Moebius stripped for action, that is good.
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Moebius stripped for action, that is good.
This is just a reminder that the termination date will be September 16, 2015 CE at Noon GMT. which will be 5 PM EDT in the U.S. East Coast, and you can calculate your on time. I will give a little leeway, because I might be eating at that moment, but before the end of the day I will announce the winner.
Please hurry with those last day entries.
The contest is ended, and I have determined a winner, or I will by the time I finish this post.
There were only four brave enough to even attempt.
The Infinite Jest by Northstar has a reasonable, repeated image of good microcosm vs macrocosm, and the meter is fair.
Infinity by YesNo is rather nice, but it seems to have left infinity alone. Perhaps it was an attempt to contrast the infinitely large in something quite small, but he admitted a need to feel it near
nfinite by cacian succinctly got to no end, and the form is quite nice, typical for cacian with rhyme but no rime. It shows the infinite in the rather small.
Infinite Lovers by Dark Muse has many repeated images of the infinite within the microcosm.
All of them are rather nice in their particular ways. I think that, putting everything together, Northstar wins, because of the form, images, and so on, but it was close.
Well I didn't expect that, and didn't remember the deadline was already, sorry to keep you waiting. Thank you very much indeed, Peter.
New subject is something related: Limits. Interpret that how you want. Deadline: October 3rd.
My lips got ever close to yours.
They never fully met.
You say they did? I disagree.
My lips but lingered pensively.
You kissed. I won’t forget.
No problem, I just figured you weren't paying attention over the weekend.Quote:
Originally Posted by North Star
Now I'll have to think about restrictions.
Beyond All Limits
My fingers
traipse across
your boundary
lines.
I love to push
you past
your limits.
Please
tell me no
so I can say
Yes!
Unbinding
my inhibitions
we erase
the rules.
Our bodies
will redraw
our own
conclusions.
thank you PeterL for the feedback
NorthStar congratulations:)
the end of time
is to limit the mind
to a purpose
a day in locus
how long till we find
the meaning of life is focus?
to let it slip
is oecus
a residence with reticent
Nono,no-n-nono. There's no limit!
According to the song
Upon the radio
Living with no Limits
Is the only way to go
But me I like my slippers
And my comfy chair
(Though I do sip at my coco
With a certain kinda flair.)
To the Hot Place with Dieting!
I really want that pie
But there are restrictions
Too many calories
I must exercise limitations
Don't butter a second roll
Don't get the larger steak
Healthy sides of fruit and veggies
To aide--oh, give me a break!
I starve myself to lose five pounds
And gain back ten just looking at food
So give me seconds, and also thirds
It won't make much difference; what's the use?
Pendragon
9/29/2015
Well that round was nicely varied. :)
I liked them all. YesNo's entry is a beautiful. Dark's poem is a nice contrasting take, and can be quite creepy, and why not.
Pendrelemick put me in a good mood. The contrast between it and B]Pendragon[/b]'s entry is delightful.
Cacian is bending the language out of its limits as delightfully as always.
After meticulously measuring all the parameters, the one who made it above the limit (as only one can) is Pendrelemick.
Thanks North Star.
The next subject :
An abandoned carrier bag on a moterway is whisked up into the air by a big yellow truck that has "Deli's Famous Donner Kebabs" written in red letters on the side and is driven by Emile, who holds a secret, unrequited passion for Wendy back at the depot. Back at the depot Wendy is worrying about an unopened letter in the pocket of her purple gilet.
Use any aspect of the above.
Not lovers in the normal way
Where hands are held and lips are kissed
And dreams escape from night to day
And presences are missed.
Emile loves his Wendy so,
But Wendy hopes that he will go.
Emile drives the Deli’s van
And Wendy stays behind.
She holds a letter from a man
Afraid what she will find.
The man wrote, he can’t be with her.
“Let’s just be friends the way we were.”
It’s hard predicting what should be
Then sensing it might not.
A plastic bag blows fitfully.
The wind is all it’s got
Unlike those lovers who’ve been tossed
And can’t help thinking that they’re lost.
Red Letters
On his way to school,
Donny's walk stopped
As he saw in the pool
A man, shot dead.
Written on the board
In runny, red letters
Was 'Meet thy Lord'
At which Donny stares
Still during the night,
When there is no light.