Come to think of it, this contest is overdue. So I should pick a winner. I am considering any post an avant-garde poem.Quote:
Originally Posted by Pompey Bum
I agree with Pompey Bum. We have a winner: Cacian
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Come to think of it, this contest is overdue. So I should pick a winner. I am considering any post an avant-garde poem.Quote:
Originally Posted by Pompey Bum
I agree with Pompey Bum. We have a winner: Cacian
Congratulations Cacian !
What's next ?
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY
thank you YesNo
the topic for avant garde is
express yourself
taken from one of Madonna's song
and the total numbers of line is
10
good luck :)_
If you want that baby, boy,
Your body better give her joy.
If you just watch her waiting there
In thigh-tight skirt and come-on hair
With giggles setting her apart,
Some dog might come and break her heart
Or dragon carry her away
Into his cave, so don’t delay.
She wants a wound-up, action toy
With heart-pumped hands to hold her, boy.
only i
awakening my inner moonlight
my hidden madness unsilenced
never to be made a victim
no one can define myself
only i
my paintbrush dips into my soul
leaving outward expressions
of inward passions and emotions
none can dictate my perceptions
only i
hefty stones n zaftig bracelets oh jiz screw em gal screw em,
an screw em good em lamborghinis n porsches em satin crap sheets
n long stem flowers cuz honestly they suck,
all ya need gal listen all ya need is jiz a skillful hand n finger
in yer hole to make ya feel like yer the queen of the world
the one who rules it all who makes em all turn turn turn
em boners n flabbies in their fast cars em boobies n flatties on their fancy sheets
cuz when yer shakin with delight n writhin an moanin oohs n aahs
when yer smellin that sticky index finger thats been rubbin n circlin
oh yeah gal yeah thats when ya know yer do much better on yer own
YesNo and Dieter thank you for posting
two very different but interesting pieces to read
Melanie
i enjoyed the lightness and idea behind the piece
and the winner is....
Melanie
only i
is a lovely thought and sound too:)
Thank you very much. I enjoyed working with the great topic you chose, cacian. Give me a few moments and I'll be back with the next avant-garde topic :)
The next avant-garde poetry topic will be a who, what, when, why, where question.
For example, the question could possibly start like:
who would…
or
what if…
or
when will…
or
why do…
or
where did…
Choose one or more or all of the questions for your poem.
Deadline: July 9th
This ends tomorrow. If there are no entries it will go back to Cacian for choosing a new avant-garde topic.
If there is only one entry, that person will be the winner and choose the next topic.
I told myself that I should be about 170 pounds
and sometimes I check in the morning to see if
my body got the message and usually it didn’t,
but it turned out today that the scale showed 167
pounds which kind of surprised me and made
me wonder if there was something wrong with
the scale or if I needed to tell my eyes to see
more clearly but it looks like my body finally came
through and then I wondered what if I could
levitate and then Alice appeared and she wanted
to know what I was doing and I told her that my
body finally did what I told it to do and she wasn’t
impressed and she wanted to know about that
levitating nonsense I was jabbering about and I
told her I thought it would be cool to become
weightless for a while and she told me that would
mess up my ideas about gravity and did I really want
another cognitive dissonance experience so soon
and then she mumbled something I deliberately
ignored about needing to appreciate whatever
experiences I might have while I had the chance.
tailor
who am I but a stitch in time
what if I were to bare my soul
would you see me origami
7/8/2015
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY
Where did you find that gorgeous Ottoman?
What if Vienna never fell to your end Peace?
When will Pierre find Love?
Who would Snoopy walk 500 miles in the Rein for?
I was pleasantly surprised to see 3 impressive last minute entries. Avant Garde has a variety of definitions but I saw a connection between all 3 poems...all took a surrealistic approach in 3 very unique ways.
YesNo - Yours had an Existential Surrealistic quality to it. It was a conversation with yourself about your personal experience and it's demands on your free will in a deterministic and somewhat meaningless universe. Alice then reminds you of your responsibilities for your acts of free-will causing you some anguish and dread. It had an unreal yet engaging quality for the reader to "hear" your conversation with yourself.
tailorSTATELY - Yours had a Dreamlike Surrealism with a strangely unexpected yet profound pop of imagery in the last word "origami"…seemingly unrelated at first. It stopped me in my tracks causing me to spend time analyzing the qualities of origami as related to "who am I"…causing a fun, engaging, and creative thought process about life's folds, layers, colors, and intricate design…ending with the creation of a perfected and whole image. All this in just three short lines. And the last line had a good rhythmic poetic flow.
HCabret - Yours was like a delightful Surrealistic Cafe Conversation combining unrelated images and events resulting in some fun and fascinating incongruous imagery. The unexpected yet deliberate misspelling and capitalization of "Rein" (and capitalization of "Ottoman" and "Peace"), and the phrase "never fell to your end Peace" and Snoopy even, were all cleverly disorienting with a touch of hallucination.
All of these were great examples of Avant Garde Poetry and all deserve to win. The winner is tailorSTATELY
Thank you Melanie! Enjoyed your thoughtful analysis.
I enjoyed YesNo's and HCabret's entries as well. (The byline "I am Kurdish.......apparently" still cracks me up).
Now the hard part... The next topic, or non-topic?, for the next round: Dadaism - https://www.google.com/search?client...est&gws_rd=ssl .
The Dadaism (or Dada) movement is actually older than I realized. After 20 seconds of googling for the above I found this: http://www.lasalle.edu/~blum/c340wks/DadaPoem.htm for an idea that a n y b o d y might have fun with.
I might cast my "Spam Gems" poems in the Dada light (ref: my poetry webpage - https://sites.google.com/site/apoetingardenvalley/ then control f [find]: Spam Gems). I'm not sure about my anagramic deconstruction of "The Road Not Taken" by Robert Frost (ref: "The Road Not Ken: Ta !")... but maybe... I'll accept this form as well; just beware that this exercise is mind-numbing.
Parameters:
• If you use the Dada Poem Generator please don't use the first thing that pops up (unless it's a cracker of a poem of course). The original cut and paste, or source might be cool to see.
• Be creative.
• Have fun.
• Deadline: 7/27/2015 midnight PDT
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY
Nice Dada poem generator! Here's my entry using the previous poem "Chance" above as input to the generator and after running a few iterations:
Chance
I then levitating it want if another then wondered while become to looks ideas and I dissonance sometimes scale jabbering usually;
Myself like;
I she mumbled the wanted and impressed know the appeared about tell my her my 167;
Didn’t with soon had;
Doing my did but.
Turned deliberately what body there showed I to and would and.
Kind needing but;
While I see cognitive.
To nonsense;
My was something if I ignored surprised what my through was if she really pounds to and came I morning body she would up me thought she levitate mess see I about of experiences her it whatever.
About I.
To it did something weightless that which chance in gravity I body about that told;
It and the be wanted told.
The I appreciate I me cool and might about I scale to.
I today could;
The made if;
Should and pounds;
That me eyes;
Alice needed wasn’t have and message told;
Know was check or and that more finally then wrong and out it to wonder experience and she 170 do;
Finally be clearly a told;
For told.
That what I to I;
Got and so;
Great start !
L1-L2 resona-ates Dadaism right at the get go.
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY
The flow of Orinoco
Someday is everyday
Everything is real
Nothing is Neil
Simultaneous creations
The public enemy
I found the god
I round the dog
This is nat language in any since of the world
Puzzle hermits
Nuzzle Kermit's
Billup, the allmaziful
Aching Brad
Chatter wall Saul
Cars on Tron the bars
The worlds bitten on a rage selling a can to kind his family
Walling found a Bill
Bowling round a kill
Calling bound a nil
A reef induction
A red transubstantiation
Bellow Calls
Yellow Falls
Billup Key. Cone the Allmaziful
Collie Mean
Calling Bean
Eliot Enough
Telling it tough
The minor fall
The miner's wall and Major Rift
The Minotaur's call
The force, the fit
The major lift
The major rift
The major tift
The baffled king
The baffled ring
Cold and broken
Old and token
Jesus H.W. Christ
The tame of doves
Ring! call me to ya
Greetings of chow
Treatings of chow
The ads rent her in space
Waiting on the river to rise
Walking on the river to rise
Talking on the giver to wise
Trading to the giver for rice
Kingsley Flood
Kingsley Blood
The can in the pie
The man in the sky
The cat on the kite
The sand on the noon
A wrong action
after you wished against all
whose arrows would bare with will and arms.
Ay! who whips by undiscovered calamity?
Awry–whether bear unworthy consummation
when thousand weary troubles bourn us,
or be what currents coil under cast…
To bodkin we turn, but come conscience
contumely delay thought.
Traveler, ‘tis country-time!
Thus thy death despised those cowards,
devoutly this does die o'er there,
their dread, the dream that dreams end,
takes them.
Enterprises take fair sweat
from fortune rather than fardels—
suffer, flesh!
Soft fly spurns not for something,
so give off slings!
Great sleep sins,
grunt shocks have sicklied heartache
he shuffled himself sea-scorns.
Heir, his say returns ills in respect.
Hue is remembered, rub insolence;
resolution law’s quietus life puzzles.
Know, regard? Long question!
Lose, love proud, make pith.
Man’s pause makes perchance more orisons,
may merit mind outrageous mortal others,
patient moment.
Might pale pangs of nobler office
name my opposing Ophelia natural,
no oppressor’s native nymph…
Must
now now
(PS: Hamlet soliloquy; I already posted this in the Poetry section, but I hope it's okay to re-post it here – it seemed fitting to me. Btw, I made this without the Dada generator; I used MS Excel, listed the words, then rearranged them more or less with one word from the beginning, one from the end).
Entries close tonite: Deadline: 7/27/2015 midnight PDT
this I believe is long overdue anyone?! :)
I believe you are right, but aren't you always?
Oh my. Time is my failing; my apologies. Thank you cacian for rattling up the æther.
YesNo: I agree. The Dada generator is a fun little appy thing: "I dissonance sometimes scale jabbering usually" is golden.
HCabret: "The worlds bitten on a rage selling a can to kind his family" was quite Dadaic. I am curious as to what your inspiration was.
DieterM: A high-brow approach beyond reproach.
.
.
.
With no further ado I choose YesNo for the Dadaist of this august list of poets... this iteration; my bliß.
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY
Thank you, tailor STATELY!
I'd suggest a subject for the next avant-garde poetry contest, but I'm afraid that true avant-garde poets would do whatever they wanted, and, frankly, I'd accept whatever.
So, this is the subject: "Whatever"
Deadline: ??? Hopefully soon.
Whatever: A Dadaic Representation of "The Lockless Door" by Robert Frost
Thought knock climbed light I door to hands;
With in" blew out but age a been window I;
At may it door the the knock alter I both sill.
Last whoever of went.
Again on cage descended.
The was wide.
A the "come and to came sill and in;
Door at knock raised back at my so the;
To in.
Tip-toed years emptied;
But the world I hide with lock.
Knock lock and to.
Over the bade I the my and came prayer the.
Floor a outside have no I the.
Many
10/7/2015
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),
tailor STATELY
wha
tev
er is
is som
etim
es
ar
bi
trar
y
and so
me
times
kis
met
mean
ing
predes
tined
depen
ds
on yo
ur
perce
ption
or
wh
tev
er
Whatever: Leda and the Dada-Swan
Thighs? fingers from beating his the push staggering blow: his sudden.
He the his caught.
Brute still a loins bill how she that.
Great those up her girl feathered breast dark so.
Burning on the body.
In there.
The how the upon white nape so her by glory the.
And above air.
Terrified her could;
Laid strange mastered blood where.
Wall his in holds beating thighs;
Knowledge the;
Her drop?.
In shudder of caught by.
Before heart roof it power and.
The helpless can breast but tower loosening and broken indifferent.
Wings agamemnon did with webs.
Rush engenders let;
The the feel dead.
Lies? vague the being beak.
Put her a;
Caressed can
Thank you for all the entries!
This means I can make the deadline definite: Saturday, October 17th will be the last day to enter.
There once was a man from Nantucket, his name was Uncle Toby.
There once was a parson from Denmark named Yorick.
The Himeji Castle is the dramatic backdrop to this tragic romance.
The formerly grey roof of Human Understanding is a blank slate.
Tristram Shandy II is the name my parents gave me.
The kids at school just call me Laurence.
but That was after I was born.
Time's up! Thank you for all the entries!
tailor STATELY: I can hear the dada-generator making Frost turn in his grave with this one.
DieterM: Nice broken up parts of the sentence in each short line. It sort of makes sense.
North Star: The repeated "a" sound was nice in "Dada-Swan" in the title.
HCabret: The first line made me think that the avant-garde have taken over the limerick. The last line put a nice time twist on this and got me thinking.
I have no clue who should win this. I enjoyed reading all of them. I have to pick one and so the winner is: HCabret!
Congratulations!
Thank you YesNo!
For the next contest I am going to set the topic of: Metamodernism: "ironic detachment with sincere engagement".
Deadline: November 11th
Found a source that might help re: metamodernism: http://www.metamodernism.com/2015/01...-introduction/ from "The Notes on Metamodernism" web page (for those who are as lost as I am).
Thankfully it lists a few poetswho (apparently) have written in this genre of no genres.Quote:
...the poetry of Jasmine Dreame Wagner, Sophie Collins, and Melissa Broder’s quasi-mystical multimedia NewHive offerings.
Ta ! (short for tarradiddle),Quote:
... metamodernism itself is not intended as a philosophy or an art movement, since it does not define or delineate a closed system of thought, or dictate any particular set of aesthetic values or methodologies.
tailor STATELY
Deadline will be November 11thish.
All those fresh books on polished bookcases made
me realize that someone’s making money but then
I noticed that all those authors wrote in the twentieth
century which meant that although the books were
new what was in those books was old and so those
authors must be modernists or at best postmodernists
and not metamodernists and Gerald said that was
because students are fundamentally conservative
down to their genes because they think they have
to read the entire library before they can say they
are intelligent enough to shoot their mouths and their
teachers are even worse living in the dark ages before
flush toilets and I told him that most people nowadays
use flush toilets even teachers but he said he was
exercising his right of ironic detachment and I was too
insincere to get it and I wanted to know what sincerity
had to do with it and he said that I just proved his
point and I of course was fool enough to ask him what
point he thought he had just made and he laughed like
someone who really knew something that I didn’t and
then he pulled a book by Cioran from the shelf and read
a random soundbite to me with a smile and a twinkle
in his wicked eyes proving that I was too stupid to engage
him in argument and I had better start reading all the
books in the library before I shoot my mouth again.
I've adapted something I wrote a little while back - I hope it fits the 'metamodern' theme!
My Post-post-(post?)-modern Poem
I’ve decided to write a metamodern poem
as they’re all the rage these days
with the kids, not to mention the fact
that people actually publish this horse****.
I’m going to write in free verse,
partly because it gives me the freedom
to express my innermost thoughts and feelings
in a free-floating, dancing filigree that’s not constrained by
a conscious prison of fascist form,
but mostly because rhyme and rhythm
are such a fag to get right.
I’ll begin slow:
I probably need something to hook the audience’s attention,
so I’ll start with sex.
Only, I’m not very good with sex. Whenever the
subject matter takes a gynaecological turn,
I come over all English. There are only so
many euphemisms for a bit of clumsy fumbling
and frankly I’m not comfortable with any of them.
Perhaps it might be better if I throw out some
abstract images that don’t really mean anything,
such as an old and worn barn door, a dog wearing a hat,
and the late President Grover Cleveland.
Now that my audience is nicely confused,
I’ll throw out some mad ragbag clutter
of mixed metaphors and deranged similes,
like a Turkish pharmacist dancing the
gavotte between a rock and the end of the line.
It doesn’t matter if it doesn’t make sense,
so long as I glare hard enough at the audience
any old crap will sound profound.
It’s usual at this juncture to put in some
meaningless digression that has nothing to do
with the subject of the poem (if it should have one),
so here we go:
How am I going to sell this drivel? These days
a poet must be as marketable as their poetry,
so I suppose I need a ‘thing’ to go with my work,
something to express ‘Brand Me’.
I went to a poetry reading the other night,
four poets who ranged from awful to...
well... also awful, but in a different way.
The first was some woman wearing half a
dead badger round her neck, and the bones of
last Sunday’s roast chicken in her hair,
who waved her arms about while maundering through
some dreary monologue about Vikings skinning things.
After some polite applause, she rewarded our fortitude
by reciting another poem, also featuring Vikings
brutalising fluffy animals. I think she needs help.
Next up was some bloke with a stupid
beard and a Dr Who costume, labouring under
the sad delusion that he was amusing. After a few
long minutes of pointless prattle, he tried to sell
us tickets to his one-man show. Bet that’ll cause
a few suicides. The next poet was actually quite good,
but she won’t do well – she was far too normal.
The final poet’s work I can’t comment on:
not only did he mumble incomprehensibly into his notes,
but he was dressed EXACTLY like one of my
uncle’s garden gnomes. What is it with poets
and alarmingly-coloured trousers nowadays?
Oh, and he also had a stupid beard. I think
they must be part of the uniform. Mind you,
when grown out my beard is also pretty stupid,
so maybe I stand a chance after all.
Anyway, back to the poem proper.
I’m not sure what to do now, so I’ll mention
Grover Cleveland again,
and throw out some gratuitous foreign lingo:
¿Dónde está el ayuntamiento?
¡Me duele la cabeza!
Maybe Spanish is a bit too obvious
(some people in the audience might actually know it),
so...
Hvar er klósettið?
Ég kalla á lögregluna!
I would add some footnotes at this point
but I’ve never worked out how to make Word
do them nicely, and in any case I think
the less I explain, the better.
And now, because I’ve got nothing to lose,
I’ll finish by mentioning
Grover Cleveland again, and
trailing off into a meaningful
silence...
I very much enjoyed both entries.
YesNo: You employ a self referential form of mythopoeia, which a major characteristic of metamodernism. You tell a grand story of introspection and self doubt, but constantly remond the reader of the metaness of your work. Your poem may be ten stanzas too short for a hard core metamodernist though.
Lokasenna: It seems that you've written a critique of metamodernism from a postmodern perspective. You fully and wholeheartedly embrace ironic detatchment, but your poem lacks the characteristic sincere engagement of metamodernism. That being said, I enjoyed your poem and thought it was very funny. Ironically (or maybe not), metamodernists would embrace the "fascist" constrainsts of pre-modern verse in an attempt the convey a reconstructionist mythopoeia.
Winner: YesNo
Thanks, HCabret! And thanks for introducing metamodernism.
The next topic for the avant-garde contest is irony.
Deadline: Hopefully before December.
How ironic?! :DQuote:
Originally Posted by YesNo
I just counted that as an entry, HCabret! But I am willing to accept more than one entry per poet, so please enter again. I need as much irony as I can get.
Oh the Irony!
Isn't it ironic
That a love that's platonic
With someone who's exotic
Can turn so erotic
An intoxicating tonic
That heartbeats turn sonic
The tongue tangles phonics
Like something demonic
Hearts together harmonic
An experience iconic
Yet the illness is chronic
Like plague Bubonic
Or even Pneumonic
And you swoon like a catatonic
How very ironic!
Pendragon
11/13/2015