Picture Poetry Contest (...continued...)

I can't see the hiddeness - perhaps that's the poem I'll write - on my optical ineptitude...

My optical ineptitude
Is not a case of being rude...

no no..perhaps not.

:lol: Ow! my aching neck. The second picture is a bonus. I have to admit that I din't see it when perusing and selecting this. I'm not sure what I'm looking for when I do these. Something that delights the eye and says something about the human condition, I guess.

I'll post a deadline in the next day or so. It will be in about three weeks.

Have fun! :)

Mist

The mist intrigued round the mountain.
We stand alone with just the mist for company.
Mist invited us to join her and float in the sky.
She hugged every part of our bodies with her cold air.

We held hands tight and refused to let her take us.
The mountain is our only saviour against her.
We push back toward the stone.
But she gets strong with the wind on her side.

I feel my hand slip from him.
Hold tight as I can.
She gently lifts my feet.
Slowly pulling me away from my heart's desire.

This what I interpet the picture said to me and I hope you all like thankyou.

Here's my jingle-jangle number.

Transparency

The sun behind the stones,
The people in the crag,
His hands in his pockets,
Her hands behind her gown.

We hide what we can see:
These people, the earth, and me.

The sun behind the clouds,
The rain sounds on our roof,
My two girls watch Dora,
My wife is on the phone.

We hide what we can see:
These people, the earth, and me.

Shadows lap the fissures,
And boarders crop the trees,
The viewer is a ghost.
The river runs below.

We hide what we can see:
These people, the earth, and me.

Dinner on the table,
I whisper "thanks" alone,
Then say "thanks" out loud
For true transparency.

We hide what we can see:
These people, the earth, and me.

Thank you, zoolane and comedian. Very interesting contributions. And we're off!

Echo From the Edge

Where did we come from
How did we get here
Standing on the edge of good-bye
It's a long ways down
And a long ways up
We just step one step forward and die
The love in our hearts
Burned so bright and so strong
Why in the hell couldn't they just leave us alone?
Pressured and persecuted on every side
They can't seem to understand choice
So what will they say when we're gone?
Rather be gone than be living a lie
Two hearts forever entwined on the edge of good-bye...

Pendragon

At World's End

Come, take my hand,
and let us stand
upon the edge
of a new world.

Let everything behind
us crumble away
into dust and we
will venture upon
the eve of a new
beginning.

The vastness
ours to behold,
let us be adventurers,
to blaze a trail
through the unknown.

The world crafted
by man will become
obsolete, and the
boundaries that held us
back will dissipate.

We will be dancers
upon the rim of
canyons, we will
become leapers
into the air,
and trust upon
the wind to lift
us up.

Let us live
among the birds,
take my hand,
untouched by doubt,
with a heart filled
only in trust.

And we will leap
from this world's end,
and if we die,
we will die together,
and if we survive,
we will live in the
New World.

The world made
only for us.

Immaculate Journey

Look, look love, let us see our immaculate memory ironic
Singing sealed history above romantic wilderness,
Buffalo Bill 66 where dem injuns waz tekin hits ats us.

We seal our memories shut behind gray fog and yellow dusk
And peer into the void of labyrinths to-be-born, anarchic oneness
Differentiate the ying and the yang, the Tao a tea to sip at one
Under steamy smoked mountains and hickory logs in fire.

Lalalalalalala Mozart and the Whale to New World
New Century and New Ghost. Millennial project ain't yo
Oneness fo' getting out of Buenos Aires. Fly fly fly
A plane into a tower for that.

Wowzers! Thank you, Pendragon, Dark Muse, DanielBenoit. What awesomeness in one afternoon.

My father, my mother,
You who stood before me
You who stood behind me
I bow to memory
I bow to the other

What is it to be lost?
Did you, dutiful, dear;
Did you bother to hear?
I look at what is near
I look at it almost

I am trapped in my life
The end of my tether
The end altogether
My father, my mother
My far retreat, my strife

The moment came and went
For I remembered you
For I remotely knew
Against a wall of dew
Again stirs this event:

My father, my mother
Married by a command
Married in the old land
When the cliffs closed their hand
When did you love each other?

Or did you fall into it alone?

Last Chance

No way forward, only back
along the well worn track
they stand, at world’s end
and contemplate their lives.

Glowing with a sepia light
eternity stares back;
vignettes the scene
within it’s timeless eye.

Recrimination pointless,
there is no map to life,
the signposts of their journey
long uprooted, far behind.

Still beautiful, the girl,
her gown plucked by
wind’s ethereal hand,
dressed for her last dance.

At peace the man
in flannel suit
who sheathes his hands
in pockets grown too deep.

Behind them
and beneath their feet
the certainty of rock
and all they’ve ever known.

They look to the Artist
but he will not advise,
here they are unaided
and every choice their own.

Oh, I love them both! Fine job, autolycus and Hawkman!

Love Story



let’s do something
different today

let’s take a trip
to September of 1948

let’s dress up
as a Hollywood couple

let’s do a stunt
and scale the steepest cliff

let’s pose for the camera
and kiss like there’s no tomorrow

let’s write our own script
of seduction, love, lust and betrayal

let’s rehearse our lines
for the riveting, tear jerking last scene

let’s give me your best acting
pretend you love me more than you love her

let’s make a pact
that you will not hold me back on my way down

These are a good batch of poems. I'm still thinking about the picture, but I'm not there yet.

Lovely, Haunted, and from quite a different perspective. Nice.

I hope you will write one, Paul. You've got a while yet.

The deadline will be Saturday, July 10, 2010.

THE PARTY’S OVER

The shindig’s finally fizzled out,
the swizzle sticks crushed underfoot,
your brother’s drunk both bars bone dry
as well as ruining Tarquin’s suit

That cocktail waitress from Van Nuys,
I watched papa write her a cheque;
poor Maurice left in such a huff,
your mother’s boa wrapped round his neck.

And you and I, my perfect pet,
I’d hoped we both might slip away,
enjoy some sweet canoodling
then watch for schooners on the bay.

But everything outside has changed,
the streets are buried deep in sand,
this balcony has turned to stone
and someone’s moved the ‘Hotel Grande’

Perhaps we drank too much champagne,
or Archie passed round more than snuff,
it might have been the canapés
but damn it all, enough’s enough.

What is a chap supposed to do?
This wretched world is playing tricks,
one can’t decide what’s up or down,
I blame those ruddy Bolsheviks!

Say what you like about those Bolshies but in this case they were good for a ripping good-rhyme, eh what!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by qimissung

Lovely, Haunted, and from quite a different perspective. Nice.

I hope you will write one, Paul. You've got a while yet.

---

Thanks qimi.

Here's my offering - completed whilst I was invigilating an exam last week.

Cliff Edge

Deep in the mountains, now you have no voice,
And echoes taunt your solitary ways,
There seems but little choice, so carry on
With every little day on day on day.

You scuffed a rock, dislodged a stone or two,
And hardly any mark is what you'll leave,
But you will carry on all the way through.
The past is gone; there's nothing left to grieve.

The fine clothes will unravel, like our lives
That hang by threads upon the cliff of time,
And yet we'd want a good frock or nice shirt
In which to hum our final funeral rhyme.

And standing at the face we're faced with fate,
Do we go on until we cannot choose?
Get ill, decay and dribble on our plates,
Until, senile, we're yesterdays old news?

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Say what you like about those Bolshies but in this case they were good for a ripping good-rhyme, eh what!

---

I say, Carruthers, are those drums I hear or is it just my pounding head?

I couldn't say, Fortescue, but the night is alive with stars, like eyes shining through the curtain of the night...

I don't want to worry you Carruthers, but shouldn't the stars be higher up?

Ahh, yes... I see what you mean. You know, Fortescue, I've led a good life, I've stuck pigs in Poonah, Machine-gunned Dervishes in the Sudan, Slaughtered my fair share of tigers; but I never expected it to end like this. A lousy party followed by an assault by Bolsheviks on the Winter Palace. What Month is it?

Still June, Carruthers, though July is barking at it's heels.

Thank God it's not October! They can't be Bolshies, Looks like we'll just succumb to wild animals or restless natives. Couldn't bare the thought of being overwhealmed by Bolshies!

Hear Hear!

Chin, chin old man....

Hang on, Carruthers, I've just got to fling my empty revolver down the slope...

And by the way, old bean. Have I told you how ravishing you look in that dress?

Nurse had one just like it - oh, the fun we had.....

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by hillwalker

And by the way, old bean. Have I told you how ravishing you look in that dress?

Nurse had one just like it - oh, the fun we had.....

---

:party::lol::hurray::cheers2:

That is one awesome poem, Paul! So glad you joined the party.

Abd hillwalker and Hawkman, why do I suddenly feel like I am in a P.G. Wodehouse novel? :D

That is one awesome poem, Paul! So glad you joined the party.

Abd hillwalker and Hawkman, why do I suddenly feel like I am in a P.G. Wodehouse novel? :D

Because, Because
Dear qim, Dear qim
You are, You are!!

;)

H

P.S. "He flung his empty revolver down the slope..." is a quote from, "He fell among theives" by Sir Henry Newbolt; thus may Fortescue's remark about flinging his empty revolver down the slope be more richly appreciated. :D

Um, thank you for that information, Hawk. I do more richly appreciate it. :D

:clears throat: uh-hum, the double posting was an accident, so have mercy on me. Most of my posting these days is from my phone. (Mutters to herself, "stupid phone")

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by Hawkman

I say, Carruthers, are those drums I hear or is it just my pounding head?

I couldn't say, Fortescue, but the night is alive with stars, like eyes shining through the curtain of the night...

I don't want to worry you Carruthers, but shouldn't the stars be higher up?

Ahh, yes... I see what you mean. You know, Fortescue, I've led a good life, I've stuck pigs in Poonah, Machine-gunned Dervishes in the Sudan, Slaughtered my fair share of tigers; but I never expected it to end like this. A lousy party followed by an assault by Bolsheviks on the Winter Palace. What Month is it?

Still June, Carruthers, though July is barking at it's heels.

Thank God it's not October! They can't be Bolshies, Looks like we'll just succumb to wild animals or restless natives. Couldn't bare the thought of being overwhealmed by Bolshies!

Hear Hear!

Chin, chin old man....

Hang on, Carruthers, I've just got to fling my empty revolver down the slope...

---

Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson were on a camping trip. After a good meal and a bottle of wine they lay down for the night and fell asleep. Some hours later, Holmes woke up and nudged his faithful friend.

"Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see."

“I see millions and millions of stars,” said Watson

"And what does that tell you?"

“Astronomically,” said Watson, “it tells me there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Theologically, I can see God is all powerful and we are small and insignificant. Meteorologically, I suspect we will have a beautiful day tomorrow.”

“Watson, you fool,” said Holmes, “someone has stolen our tent."

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by qimissung

Um, thank you for that information, Hawk. I do more richly appreciate it. :D

:clears throat: uh-hum, the double posting was an accident, so have mercy on me. Most of my posting these days is from my phone. (Mutters to herself, "stupid phone")

---

Re the double posting: You MUST read Borges' "Pierre Menard author of the Quixote"
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pierre_...of_the_Quixote

in which Pierre Menard, a 20th c. Frenchman, beloved of Don Quixote, undertakes to write it himself - at first by dressing as people did in Cervantes' time & reading all the books that Cervantes did... but then decides that that after all is the way that Cervantes did it, so...

At one point Borges quotes from Cervantes' original and then from Menard's re-writing of it and one goes mad looking from one to the other to see what the changes might be. (To save you from going mad: there are none!

And indeed, after careful scrutiny, I see no difference between your first response and its later twin!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by PrinceMyshkin

Sherlock Holmes and Dr Watson were on a camping trip. After a good meal and a bottle of wine they lay down for the night and fell asleep. Some hours later, Holmes woke up and nudged his faithful friend.

"Watson, look up at the sky and tell me what you see."

“I see millions and millions of stars,” said Watson

"And what does that tell you?"

“Astronomically,” said Watson, “it tells me there are millions of galaxies and potentially billions of planets. Astrologically, I observe that Saturn is in Leo. Horologically, I deduce that the time is approximately a quarter past three. Theologically, I can see God is all powerful and we are small and insignificant. Meteorologically, I suspect we will have a beautiful day tomorrow.”

“Watson, you fool,” said Holmes, “someone has stolen our tent."

---

:lol:

Good one old chap.

Thanks qimi.

The thing is, Prince, although in my abstractedness I apologised for the double post, I did not, in fact, post either 905 or 906. A monkey did.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by qimissung

The thing is, Prince, although in my abstractedness I apologised for the double post, I did not, in fact, post either 905 or 906. A monkey did.

---

I am planning a clever (some might say a smart-a**) response to this, but it might take some time.... so please don't hold your breath.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by qimissung

The thing is, Prince, although in my abstractedness I apologised for the double post, I did not, in fact, post either 905 or 906. A monkey did.

---

May we assume that it is now engaged in writing the complete works of Shakespeare? :D

:D you may.

Wake up qim, I'm down to my last fingernail... :D

I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Hawkman. This contest is officially closed. It's great stuff and I don't envy the person who has to choose...oh, that's me.

I will be back tomorrow with the results.

So now is my time of reckoning. I really enjoy entering these; choosing a purported winner, not so much. And everyone did such a lovely job.

Zoolane wrote “Mist” which included a personification of the mist as something that threatened the lovers. Her last line is very powerful.


Comedian; this one touched my heart. It speaks to a theme which I did not mention, but was in my mind when I chose this particular picture: alone together. Prescient and a good writer, our Comedian.


Pendragon wrote of young love on the run, a sort of Romeo and Juliet theme. Another great last line: “two hearts forever entwined on the edge of good-by.” Sigh.

Dark Muse wrote “At World’s End.” I like the idea of a new world; isn’t that what we hope for when we fall in love?

Daniel Benoit wrote cleverly as usual in “Immaculate Journey. ” And as usual I enjoy his very modernistic style.

“Ancestry” is Autolycus’ entry. I see why he wins these so often. I love the connection to an older generation and country and customs. It’s sort of a wonder that there are any happy marriages.

Hawkman wrote “Last Chance”: “they look to the artist, but he will not advise…” Actually, Hawkman, while our styles differ and I can’t rhyme to save my life, that line is something that I could have written. It’s an impressive entry.

Hillwalker, I adore yours. So very English. It soundsl exactly like something you’d see on late night T.V. and from the 1930’s. Very World War II. I’m sure everyone is going, “huh?”

Haunted. Clever girl! “Love Story.” Just go read it.
“ let’s give me your best acting
pretend you love me more than you love her

let’s make a pact
that you will not hold me back on my way down”
See what I mean?

PaulClem “Cliff’s Edge.” Wow. But so sad.

All of these are winning entries. But officially, it’s Dark Muse.

At World's End

Come, take my hand,
and let us stand
upon the edge
of a new world.

Let everything behind
us crumble away
into dust and we
will venture upon
the eve of a new
beginning.

The vastness
ours to behold,
let us be adventurers,
to blaze a trail
through the unknown.

The world crafted
by man will become
obsolete, and the
boundaries that held us
back will dissipate.

We will be dancers
upon the rim of
canyons, we will
become leapers
into the air,
and trust upon
the wind to lift
us up.

Let us live
among the birds,
take my hand,
untouched by doubt,
with a heart filled
only in trust.

And we will leap
from this world's end,
and if we die,
we will die together,
and if we survive,
we will live in the
New World.

The world made
only for us.

Let romance and love in the face of such a daunting journey live in all our hearts. Thank you one and all for participating.
Your turn, DM! :)

Oh wow, I cannot beleive I won, there were so many good entires for this one. Now I have the difficult task of chooing the next picture which I will do ASAP!

Congratulations, DarkMuse!

(And also to you Qim, for the generosity of your comments on all of these.)

I enjoyed this competition. Thanks Qimi for judging it. I would have found it difficult with the standard set.

Congratulations Dark - another good poem which I really enjoyed too.

I'm looking forward to the next challenge too!

Thank you!