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"Without vision, people perish"
To not have law, is to court anarchy
Without reason, no understanding
With out hope even the strong shall fall
To not have love is loneliness incarnate
Without passion love is dead
To not have death is eternal torture
Without life, purpose ends
To not have faith is to doubt everything
Without darkness light has no value
Without light darkness rules
Without eternity the universe grows dim
Claiming nothing,
the Sage has nothing to lose....
Pendragon
(C) 5/21/2012
The Sage is Occupied,
Over-run by philosophy,
Pouring in through breaches,
Sacking the citadel,
Piling the spoils in the market place,
There's treasure in those heaps.
His wife happens by,
And gently Kisses the top of his ear,
Teaching without verbosity,
The worth of his philosophy.
The Sage is an uncommon one
unspoken truths glint
within his unassuming eye,
through the ages he has
been called by many names
but never has been possessed.
A traveler between worlds,
effortlessly he has flown
between life and death,
he has been a creator,
and a destroyer of worlds
seen and unseen.
But even in this
he always teaches
a lesson, yet what knowledge
he imparts, is not for him to decide,
it is for the supplicant to
determine the results.
The sage lays no claims
existing outside of time,
he is, will be, has always been,
and there is nothing to lose.
Just a few days left until the deadline! :)
All In
It’s Baltimore Pete and the Jezzer –
The chips are sliding his way –
Blackhat, and me and the Rube to my right,
When Sage comes over to play.
The Sage is a stranger who lives with a story
That only a soldier could know.
He stacks up his chips, lays an earring on top.
He plays a few low hands real slow.
The beers are cold-fresh and we’re all talking trash
But the Sage ain’t saying too much.
Queens with a King come down for my trips.
I push up the price just a touch.
Blackhat re-raises, and a King hits the street.
Blackhat raises again.
The Sage just goes with - so I tag along
Though I figure the Hat’s got three Men.
The river’s an Ace. Blackhat considers,
Then matches the pot, with a sigh.
I’m out in a rush. Sage smiles like a wound
And he looks the Hat right in the eye.
A rainbow is thrown through the diamond cut
Of the earring that lies on the chips,
And blood-red is lit on the face of the Queen.
Sage touches the ring to his lips.
“The lot,” says the Sage. “A million and change.”
He pushes it into the pile.
Blackhat goes white. “You holding aces?”
The Sage gives his razor-slash smile.
Blackhat is sweating. He’s thinking it through.
That million is sure smelling sweet.
But bullets’d kill him. He chews on a nail.
And then he gets up on his feet.
“Okay – let’s see ‘em,” the Blackhat demands.
The Sage shrugs, shaking his head.
“Junk,” he says. “Nuthin.” He picks up the earring,
And walks out the door like the dead.
“Man’s crazy,” says Jezzer, while Blackhat rakes up.
I gather the cards as they laugh.
But I’m thinking each earring is one of a pair.
I’m thinking a single’s a half.
And I know ‘bout the Sage, coz I knew him back when
And I once saw the twin of that earring.
And I reckon a fella has nothing to lose
When there’s nothing he cares about winning.
“Guy just can't bluff it, I guess,” says the Hat.
“I dug it just scoping his face.”
I check the two cards at the base of the pack.
One’s an Ace. And the other’s an Ace.
Nice Mark!
J
Ah, wow. There were so many amazing entries for this particular contest, that I almost wish I wasn't the judge.
But I am!
So, here I was, thinking, ''Wow. I just love YesNo's clever use of rhyme and rhythm. They're always able to come up with good material.''
And then I was thinking, ''Pendragon, they just never cease to disappoint when they're called to challenge, and really had a grasp of ideas that lent so well to the poem.''
And, ''prendrelemick, such creativity and divergent thoughts and images!''
... ''Oh Dark Muse! Always a story in the verse, such passion and spirit!''
And then a last minute entry flipped the kayak upside down. And it's not easy to flip a kayak, I don't care what anyone says.
MarkBastable, a well deserved poetry victory unto you, for a clever interpretation of the verse, really pushing outside the box, and even managing to make the reader consider the concepts behind the assignment.
And, so, without further ado... You win a chance at judging!
Hooray!
I'd give you a ribbon, or trophy, but you'll have to settle for a virtual one.
Thank you. In fact I don't think the poem's quite there yet. The metre's clunky in a couple of places, and the narrative isn't as satisfyingly resolved as I'd like. But I'm flattered that it was chosen.
Okay - the next one....
I think we've used a line from Prufrock before, but I'd like to suggest this one:
....talking of Michelangelo...
Deadline: June 24th
talking of Michelangelo
don't you think David needs a few more clothes?
under a fig leaf everything shows
talking of Michelangelo...
talking of Michelangelo
why does Moses have those horns, bro?
does a demon inside him grow?
talking of Michelangelo...
talking of Michelangelo
the Sistine Chapel's ceiling glows
did you get cramps in your back or vertigo?
talking of Michelangelo...
talking of Michelangelo
your Pietà makes the tears flow
think how He died for us you know
talking of Michelangelo...
talking of Michelangelo
you worked on St Peter's Basilica in Rome
we have you to thank for one awesome dome
talking of Michelangelo...
talking of Michelangelo
most magnificent of artists everyone knows
wonder what he would think of art nouveau?
talking of Michelangelo...
talking of Michelangelo...
Pendragon
(c) 6/2/2012
Focusing on David
We were talking of Michelangelo.
Janice loved his David so
I bought a T-shirt where the part
She loved the best flashed on my heart.
Only two entries? What gives, poets?
Well bumped.
Because I'm so busy, I won't be looking at this for a coupla days, so I'm going to extend the deadline to Friday, as long as the two entrants so far don't feel cheated by that.
The Gallery
I contemplate over Mona Lisa's smile
and wonder what secret thoughts
she holds within her head,
feeling a since of comradery
I can imagine that she winked at me.
I wonder what my buddy Steve is doing
right now, and where should I have lunch,
there is this new Italian place that just opened
".....talking of Michelangelo.."
the voice suddenly interrupts my thoughts
slamming me back into reality.
I offer her a sheepish smile attempting
to look interested, nodding my head.
"Have you been paying any attention to what I said?"
"So Michelangelo, he is the guy that sculpted David"
I replay and know instantaneously that it was
the wrong answer to give and feel the dread
fall upon me, my smile remains plastered upon me face.
"Really, I do not know why I take you anywhere,
it is completely hopeless, do you ever think of anyone
but yourself......."
a Dali caught my eye and I become lost in the
dream like scape and wander over the swirls of paint,
and suddenly the song "A Horse With No Name"
begins to play in my head,
yeah I know later I am really going to be dead.
talking to michael angelo
I felt there was nothing to blow
the smoke the air was even low
the words made up covered the flow
and sentences went up to rows
filling the silence with a throw
talking to michale angelo
was never meant to be a show
about the mundane tasks of growth
far from it it was a pro
about the emptiness of simple foes
that made a noise and went out broke
talking to michael angelo
was much ado about a co
to plot against the rich and so
but deminised itself as though
it compromsied those in the know
and ended tarnished out of dough
talking to michael angelo
was in the end a symbol round
to those who tried to wrig a bound
but got themselves caught in a frown
this is reminder from acts and crown
to not climb hither those heights again
I've been nudged by cacian's entry to get back to this. I shall consider and return with a verdict today.