Poetry Contest

[Orionsbelt]

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?

Next Picture Wooah! I have to think some on this one!

Great day all. Looking forward to reading some more cool stuff.

[Virgil]

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.

[miss tenderness]

congarts Holo

[holograph]

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

[mir]

ack!!!

i'm working on it, holo!! i keep getting good ideas and forgetting to write them down!

[mir]

OK! sorry it took so long, Holo - we love you, we're just slow poets!

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.

[Virgil]

Oh I'm working on it too. I hope I have a few more weeks.

[Orionsbelt]

I'm working on it too but the left brain stuff keeps stepping on the words...

[ktd222]

I'm suprised only one poem has been posted so far, for this image.

[Virgil]

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.

[holograph]

mhm. i won't rush you guys, even though I am russian. hehe. inside joke with myself. ----mmmm great entry mir.

[Petrarch's Love]

..........

[Petrarch's Love]

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.

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.

[thefemalemind]

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?

[thefemalemind]

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