Printable View
Congratulations Holograph! :D
Thanks for the comments mir. I'm glad you liked it, sorry it confused you. :blush: Ever since you posted the Rodin Pic, I was thinking of that film Camille Claudel, and those thoughts led to that poem, I suppose. Thanks for the comments!
Aye congrats Holograph. It's quite nice indeed :nod:
hey kids. mir, thank you so much for picking my scribbles as the winner of this very competetive, but very much fun, poetry contest. i don't think i deserved it. i read the one's everyone else posted and i thought, wow, i have no chance. virgil's, petrarch's riesa's aim's all were Amazing.
thanks again. I will post a cool pic, I promise. I need to be inspired. :angel:
-----------------------------------------------------------
I'm not religious, but this painting by Dali struck me. I'm not going to judge based on how close the poems are to my interpretation of the piece. I will look at the poem as its own entity, like a new critic would. Have fun, don't rush and good luck amigos. --Alina :)
This one's called "The Cross of St. John" by Dali.
http://www.heureka.clara.net/books/d...sofstjohn2.jpg
Holograph congratulations! I agree with the choice. Honorable mention for me goes to Virgil.
Mir - No need to worry. I write because I like to not to gain points with other folks. I do however appreciate comments letting me know how it has affected you and other folks. I have not been since childhood a very detailed guy. No news here -- Lol;) Poor mum!
Having said that I am intrigued by Riesa's words"
"she’s gathered
from him who,
when memory stirs,
checks to see
if she is still capable
of affecting,
he finds
she isn’t, and disregards
the sentiment for a more
tangible ornament"
There is a storyteller in NY named Judith Black who touches this theme in a kind of ballad that she performed at the National Storytller's Conference this past summer. When I heard her story and watched the reaction of the largely female group, I conclude that this casting of thought in this way must be something close to the minds of many females (pure conjecture on my part). It is an ancient theme sewn through many folk tales in many countries. Not judging here just noticing. I don't know if Riesa is male or female. From my point of view interesting... I wonder if Carl Jung is reading along?:p
Next Picture Wooah! I :eek: have to think some on this one!
Great day all. :banana: Looking forward to reading some more cool stuff.:thumbs_up
Wow. I just saw the photo. That is a fantastic Dali. I have never seen it before, and may be the best Dali I've ever seen. For the most part I've never been overwhelmed with Dali. But this one is great. I will need a little time to think on this one.
congarts Holo:)
Thanks Ms. T. :)
OK, so to keep this contest moving, let's make the deadline eh, next Wed. night at 9 PM. Let's get some entries kids. <3
ack!!!
i'm working on it, holo!! i keep getting good ideas and forgetting to write them down! :p
OK! sorry it took so long, Holo - we love you, we're just slow poets! :p
Empty Eucharist
Hung in endless sky
Below, the boats
Wait their own chance to die.
Consecrated cross
Clouds swelled red with blood
Shifting seas
High and low both the flood.
Prickling punishment
The thorns in his crown
Forgive the fishermen
And lay your burden down.
Oh I'm working on it too. I hope I have a few more weeks.
I'm working on it too but the left brain stuff keeps stepping on the words...:goof:
I'm suprised only one poem has been posted so far, for this image.
We've only had the picture about a week. We normally get several weeks.Quote:
Originally Posted by ktd222
mhm. i won't rush you guys, even though I am russian. hehe. inside joke with myself. ----mmmm great entry mir.
..........
OK, here's my entry, since Holo is Russian into things ;) :
edit: I can't figure out why it's posting mine before thefemalemind's entry, since hers was already there when I posted, but I guess I'll just have to accept that the ways of computers are many and mysterious.:goof:
In Nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti
(In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit)
Water smooth and flat to conceal its sins,
Blameless face of blue presents itself
To the pillars of the light of heaven
Which pierce through the remnants of the storm.
The trinity stand by the waveless sea:
Papa distant where his old blue boat is tied,
Oldest brother with the nets in hand,
Middle brother ankle deep beside
The boat with a knot like an eye in its prow.
All have been witness to the same event.
Pater noster, qui es in caelis
“Our father, our father,” the words come by instinct
To the minds of the trinity on the shore,
Words come from the years of childhood kneeling
Between Mama and Papa in Sunday best.
Words come from the years of fatherhood kneeling
Beside their own children and wives. Words come
As they came to the youngest brother in his last moment.
Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra
“Our father, your will be done; your will be done.”
The words came by instinct to their son and brother,
Who had knelt beside them with his wife and child
Whom they’d watched as a baby carried with hope
To the priest for the blessing of water,
Whom they’d watched as the water choked him
In the midst of his prayer to an angry sky.
Et dimitte nobis debita nostra,
“Our father, forgive us, forgive us.
Our father, are you in heaven?
Our father, can we forgive the trespasses against us?
Our father, you know not what you do.
We ask you to deliver us from evil
And you take away our good, our brother and our son.
Our father? Our father?” The words come by instinct
From something born in them, from before birth.
And the unseen questions rise to where
Unseen nails suspend incarnate anguish
While the bones snap and muscles tear
And the neck, limp with suffering, drops the head.
The page above the bending neck presents no INRI,
No explanation, only a blameless face of white-a tabula rasa.
The light illumines pain on earth as it is in heaven
All else is darkness
As the Son lowers his head over the bending world.
Hello! I'd like to try out this contest but it might take a while for me to get a poem done for this picture! how much time do we have left?
He made a sacrafice
On the cross where He lay.
The work of His beauty
Stunned in dismay.
He looks down apon us,
His soul very tired,
A gentle smile
Was all that was required
To mend the bleeding,
Hurt,
Needing.
He looks down apon us
With love and care.
For his children,
He will always be there.
He floats softly
In vast skies of gray
Because He made a sacrafice
On the cross where He lay.
By: The Female Mind
Krista
its been doing that to me too in other threads.
Okay, out of the blue it came, but it was fun writing it:
Out of the blackness
between the blue water
and blue mirage of heavens
a cross-shaped conture
hung out for forever
flies.
And all the sunken boats come to surface
dead bodies grasping air
people stepping out from the trees
into which they grew
in graveyards.
stepping out from the heat of the ovens
and boxes in museums.
"where the hell is my left foot?"
somebody, forgetting when he is,
speaks.
Somebody, whose body was long stored away
for the glory of history.
Everybody, in long patient files
waiting for Judgement.
But the figure flies on
uncaring of the files below
freely
without having to stand for anyones' hope
suffer for the guilty
with no responsibility left
it has all passed on
and he can rest now.
Last chance of
bading goodbye
to the blue skies
which won't be here tomorrow.
Sunset of the world.
The Son is free.
Flying
exalted
as if it was the last day of Earth
into the dying skies.
Lightness is unbearable.
How do they deal with it?
Light
ever bound to dark,
as truth to deceit,
far below vertiginous heights
depths
whirl away,
flotsam and jetsam
grip and ride
sucking,
twist-
ing
waves
Hanged man
shimmering
in the oily heat,
flies tickle and drink;
but agony ends,
adjusts to pain by
turning numb,
and he has witnessed,
in a metamorphic flash
toed-fish
slink from the primordial deep
mammoth beasts fall,
and furred, grimy hunters
reflect fire in dark eyes
and
begin to sing
and
forget to sing as
blades dig, scrape earth and tender flesh,
flesh bathed in war's craze,
hate in hot and sultry waves,
the grim disdain of God's soldier
meting out ordered death.
Hanged man beyond broken:
this is not what I meant, no
You were mistaken,
let me go, Father
let me join the dead gods.
There was no hope.
(And yet,
salvaged from the muck
of humanity’s wreck,
deep in an expanse of
sea,
a sailor,
boat tied to the rhythm of
Southern winds,
sailing quiet
beneath
Cassiopeia;
Stargazer
on the clean wooden deck
night cracking open,
spilling starlight so potent
he opens his soul and howls
unsuppressed.)
nice. good job everyone. impressive, impressive. virg, cmon out with it. ill give you guys a few more days. woot.
Oh please let me have one more weekend.:bawling:Quote:
Originally Posted by holograph
Hi,
My appologies but I haven't been able to work on this at all so don't wait on me I'll catch up on the next one. :sick:
ok kids, ill give you another 48 hrs. but that's it. :) cmon virg and orion. you still have some time.
Just finishing up, Halo. I'll post my poem within an hour. Thanks.
OK, here's my poem. I don't have a clear sense of an assessment, but I'm sure you will tell me.
Quote:
The Rivet
A thunderous evening and the last moments of human marrow.
This is the moment that life severs to spirit,
That timber crosses to pole,
When positive and negative lose static opposition.
As the earth spins in perpetual motion
It spins along the axis of this cross,
Along the axis of this body, poor and beaten.
I am the mandrel of this world,
The cosmic rivet of all that is stone and mineral and gas;
The universe here is concentered.
Can corporeality end this way, so notorious,
So lapsed of bowel movements,
And flowing of fluids,
Not even to have the dignity of recumbence?
Soon, forty days or so, another transfiguration,
To wheat, to vineyard, to an aroused rose,
Proud and red and facing the sky.
Endemic to all, having been burned into flesh,
And ripped out of flesh,
What thoughts to raise? The two halves of this cross?
What words to say as one breaks from this?
Insuperable, solicitous, metabolous.
And what then? To circle back to life?
In passing out this bread and wine
The spinning world returns to where it began.
To return to the sea and hook once more,
The camaraderie of line and tackle,
Of fish and water, of flesh and blood?
No, the flesh is gone, but the rivet remains.
The spinning earth, the expanding universe,
The hills are fixed to earth.
you guys all are amazing, seriously, I couldn't make up my mind as to who's the best:thumbs_up
nice poem, Virgil! yep. darn. :D oh, well.
Are we allowed to comment on the submitted poems, and ask questions of the submitters?
Maybe on an individually assented basis?
Why don't you do that, Shout, after a winner is chosen? Otherwise it might influence the decision.Quote:
Originally Posted by ShoutGrace
I guess I will, but I wouldn't want to talk about someone's work if they weren't up for that (like the short story competition). Though the judges have been critiquing the submissions so far, so I guess it's expected.
Well, the short story contest is an official lit net contest; this poetry contest is completely informal and done as a member inspired thread.Quote:
Originally Posted by ShoutGrace
BTW, Shout did you read my short story in that contest, "Shop Talk?" What did you think? I didn't get many comments. Here I set up a thread for comments: http://www.online-literature.com/for...447#post280447.
so when is the judging?
Virg. is probably right about not wanting to influence the judging with comments beforehand, and I also wonder if the thread might get cluttered and hard to follow if people were commenting back to different past poems at the same time as new submissions were coming in. I've wanted to comment on peoples' poems too though, and been curious about other reactions to my own. Maybe what would work best is to do something like what's done with the short story contest. If people would like further remarks about their poems they could start up a thread for comments in the "personal poetry" section of the forum for that purpose. What does everyone think? Would that work? If you really wanted to comment on someone's poem and he/she didn't offer up a thread for comment on it in the forums, you could always pm her/him and ask if he/she would mind getting some feedback privately or would be willing to post a thread for further discussion of her/his poem.Quote:
Originally Posted by ShoutGrace
Virg.--I hadn't seen your story. I enjoyed reading it and left some (hopefully helpful) comments on the thread you started. :)
Good idea, Petrarch.Quote:
Originally Posted by Petrarch's Love
Virgil, interesting poem. Fresh way of seeing the painting. The painting is phenomenal. One of Dali's best, my favorite actually; it is housed in a museum in Scotland. I missed seeing it at the Philadelphia Dali Show last fall; unfortunately it went back early. Dali's work is wonderful. I saw the show twice!
Hello, everyone else. I read 12 pages into this poetry contest and love it!!! I am truly impressed - so much talent here. Hey, how long does it take to write one of these poems? I don't think I should attempt one, or not yet. At any rate this thread is very entertaining and I love the photos. I loved the boat on the shore photo....really luminous. Nice poem Virgil, think you won that one - the epic! Petrarch's poems are appealing to me (kind of romantic), Reisa has some nice stuff, too. I really enjoyed and and liked most of the postings. I need to re-read many of them. Good job to all. Wish I had your talent! This thread is a smart idea.:idea: