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

So I roar out my challenge...
and oh god look.
Coming up the hill,
out of the enemy lines.
He’s just a little boy.
Kind of pretty too.
Knitting his brows at me. Fierce.
Brave, and scared also.

So what do I do now?
If I kill him – even
if I kill him quickly –
They’re going to hate me for it.
Both sides will hate me.
The king himself will hate me.
The women too will hate me.
History will hate me.
No glory here.

I called out Saul himself,
And look who they send me.
Cowards. An insult. Cowards!
But also it’s good strategy.
A fight I can’t win.
Clever, Saul, clever.

We’ve been waiting weeks and weeks,
Facing one another
across this ashy nothing.
Piling stones a little higher,
Lighting fires at night,
Sleeping on the sand,
Waiting waiting waiting,
Hot, thirsty, numbed.
It’s no kind of war at all –
and so I thought, enough of this,
And I sent out the challenge.

And now I have this pointless
combat on my hands.
This will settle nothing.
He isn’t going to kill me,
not even if I want it.
He can’t. How could he?
Oh god. I guess
I’ll have to let him win
A pass or two, and then
Try and make it look like
I didn’t mean to do it.
Still it will settle nothing,
And my good name dies with him.
My fame dies with him.

Poor little kid.
Why did they send him to war?
What was his mother thinking?
Maybe no-one likes him.
Surely he didn’t choose this?
Wait, he’s shouting up to me.

Hey, big words for a little kid.
Not scared any more.
Talked himself up some courage.
Good. If he keeps this up,
He’ll make himself a warrior,
an adversary worth killing.
Keep it up kid.

Okay. I’ll draw my sword.
Two hands on the pommel,
I’m holding it down in front of me,
looking along the length of it.
Now I swing it around,
Over my head and back.
Let him see it flashing.
Come on kid, get it over, and maybe
You won’t feel it at all.

He’s stopped, gone quiet, standing there.
What’s he doing? What’s that
he has in his hand? A stone?
A stone? What’s that for son?

I shake my lion’s head at him,
And deep down inside me
something starts to rise
From a dark red place,
Like something you know in your muscles,
in your veins, your heart, your lungs,
and in your head, your lion’s head.
And I throw back my great mane
and I laugh at him. Long and deep.
My great gaping roaring
lion’s head. My head.

Whew! And I may only choose one... Great poetry everyone! :thumbs_up

I have such stupid brothers.
They could not wait to pass
the sheepwatch duties on to me
and get out of the grass.

I am smarter and I learnt.
A five-pound lump of stone
and a leather thong, ballistics
and boredom set the tone.

Israel is full of morons.
They're all archers, you know.
To stand and fight in armoured might?
A stupid way to go.

Why is everyone surprised?
Twenty-five centuries
more and Isaac Newton will lay bare
the force-fed mysteries.

Radial acceleration
And a single solid rock.
The book won't ever really say
Goliath died from shock.

:lol::lol: love it, nice one.

And the winner is:

AndyDio!

That repeated line:

one, two, three, four, five just did it for me!

autolycus

I loved that line

Goliath died from shock

alexar

Great wording here:

So what do I do now?
If I kill him – even
if I kill him quickly –
They’re going to hate me for it.
Both sides will hate me.

Maz

Fear not the devil
have faith in God's mercy;
He will come to your succor
just wait and see.

Words to live by...

qimi

Please, Lord, do not let You become
insignificant so that we think, in our
Goliath arrogance, that we can be the
Lord of all; let us not forget to be
David, humble and small before You

Very inspired! Have you ever thought of public speaking?

alakungfu

After the hero lost his footing
To ignorant fears and dumb luck.

Kind of a dim ending to an otherwise great poem...

So AndyDio may choose the next picture

Thanks to all who entered. With such great poets, I feel small and insignificant.

Love,

Pen

Congrats, AndyDio! !

Congratulations from me, too, AndyDio.

And me too, AndyDio. I LOVED your poem, the immediacy of it, the suspense, the way you shaped the narrative were all most excellent!

Congrats AndyDio! The rhythm of the numbers sounded like that sling going round and round... :)

Thanks everyone! I'll post the next picture asap- I want to make sure it is perfect!

Here is the next picture, do your best, I look forward to reading all the entries!

http://i185.photobucket.com/albums/x...o/IMG_4356.jpg

One of my older ones, but it seems so to fit the picture...

Carpe Diem

He wakes me up before the alarm clock rings,
And I rub my eyes and groan and grumble;
But he shouts, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

He goes downstairs, and starts to sing,
While, wondering if I actually got any sleep for my cloths I fumble.
He wakes me up before the alarm clock rings!

He plays cat’s cradle with a piece of string—
While I have my coffee—black and strong! A double!
But he shouts, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

He’s off again, like a new fledged bird on wings!
I rub my eyes, and stretch, yawn and stumble.
He wakes me up before the alarm clock rings!

Sighing inside, I try my best to keep up with his youthful springs,
Mouth ever ready to shout: “Keep out of trouble!”
But he shouts, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

Ah, wretched time! What a curse the passing years bring!
Now my son is the one watching a little son blow bubbles.
But I remember how He woke me up before the alarm clock rang!
And shouted, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

Pendragon
1996

Whales

Ah, the rough and tumble sea.
The knowledge of your soul
Entering it to be dipped upon
When it is deemed necessary.
But I a young child at play
Have a way to see the sea.
An entrance to your ideas
But traverse as the oceans of ones mind.
To live in the sea must be tragedy.
To dance at the whim of mind, is
Dangerous and reckless.

foam waves
child running
blank sky
like a canvas

Today I run. Thin arms streaking back-forth,
Feet flat-slapping the hard, wet sand, frothing
My back with spray. Breath ragged, my throat smarts
With sharp salty air, heightens this moment
In dizzy sensation.

I am an athlete! Blood pounding in ears
Echoing the starting gun, roaring with
The waves. Heart beating large, loud, in my chest,
Pulling it forwards so fast my legs blur
To keep up. Fling back my head, I can fly!
Oh to be alive!

The sea, though, raising up his great white head,
Heaves a seaweed sigh. Through his ageless watch
How often have familiar feet, once free,
Returned, but bearing shoulders bowed and bound
By phantoms of lost innocence? He knows
Such joys as mine are fickle as the tide.

And someday my return must be, I fear,
With sandled socks, where foam-drenched feet have splashed,
And face slack-skinned, once by sensation swelled.
But not this day – today my heart could burst
And I shall soar and dance and throb with life.
Today I must run.