Pen, that's an interesting picture. Would be thinking about it and hopefully would post something soon.
That's a good expression.Quote:
all that appears pink is not rose
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Pen, that's an interesting picture. Would be thinking about it and hopefully would post something soon.
That's a good expression.Quote:
all that appears pink is not rose
There is a demon in me
a poor devil
screaming
screaming from the cage
I put it in
waiting
waiting to be let out
but it does not wait for long
it scratches and pulls
at my weakest points
through my heart
it crashes through
slyly
oh so coyly
it peels back my thin armor
and shows its nasty face
yet I am still beautiful
still loved
still the same to the world
holding a single rose
a sign of love
but really I am clenching it
this lie in my hands
this hatred
the thorns are digging
digging into my weak flesh
for I know
know that my demon is loose
and it will destroy me
it already has
but no one sees me bleeding
bleeding from this demon
they only see
the rose in my hand
The old clock is ticking now people! Get those poems in! http://i94.photobucket.com/albums/l1...ane/eyes_1.gif
What's up with the bloodshot eyes?
anxiety?
pressure?
stress?
haha, maybe all of them, besides i`m anxious to see who wins this one.
Here is my poem sweethearts:
I worked five long years in my red coverall.
Hey body, get out and play
get out and play rock and roll!
Me too. come on!!!!:flare: :( :bawling: :sick: :p :DQuote:
Originally Posted by lucidnightmares
Flaring won't help, nor frowning, the judge is immune to tears, (not really!), the judge is currently quite ill himself, (so the Doctor says, I feel fine!), it is naughty to stick out your tongue, (your mother taught you much better, I'm sure!), the grin might help, but St. Paddy's day is the day I chose to end my contests on. Fear not, the day after the wearing of the green, someone will wear the winner's crown! And everyone else will be honorably mentioned. :lol:
I got sick from crying, that's why I stuck my toung out! SHESH!!!1
I'll drink to that! Cheers!Quote:
Originally Posted by Pendragon
Due to death in the family and my own health being bad, the contest being ended today, and no poems having being submitted for days, this is the final judging. Thanks to everyone who entered!
Pendragon
Picture Poetry Contest Winner:
Lucidnightmares: Your poem was, like the picture, very surreal. You did not give it a title, “Point of Grace” might have been worthy of this romp through your nightmares, as you insist that
“a demon rests inside our soul
losing patience, i lost control”
And then you are asking for some unnamed someone to:
“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”
A wonderful expression of the battle within between good and evil. Well done.
BrownEyedBailey: Your poem expressed things I have said to myself so many times that even though it was not the words of the original poem, it was words expressed by me.
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.
You see, people have accused me of demon possession due to my Bi-Polar, about which they refuse to educate themselves. And I have felt cursed to hell. A good title for your poem would be “Misunderstood”. You show the hopelessness and helplessness of the person with the demon or feeling of possession very clearly. Well done.
NickAdams: Nick, you pulled an e.e. cummings poem style on me, for which I was totally unprepared! I must have read your poem a dozen times before one line opened the secret of the poem and I understood.
Herd the flock
to flock when heard
and ‘round and ‘round
the globe will turn
(to the tick of a one-hand clock).
That line was the very last one—“(to the tick of a one-hand clock).” What is in the heart? The beat of that clock runs the world. But we assist at putting fanged monsters in there. Well Done!
ALaKungFu I had thought the picture itself was rather surreal, your poem about it reached into the depths of the metaphysical:
and invention
for the enlightened to conjure
at will
Indeed. Though I might find shades of William Blake in your poem, I don’t think I could find him in my poor artwork. Great poem, I’m just not really certain it fits the picture.
Autolycus: I would title your poem “The Sin of Hate”. You turned the green “daemon” into hate. Hate that once was love.
“A demon hate
Within this shell abides
Love spoke too late
And now in fear still hides
Behind her gate”
I like it very much. Well done!
And you had one of the most interesting styles of poetry with it:
mazHur: I would have to title your poem “The Lure”. You interpret the picture as a daemon holding up a rose as a lure, when the trap is already set and if one falls for the lure one is doomed.
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,
The only way to avoid the already set trap is not to fall for the pretty lure. Very well done. I love it!
AdoreroDio: I think I would title yours “Efforts At Denial”. You make the bold statement that there is a daemon in you, even if it is but a poor shriveled one.
yet I am still beautiful
still loved
still the same to the world
holding a single rose
a sign of love
but really I am clenching it
this lie in my hands
this hatred
the thorns are digging
digging into my weak flesh
for I know
know that my demon is loose
Despite this, you are going to hold your pink rose out to the world and lay claim on beauty, yes, and subtlety, behind that, innocence—but the thorns cut your hand and you know in your heart you are merely lying to yourself. Very well done. I love it!
Prema: Well, your poem was so short that I can just reproduce the whole thing right here:
I worked five long years in my red coverall.
Hey body, get out and play
get out and play rock and roll!
Which body becomes confusing? Is it the one that holds the rose, as in Guns N Roses (get out and play rock and roll!) or the one peering out of the body cavity? Does this make the torso the (red coverall)? A neat little evil twist.
This one is a very hard choice. I narrowed it to three. Bailey, you came close to the original poem. That is something I cannot overlook. AndyDio, you also hit elements of the original poem, perhaps even closer than Bailey, so I cannot overlook you. But maHzur saw something in the picture that maybe I was trying to get out from my darkness and drew without knowing—a warning: Beware of false innocence, for even the mighty have fallen. Remember King David’s fall and his repentance.
This was my poem to go with my picture:
THE CREATURE WITHIN
He stands shirtless in the drifting snow,
offering a pale pink rose in his left hand,
unmindful of the thorns that prick his flesh
causing the ruby drops to stain the white carpet.
The creature within reaches out jade-green claws
and parts the venetian blinds of his ribcage,
to peer with distinct malevolence at the world
that it viciously hates…
Dale Harris
© 1996
maHzur, I declare you the winner of this round! You may choose the next picture:
Congratulations MaHzur!
This is exciting! I will join the next one. :D
Congratulations, mazhur
good job MaHzur:D
Congratulations Mahzur!!!!!!!
congratulations!!!
Well done, mazHur! :)
I have never read Cummings, but I will try and get my hands on a poem of his now.Quote:
Originally Posted by Pendragon
The one-hand clock symbolizes uncertainty and a mindless allegiance. We can know the minute, but not the hour or the hour and not the minute. And that it runs the world.:thumbs_up
Congratulations MaHzur!
Thank you pen and congatulations MaHzur!
um, hello, mazHur? Are you aware you are to post the next picture, mon ami? You won the contest! ;) :)
Hello Pen
Am really sorry I didn't know that I had to post the new picture. Here it is ::
At his juncture I would also like to thank all here for the appreciation of my poem. Truly speaking , the news of my winning the contest came as a pleasant surprise to me. Thanks, Pen and all again,
Best wishes
maz
http://i.ivillage.com/FD/slideshows/...pcakes_136.jpg
Congratulations maZhur on winning the contest
Heights of Satisfaction
guilty pleasures
impaled by comparison
inhaled by lusty denizen
assailed by a wobbly, hungry urchin
pyramid impassive
lo! to the artistry
woe to the prone pastry
foe to the waisting industry
rapturous treasures
food for thought
good for the overwrought
mood for quite a lot
of a confection too massive
surely to be missed
or immaturely to resist a
burly glaze none to rations kissed
Perspective
Lost in crème whirls and swirls,
Piled high and looking like another world
Of brown mountain topped by driven snow,
Or an Arabian Nights palace, could be, you know?
Is it the Kremlin on a heavily frosted morn?
Heavenly buildings where gates open at Gabriel’s horn?
Would I desire to live inside of this thing that I see?
Or would eating it really satisfy me?
Pendragon
© 3/22/08
Big art it is
the real cake
many hours spent
in the kitchen to make
temptation glazing over
a frosting of desire
sprinkled with regret
as your lust reaches higher
wrapped in sorrow
baked with pain
eaten by self hatred
losing all restrain
even so you smile
with frosting on your lips
your eyes green like donuts
surrounding eclipse
um`s......BUMP?
Perfection
A sweet pyramid of temptation
sweetly whispering my name
again and again the reflection
of deep desire in my soul is seen
a picture of pure perfection
in simple stacks and rows
art in careful sections
calling ever gently
come, come enjoy
give in
take in this joy
just one taste, no more
one bite is all it takes to fall
just one bite of heaven
one taste of perfection
life will be better if you give in
give up the fight
it's useless, you'll see
one bite to fall
come to the Garden of Eden
take that bite
take the plunge
it only takes on bite
to know perfection
before it falls away
Bakery
Standing here outside the window,
Looking in with covetous eyes,
Dreaming of making everything mine:
First one step, then two--And I would disappear
Within the wild wilderness of a pastry land.
Oh, it would be wonderful,
Certainly it would be grand
To be on the other side of the window
Just inches away from the cupcake stand;
Smelling the faint vanilla,
And admiring the beautiful white;
Running a finger through the cream
And lifting it dreamily to my mouth…
Frost Me
Come to me now, my little cupcake,
Let me unwrap you, gently squeeze
That moist, sweet chiffon.
My mouth opens, my eyes close,
Your decoration is left upon my lips,
I lick them, smiling, wanting more.
Coming to my senses, I look around
To see if anyone is watching, but
All I see is a luscious, fluffy pyramid
Waiting to be claimed by me.
ampoule, March Thirtieth, TwoThousandEight
A Piece of Cake
It’s a piece of cake, you say,
Your lips parting and lifting
At the corners.
But, what is a piece of cake?
I never really knew.
Is it a cupcake?
A delicate cloud of sweetness
Atop a butter mountain?
Or perhaps a lemon cake?
The moist texture concealing
an acidic flavour?
Or a muffin, yes, a muffin;
It’s delectable at first, quite marvelous
at least until the leaden weight
Sinks into the bottom of your stomach,
like a drowning ship.
And what would you do
with such a piece of cake?
Would you save it?
Wrap it carefully for the children
when they come home?
Would you freeze it?
Store it away from the dreadful clutches
of destructive Time?
Perhaps you’d kindly leave it
laying on the kitchen counter
until it turns green with age, and white;
Such a lovely white mould.
It’s a piece of cake, you say again
And I still know nothing, but can picture
Your small sharp teeth
Biting into soft flesh.
Very erotic ampoule.
To all: I didn't think so much could be done with this image. I was lazy, but I am going to work on a poem myself.
Thank you NickAdams. That's exactly how I feel when I eat a cupcake. ;)
Hi All
It's nice to see a good many poet sending in their beautiful poems on the topic,,,,however, no one yet seems to have caught the idea in my mind behind the picture posted !! However, regardless of what's in my imagination the poets have so far very efficiently rendered their thoughts into a colorful bouquet of poesy . Shall we fix the closing date as Ist of next month? Please let me have your thoughts ,,,
best wishes
Maz
Amp, I love this. Naughtily delicious :)Quote:
Originally Posted by ampoule
I'm not sure if I should be posting this, since it sounds to me very far-fetched. But having spent an afternoon in a house where they were weeping dirges for a dead relative, and then seeing this picture-- it inevitably reminded me of this poem by Wallace Stevens. So this was what came up:
On The Emperor of Ice Cream
The only emperor is the emperor of ice cream.
- Wallace Stevens, The Emperor of Ice Cream
Concupiscent cups, if not the dreams we see,
do at least serve in our hours of honesty.
The empire still in us remains.
The emperor of ice cream with taut fists reigns.
Why, then, the needless masquerades,
if passion in passion is made and remade,
cups in cups held firm and free-
building up to heights of satiety?
Deaths never die, but won’t they fade
in such raw life? Won’t they be the narrowest shade
in arrays of sunshine on olive leaves?
The Faiths are balks in what a man truly believes.
And Causes: the divine by which we live to feign.
The emperors of ice cream with taut fists reign.
I hope i didnt spoil the jolly party. :(
Question:
Has there been a due date set for this contest? (Just curious even though I've already entered)
There, I think that was all that has been said about the date here?Quote:
Originally Posted by mazHur
Thank you, Fifth. I love being that way. ;)Quote:
Originally Posted by TheFifthElement
Maz...I think waiting for the 1st of May is too long. I am so anxious to hear what your thoughts are on your picture.
Yes though i dont stand a chance with all these great poems, i too am curious to see what you had in your mind. :) Plus i may not be around much from may (got some important exams coming on may 29th), so could we make it earlier?Quote:
Originally Posted by ampoule
Hmmm....
bump!