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maybe i'll try not to care
like this all happened before
it's hard pretending though
when i know real well
and aware of all that
i'll be leaving
could i just
let things happen
and leave 'em
as they are
it'll be easy
for the both of us
to say: no regrets/no heartaches
maybe i'll try not to care
like this all happened before
it's hard pretending, though
when i know real well
and aware of all that
i'll be missing..
Great!!! We have five good poems. I'll give it through this weekend and by early next week I'll pick a winner. So any last minute people who wish to enter, hurry up.
Driven towards the sea,
Saturated with thunderous clarity unrealized
By the familiar strangers left behind,
Her inward gaze rests on a shattered oath.
The breathless,
Fearless exploration
That once upheld her stoic grace,
Is understood now only
In the chivalrous exploits
Deep in the pages of her books,
And a lone pressed crimson petal.
Behind her,
Brilliant lupine
Lit her way with
Blossoming spears,
While the fireflies
Sought to guide her
In their blinking,
Disconcerted way.
She wanders far,
Breathes in the misty
Air ripened with fallen tears
And feels the brewing wind
Deftly lift her heavy skirt...
Though she knows nothing more
Keenly now than the strange
Heart beating dutifully in her,
And the tug of the path’s
Precarious end.
That is amazingly beautiful, Riesa. I love the vibrant imagery.
She sure does have skills. Wonderful flow and imagery. So much to like, but this is particularly poignant:
"Is understood now only
In the chivalrous exploits
Deep in the pages of her books,
And a lone pressed crimson petal."
Beautiful words, I only wish I could write so well.
So are these going to get judged this week?
Yes Amanda, over the weekend. I'll defintely have a winner Monday.
Oki doki.
and it's laura my middle name is amanda
Just got back from vacation. I wasn't going to post but I can't help myself. This is a quick one.
Innocent angel with auburn hair
Who’s locks ride a stream of warm summer air
Where do you send your gaze?
Search the far set
for a promise not kept
What figure is shaped in the haze?
Perhaps you dream
of a future unseen
Where would a soul settle and rest?
Make a stern glare
for a friend who would dare
What secrets are held to your beast?
Will I one day
Be one who can say
What purpose have you lovely chance?
Going once..................
Going twice.....................
Wow, it's hard being a judge. All were excellent and I was really torn between several. Ultimately I gave it to Riesa's poem, untitled and quoted below. The phrase "the strange / Heart beating dutifully in her" won me over as the perfect phrase characterizing the photo. By the way, the photo is a painting by an American, Eastman Johson, titled, "The Girl I Left Behind Me," 1870-75.
Quote:
Originally Posted by Riesa
OK, Riesa, you get to choose the next picture.
Congratulations Riesa! I really enjoyed that one too. :)
Congratulations!! I loved your poem.
Hey, thanks Virgil, and thevintagepiper, dstrangelove and Petrarch for the nice comments. All of the poems were very good. It's pretty fun coming up with these stories behind the images. I've got absolutely zero time to search for a new picture right now, but I promise to try to come up with something interesting soon.
thanks again, Virg.
Congrats Riesa. I personally liked the verse "Deep in the pages of her books,
And a lone pressed crimson petal." The image, the emothions, and the impact were immediate. Looking forward to your choice.
Thank you, Orionsbelt. I liked your poem as well.
I found this photo intriguing, I hope you all like it and I'm looking forward to the poetry that comes from this. Happy writing!
http://i71.photobucket.com/albums/i1...Riesa/boat.jpg
þa gyt hie him asetton segen geldenne
heah ofer heafod, leton holm beran,
geafon on garsecg; him wæs geomor sefa,
murnende mod. Men ne cunnon
secgan to soðe, selerædende,
hæleð under heofenum, hwa þæm hlæste onfeng.
(High o'er his head they hoist the standard,
a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,
mournful their mood. No man is able
to say in sooth, no son of the halls,
no hero 'neath heaven, -- who harbored that freight!)
~Beowulf, Prologue
At Sea
Then there were no ashes on the mantle
Or boxes neatly stacked in concrete crypts
No stillness or sterility in death,
Instead another journey out toward
Whatever harbor lies along the line
Between endless grey sea; endless grey sky.
Wearing their swords and battle scars they stood
Where we stand now. This ship was then the bed
Where a king was laid to rest on rare treasure,
While above him in the sharp sea air
Cloth of pure gold glowed against the grey sky,
And the chanting of the mourners, rhythmic, rose
And fell, continuous and changing.
Ten strong men bore the fallen king
In his ship, to the shore, to the sea.
The chanting of the mourners rose and fell
Until the sounds grew distant to the dead ears
And mingled with the rhythm of the sea.
The sea, which now sounds in our ears,
Continuous and changing, while the ship
We now see is a weather wearied boat
Finally come to rest on a stony shore,
Worn and old and nothing golden in it.
You and I stand here in our funeral black
Clutching our printouts of a smiling face
In a fuzzy digital picture, and some
Carefully typed words about the deeds
Of a noble life. Are these enough
To carry all the memories that rise up
In silent suddering sobs? Are they enough
To send him on a journey in which life’s
Great change blends with life’s great continuity?
What chants can be made of these memories?
What gold can they be wrapped in I wonder,
As you and I look out across the grey water
Longing for once and future things.
Low Tide
The tide has passed, I am the bye.
The dreams are dead, dead as the sky.
I wish to be back, out at sea.
Yet the tide has passed, passed beyond me.
I once would walk among my friends,
And speak so beautifully of my end.
Yet here it is, or at least it must
As my pen now lies in dirt and dust.
My pen once was held in my hand
While I was out at sea, a disturbed land.
A land that held such profound glory,
But it's over. My Story.
I see the clouds on their finally leave,
As the tide has left and abandoned me.
The boat it tells of stories,
stories untravelled in the mind of man
but give this chance to a child
the untravelled tales begin to fly
imagination is a wonderful tool
to transport the mind from
the world
weary
views.
This child tells of tales untravelled
of pirates and treasure
as yet to be discovered
of maidens in danger
and brave young sailors
it tells stories of battles
not yet fought
of victories and losses
scars and wounds
lost loves and kisses
from the little girls views
This boat tells of untellable tales
in the eyes of the man.
But give it to a child
and let the adventures begin.
Nice entries so far, but Jon1jt, Page, VIRGIL, any takers?
I'm working on something Riesa. I need a little more time.
Very nice poem Riesa. Very well written, and I must comment on Virgil's poem. Excellent.
I don't want to sway the judge or anything, but wanted to tell Rabid Reader that I really liked his poem.
All the poems I've read here are wonderful. So much talent in one thread!
thanks, no one's ever complented my poems beforeQuote:
Originally Posted by Psycheinaboat
Thanks, holograph, and you are right about Virgil's. He's finding his voice in this thread, I think.Quote:
Originally Posted by holograph
By the way, I hope you will submit a poem too. I read your recent one in the personal poetry section and liked it a lot. It gave me chills.
Thank you.Quote:
Originally Posted by holograph
I think you're right Riesa. The contest is forcing me to hone my skills.Quote:
Originally Posted by Riesa
I am glad you enjoyed it. I certainly will attempt to submit one as well. ;)Quote:
Originally Posted by Riesa
Well here we go.
I could spend more time on this and I probably will at some point. Bit of a limrick I think.
dawn breaks on the hull of the umbra
at the edge of the sentience sea
creation far in the distance
a lifetime away from me
sit for a while and wander
through currents on that yonder shore
where babies laugh or ladies dance
and men like the eagles sore
new babies are covered in cloth
to cover their skin from the sun
brothers and sisters, cousins and friends
share what is lost and won
maidens set flowers floating
on a rivers of soft falling hair
pastel and powders applied to the cheeks
soften sunlight’s glare
young men contest their athletic command
with a ball, a wick, or a sprint
sweat and dirt the hallmarks of glory
in teams of two and a quint
fathers and mothers attend to the children
a carrot, a stick, and due care
the warmth of the fire is felt by the legions
who surround the family affair
The oldest gathered in gaggles
reflect on days long passed
feet propped just so on the porch rail
viewing days that are moving so fast
in the ebb and flow of the tao te jing
from every man, woman, and child
amber of joy is pressed from the mix
to a mead tasting sweet and mild
I for my part have passed through the mash
the esters have passed to the drink
I sit now here on the hull of the boat
where the oarsman meets those on the brink
I look to places I’ve passed through
And those where I wanted to go
I’ll tell you fellow traveler
It’s a wonderful place to know
I would like to have my poem put into the contest and see how it matches up with the ones I have read here today. They are a very good lot and I would be curious to see exactly where I stand as a poet along side this expressive bunch.
Here goes...all in an afternoon's work. Hope you can find something in this conglomeration of sorts to sail with. :)
----------------------------------
VANISHING POINTS
We all see them at least once in our lifetime
the way you catch a person sneer from the corner of your eye
or how you felt when you dropped the ball
the kids who laughed at mom’s bloomers
flapping on the clothes line
Or the white schooner that scraped the ocean floor because it could
steered by a seafaring virtuoso
barreling across to-die-for-spaces for all she's worth
jutting keel, endearing white curves, gleaming eyes
against a roaring tide
the girly girl heart drenched in wine watching him sail away
as he swabbed the deck with borrowed water
into the smoldering orange sun that bit down playfully
on that single sail
taking it’s beating for him alone
across the ocean hearth to Mexicano blues
on a rickety radio off some porch
where a dilapidated man coughs, as if to say,
“Don’t forget me, hombre”
The man in his boat
the man who pulls the cords
who swabs the deck
Who drinks scotch out of a moonlit glass
and watches for days on end the liquid sky
splattered with juicy marmalade and marshmallows
brooding currents below the surface
of the woman in her teeming summer dress
the city he left without beggars or winos
the bell of that trombone at Carnegie Hall
offering its white highs and black lows
That gallant flute player with timid elbow
stoked high as the boat’s warbling mast
But ah, those piping fingers that seared the smoky city
night
It’s just a windblown time, man
You’re heading toward the vanishing point
Buckling to the vaporous elements
Like the boat that returns
to a tattered woodpile
Still
against the backdrop of a sulky earth
you guys are amazing. i dont have time to write now, but ill contribute just for sport. this is my five minute contribution. it's hard to write without internal inspiration (at least for me), but here it goes, the photo was very thought provoking.
__________________________________________________ ______________
impending sky, impending sky
cast away your thick foam and I
will sail to you.
the sea has died [it’s shroud is
glazed by ice and my
strained fruitless sighs].
the vessel’s sailed
[it’s cracked and lies]
on your thin, cold and
bumpy loins:
the prospect’s filled
with bleak black tumors
rotting on your sadd
-ened groins.
relinquish me! disparate
earth [for you, I’ve
no fidelity];
let me sail airily to my
umber abyss in the fair sky
and float to a void melody.
impending sky, impending sky
cast away your thick foam and I
will sail to you.
the sea has dried
[forever shrouded by the
foam from your deep
melancholy eyes].
__________________________________________________ _______________
once-bright future faded,
leaving only brown and grey;
beached fantasies
on the shore of time -
so a poet might say,
slyly turning
wood to memory,
sea to life,
broken oars to broken dreams.
what does it mean,
the forsaken vessel
stripped of poetry, stripped of words?
emotion contained
in the space of a painting;
pixels inspiring
an unforseen tear -
but in a heart filled with years
which losses have touched
like dust clouding color,
there is nothing but a boat
like any other, standing alone,
standing forsaken, like so many one remembers -
a boat forgotten by time,
timber by the sea,
waiting for the tide.
sorry - that sucks - short on time - but good picture, riesa!
Mir, it absolutely does not suck!
Well, great contributions, once again. I'll pick my favorite, which is going to be quite difficult! next week sometime to give any last takers a chance to come up with something.
*clears throat* mir, that is an awesome poem!
old boat,
stuffing scraps of withered seaweed,
looked sad and strange.
cracky gunwale was slightly tilted,
looking over the rim of the bleak ocean
into the endless deathly voyage.
old boat,
accompanied by a thousand tears
that were turned into pebbles flickering
against another break of the nightmare
when light crept up between the clouds,
said nothing about a hopeful return.
Ok, here's my entry:
Quote:
The Chantry
Where on earth does one go?
We sailed slowly out,
As if in rendezvous with the setting sun
Navigating ocean and whales,
Sea gulls suspended on a breeze,
Discussing surf and trees with sailors,
The soft sound of wings in our ears.
Once the mate over full of undulant and salt,
Questioned the fealty of the Captain to the crew,
Grubstake unwarranted, unwanted.
The Captain, angry in his black beard
Banished the mate to irons
While the ship skated on a slab of silver.
We sneaked below and watched the mate
Grow hair and beard, slim to bone,
Skin draped as a tunic.
“Beware, beware,” he said,
His eyes bright within the hair ball of his head.
“I curse you all from head to bow.”
Are curses the requisite yawp to disaster?
Clamor of the world, breath of winds,
It came upon us as the Captain stared silently
Across the bridge deck, black in his beard.
The ship wound into whiddershins
Cracking slats and columns,
Men overboard before dinghies were dropped.
Each sailor would strip the flesh off their bones,
The weight of Adam’s burden,
To stay afloat if they could,
Unbuoyant mass in a water world.
But the spiral of the deep sucked weight
And all were lost into the watery gyre.
All but me. Spinning in aqueous turmoil
Providence held my body from sinking,
Walking like the Lord on water,
Until this broken bark, this nailed pile of sticks,
With gash and fissure that creaked in its pulp,
Struck me in the muttonchops.
I clung to the sloop, more funeral box
Than scow, drifting to tree-lined surf.
And here I’ve stayed, unmoved, unperipatetic,
Bowed to a chantry on the surf,
Preaching through my beard,
Supplication to the sea
And to the God that rules the sky.
Really!!rabid your poem touched upon my feelings, seriously. I loved your poem and your flooding words ,keep writing.Quote:
Originally Posted by rabid reader
Dear friend Camillaa, my heart with you to win :
Jon ,deep deep poem, I read it two times and thinking of the third.
Virg, you write Poetry , and not any poetry but very neat and gifted.why we do not see yours around??
oh my, what talented people we have here. Resia, hard decision ,yah?The pic. Reminded me of the Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Coleridge, can I just steal it and join the contest? :D :D
Ha, you said it.Quote:
Originally Posted by miss tenderness
Okay,
first, thank you all for each poem submitted, every single one of them stands alone in my opinion. However, I must pick a favorite.
First a few thoughts:
Petrarch: The Beowulf quote left me breathless, and then I could have chosen yours for the first three stanzas. The twist into present day threw me off course and I wanted to be back where I was, but lovely nonetheless.
Rabid Reader: reading yours I felt I was rocking in a boat, nicely done.
Laura Amanda: yours made me think of a brightly painted clipper ship sailing the high seas, nice poem!
Orionsbelt:is a beautiful image, there was a lot to like in the rest too.Quote:
Maidens set flowers floating/ on a river of soft falling hair
Jon, I agree with miss t, I have read it over and over, and it is deep.
lots of favorite lines, and the second and third stanzas were absolutely amazing! I like where the image led you, and then me, by getting to read it. Thank you!
Holograph,
This is excellent, you have an impressive style, it's very distinct and well crafted.Quote:
relinquish me! disparate
earth [for you, I’ve
no fidelity];
let me sail airily to my
umber abyss in the fair sky
and float to a void melody.
mir, wonderful, beautiful poem that spoke to my heart, and I hope you never say anything disparaging about your work again, you are a gifted writer! and sheesh, I can't believe you are so young, and I expect amazing things from you from what I've seen so far of your poems. I think your words nailed my feelings most about the boat, and I loved it.
White Camellia,always a pleasure to read your poems, the second stanza was perfect...
but I have to say that Virgil's epic wins this one. I was spouting impressed expletives as I read it, it could have gone on forever and I would have been content to sit and let it play out in my head. So many images packed within a few words. I'm highlighting my favorites, the ones that had my jaw dropped open. (I could have done without the struck me in the muttonchops, though :lol: otherwise, damn near perfect.) Thanks.
(maybe next time you should sit out, and give someone else a chance?)
Congrats, Virgil, well worth waiting for.Quote:
The Chantry
Where on earth does one go?
We sailed slowly out,
As if in rendezvous with the setting sun
Navigating ocean and whales,
Sea gulls suspended on a breeze,
Discussing surf and trees with sailors,
The soft sound of wings in our ears.
Once the mate over full of undulant and salt,
Questioned the fealty of the Captain to the crew,
Grubstake unwarranted, unwanted.
The Captain, angry in his black beard
Banished the mate to irons
While the ship skated on a slab of silver.
We sneaked below and watched the mate
Grow hair and beard, slim to bone,
Skin draped as a tunic.
“Beware, beware,” he said,
His eyes bright within the hair ball of his head.
“I curse you all from head to bow.”
Are curses the requisite yawp to disaster?
Clamor of the world, breath of winds,
It came upon us as the Captain stared silently
Across the bridge deck, black in his beard.
The ship wound into whiddershins
Cracking slats and columns,
Men overboard before dinghies were dropped.
Each sailor would strip the flesh off their bones,
The weight of Adam’s burden,
To stay afloat if they could,
Unbuoyant mass in a water world.
But the spiral of the deep sucked weightAnd all were lost into the watery gyre.
All but me. Spinning in aqueous turmoil
Providence held my body from sinking,
Walking like the Lord on water,
Until this broken bark, this nailed pile of sticks,
With gash and fissure that creaked in its pulp,Struck me in the muttonchops.
I clung to the sloop, more funeral box
Than scow, drifting to tree-lined surf.
And here I’ve stayed, unmoved, unperipatetic,
Bowed to a chantry on the surf,
Preaching through my beard,Supplication to the sea
And to the God that rules the sky.
Oh my. I didn't think I would win this one. There were quite a few I thought were better. I thank you both Miss T and Riesa. I had a lot of fun writing this. I'll have to search for a new photo and post it in a day or two. I urge everyone to play. Win or lose, this is fun.