different attitudes that the Chinese might have toward the Japanese today, although I might be reading too much into this.
They were all good, all worthy to win, but since I have to make a choice, the winner for this round is moonbird. Something about waiting patiently while the destructive water approached seemed particularly nice to me.
Congratulations, moonbird!
Well done moonbird.
Thank you! I will start thinking up a new subject...
Okay, here we go...
The next subject is Easter traditions.
And let's set the deadline for April 24, aka Easter Sunday!
Good luck everyone!
There wasn't much to eat that spring.
On Easter still she made a cake
Shaped like a lamb for them to eat
With hope for all this year would bring.
Although they don't hear angels sing,
They know they do. She made it sweet.
Ostara's Blessing
Beneath the first
full bloom of the moon
upon the Sabbath
of the vernal equinox
maidens blossomed in their
youth gather round
and diligently set about
painting Ostara's eggs
in colors more vibrant than
their beauty.
Her altar they arrange
decked in the flowers
of Spring, the first colors
to paint the world
out of the winter gloom.
Upon their sweet honey lips
they sing a melody
to their Goddess of Fertility,
with the hopes that they
may become so blessed
so like the moon their
wombs may grow.
Incarnates of the Goddess
creators of new life
to be brought from darkness
into the light.
Started with a cross, a place of pain
Death hovering close with its dreadful sting
The spirit flees, the body dies
A tomb is waiting to receive the body
Then came the dawn of Easter morn
Stone rolled away by angelic hands
They came to mourn, but they left rejoicing
Death could not conquer the risen Christ
He died for the world, erasing their sin
He lay in the grave to experience death
He rose victorious over sin, death, and the grave
To show us all that dying is not the end
"Living He loved me, dying He saved me,
Buried He carried my sins far away
Rising He justified freed me forever
One day He's coming, oh, glorious day!"
(The quote is from an old hymn know variously as "Glorious Day" or "Living He Loved Me" I do not know who the original author was. Casting Crowns does a wonderful version of the song.)
Three great entries so far!
Just a reminder, Sunday's your last day to submit poems. Keep em coming!
Thanks to everyone who participated. Each piece seemed to give its own original take on my vague challenge of "Easter traditions."
YesNo: Short, sweet, and to the point. Many words were not necessary to portray your pure message of Easter hope. I liked your original rhyme scheme, it gave the piece a nice structure. I especailly liked their simple hope as they couldn't hear the angels singing but "They know they do."
Pendragon: You took the religious route, and although personally I am agnostic I could still appreciate the pureness of your words. My mother is always saying that people get so caught up with the Easter bunny they forget the real reason for celebrating Easter, and you brought it all back nicely. Your quote from "Glorious Day" completed the piece's biblical feeling. Very well done.
All entries were beautiful, but one stood out just a little more for me, and the winner I must declare to be......
DARK MUSE! I must say your choice to base your poem on the goddess Ostara was a stroke of genius and really made your poem stand out for me with its originality. I actually had to Google her name before I remembered the whole story, and after that your whole piece made perfect sense to be. Seems no one really knows why we dye eggs on Easter. Your words were beautiful and mystical, and the third stanza espacially was simply breathtaking. Congrats on the win, and I look forward to your next subject!
Thank you very much!
I shall have the new subject posted shortly.
Ok the next subject is
"Tainted Love"
Deadline May 30th
My love is red unlike the rose,
More like the stain of blood that flows.
You think it's from your heart. I shout
Like screaming for some clean way out.
Release me, Bittersweet.
Your blackened tendrils
like frostbitten fingers
leave scars round my throat,
burning and red.
So many times
it has been wrung,
and like a moth-eaten rag
surrenders its murky water
to a wash-lady’s hands,
I have coughed up my secrets,
the shameful phlegm
that slimes through my past
and haunts my memories.
I remember the sunshine, Bittersweet,
the warm autumn sunshine the day that we met,
and you were so pretty,
so young, pretty child,
with golden-orange hair
from which you plucked
those little red fruits
that reminded me of hearts
and stabbed them through the center
and made them into
sweet crimson wine,
and I drank it.
With a parched thirst
I drank your cloying venom.
Release me, Bittersweet,
for the sun has gone away
and only thistles remain.
By the way if you're not a person who knows a lot about plants you may want to Google the "bittersweet vine" before you read the above poem :)
HE DOESN’T NEED YOU NOW
You never had the time for him,
this child of your desire.
There were always so many things you felt were so much more important.
He tried in so many ways to tell you of the longing he felt,
but his pleas fell upon deaf ears.
Finally, he became so desperate for your attention, that he felt he had no choice,
and the sharp bark of a gun rent the summer night.
At his funeral, you shed a gallon of tears and sobbed about your loss;
and now you haunt his gravestone even though you were seldom in his room.
Your job suffers, you lose much sleep, you long to hold him close—
all noble things:
but he doesn’t need you now…
Pendragon
(It is often said that love is never really known until it is lost forever. That is the theme of this poem.)
Bump! Is this thread discontinued or something? :confused5::confused5::confused5:
Thanks to those who took the time to submit an entry. I enjoyed reading them, and now here are the results.
YesNo: I like your play upon the rather common cliche which is much used in poetry, and the way in which you twisted it around to give it a darker meaning. You paint a vivid scene when a few words and capture an intensity of emotion.
Pendragon: A very moving poem which manages to tell a story. I really enjoyed your interpretation of the subject. I like the way in which the theme of tainted love could be read in two different ways, and leaves one to question in whose case has the love truly been tainted? Was it in the unrequited love he felt for her which drove him to such a desperate action, or is it the way in which his love now haunts her in grief and slowly robs her of her own life now that she cannot reconcile what she has lost for ever.
But I have to give the win to....
moonbird: I thought you had some great imagery within your poem, the first two lines caught my attention right away and left me eager to read more. There are some wonderful lines you use which leap out at me. And I loved the way in which such an innocent picture is painted of the object of affection, who than turns around to prove to be not what at first she might seem.
3-worthy poems all.
Congratulations moonbird.
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY
well done Moonbird. This contest needs more publicity.
Congrads, Moonbird. And I second the motion that this thread needs more publicity!
Thank you!
The next subject will be...... Summer Break!
Deadline is June 30. Good luck!
Kids fly, a long time, fly,
Oldies lie, a long time, lie,
Ages fly, they sure do fly,
And here we sit and wonder why
Ten year olds imagine a bird sails
and forty year olds start to forget
After that I do not know
I aint that old yet
We take a break from life to lie in the sun,
Relaxation seems to be the order of the day
Who will lose their inhibitions before the day is done
And put on a graphic nude display?
The wolves out there are trolling for some lost sheep
With promises of money and fifteen minutes of acclaim
Don't you ever think of how this makes your old dad loose precious sleep
Or how you have defiled the family name?
So when these sharks come by with all their many lowly schemes
Tell them to go to hell and make them disappear
Things are never worth the price you pay when you chase evil dreams
Think how it will devastate your family if these photos appear
Now have your fun but do it all in moderation
Save your body to embrace only the one you love
Don't allow yourself to sink into public degradation
Somebody is always watching you from the window up above
You want to live your life to make your loved ones proud
But in the sea of restless sins so many folks have drowned
Everybody loves you, you stand out in any crowd
So never lose your pride of life, and never let your family down
Pendragon
Picnic for Two
A blanket's spread upon the ground.
The waves with their hypnotic sound
And midday's sun, so warmly round,
Tell us: lay back and rest.
The picnic was enough for two.
The fluffy clouds put white on blue.
The only people here are you
And me, your summer guest.
Two martins glide across the sky.
The poplar leaves above us high
Are busy as a breeze goes by.
Our laughter is the best.
Summer Heat
Bittersweet the joy
of days ahead granting
liberation to recline
carelessly.
Yet oppressive
the sweltering air
as languid days pass
slowly beneath sultry heat.
Night which provides
no relief, rocking
upon a porch swing
sipping lemonade.
While stifled
and sweat drenched
melting to the floor,
a crisp Autumn breeze
would be welcome now.
The cruel irony
this reprieve
once so longed for
with jubilee comes
now as an avenger
rendering you paralyzed.
Four awesome entries! Deadline's in 5 days, anyone else care to give it a shot?