Poetry Contest

Yes, I think we'd all like to see a winner for this round so we can get to writing some more poems. Don't worry about responding to everyone, Tal. Just relieve us all from the suspense. :D

I think there should be a time span or limit - maybe a month for each poetry contest. Two months is too long...some people may lose interest in the thread and depart forever.

It hasn't been two months, not even a month yet. He posted his picture on the 22knd. and Virg, if I'm not mistaken YOU are repeatedly asking for more time to write them, what's the big deal if he takes a few days to judge them?

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Originally Posted by Riesa

It hasn't been two months, not even a month yet. He posted his picture on the 22knd. and Virg, if I'm not mistaken YOU are repeatedly asking for more time to write them, what's the big deal if he takes a few days to judge them?

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I think he meant it felt like two months:p But I must say I lean towards agreeing with you. We Lit-Net members are just going bananas for this poetry contest deal!:banana: :banana:

Let's just wait for Tal for as long as it takes before we brainstorm big changes like this. Everyone goes through busy times.

Well, as I said, the picture left so many interpretations. Give Tal a break, it must be hard to chose. I agree there should be a time limit. However, if we say poems must be in by a certain date, then there should be no extension of writing time if one is not willing to wait on judging time. It would only be fair. Then the one judging would have "x" amount of time to review and judge. The day for the posting of the winner would be known to all from the start. Sound reasonable? :)

Sorry, I was thinking also from what others said it was two months. If it was just over one - understandable with the holidays and all and eveyone tired and sluggish afterwards. I agree with Pen, maybe some kind of loose structure would be good....some time limit and some guide lines.

Sounds good! Of course, like the contestants, I think under reasonable circumstances the judge should be able to request an extension for maybe a few days? But we can limit extensions too?

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Originally Posted by Riesa

It hasn't been two months, not even a month yet. He posted his picture on the 22knd. and Virg, if I'm not mistaken YOU are repeatedly asking for more time to write them, what's the big deal if he takes a few days to judge them?

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Oh you are quite right. :blush: :blush: I just cheked and Tal posted his picture on December 22nd. My humblest apologies Tal. For some reason it does feel like a long time ago. ;)

btw...where is tal? :lol:

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Originally Posted by dramasnot6

Sounds good! Of course, like the contestants, I think under reasonable circumstances the judge should be able to request an extension for maybe a few days? But we can limit extensions too?

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It would certainly have to be guidelines everyone is involved in drafting, or someone is going to get their feelings hurt. So we should perhaps all be thinking about this, how much time limit is reasonable for writing of poems, how much extention is reasonable, how much time limit is reasonable for judging (always taking into mind the number of poems submitted!) and how much extention is reasonable before making a decision. But it must be a team effort, not crafted by any one of us. Virgil makes a good chairman, if no one (besides himself!), objects, we could pass the info on to him, or run a poll. What say you? :)

Let me say that when I've been a judge, it has taken me about two hours to read the poems and come to a decision. It's usually just a question of finding two straight hours available. And then perhaps a third hour to write up something which offers comments. I don't really understand what takes so long.

I think that this round is just the rare exception. Every contest before this one I felt was done in a timely manner.

We are sorry for being so late judging the poems. :blush: But anyway, here goes.

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Originally Posted by Triskele

Moon

Dark suns of fiery grace
Parade the sunshine of lost souls
Who dares the shrapnel of the heart?
What thought drives men to love
Darkened spires of desire, tipped with poison
The jagged shaft of deaths arrow
Speeding onward, driving we to act
In desperation before days moon ends
Lack of light skies in our minds
As thoughts travel onward… past… present
Life’s love of action drives men to fly
Pushes women to deaths edge
So all can say they have gone

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A good, eerie poem.

We especially liked these stanzas:

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Who dares the shrapnel of the heart?
What thought drives men to love
Darkened spires of desire, tipped with poison

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As thoughts travel onward… past… present
Life’s love of action drives men to fly
Pushes women to deaths edge
So all can say they have gone

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Originally Posted by mir

Speared sky

In paths of darkness
Walk the worker
Only ever
Looking down;
Though the sun
Fell ever slowly
To its end,
He looked not round.
What meaning
Are worlds given
When each tenant
Never sees them
Trapped inside
Their own dimension
With wireless
To disease them?
If the sun,
The moon, the stars,
Should quietly
Implode
Wishing only
To be noticed
For their work -
A heavy load! -
No cell phone
Would ring a query,
No email
Comment
On how dark
It seems these days
Or where the
Rainbows went.
For no one
Looks anymore
Or has a care.
These mumbles -
As skies fall down
Upon our heads,
We watch our feet
For stumbles.

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We like the short, rhyming stanzas. The rhythm of the poem feels punctured, almost broken. And these lines were fantastic:

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What meaning
Are worlds given
When each tenant
Never sees them
Trapped inside
Their own dimension
With wireless
To disease them?
If the sun,
The moon, the stars,
Should quietly
Implode
Wishing only
To be noticed
For their work -
A heavy load! -
No cell phone
Would ring a query,
No email

---

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Originally Posted by Pensive

A Toy


The immensely dark clouds are over him
Night has fallen on everything;
To him everything looks very dim

He can't guess what's happening around
Whoever is playing with him, he can't merely think
From a human being, he is made a machine
Who can't sing, who in front of his controllers, can't even blink

Holding his briefcase, he is ready for the bomb blast
Ah this terrorism, wasting and killing lots
Just the battle of race and sexes
It has already killed enough with its cruel shots

Out of his mind
He works and works
Keep on doing his dirty work
In the alley, the little girl shrieks
"Beware of the evil that lurks!"

A very dark night
Full of silent horror
Evil again regaining power

Using him as a tool
Making him a fool
Controlling him
His mind, his soul
His doings and his fate
Developing his personality
Into what everyone would hate

Treating him like a toy
After it, they will destroy
Destroy the world
Destroy the very him

After all he is just a toy they are playing with
A doll being used as an actor in this drama of world

These gods
His creators
Have no pity
They try to be witty
But killing people
And creating a DEVIL
I think is really ****ty

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Interesting interpretation, Pensy. And you know, somehow, when we first read the poem, we missed the rhyme sceme and read it “Reality” and thought why you should censure it, but then we understood.

And

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He can't guess what's happening around
Whoever is playing with him, he can't merely think
From a human being, he is made a machine
Who can't sing, who in front of his controllers, can't even blink

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:thumbs_up
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Originally Posted by Pendragon

The Stork's Nest: Changes

High above precariously perched atop the highest chimney,
The bundle of sticks seems to be a monstrous thing;
Down below, all the lights are on, and people are so busy—
A young man ducks to one side as he hears his cell phone ring.
Progress has came, and with it taken many of the legends we once heard,
The television set replaced the books and nursery rhymes.
In that nest of sticks up there, there lives a very special bird—
Who would have never gone unnoticed in those slower times.
Now the story that she brought humans their babies is only fairytale,
Told by parents too embarrassed to try to explain the truer word.
But when she built her nest upon the housetop, o’re the eves it’s shadow fell—
And everyone rejoiced with gladness, for it was a good-luck bird!
Time does more than change a village into busy cities that never are still:
It steals from us things that we should treasure while we have them with us still…

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We liked the general tone of the poem, uncle Pen. It’s atmosphere is different from the others – lighter, more happier. The more classical form of the poem also stresses the point, in our opinion.

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Originally Posted by Orionsbelt

The call

Dooooooooooooooooooooo, Dooooooooooooooo, click, Joe?
Yeah! George. Look, I need you to know.
Later, can we meet?
There are unspoken things that I need to say.
Face to face seems the best way.

Sure George. Say four. Starbucks OK?
We can meet at the office and walk a short way.
Plan for a treat!
They have in the window a white icing truff,
Expresso, Frappuccino, and the regular stuff.

Ahhhh, great! Don’t worry. Forgive my tone.
Some years I have carried a secret alone.
It’s good, a warm place to eat.
The weight this burden I do want to end.
Joe as always you are a good friend

Say George can you give a glimmer or hint?
I’m not a fast talker, my thoughts do not sprint.
Simple, and sweet.
As a friend I have moved to some concern.
What ails my companion, I would like to learn.

The trouble grows larger each passing day.
It’s not easy to keep things from you in this way.
Please wait to meet.
Like a dark cloud in the air it presses on me.
Some sun in the sky I am longing to see.

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We liked the last stanza, and that the form of the poem was a cell phone call. Starting it with “Doooooooooooooooo, dooooooooooooo” made us smile.
And we miss sun too.
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Originally Posted by Petrarch's love

The roots of heaven descend in a balled up mass,
And below in the dingy light
The message is lost in a bad connection,
The coming unseen in the night,
The eyes below fixed on streets below as they pass.

Tall spires reach out toward heaven to touch the gray
Some end in the sign of the cross
Some finish in an offering of smog incense
And all blink with a pulse of loss
As red lights keep things that fly in the dark at bay.

With his hearing trained on the faint voice in the phone,
The young man misses the sharp scream
That emerges from the alleyway behind him
And he walks, wrapped in his own dream,
With all the others, through a nightmare, toward home.

Passing through the maze of streets, at last they also pass
(They hope) to heaven and to bliss.
But those creatures below, How can they blame God’s sins?
How can they hope for grace when this
Is the earth the roots of heaven grow in?

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Wow! This poem has a nightmarish, dark tone that we enjoyed very much. Especially these lines:

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The roots of heaven descend in a balled up mass,
And below in the dingy light
The message is lost in a bad connection,

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Quote:

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Some end in the sign of the cross
Some finish in an offering of smog incense

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and the last lines really have impact:

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How can they hope for grace when this
Is the earth the roots of heaven grow in?

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Originally Posted by Arania

Funny, you know
How time presses forward
In scenes such as these --
And you call me a coward!

Sit tight and I'll show you
Ambition's the key
To removing the madness,
Miss Earth? Who is she?

Have you noticed I see it?
The thing passing by
Oh there -- to the side now
That man with one eye.

Sit tightly! I'll teach you
To see what is there
Relax - Watch the teacher
Don't worry, I'll share.

Remember the task now
Look closely, you'll see
Right there - by the trashcan
The real world? Who's he?

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We found these lines especially amusing:

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Miss Earth? Who is she?

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Quote:

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The real world? Who's he?

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Originally Posted by Matsiah

Lacy metal overpass,
I've seen shades of the greenest grass,
Among other shades are cool glades,
'Twas beside a brick barrier, fortifier, or gate,
'Twas of perfect use, when shown irate,
'Tis of induced serenity when near,
What is there to fear here... nothing,
Even the trees cast sightly songs of peace,
A true place of freely existing,
All who've seen left missing and longing,
Picture this long and tapered entrance of stone,
Stone that reflects radiantly... all shown,
Behind stone of romancing,
'Tis many 'o species prancing,
Faint singsong stretches my way,
This home reminds me of pure joy within today,
Seeing species casts at me meanings,
If I weren't there I'd still not it's steaming hot,
Almost as Palm Springs, but not,
Picture this threefold heat mold,
Though humidity keeps a far from deep fold,
'Tis shallow,
For whom can swim?
Not I,
Perfect.

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We like the a bit archaic style (‘twas, ‘tis) but we think that your poem was inspired by some other picture - you mentioned in your comment that somehow you saw two of them.
But a good poem anyhow, serene and full of greenery.

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Originally Posted by dramasnot6

The Conversation

Branching from the orb of human existence
Enclosing my thoughts in designer bags
As I step from my building
With the others, all identical with tags

Hello, it’s me, I’m calling
Sorry, but I’m terrible with names
Just thought I’d be remembered
An exception in midnight games

Only freckled neon that surrounds me
Red lipstick and red lights a brush from bright
Yet my dim composure insidiously blinds me
Trading livelihood for bitter sight

Just hoped you got home safe
Watched the news, I think there was a storm
You left so quickly
What scene did you perform?

My mind turns to sweeter days
When the heart, boundless, sunk its teeth
Back then misty evenings had no ways
Ending nights with sheets beneath

Oh, I’m terribly sorry
Will your mother be okay?
You used my favorite story
Lies are great fillers of the day

A passion becomes clandestine then turns to dust
Impaled by carnal candles from the gut
My fingers pinch the cell phone, kills candle’s flame
Door creaks open, found the window firmly shut

Do tell me when we meet again
Preferably when you are coldest to touch
Don’t bother with a note this time
Easier when there is emptiness to clutch

Immune to city smoke selling whispers
Retching from the alienation of my soul
Crosswalk lined with paths of solitude and hiding
The looming darkness of urban control

I’ll have to call you back.

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A very good poem.
We like the rhyming and the touches of irony:

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Hello, it’s me, I’m calling
Sorry, but I’m terrible with names
Just thought I’d be remembered
An exception in midnight games

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Oh, I’m terribly sorry
Will your mother be okay?
You used my favorite story
Lies are great fillers of the day

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Do tell me when we meet again
Preferably when you are coldest to touch
Don’t bother with a note this time
Easier when there is emptiness to clutch

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And the last line stands out because it is out of stanzas and therefore one notices it better and it has more effect to end the poem.
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Quote:

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Originally Posted by Riesa

falling evening beats it’s
slow pulse,
pushes
grey to black,
obscuring
day’s shimmering
nucleus
in an obsidian nest

a million mill-stoned
voices rise
above the bones of a church
to the hovering
technical God engorged to
starry magnitude
by the city’s
electric impulses

The voice of
home tempts
in candlelit tones,
(Come, be still.)

but he blends elementally
with the undercurrent
and finds it is
increasingly difficult
to deny
the hinting shadows.

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We like the freeform lines, it gives the whole poem an interesting rhytm.

And these lines we especially liked.

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obscuring
day’s shimmering
nucleus
in an obsidian nest

a million mill-stoned
voices rise
above the bones of a church
to the hovering
technical God engorged to
starry magnitude
by the city’s
electric impulses

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The decision was difficult but the honour of posting the next picture belongs to Petrarch's love.

hey Tal! thanks.

Congratulations, Petrarch! :D whoot. pick a good one!

Wow, thanks Tal. I'm honored to be chosen among such exceptional competition.:) O.K. folks, give me a little time and I'll go find a picture to post.

I figured it's probably about time that the Lit. Net. poetry contest had a book related picture, so here it is. The recent to do over the ambiguity of the judging process has awakened the teacher in me, so I'm going to set up a deadline for three weeks from now (that seemed to have been a reasonable time for past rounds). That means this round of the contest will close at the end of Saturday, February 10th. The results will be posted by the close of Monday the 12th. If people have serious objections to this for some reason, or want to plead for a short extension or something, then either post here or pm me.

Good luck everyone!

http://i43.photobucket.com/albums/e3...b45d7b3557.jpg

That's a sweet picture, PL, and I'll try my best to work up a poem.

Congratulations Petrarch. Neat picture. I wonder if h's naked behind that book. :D Well, I'll have to get my creative juices going.

The Bibliophile

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well, here goes: The Sonnet Freak's Sonnet

The Open Book

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

Pendragon
© 1/22/07

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

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Congrats to Petrarch's Love.

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Thanks, Orionsbelt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

woo! five minutes between math and arts! :p

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

hey y'all

Challenge of Word

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

Swell of Spring’s Night Sweet Sadness



Evening’s glow falls upon gathered stones

As nights silver shimmer unveils by suns warmed moon

Shallow breath, quick glance

Bristle winds blow through leaves of many

I sit and wait patient no more

Cool night's silk embrace my self as soul

While he runs phantom on fences of light and crystal

tunnels with whispered roar

My mind races with fear and loss

then numbed in despair

For not cut of brow by viscous brawl quells the spirit

of tigers call

For love of night and sweet scent

As the night shown bright by suns warmed moon

And crystal tunnels under fences of light fall silent

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

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

Mercury Rises

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Originally Posted by Petrarch's Love

I figured it's probably about time that the Lit. Net. poetry contest had a book related picture, so here it is. The recent to do over the ambiguity of the judging process has awakened the teacher in me, so I'm going to set up a deadline for three weeks from now (that seemed to have been a reasonable time for past rounds). That means this round of the contest will close at the end of Saturday, February 10th. The results will be posted by the close of Monday the 12th. If people have serious objections to this for some reason, or want to plead for a short extension or something, then either post here or pm me.

Good luck everyone!

http://i43.photobucket.com/albums/e3...b45d7b3557.jpg

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

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Originally Posted by ktd222

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

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

Yeah! Some of these poems are pretty good! Would you guys please read my story? http://www.online-literature.com/for...090#post322090