I'll give it some thought and do my best to get someting in by June 7th Pen. :)
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I'll give it some thought and do my best to get someting in by June 7th Pen. :)
Tomorrow is only a day away! Contest ends tomorrow! :smash:
A Poet's Revenge
The poet lifted his pen, indeed,
the thought on the tip of his tongue,
To place on paper, at last be freed
of a fretful mind, hands all wrung,
This maid who made his heart go sour,
held captive here on the paper
In life she made him all but cower,
this ink, the blood on his rapier,
There'll be no guilt from his revenge,
no sound or pleading eyes,
His quiet words, how they do singe,
to cauterize her lies,
He'll blot it then and smell the ink,
look in the mirror and give a wink.
ampoule, June Sixth, TwoThousandEight
I haven't particpated in a while. Since this deadline is so close, I'll wait for the next one to start.
Phew! ;) ;)Quote:
Originally Posted by Virgil
Going once... :wave:
:banana: :banana: :banana:
Closed! This contest is now closed. Winner will be posted tomorrow! :thumbs_up
As Promised, I am posting the winner of the poem contest. Talent was at a premium. The choice was a hard one. Lest us look at the poems:
Alakungfu
A wonderful job. I think your closing couplet was what I liked best.Quote:
Love of Fancy
If ever in a dream I see
The future as I’ve fantasized,
The figure of it laid afore me,
My present happenings mesmerized;
If I tomorrow were regent
Of all the lands the winds do touch,
Responsible for indigent
And affluent of savage clutch,
If the seat of power suited
And if I lost my humble state,
Life per my knowledge convoluted,
No poor fortune bore my weight,
I would have you be there with me,
Forever together most worthy be.
Lucidnightmares
This poem again the final couplet was what I liked best. The lines were a bit short for the form, however… A possible title for this might be “Writer’s Block” in homage to the first few lines. All in all, a worthy effort!Quote:
I can write endlessly
yet never find a single word
forging syllables artlessly
with thoughts absurd
to capture a moment
is to engulf eternity
to be perfectly content
to live with insanity
and it allways returns
to similar subjects
my tears and heart burns
it`s all so complex
and all the words fail in times of passion
for all we need is that single action
AuntShecky
I thought it was really neat how you not only used Shakespearean Sonnet, but you managed to give accolades to the very man we were all trying to emulate. Wonderful job, indeed!Quote:
Will’s Will
We patch biography the best we can
among the remnant details of his life.
We know the works much better than the man,
and even less of Mistress Ann, his wife.
In the Tudor cottage kept tidy, she
took care to settle down the babes at night.
Thus set in her role, her Will was thus set free
to play around The Globe, to act, to write.
His sonnets dripping with exotic charms
could shed some water, though he still retains
the comfort of the Little Woman’s arms.
(So we assume.) But still the fact remains
that when led to his own eternal rest,
he left her just a bed – and not his best.
Schadenfreude
I enjoyed this little poem! The closing couplet is fantastic! Wonderful!Quote:
Shadow Frenzy
There’s a ghastly creature in the shadows-
Those ten mournful eyes staring straight at me
Those ten spiteful eyes that quickly narrow
Striking my heart with a deadly decree.
O, what Lord that made this monstrosity!
Crawling from the deepest depths of the earth
To incite horror and adversity!
Surely He who brought the flowering birth
- He who sang the stars and inflamed the suns -
could not have woven a web so viscous
to trap the weak. Let it all come undone!
For surely it is not too ambitious,
If lift up my shoe, in a mad bout
To stamp it out! Mash and stamp it all out!
Ampoule
I never cease to be amazed at the nuances in your poetry! A neat little poem, indeed!Quote:
A Poet's Revenge
The poet lifted his pen, indeed,
the thought on the tip of his tongue,
To place on paper, at last be freed
of a fretful mind, hands all wrung,
This maid who made his heart go sour,
held captive here on the paper
In life she made him all but cower,
this ink, the blood on his rapier,
There'll be no guilt from his revenge,
no sound or pleading eyes,
His quiet words, how they do singe,
to cauterize her lies,
He'll blot it then and smell the ink,
look in the mirror and give a wink.
But we can have only one winner. I wish there had been more of a turnout, but then people have been disappointed with the last contest never being judged. When I come to the end of these poems, I am lead back to one. AuntShecky not only wrote what to me seems a flawless iambic pentameter sonnet, but she brought in the man who is credited with creating it, Will Shakespeare! I give the contest to AuntShecky! Congratulations on a fine win. You may choose the next form! Way to go!
Pendragon
Thank you very much,Pen, and thank you to all the participants who submitted such worthy poems.
I am thrilled to be able to choose the next contest form.
The clerihew was invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley
(1875-1956), also known as the author of a classic mystery novel, Trent's Last Case.
The clerihew consists of two rhymed couplets, which can be "metrically awkward." The subject is a about a famous person or celebrity of the past or present, and the person's name should appear as the rhymed word in the first couplet.
The info about the person can be as irrelevant, irreverent, or uninformative as you like.
It is, however, intended to be funny. Here's one of Edmund's original namesake quatrains:
Geoffrey Chaucer
Could hardly have been coarser,
But this never harmed the sales
Of his Canterbury Tales.
I hope many Litnetters send in some funny entries. I'll set the deadline for July 9 and announce the winner on Thursday, July 10, which is incidentally National Clerihew Day.
Hope "Pong II" (my computer) doesn't get ornery on that day!
Congratulations AuntShecky. Well deserved.
Congrats Aunty. Looks like a fun form. I'm going to give it a try. :)
Congratulations AuntShecky. Very creatively rum.
For all we know about Charlemagne
there was no office he wouldn't feign
to keep his empire together
and his subjects under the weather.
The night was black when Sherlock Holmes,
Found a body buried underneath his tomes
The cold dead eyes on his were fixed—
“Wasn’t me, dear boy, the butler did it!”
http://www.sherlock-holmes.co.uk/images/cartoon4.gif
Good ol' Mr President
t'ain't never a story he wouldn't invent
to justify his every act
but when it comes to terr'rists, he won't make a pact.