Thank you for starting us off with a first great entry.
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Thank you for starting us off with a first great entry.
I was going to wait until I got more entries to judge a good deadline date but maybe that is just making people procrastiante :toetap05:
So, the Deadline will be April 5th
Way too difficult.
YesNo gets my vote.
:)
It is a rather complicated form. I've never seen it before, but then there are many things I have not seen before. The repeating lines remind me of villanelles and triolets.
Someone else better enter, jajdude, or the form I'll pick for the next contest is whatever "Mary Had a Little Lamb" was written in. You won't want that to happen.
"villanelles and triolets"
are we speaking the same language?
A challenger approaches!
:p
Just need to figure out what to write about...
Destiny
The days pass like eons now
Shadows fill up each waking hour
I might face them better if I knew how
But they wait in silence my soul to devour
Shadows fill up each waking hour
With dread bringing sweat upon the brow
But they wait in silence my soul to devour
I dare not lift my weary hand from the plow
With dread bringing sweat upon the brow
I’ll go down in flames, fighting every hour
I dare not lift my weary hand from the plow
Hope whispers softly, “Weakness is power.”
But they wait in silence my soul to devour
And Death hovers close on my ship’s prow
Survival depends on living in each hour
And giving Fate a raised eyebrow
Pendragon
© Sunday, March 13, 2011
Monologue within
My head is empty now.
Worlds exist therein,
If only I knew how
My head is empty now.
Sleep will soon begin,
And with a silent vow
Colors start to spin.
Worlds exist therein
The dream tree's every bough.
And it is no sin
To live between the now.
If only I knew how
Dreams distilled as gin,
I'd sip and share and show,
Free the mind again.
This form was a bear, and I'm still not quite satisfied with how I tackled it... curses.
Guess I'll give it a shot...
Rain
In the raven sky
A thousand falling stars
Leave silvery streaks
And shimmer with the moon.
A thousand falling stars
Fly swift as arrows;
Violinist fingers
Play nimble eighth-notes.
Leave silvery streaks
That flash in your blue eyes;
You ponder the world
With all its mysteries.
And shimmer with the moon
As a barn owl sings
And listen as the rain
Whispers on the roof.
Thanks for resurrecting this thread Dark Muse. A very challenging form, here is my attempt at doing it justice:
Prisms in the night
Beneath the purple moon
Weaving mystic light
Upon the cosmic loom
Beneath the purple moon
Dancing with such grace
A swirling neon plume
Phosphorescent lace
Weaving mystic light
Through whirling stellar felt
Snaking through the night
A chrysocolla belt
Upon the cosmic loom
Gaia spins her yarn
Aurora in full bloom
By the mountain tarn.
Sorry for the delay I was preoccupied last week, but now I am here. I want to thank those who stepped up to the plate to tackle this challenging form. You have all din a great job, and had your revenge on me for making my job now twice as difficult, so here goes:
YesNo: A beautiful start to this difficult form. I loved the subject of your poem, it had an almost eerie haunting quality, but I liked the dual aspect as well in the way in which it played between nightmares and dreams and day and night, showing the different moods and effects between the two, the safety of daylight, and the vulnerability of the night. I also thought you did a good job with your just of rhyme.
krymsonkyng: Well you may not be happy with the result of your poem, but I think you have done quite well with it. You have brought your usual unique style into this difficult form which was quite enjoyable to read. I thought the first line was a great way to grab the readers interest and intrigue them, and I loved the originality of the poem, I particularly loved the line "Dreams distilled as gin,"
moonbird: First of all I have to say I thought that "In the raven sky" was a beautiful way to start the poem off, and instantly caught my attention. Your poem created a rather beautiful, mystical and elegant image. A lovely way to paint the picture of the night and it gives such a serene feeling, and I loved the line "Violinist fingers"
RaoulDuke: Another beautiful poem capturing a haunting image of the night sky. And another captivating starting line to peek my interest from the get do. You had so many great lines within your poem, but one of my favorites was "Phosphorescent lace" I loved the way in which you used such challenging words within this difficult form, and I really liked you use of the rhyme.
But the winner is.......
Pendragon: You never fail to impress and though I had a tough choice among many great poems, out of all of them yours is the one which spoke to me the most and left the most profound impression upon me. You created such vivid images in my mind. A well crafted poem from start to finish, I loved the somberness of the mood within your piece.
Thanks, Dark Muse! I'll get a form up as soon as possible.
The next form is simple. Let's do free verse, no rhyme. Make the poem at least 15 lines long. The rest is up to your imagination! Allons-y!
Awesome job Pendragon! Guess I'll start us off...
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And so it begins.
Gypsy Lace
She wove her gypsy lace
beneath a wayward moon,
as the wrinkles gathered
beneath her aging eyes.
Nimble her fingers
thread stories of the ages,
while when each colored strand
voices of the dead whispered.
She worked before the
primal firelight,
where centuries before
her ancestors once
played the melodies
upon a Roma guitar.
Where the women danced
among their flaunting veils
embolden of vibrant
unapologizing colors,
hiding not the passions
of the soul.
Nice entries so far! Keep 'em coming! :lurk5:
Day 34/40 of Lent 2011
This Lent has been quiet, calm
No relapses, no cravings to step into a store
I walk briskly through shopping malls, only groceries for dinner
do a quick lunch or pedicure
As for Facebook, I am off the hook
No need for Newsfeeds, don't want to be tagged
Highlights offline:
Lunch with chums, tea with a favourite aunt
Singing lessons! Finding my voice on the keys!
Meaningful instant messaging conversations across the seas,
across the GRCs*,
Six days more or ten . . .
I'm keeping this short
Hitting 'Send'
*GRCs--Group Representation Constituencies (or GRCs) are electoral divisions represented by multiple Parliamentary seats in one particular city-state, currently anticipating elections
The Sitting
You're early, my dove, how impetuous you seem.
O, count me a fool for my boldness !
Unfrock yourself of your cloak, my dove, and lay it by the fire. Please
repair to the sitting room once more.
The ghost walks, I'll warrant - judging the coin purse you've given me.
Indulge me, my dove, as I gather my paints.
My heart is aquiver from love's misspent shafts. Do not fail me now !
Enchanting. Allow me to move the fauteuil to better capture the light.
Is your master well? He is generous to a fault.
Sit so. Chin up. Up, as I finish your painting.
Gold. Aureolin gold to match your soul as a final wash
of watercolour to finish your portrait.
Never so lovely.
Never so lovely.
And done. Now indulge me one last thing.
Come sup with me one last time, my dove,
of jonquil root, leaf, flower, and sage;
made fresh for our repast. To steal you away as mine.
Eternity ! Breathe deep the heady savoury, my dove. And sleep.
4/30/2011 is the deadline for entries. Make sure your voice is heard! Write today! :grouphug:
moonbird Nice run on the modern "post every little thing on line" and/or love connection!
mingdilly You seem to be a newcomer here, so may I welcome you! Lent is a trying time on all who observe it, nice little poem!
tailor STATELY You seemed to have a conversation going if I read this right, between the bold lines and not bold lines. A very neat style!
But I am going to have to go for:
DARKMUSE What can I say, this poem left me speechless! I think the breaks into stanzas really set this poem apart. The subject, WOW! That is all I can say!
You're up, Muse!
Thank you very much! I will have to consider what to choose for the next form.
Congrats Dark Muse!
Thank you!
Excellent choice. Congratulations Dark Muse !
Yes. The italics were to show the mind of the artist as he uncomfortably has his ex-lover in her final/finishing sitting for a portrait to be given to his rival. He also converses with the ex-lover w/ her responses left out as superfluous.Quote:
tailor STATELY You seemed to have a conversation going if I read this right, between the bold lines and not bold lines. A very neat style!
Using aureolin gold as a watercolour would darken & fade the portrait after a little time. [note: as an oil paint aureolin gold is stable; not so as a watercolour http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Aureolin.]Quote:
Aureolin gold to match your soul as a final wash
of watercolour to finish your portrait.
I used a song title by Led Zeppelin http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Your_Time_Is_Gonna_Come "Your time is gonna come" spelled out using the first letter of each line (at least @ 100% browser viewing).
Of course this is a murder/suicide in the eating of the repast - the jonquil being poisonous by root and leaf http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Narcissus_(plant); the "master" ultimately being left with a dead lover and a portrait that will fade and darken.
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY
Thank you!
Well I was somewhat inspired by Pendragon here, and I am choose for the next "form"
Experimental
Be as creative and unique as possible, seek outside your comfort zone, challenge just what a poem is. Push the boundaries on structure, word use, subject matter.
Pretty much anything goes as long as it goes against the traditional conventions of how or what a poem should be.
Deadline May 15
Here you go. Read and interpret as you choose.
put the bottle to my lips watch him with numbly dont have to feel its cold glass as he presses the bottle against my skin to his lips not for much longer yet again soon it will be swallows it down warmed with the radiating some slips down heat of my flesh his cheek and drips like melting its shining sweat amber raindrops down sliding down its neck his throat tracing clutching it so hard i fear the bulging purple veins it will break that only show and stab my hand when hes like this with its biting fingers the disgusting residue dont think i would of what once was notice if it did
Cinderella
It’s about time you faced up to reality, young lady!
Fairy Godmothers do not exist!
That’s not a fine gown from Sak’s Fifth Avenue.
You’re wearing rags! Filthy rags, ya hear?
You are not riding in a limo, nor a coach.
It’s a pumpkin, Stupid!
Those aren’t fine thoroughbreds.
Mice! They’re mice!
And there are not and never have been any glass slippers.
You’re barefoot, for God’s sake!
I’m sorry.
But, then again, fantasies have never hurt anyone—
that is—until Midnight…
Pendragon
The deadline for this one was supposed to be today but as there are only two entries I am going to extend the deadline to the end of the month.
Come now don't be intimidated by this one. It is your chance to do anything you want and break all the rules.
I know there are some innovative poets around here.
You can crawl through the
the ear drums of a
New York Beatle
wriggling on the ground.
The sound of being erased.
a single blow to the chest
is ultimately silent.
In hindsight, slow motion is king.
His woman falters in disbelief,
Long black hair spreadeagles
at two strands per minute
A life is lost among taxis, sirens
and thick pollution.
Now he is dung
Thanks to those who were brave enough to rise up this challenge. It was quite a fun one and I looked forward to seeing just whatever would come up with. A bit hard to judge becasue of the great difference between them, and becasue it was so open, but I have for better or worse made my choice.
moonbird: I give you props for being the most creative and out of the box with the structure or lack there of, of your poem. I think that you took the experimental the farthest and was the most daring. At first I found the poem a bit awkward in reading, but as I continued I discovered that it actually did have a rhythm to it which I quite enjoyed. Also I could not help a bit of a chuckle at some of the allusions which the poems seems to be suggesting. Quite an interesting read.
Delta40: A rather interesting and original poem, I am still not sure I entirely understand its meaning, but none the less I still enjoyed reading it, and at points could not help but think of Kafka's "Metamorphosis" I do like the rather different perspective which the poem take. I really enjoyed the ending, it was like a day in the life of a bug in the city, and yet I also cannot help but wonder if there is some greater symbolic meaning here. A poem to be read over more than once.
And the winner goes to.......
Pendragon: Your poem had me laughing hysterically. The whole time I was reading it I could hear the voice of the evil step mother speaking. I liked your reinvention of the common fairy tale, and I really enjoyed the way in which you also brought it into the modern world. A very entertaining poem.
Well done Pen.
Will try to enter one of these form contests yet.
Congrats Pendragon!
Thanks, guys. Hummm... form?
OK, straight Shakespearian sonnet, shall we say with an archaic style of language (think Chaucer here.) Might be fun!
No takers? I'm shocked!
I guess I missed this one.
Killing What Thy Lover Loves
Like Juno loves to punish wayward Jove
By killing what he loves, I'm just as mean.
Those naked nymphs thou hidest in thy grove
Wilst feel fresh hate few nymphs have ever seen.
They'll wish they all were comfortably dead,
But thou shalt watch them scream to my delight.
When death doth take them off to Hades' bed
Their nightmares wilst forever stink of fright.
And thou who thought those nymphs were more than me,
Thy queen, old fart, they die now in thy place
So thou mightst love me just as I love thee
Then cringe when I stare down thy ugly face.
Yea, love means thou dost what, my love, I say.
Thy nymph of choice hath died this sunny day.
Wow! Excellent start! More! More! :smash::smash::smash:
Working on it; 1 - very rough draft down.
... got nuthin.
The lady dost love those with threads
whose golden satin shines with time,
whose silk linens coat their beds,
whose eloquent phrases match their rhyme.
The French perfumes adorn her neck,
and Spanish take her plaec to place.
Gold or pyrite--it matters not--
that which gleams gets her heart to race.
With every jewel, there comes a key
to the treasure within her chest.
Beware, for all that which you seek
is lost; her lavish soul lies bereft.
Her current fashion hides the tale
of barren landscapes up for sale.
Upon Regret, my friend, let's say no more,
It strikes our futile hearts in vain;
It steals our joy and leaves us poor,
Our brimful cheer now 'mersed in pain.
The shadow steals beneath the rock,
The moon hath hid his timid face,
The key now broken in its lock
Hath left us in disgrace.
So rise, my friend, and cast aside
The empty sorrow that serves no good,
Save thy fret for another tide,
And be my brother, as thou should.
We shall regret more in times to come,
Meanwhile let us smile and be numb.