Yes, I did. I fixed it. Thanks!Quote:
Originally Posted by tailor STATELY
I agree this form is difficult, especially if you reverse the individual words in each line and not just reverse the lines as I did.
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Yes, I did. I fixed it. Thanks!Quote:
Originally Posted by tailor STATELY
I agree this form is difficult, especially if you reverse the individual words in each line and not just reverse the lines as I did.
Two weeks left to submit entries. More more more!
One more week. Only three giving it a shot?
Well, I was almost on time. Here are your results.
Dark Muse: A very eerie, elegant piece. It's hard to keep this style of poetry from sounding awkward with all the reversing, but you did a nice job of pulling it off.
YesNo: This reminded me of a country song, although I suppose anything mentioning beer more than once would have that effect. A cute and original poem, nicely done.
I enjoyed both these poems but to me the oustanding piece of the three was...
Pendragon: Wow. It amazed me how smoothly this read. You really captured the essense of the palindrome poem, in that the second verse should not only be a reversal of the first in literal terms but also in the story it tells. This poem had a nice rhythmical flow to it and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it. Well done!
Thank you, Moonbird! I used to write a lot of these, calling them "Reversibles"!
Let's see...
Let's go with the villanelle. Here's a sample to go by:
Final Breath
She softly exhaled her final breath,
and a peaceful smile lit up her face.
The silence echoed like the laugh of Death,
and I felt bad for wishing that he’d been sure and swift
and not let her suffer so. I knelt to give her one last embrace.
She softly exhaled her final breath,
Leaving me feeling lonely, sad and bereft,
with no one to help me run life’s race.
The silence echoed like the laugh of Death,
this invisible creature that had come, taken her, and left
only her memories to fill up the space.
She softly exhaled her final breath,
And I held her hand and desperately wished
that I might somehow take her place.
The silence echoed like the laugh of Death—
well, he’d taken the best wife in the whole length and breadth
of the universe—in any place.
She softly exhaled her final breath—
The silence echoed like the laugh of Death…
Pendragon
Harvest Moon
An ember burning in the night
they dance around her celestial fire
divine in her own right.
Orange gold glowing bright
she is the mother to inspire
an ember burning in the night.
Mans eternal guiding light
to reap what he may require
divine in her own right.
The last hope before winter's blight
embrace your own desire
an ember burning in the night.
Seer of the ancient sight
she watched mans first struggle in the mire
divine in her own right.
Now a blaze of glory to delight
before from the world light must retire
an ember burning in the night
divine in her own right.
The Old Cow
The old cow sees the truck parked at the door.
An unchained cow's removed by some decree.
The others moan goodbye. Their voices soar.
And all her calves they took from her before
They were too old: she hopes they now are free.
The old cow sees the truck parked at the door.
There was that heifer, just a calf, she bore
Who stayed until she got a crippled knee.
The others moan goodbye. Their voices soar.
But everyone's afraid of what's in store
With no one who would listen to a plea.
The old cow sees the truck parked at the door.
Last month she lost her friend she wanted more
Than all the hay or grain that she could see.
The others moan goodbye. Their voices soar.
And this time it is she who walks the floor.
Her head is high, resigned. Just let it be.
The old cow sees the truck parked at the door.
The others moan goodbye. Their voices soar.
The fire licks the metal air
Through twisting waves of clotted smoke
And putrid stench of burning hair
The window drinks the burning air
A gaping mouth that never chokes
The fire licks the metal air
The sun shines down its searing stare
A yellowed eye, a rotten yoke
And putrid stench of burning hair
And tightens round my throat a snare
With poison is my palet soaked
The fire licks the metal air
I lean into the shining square
Salvation from the viper's stroke
And putrid stench of burning hair
And then I step into the air
Clean air wraps round me like a cloak
The fire licks the metal air
And putrid stench of burning hair
The contest will be judged September 30th. If you haven't entered, there is still time. You must enter to win! :drool5:
As we have had no activity on this page since 9/21/2011, I will go ahead and pass judgment
First of all, everyone should be proud of their poems, if it wasn't for the difficulties it would cause, there would be a three-way tie! Honestly!
But in the end there can only be one...
Dark Moon: I loved the tight, well written poem, especially the wrap-up:
YesNo: Again it was the ending that got me, the doomed cow, headed to the slaughter, it's mates saying a final goodbye.Quote:
Now a blaze of glory to delight
before from the world light must retire
an ember burning in the night
divine in her own right.
moonbird Your wrap-up was spectacular! Really loved the way your poem seemed open to interpretation, perhaps no two people getting the same thing out of it.Quote:
And this time it is she who walks the floor.
Her head is high, resigned. Just let it be.
The old cow sees the truck parked at the door.
The others moan goodbye. Their voices soar.
The winner, just a matter of personal taste, you all nailed the poem and form is: ***moonbird***! Congrads!Quote:
And then I step into the air
Clean air wraps round me like a cloak
The fire licks the metal air
And putrid stench of burning hair
:cheers2:
Thank you, Pendragon!
I forgot to add that my poem was dedicated to the 9-11 victims. Rest in peace each innocent life taken from us on that day.
And on to the next contest! The form for this one will be the etheree. In this form a poem begins with 10 syllables; the next line will have 9, the next one 8, and so on all the way down to 1. You can also choose to go the reverse order, beginning at 1 and ending at 10. Here's an example to clarify:
Claustrophobia
The party is crammed with swaying bodies.
They dance, music blasts from the speakers.
Wall to wall, shoulder to shoulder.
The smell of booze and cologne.
Trapped—There’s no escape.
The whole room spins,
Bleeds color,
Fading
Out.
I'll set a tentative deadline for October 20. Good luck!
Mr. Blues
Seduction, a smokey haze in his eyes
he plays like caressing a woman,
piano keys moan at his touch
with fingers born for the blues,
he sings with soul so smooth
shades of regret and
cherisher charm
the promise
of his
lips
I'm horrible at counting syllables so I think I must set this one out. Interesting form, though. I'll be interested to see what my fellow poets make of it!
I hate Alice in Wonderland syndrome.
One minute I am so powerful,
gargantuan and enormous!
but then I can't escape
that shrinking feeling.
It's creeping in
until I'm
inches
tall.
Two awesome entries so far. Two more weeks to submit!