Come on Poets! Write, write, write! :grouphug:
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Come on Poets! Write, write, write! :grouphug:
The Events of the Evening of February 25, 2010
She woke up last night and said,
"by the lemon twilight of the pale full moon"
I whispered "wha-?"
But her eyes locked shut and she was out.
The sky black and cloudy.
I remember thinking about coffee
When she woke and said,
"by the lemon twilight of the pale full moon"
Out again. I nudged her knee: Nothing.
"Christ" I muttered.
And I swear I heard a snort outside the window.
It was morning when we woke up again.
She said "I had this crazy dream
That I was outside our window
Looking in at you, and you cursed at me."
"Full moons" I say.
Today is the close of the contest. We had a slightly disappointing contest, but que sera, sera.
LizJ: very beautiful and potentially winning poem. Unfortunately, you did not use the current subject. Keep up the wonderful writing, just double-check that you are one the current picture/subject/form etc. Best of luck to you.
The Comedian: A wonderful poem that leaves the reader to think beyond the words. Thank you.
Dark Muse: You have captured all of the requirements for the poem and written a work of epic proportions to boot! You may choose the next subject.
Thanks to all of you poets, without you, there would be no contests!
Pen
Congratulations, Dark Muse. Loved the use of "evaporate" in a whole new context, and the idea, though a bit disturbing, that humanity is "shackled. LizJ's "A Rose Petal Falls to the Floor" was the subject of a previous subject poem contest, methinks. And TheComedian -- your poem was witty as all get-out!
Most of all, THANK YOU, dear Pendragon, for keeping this contest going!
Sorry, Pendragon, I did want to write about this, but other things kept interfering with my thought processes.
Congratulations, Dark Muse. I liked these lines:
"pledges that the man within him may be
buried within her own grave."
I enjoyed yours a great deal, Comedian. Love those poems that allow our imaginations to work overtime!
Thank you! Of course I loved this subject!
I will have the next subject posted shortly.
Congrats Dark Muse -- a big wolfish Howl to you!
Ok the next subject is the "muse" and the poem must contain the phrase "words fall like ruby red gems"
Deadline March 21st
The Muse Arrives
When the Muse at last puts in her appearance,
Words fall like ruby red gems
A world of rich treasure overflowing in words
A song of life that enriches the reader
When the Muse at last puts in her appearance,
Words flow like raindrops from pen to paper
The Voice of Many Waters
A deluge of sweet sorrow and unsurpassed joy
When the Muse at last puts in her appearance,
Dawn breaks eternal on magnificent horizons
The Gleam of the Day Glow
Refreshing the heart and the soul
When the Muse at last puts in her appearance,
Everything is beauty…
Pendragon
© March 6, 2010
Inspiration
We have this bag of beads;
They're glass and green and red.
My muse she spills them on her head
Like a giant pouch of Burpee seeds.
My muse is two not three,
And she'll tell you how it is:
"These beads are mine" she'll say, "not his."
And so I'll fain to leave her be.
She'll tell me that they're jewels.
She'll tell me that they're cats.
I'll "meow" and drink my cold Labatts
Because I know we're playin' fools.
"Words fall like ruby red gems"
I'll say to her in glee.
"These ruby red words are for me"
She'll reply, sweet as M&Ms.
I saw my muse at birth;
I saw my muse today;
You know the one of whom I say?
Then throw some beads for little Mirth! Hooray!
Thank you both for the early entries, they are both great!
The Gift
We sit across from one another
candle light flickering in the darkened room,
casting ghostly shadows
that waltz upon our faces
we gaze raptly at each other
across the expanse of snowy linen
forks poised demurely above the hungry food
With an almost unseen flick of an eyelid,
we begin the feast,
a bite of the tenderest chicken cooked in wine
asparagus damp still from the earth,
crisp and green with new spring
and fragrant potatoes redolent of childhood and life
a white sauce that glides joyously down my throat
and pale wine that glistens with a thousand stories
they light upon my tongue like a flock of noisy seagulls
on a winter day
and in a burst of trancendent magic
are transformed into words
that fall like ruby red gems
we gaze in astonishment, my muse and I
then, laughing like children, we fall upon them,
with ravenous delight
Qimissung
The seven sing songs of swords and souls
Those bloody Greeks
And their poor chores
Whose words fall like ruby red gems
To be trod upon.
By Roman boot heels
The daughters of gods and mortal men
Trade divinity
For clarity
Before cast to the seven seas
words fall
I write
words fall like ruby red gems…
then screw
it up and start again.
My mind
is blank as paper;
my blood
waits for its orders.
My heart
is open over, over
my love
is coming closer, closer.
My eyes
shut. Death black then indigo
lapis lazuli
wild orchid white and dark yellow
ochre.
I grab her hand and hold her tight.
She tells
me of her undreamt worlds and through the night
we disappear
where angels fear and heavens rage
and reappear
through atmospheres as from backstage.
We harmonize
the universe in perfect fifths
recite songs
from The Tempest, rewrite Ovid's myths.
We speak in rhyme,
dithrambics and in syzygies
and improvise
encomia for Mnemosyne.
Her sisters
kiss and laugh and feed me nectar sweet
and trace their names
across my skin and lick my sweat
and crown me
with Parnassus' golden laurel leaves
and whisper
endless promises and I believe.
My lover's
hand frees mine then beckons through the glow...
I fall
and plummet backwards to the space below.
My open
eyes see only page and pen.
My blood
dries and I am blank again.
Wow, this is already going to be a hard one to judge, great entries so far!
We Are Not Amused
My words were fakes. Though I earnestly fought,
no line I wrote would set an immortal jewel.
Divine inspiration’s a myth, I thought,
a childish tale, and twice as falsely cruel.
Then she swept down, all draped in silk, with hems
of stars. My ceiling shook to hear her speak.
Perhaps her words fell like ruby red gems,
but I wouldn't know, since I don't know Greek.
Somewhere in middle Burma
Where gorges cut the land
The corundum gods bled out
In lakes of ruby sand
The mighty rocks laid cover
Upon the ruby pools
To keep the god-red essence
Far from the hands of fools
Where riches hide in splendor
Man's heavy hands will go
And so it was with Mogok
Where ruby veinlets show
Gods demand a sacrifice
For every ruby found
And so the Burmese warlords
Gave tribute to the ground
I took a walk in Thailand
I bought a ruby ring
I dreamt that night of Mogok
Of endless tunnelling
Where passages are narrow
They send the miners deep
To harvest ruby darkness
Up from its stony sleep
My dream was one of children
Enchained in endless line
Chipping out each ruby
From filthy fractured mine
One turned to me in silence
Her words were blood-red tears
They fell like rubies falling
Upon my flaming ears
I came alone from Thailand
No ruby on my hand
But dreams at night still haunt me
Of distant grieving land
St. John, Virgin Islands
holding hands under
a cobalt blue sky,
walking to our hotel room
on white sand, you smile
by an aquamarine sea
sitting in the wicker chair
I begin to write poetry,
like a new dream,
a warm tropical sun;
you have become my muse
you stretch out in bed,
reading a brochure
as I watch you from behind,
sea caves, you say
there are sea caves
we will go tomorrow,
I begin to write a story
as the sun goes down,
we point at distant stars
but you inspire me more
and I kiss you,
your lips like spun cotton
lying here with you,
voices rise like children,
words fall like ruby red gems
Thank you all for the great entries, this is going to be a hard one to judge. I will have the results up soon hopefully.
Trust me when I saw this was incridably difficult to judge. I am quite happy with the nuerious and all wonderful entries but alas I must find a way to choose one to win above the rest.
Pendragon: As always you have a beautiful way of words. You produced a beautiful image with your wonderful words, and I particularly enjoyed the way in which you took the given phrase and turned it into a sort of refrain with slight alterations each time.
qinissung: A wonderfully vivid poem which evoked all of the senses and really seemed to bring the words into life. I particularly loved the allusions to food within your poem and thought it was quite delightful and savory to read.
krymsonkyng : I loved the classical references in your poem, and this one was a close front runner to win. I thought the imagery was great and loved the descriptions you used. You packed quite a powerful punch in a few lines.
blanklverse: This was a remarkable poem, and another one which came quite close to winning. I applaud your ambitious use of language and quite apt considering the topic of this poem. You had some wonderful use of words in your poem. I also loved the concept of your poem.
AuntShecky: A delightful poem, I thought the first verse was particularly wonderful. I loved the imagery you captured with your poem. I also loved the self-criticism as a poet expressed in the first verse. That verse line "My words are fake" most particularly caught my attention and I thought it was a wonderful opening. The very last line also made me chuckle.
autolycus Your poem was skillfully written with some absolutely stunning verses. I loved the feeling that it captured, and this poem may well have won, but though the concept of the muse is a subjected of one and everyone interprets different within your poem I just could not quite see the inspiration and influence of the muse within the subject of your poem.
paradoxical : One of the things that really stuck out about your poem, was the fact that I really liked the way in which you choose a more mortal influence to be your muse within the poem. That was a creative take upon the topic and I think you approached it in a wonderful way and captured some lovely moments. It was a sweet, charming and tender poem.
But the winner for this contest is
~drum roll~
The Comedian Your poem stood out to me above the rest. For one thing, it had me in near hysterics all the way through. There was something that seemed so completely original and unique in your approach of the subject, and you had one of the most creative ways of inserting the required phrase. Your poem did produce the strongest reaction from me in reading and was delightful and skillfully done.
In moonlit dim, where shadows lie, soft white curtains, flow by and by. The summers wind caresses night, giving life to candlelight. And on the marble, in glass you see, the last of a rose that will ever be. The end of its beauty.
"Songs of the universe, And there I lie, Under stars of heaven," FINISH ME
An M&M for your muse, Comedian. Well done!
Yes, well done! I'm just happy that my poem was even considered.
Congrads on the win, The Comedian! :hurray::hurray::hurray:
Well done, The Comedian.
And paradoxical
I shouldn't be so modest; personally I thought yours was better than Comedian's.Quote:
I'm just happy that my poem was even considered.
And I personally, thought yours was the best of all.
Wow -- there were so many excellent poems written for this topic -- Dark Muse, you certainly had a challenging task. I'm humbled. When I wrote the poem, I hoped to demystify the idea a muse and offer that a muse could be playful, simple, and fun. I'll think of a subject and a line and post them in a day or two.
Congrats to The Comedian! :) May you have inspiration as you define the new round...
Okay, I have the subject and line for next round of competition.
Subject: a shared meal
Line: "the steam rose and then dispersed"
The morning sun dawned clear and bright
The chill was in the air
'Nother day to endure the fight
Extinguishing despair
The yield was taken in the blight
Life seeming so unfair
No morsel in which to delight
No one to even share
The coffee brewing hot and bold
The morning paper served
Real butter melting from its mold
Wealth given undeserved
China, silver, and linens fold
Ham, bacon, meats preserved
Not by a beggar in the cold
These items were observed
Seen from the balcony -- the cursed
A mendicant in dregs
Then the steam rose and then dispersed
From his neck as he begs
Sores that festered long soon to burst
A stench like rotten eggs
Depravity shown at its worst
As he sat on his legs
Compassion streamed from bleeding heart
Love deeming to appear
The riches on the breakfast cart
A gift to be sincere
"Shall I to him a crumb impart?"
Said servant with a sneer
Gazing into a world apart
"Please bring him to eat here!"
So sweet Bien! It touched the cords of my heart. Best of Luck!
Nice initial entry.
What's the deadline, Comedian Sir?
The Ritual of Morning
White snow covered the ground
in the chill mist of early morning,
seeming to dazzle under the touch
of the new born light of dawn.
Without there was no hush
of a stir, yet against the wisps
of blue and white sky, curling
through the fresh pine trees,
a tendril of black smoke rises.
Amid the stillness of solitude
an isolated cabin sat, and through
the soft yellow glow of its windows
a morning scene unfolds.
Spry lean limbs start to unfold
as the youth rises from the warmth
offered within his bed, casting off
blankets to brave the chilly air
as bare feet slap eagerly against the floor,
without hesitation.
With haste he dresses in
anticipation of this moment
the best part of the day,
padding, bare foot down the hall
to emerge within the small kitchen
his eyes turned upon the back of
the older man, and the one he looks
up to most.
Already the smell of coffee lingers
in the air as the steam rose
and then dispersed to carry the enticing
aroma that reassures as the lad
makes his way to the table to take
the place which will always be waiting.
His father always seems to know
when he arrives, no matter how hard the
boy tries to mask the noise of his step
and like clock work in perfect time turns
and lays out breakfast upon the table.
It is a daily ritual, which occurs without
fail, that the boy takes the mug of the
steaming hot black liquid and with practiced
care lifts it to his face and drinks
and like always, without fail his nose
crinkles up and he sits it aside.
"Not yet!" The father says with a twinkle
in his eyes as he smiled. "No, not yet," the
boy confirms with a trace mixture of both
disappointment and relief, it is the boys
belief that there lies within that strong drink
the secret key, and the day he too becomes
a drinker of coffee, he will enter the elusive
rite as manhood.
Hey Auntie! Thanks for reminding me. Let's give it a pinch more than two week from here. Due date April 12.Quote:
Originally Posted by AuntShecky
EDIT: excellent entries thus far, lady and gentleman.
Sunday “Din”ner
Commander Mom made official decree:
they all would dine genteelly, en famille.
The Blackberry’s banished from the place
for “Pleasant Conversation” face-to-face.
All afternoon she slaved (she'll have them know.)
“Again with the martyr bit, here we go!”
said Dad, demanding what all this grub cost.
On Sis, the homily that morn’s been lost,
with thoughts of holy loaves and fishes
now wiped away by gripes of dirty dishes.
The course first up was a querulous platter
which bit right back with rumor-fed chatter,
unpaid bills, chores, and studies left undone.
Yet Junior, well aware of the thirst for fun,
the unexpressed hunger for a good joke,
with his fork in his mouth pretended to choke
when Mom lifted off the casserole lid.
The laugh, an early dessert from the kid,
exploded like a burp or something worse,
as the steam rose and then dispersed.
^ This poem is brilliant!
Final Meal
They were all gathered around a trash can fire,
Sharing what little they could beg, borrow, or steal
The steam rose and then dispersed like a ghost
Who knew it would be their last meal?
Since many a scrap of food came from dumpsters and trash
There was death in that pot, although nobody knew
The hunger was upon them from such a long fast
They hurriedly ate just as fast as they could chew
They ate with gusto the little that they had--
The morning dawned upon still bodies seemingly in sleep
The Men of the Bowery now silent and gone
All sorrows past, no more shall they weep
Will they wake in a land where they will hunger no more
There in the beauty of heaven's fair shore...
Pendragon
on our very first night
we ate cold pizza,
drank Mexican beer.
I can see you smiling,
arms around each other
in that little house
on St. Patrick Street.
"We will cook rice."
"We will make fried rice
tomorrow," you said.
I listened, had no idea,
just warm like morphine
or old books, memories,
a faded picture in my mind.
"I got it off the internet,"
you said, laughing
I see you the next day,
standing at the stove,
steaming white rice and
heating oil in a wok
and now I feel love
like I have never felt,
just us two, together.
you turned off the stove,
removing the lid,
you began to stir the rice
while the steam rose
and then dispersed,
floating up to heaven
What superb poetry from everyone! I’m so inspired.
I came up with something but it’s way below your level.
Hope you don't mind...here it is...
Hot Dish
1.
when our eyes
met for the first time
they locked like the
strongest deadbolt
we went to a movie
and left before
it was over
2.
hair flows down
your eyelids flutter
my hand......almost touching
instantly your lips part
you hungry...
3.
the appetizers were
slowly savored but
we almost couldn't wait...
with the main course
the steam rose
and then dispersed
into minute murmurs
it was the
longest dinner
ever
4.
you whisper:
will there be seconds...
I whisper:
what does your gut tell you...
5.
just as in an old movie
I wrote on a matchbook
then I left Room 1105
the door locked itself behind me
Below the rest? ....I don't think so....you write with such passion!!!!!Quote:
Originally Posted by Haunted