Subject Poetry Contest.

The Damned Dead.

In dead of night when all is still
and silent are the halls of men,
They wander, lost but unafraid,
Those darkling spirits, mean and fell.

In life their tales were fierce and grim
with blood and gore their only aim,
Now freed from body, still they stalk
perpetuating evils fame.

Some deeds are carried ever on,
Into the endless night of death,
And lend no peace to such as these,
No chance of sleep or final rest.

To some may pity spring to mind,
To others hope of souls redeemed,
But those who stray within their grasp
discover malice never dreamed.

Those unsuspecting who may then
encounter spectres such as they
will have no choices left except,
To gird their loins and run away.

He Happened Upon a Glome

three days had it rained - the mists of
the valley near obscured the pearl
harvest moon when John entered in
the dank clearing - he came upon

a glome pulsing - infrangible
as a pitch night - damson beings,
there performing a ritual
as obscure to human thought im-

aginable, became aware -
sensing John, an anomaly,
vibratory beyond their ken -
raduliform voices called one

to another retreating to
the glome and in a twinkling
departed this world leaving John
a paragon of tantivy

10/18/2016

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

Contest is over! Thanks for all the entries.

prendrelemick: Nice build up to the Scissor-man's appearance.

Cassie Hughes: Sometimes the best thing one can do is gird one's loins and run away.

tailor STATELY: I liked those damson beings performing obscure rituals sensing John as the anomaly.

These were all spooky.

It is hard to decide a winner, but here it goes: prendrelemick

Congratulations!

Well done prendrelemick. I loved the chilling feel of yours, great for reading aloud to scare the kids when you're sitting in the dark at halloween!

Congratulations prendrelemick !

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

Thank you.

The next subject, something about the sea.

It’s wetter than I want to be
And so I choose the land.
My weighty friend, great gravity,
Prefers that I should stand.

A boat is an alternative,
But some do sink out there.
Why leave the land and try to live
And float in some nowhere?

There are those creatures in that deep
Who wishy-washy roam.
I'll count on waves of dreamy sheep.
I’d rather sleep at home.

Lazy sunshine
rains upon the
shore and sparkles
over horses running wild
atop tumbling waves.

Two good entries so far.

a foggy day at the seashore

foghorn and gulls compete with the
roar - a war of waves battering
the beach evermore - one gets use
to the decay mixed with salt breeze
when wading cold waters up to
one's waist - the tide subservient
as if preternaturally
to the wraith of a shrouded moon

11/12/2016 r.12/7/2016 (removed last two lines:
"as yet an apparition to
whom it measures time till consumed")... the
poem seems better balanced this way.
:tS

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

Ok here we go.

All three poems have outstanding bits. eg roar-a war of waves, or, sunshine that rains, or, my weighty friend, great gravity. These are good ideas and just the kind of thing I like.

However there can be only one winner, so I'm giving it to the one that connected with me straight away. A simple single image beautifully realized. - Cassie Hughes is the winner.

Congratulations Cassie Hughes !

Thanks guys. Glad it resonated with you prendrelemick, even though it was only short. :)
The next topic shall be seasonal methinks, well, how could it not be! I would love to see some poems about tinsel. Hehehe!

It’s shiny. Also it is cheap,
A chance to calm despair.
When God went on the other side
He left us puzzled there.
But now we know: We got it wrong.
The past will not repeat,
But that’s OK. We understand.
Bright tinsel crowns defeat.

Ooh! Shiny! All ADD, we
Focus on the temporal, the secular,
Acquisitive, spectacular.
Shambolic overtakes symbolic
And our red and green frolic
Relieves us of any loving memory.

A subject poem: Tinsel...

Her Tinseled Hair

We met as one beneath the mistletoe
( t'wasn't planned if you really need to know )
Her tinseled hair shone; a quicksilver'd glow
not the mylar sort for Christmas show

Her eyes as gray the stormiest sea
gazed then locked upon one enchanted: me
Body electric; flushed in esprit
betime our winsome kiss ne'er gang agley

12/10/2016

Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY

Loving these so far. :)

Noah helps Granddad trim the Christmas tree.

Less is never more,
when you're under four
And putting tinsel on the tree,

So he piles it on unstintingly
And soon we can no longer see
The slightest gap of greenery.
And lost beneath the shimmery fronds
Of blue and green and red and bronze,
Are Woolworth's baublee bygones.
And the only thing that peeps above
The rising shining work of love,
Is the paper star his mother made,
Stuck with rags of bright brocade,
With bottle tops and ribbony thread,
With silver glitter thickly spread,
With blobs of green and yellow paint,
With no design with no restraint.

For less is never more you see,
when you've only just made three,
And you're trimming up the Christmas tree.

So, Christmas is over and the New Year has well and truly begun which means I better get on with deciding a winner here.
Tinsel is cheap and shiny indeed and kissing under the mistletoe can be the start of something very meaningful. Christmas goes hand in hand with children and the decorating of the tree can be a great way of bridging the generation gap and so very nearly took the prize but something kept drawing me back to four words. 'Bright tinsel crowns defeat' and so, I declare the winner to be........YesNo.
Thanks to you all for your wonderful entries.

Congrats, Yes/No! The poem reminds me of an old Brazilian song: "The King´s crown is neither of gold nor of silver. I´ve worn it too and I know it´s made of tin."

Thank you, Cassie and Danik!

The next subject is "January".

The deadline is January 31st.

Ianuarius

In winters tightening grip we face
these dull, grey days in lassitude and
lose ourselves in plans for summer sun.
Wishing time and life away
seems to be a speciality of man.
Why can we not see the beauty of what is?
The monochromatic calm after
garish onslaught from colours
nature never sought to birth.
The freezing blanket wrapped
tenderly over sleeping vegetation,
allowing rest before the exertions of another year.
Time to think,
to breathe the fresh clean air of new beginnings
as past reflections glimmer in the seasons pallid light.
Live here and now.
Embrace this first and most
exciting of the months to come.
Dance through the storms,
leave angels in the snow
and hear the silence of a foggy
morning gradually disperse
to give the world a voice once more.
In winter’s tightening grip stand firm and tall,
accept the season’s gifts, then hold them close
for who can tell if they will come again
to herald vanward life into the spring.

Congratulations YesNo. That really was good.

Thanks, prendrelemick! We need another entry in this contest so there are at least two. There are about 13 days left in January.

Congratulations on winning the minimalist contest!

I'm trying, but Cassie's poem is fantastic!

Summer

Waters of January, waters of March
Crashing cars,
Crushing clusters of dwellings
Drenching, drowning, dissolving
Waterland
heinous heat
Slow, slurching Saturn
presides the ensuing stillness.
Give me the new seeds of April!

January and December

Come here my January boy,
And we'll pass some time together.
For I am in December mists
And, just as yours begins,
My childhood is returning.
So while I can still glimpse
The wisdom of your innocence,
That trumps this faded pastiche called wise
Built so carefully of Worldly values,
Let us enjoy some childish prattle,
About trees,
And the noise the wind makes,
And that slug called Bob
We found across our path that day.
And let me feel again
The ageless truths of childish age ,
The sweet fascination of small things
When seen through bright unsullied eyes.

The deadline has passed and now comes the hard part to pick who will lead us in the next round. Let's see:

Cassie Hughes: I agree that we should appreciate winter more and not wish it would move on swiftly to spring. I liked the lines: "The freezing blanket wrapped/tenderly over sleeping vegetation". I think plants handle it better than we do.

Danik 2016: It occurred to me while reading your poem that your experience of January in Brazil must be far warmer than what I am used to unless I take a vacation to Miami and get further south. I liked the phrases "Waterland" and "heinous heat".

prendrelemick: There is nothing like watching children to see the "sweet fascination of small things" when seen through their innocent eyes.

Now the hard part. I'd flip a coin (a couple times), but I might as well just pick one of these and be done with it. They are all good.

The winner: Danik 2016

Congratulations!

Congratulations Danik 2016 !

Thanks, Yes/No and Tailor. This comes as a complete surprise!

Our next theme is "Seasons".

As to content and form you can hand it as freely and as imaginetively as you want.

The deadline is February 15th.

Enjoy yourselves!

Congratulations Danik 2016. Well deserved. :)

Thank you very much for your generosity, Cassie!

While passing through the Earth’s fine year
The seasons guided me.
Each one charmed me in some way,
But none of them would stop to stay.
All left eventually.

They said they’ve lovers in the north.
The south they want to see.
Resigned to change I watched each go.
They’ll be back in a year or so
Or so they promised me.

Thanks for that first lovely entry, Yes/No!

One good entry, still five days to go!
Let´s have your poems, ladies and gentlemen!

Still three days to go for the subject poetry contest!

24 hours to go!
Let´s have your poems!

The nights are closing in and winter
stretches out cool fingers to caress
the weary earth and bid her rest.
Sleep beckons,
And after summers rushing pulse of
life has washed away beneath the
autumns brilliant rain of jewels
all that remains is peace.
The earth turns.
Gentle plays the lightest ray of
sunlight 'cross the frozen ground
beneath in softest lullaby as
still she slumbers.
Snuggled under natures blanket,
crisp and starched she bides
her time in dreams until renewed again
by thaws first kiss of spring.

delete

to a season
plenty of reasons
and one
is to keep
light foraging
despite
nature and birds
slight
peak above
a mountain height
life respites:
without it
I may
a meaning
but have no feelings.