I'll be joining in the fray in a couple days. Still formulating my poem. Just gimme some time.
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I'll be joining in the fray in a couple days. Still formulating my poem. Just gimme some time.
On the Mountain Top
And from atop the summit, all was seen:
the Southern river threading westward through
the plains: the concrete-colored streets that wind
around the hills and buildings like unbound
lawn hoses: and the towns, a cluster of
faded ceiling tiles and whitewashed homes
reaching across the valley like outstretched wings.
The wind is blowing lazily, the breeze
carrying sounds and scents from the summit--
the hollow ting of silver fish hooks dropped
on granite rocks, the grilling of fresh-caught
fish spiced with paprika and lemon
zest, left to sizzle on an open fire.
Looking at my watch, I laugh aloud. Noon.
At this time yesterday, it was our lunch.
Reclining on a group of rocks, I laugh
again and ponder what to do tomorrow
on the second day of summer.
Hide away June, where's the sense in cowardice?
The edge of the bed is looking more like a precipice
so cradle your head in your hands, college man,
September would never look for you here.
Draw the blinds, don't let Summer in-
Daylight dances like it doesn't know where you've been,
full dressed, on a comforter in the dark,
laid up in bed and cliches with a broken heart.
Even now, the walls are pressing in,
and you aren't ever coming out again.
Awesome entries guys! I'll post the results sometime tomorrow, anyone else who wants to jump in at the last minute can do so any time today.
I only ever come across this thread by mistake, then lose it again.
Your results are finally here!
jajude: Your rhyme scheme really pulled the piece together, along with the witty final line. Nice comparison to the summers of childhood to those of adulthood.
Pendragon: A darker take on summer vacation. I liked your references to the predatory animals, they helped emphasize the point of the poem.
YesNo: What describes the joy of summer more than a picnic for two? I could almost feel the warm breeze as I read this.
Dark Muse: You chose to do an original take on summer, describing the irony of longing for it until it finally comes. Your descriptions were excellent.
IceM: Your poem described the feeling of endless possibilities stretched out before you on the first day of summer. I enjoyed this.
Jack of Hearts: Another unique take on my prompt of "Summer Break." I especially liked the second line, "The edge of the bed is looking more like a precipice."
And now your winner is........................
Dark Muse! I liked your original idea and your descriptions made the piece come alive. Well done!
Thank you very much! Now to think of a the next subject
ok the next subject is
Solitary Man
Deadline July 15
Solitary Man
Jim's wife is with another guy.
He's glad that Amy's gone.
Between them over recent years
They focused on their dreams and fears
Not what was going on.
Only one entry so far? No other takers?
The thoughts he keeps in his troubled sleeps
are broken by the day;
The light comes through the window new
until he finds his way,
Down the street with no one to meet
his pace is all his own,
With time to spare, no need to share,
his patterns are unknown;
How many years has he had these fears,
no one here can say;
Again tomorrow we'll see his sorrow,
the same as yesterday.
Lonely Tears
He tries so hard to get away from it all.
So he climbs into his pickup, puts in into gear and goes
Down this dusty road where people seldom go—
Pulls in at the trailhead; then he gets out and walks.
Only when he is out miles from anywhere;
Does he dare to let his bars down, and give in to his cares.
Out where no one sees the lonely tears that fall—
He struggles with the fires in his soul;
Almost everything worthwhile in life is gone—
His world razed to the foundations, with no will to build thereupon.
What can he do? What can he say?
Will it always be this way?
He shakes his head and silently marches on…
While down his cheeks the lonely teardrops fall—
At night he just lies staring at the wall—
Wondering just what happened? Where the hell did he go wrong?
He tried so hard to give anyone a hand—
But now each painful memory plays music in his head.
He lies there so cold and lonely, locked within his thoughts—
Trying hard to convince himself that this mess isn’t all his fault.
Others never see the lonely tears that fall—
Or ever hear the silent screams that tear apart his soul!
His world fell to ashes; and nobody keeps in touch.
And now his desire for living just isn’t all that much.
What can he do? What can he say?
Will it always be this way?
Sometimes he wishes for the guts to break his word and end it all…
While down his face the lonely teardrops fall…
Pendragon
Sophie
Callous like the skin on heels,
she scrawled a note with bloody fingers.
"Agony did not kill the killer,
the absence of such was fatal."
Having penned her solemn words in crooked lines,
sinewing across paper like rivulets,
she surrendered herself to another
slash of the knife,
hoping this time to be successful.
Thank you to everyone who entered. Sorry for the short delay but I have been a bit busy over the weakend. But I have the results now. It was a tough call.
YesNo: I really liked the last three lines of the poem. I thought there was a lot of power within those lines and it conveyed a deep feeling, as well I enjoyed the realism in the poem. It was quite true to life and I think rather relatable to the experiences many people may have had.
jajdude: I thought your poem was beautifully crafted. I enjoyed your use of rhyme and I really liked the concept of your poem because I found it personally to be quite relatable. I know what thoughts the night can herald and how differently our minds and emotions can be from day to night.
IceM: I enjoyed you creativity on the interpretation of the subject, choosing to see "man" as a general term for mankind, opposed to needing to be specific to gender. So I rather liked the fact that you did take your poem in a different direction by making it about a girl. I thought the opening lines of the poem were quite gripping and hooked me in from the start.
And the winneer is.......
Pendragon: I loved the fact that there was something almost lyrical about your poem. You were able to craft a story while at the same time still keeping a poetic feel to it. Even though I cannot stand country music, this poem that sort of vibe to it, and in the poem it worked well. I could just picture someone playing a guitar to this while reading. I loved the atmosphere this poem created and the vivid scene that I could really picture it clearly in my mind.
Where's Pendragon?
I do not know. I was going to give it a little more time, and than I was thinking about contacting my closest runner up and asking them if they would like to go ahead with the next subject.
Sorry, I was injured, and away for a couple days. Fine now.
Let's see: Subject is: "A Lonely Grave"
Write, poets, write!
Ancient Sleep
They placed him in a tiny tomb.
A pillow rests beneath his head,
But there was not sufficient room
To move his body in that bed.
There was no air if he might need
To cough and clear his throat
Or smell the springtime's rush of seed.
A crypt was now his coat.
The coffin went inside the crypt.
The dirt went all around.
For centuries no water's dripped
To him beneath the ground.
When he died we did not cry, those years were unkind;
We watched him stagger, we saw time tear away the shreds
of dignity and meaning
Cruelly, I thought,
Hours and days of unrelenting pain
Then it all came to an end, at last,
and the heaviness of his life, of this world,
simply fell away
I doubt he feels anything now,
under the ground,
or if he does, it's better than the misfortune he endured.
He remembered the wind scathing his skin
The stars laughing through cold light
Her heart against his, the breath of fire
The thing called life that burned his veins.
He remembered his mother, kissing him goodnight
His father with his thick fat hands. He remembered his friends
This one laughing, that one silent. But
Her kisses melted
Into sick mud heaped on rotting bones.
Their faces swirled through eternity.
The centuries crushed their voices.
Faces, laughter, light, warmth, love
Twisted into an endless empty whorl
Of pixels and decibels and modulations of light. And Time
Tore them from his lifeless breast
until he layalone –
The Lonely Grave.
Lonely grave is were I be.
Cold within the darker box.
Waiting for my time.
To become one with earth.
My bones are hurting cramp in these clothes.
Just laid bear beneath the dirt.
The Stone Angel
There is a graveyard near my house.
I'm not allowed to play there,
But, of course, I do anyway.
It is an ancient graveyard,
So old that there aren't any mourners left
For the dead who lie below,
Rotting away to dirt
As their stone monuments remain
Cold and brittle above the ground.
The wind has long beaten away
The names and dates
From the weathered old stones,
Because the people buried there were poor
And couldn't afford
To buy nice rock
To preserve their legacies.
There is an angel in the graveyard.
She lives above a grave
Tucked away under a willow tree,
And I can tell she was once beautiful
But now her face is worn away
And her wings tarnished.
I like to sit and talk to her,
And sometimes I wonder
If the girl whose grave she guards
Can hear what I say
But cannot reply
For her voice is only the wind.
She must have been beautiful too.
When I die, I would like to have
An angel above my grave,
One that could last
Through the wind-blasted years,
And children would play on my grave,
And they'd wonder who is buried there
Below the lovely angel
All alone in the graveyard.
The Forgotten Grave
Silently
(as silent as death itself)
they make their gentle
windswept decent.
Each a burst of flame
(brilliance, the last spark of life)
before they cover the grave,
like whispers of a forgotten
soul within.
Beneath the blanket
of sweet aromatic decay
(which ever fades)
in serenity lies the stone.
But its gray is ever
painted anew as the
seasons change,
and the sun alights
the dreary gloom
with the birth of each day.
While sweetly may the birds
sing their funeral hymns
and softly may the rains
awash gathering debris.
Gravestones
may begin to crumble
(even they must return to the earth)
and engravings of names and dates
fade, while flowers long dried
are blown away.
The beauty of life still
abounds unafraid, without
hesitation and now
and than a passing soul
(those still among the living)
may rest a moment.
With the dead and their thoughts
their only companions
and the world briefly
seems to stand frozen.
Even where the passage
of time remains ever
present.
With this nice turnout, I will now set the ending date at 9/15/2011. Wonderful entries so far! :nod::nod::nod::nod:
Out in Domenigoni
beneath the reservoir and buried in years,
there is sunshine and ranchland fields
of summer soaked grass
long sunk and gone.
On a visit to where
my father was raised,
back before his home was bought and buried by Diamond Lake,
my brother chased goats into the field and found
a simple mound
and a lonely cross.
Here's mine:
The Empty Tombstone at Mount Hope
Over and down the hill
My friends and I ran
Until we made it to
Mount Hope Cemetery:
A few graves, under the
Wyoming sun and heat,
Rounded by barbed wire,
And that surrounded by pasture.
All flat stones on rough land
Except the metal one:
An iron monument,
Tall, narrow and hollow.
“Sackett” -- the old plate read
On the old gray metal stone.
We twisted the rivets
Off of Sackett’s iron plate
And, one by one, we kids
Squeezed into the opening
And stood on Sackett’s ground,
And breathed the dying air.
When we all had turned,
We ambled from Mount Hope
Like monarchs in the clouds:
Milkweed to Mexico.
Welcome! This is Subject Poetry Contest: The Results!
We had a super turnout for this round and I am truly grateful for all of your wonderful poems.
Yesno: A very fine poem from a viewpoint I hadn't thought of: the corpse eye view! Especially liked:
jajdude Touching piece. Especially good lines:Quote:
A crypt was now his coat.
cl154576 I don't recall meeting you before, but you had an excellent poem here, building nicely to the climax:Quote:
I doubt he feels anything now,
under the ground,
or if he does, it's better than the misfortune he endured.
Quote:
Tore them from his lifeless breast
until he lay
alone –
zoolane Nice minimalistic poem with a solid ending. Loved the line:
.Quote:
My bones are hurting cramp in these clothes
Can just imagine a corpse trying to stretch its legs in that tiny, confined space!
moonbird My grandfather made stone angels as grave markers for young children that had passed. Sadly, graveyard vandals have destroyed almost all of them. I loved these lines:
Darkmuse A worthy poem with your usual careful crafting! I really enjoyed the lines:Quote:
When I die, I would like to have
An angel above my grave,
One that could last
Through the wind-blasted years,
Reminds us that even death gets destroyed by time.Quote:
Beneath the blanket
of sweet aromatic decay
(which ever fades)
in serenity lies the stone.
krymsonkyng Again it is your wrap-up that appeals the most to me:
The ComedianQuote:
a simple mound
and a lonely cross.
Reminds me of my own youth when we cousins played in Round Hill Cemetery and the day the Lincoln's Tomb was left unlocked...Quote:
We twisted the rivets
Off of Sackett’s iron plate
And, one by one, we kids
Squeezed into the opening
And stood on Sackett’s ground,
And breathed the dying air.
All poems were wonderful and deserving of the win, but I must choose only one: The winner is:
Moonbird You brought back so many memories of my grandfather and his stone angels watching over the lonely graves of children. Congrads. You're up next! :hurray::hurray::hurray:
Thank you, Pendragon!
Here's the next subject: Homecoming Dance
All the high schools around my house have a dance coming up and the teens are going nuts. Romantic slow-dances, spiked punch... Ah, the memories. Can't wait to see the poems for this one.
I'll set a deadline for October 15. Good luck!
Pageantry
Primmed like peacocks on their fool's parade
petty lives in a vain masquerade
shallowness at the core
gossip for this years whore
waiting to see thier Barbie Queen made.
Congratulations Moonbird!
Thank you! :)Quote:
Originally Posted by The Comedian
Homecoming Dance
No need to worry Mom or Dad.
She didn't want to go,
But had Bill Johnson wanted to,
It's something she'd not mind to do.
He was too busy though.
When Bill asked Sarah to the dance,
That didn't seem quite right.
It doesn't matter anyway.
Another guy will come someday
And they'll dance through the night.
We danced for the first time at homecoming
I wasn't much of a partner having never danced before
You were gracious to put up with me
And a slow dance was the only thing that I could manage
I think sometimes about the ones who were skilled at dancing
And knew just how to party and "get down"
Now their marriages have failed and their children used as pawns
And we're still together after all these years
So I thank you for your love and for my children
For my home and for the memories that we share
But I'll never forget that homecoming moment
When we put our arms around each other and slow danced
Pendragon
9/21/2011
What the hell is a homecoming dance?
I didn't attend it; I had no chance.
And when the girls smiled I felt miles behind.
Today's the last day. Any last-minute entries?
Here we go!
Dark Muse: A darker take on the Homecoming vanity.
YesNo: Felt almost like it was pulled right from the mind of a teenager.
Pendragon: This felt very honest and touching. Well done.
jajude: Short but not too sweet. I liked the bitterness.
And the winner is...
Pendragon! You're up!
Thank you very much, Moonbird, and congrads to all my fellow poets on truly wonderful entries!
The new subject is, in honor of the season, A Haunting
Contest ends November 5th. Good luck!
His life became parched of
tears and,
like a haunting,
he became a ghost
in his own home.
It Is Not the Darkness I Fear
It is not the darkness
which I fear,
it's solitude has always
spoken to me in a way
I have welcomed openly,
but as Ligeia I have sought
to penetrate its secrets.
Now what was revealed
never can I be blind to,
no it is not the darkness
white I fear, but I have
discovered there are things
which live there
waiting eagerly
hungry eyed
and salivating
for those wandering souls
who have ventured
too far to turn back.
While others sleep
safely in their beds
unaware that the night is alive
with the unseen,
I know they are there
and they can feel me breathing
awaiting for the moment
when they may steal
away with my still beating
heart.
No, believe me
when I tell you truthfully
that it is not the dark I fear,
but it is the ones who dwell
in the shadows which
make me shudder
as I wave good-bye
to the vanishing light.
There is a creature that has no eyes
Eyes ripped from bloody sockets
And replaced with stones
Cold
Unblinking
Unseeing
Seeing all
There is a creature that has no face
Like chunks of meat, mutilated
Shredded and clawed
Ears hang in ribbons
Flesh rotting away
Blackening
Sick with decay
To dirt, to worms
There is a creature that has no soul
Blown away in the wind
Wispy
Delicate
Like tissue paper
As the sun sits bleeding
And dying crows wail
There is a creature that lives in death
Animation suspended
Choked off, life corrupted
Tainted, stained
Ripped open
Sewn together
Mutated
Ravenous
As it eats