Picture Poetry Contest (...continued...)

[Pendragon]

dear mr pen....my mind and heart with pen in hand have been contemplating, considering and reflecting on this mighty photo...soon...soon...we shall bring forth our thoughts....isnt the deadline end of july or is it june?

Well, I wanted the 7th of July, but having no poems as of yet, I must set it up until July 28th, firm. Judging will be up on July 31st.

Pen

[dramasnot6]

Tornado

Stillness is a melancholy comfort
Gone is the baby blue sofa and Sunday afternoon
a swirl of faded madness left me dizzy, waiting for you in the cold
Longing for your arms in wind chill
Left standing in a second-hand stand in Brooklyn
It was in your eyes I was alive, so real until that fatalist resolution whereupon so many problems
arose.
Left here torn, pale except for a bleak yellow complexion
Only these passing breezes flip my pages with swiftness not unlike your impatient touch
Upon being picked up again, I did not forget you
I leafed through my head
Only discovering we were
Blown away

[Pendragon]

All right, Drama! We are finally started! Offically the Picture Poetry Contest of AndyDio has begun!

Pen

[littlewing53]

In black and white
envision the babble of open books
a clamor of commotion
a symphony of words
a concert of thoughts pressing to be heard

the untouched book is eager
full of anticipation
trusting the orchestra of words arrival
pages upon pages fluttering
excited by the measure of letters

the composers hold back
each book posed to speak in turn
words caught up in a breeze
in the drift of a wind

letters in movement told in parts
each page filled line by line
evolving at a disconnected pace
emerging in a dance of letters

the conductor taps his wand
words finely tuned begin to align
so begins a rehearsal of expression
a harmony of silent words

the pitch, the key exchange places
unable to decide and carelessly unyielding
the books stay in refusal to order

nevertheless....patiently
the words begin to flow
without interruption

the music begins to play
the words are formed
sentences begin to erupt
chapters formed in collection

the conductor’s hand is stilled
silence breaks out
and...another book is read


...geez, unusually long...but once it starts how does one stop!!!..

[the silent x]

The Reaper

The reaper is coming,
Can you hear his breath?
The sound of a thousand pages turning.
In his hand he holds death,
And in yours, you hold nothing.

The reaper is coming,
Your authors have asked it
He is coming to destroy you
You who looted the libraries on whim
And who avoid books like puss.

The reaper is coming,
For the looters of the sacred,
Those who stole the gold,
And made the books burn bright red,
Every work, new and old.

The reaper is coming
To separate the chaff,
Those who left the words a flying in the elements
You who tear the books while you laugh
You who throw aside your literary precedents

The reaper is coming,
Can you feel the chill wind it brings?
It may come on quietly,
Like an assassin with wings,
Or it may come in a flurry

The reaper is coming,
To burn you who burn the literates
Who spat and tore and ripped the words
Who tortured the ones with wits
Who rejected those singing pen-bards

The reaper is here,
But there are those who don’t know,
Those that can’t see.
That they don’t know
The reaper is me.

[mushaboo]

Squares,Circles,Angles
Geometry, math, science
Life , God, Universe
What?!, you ask how do they relate
Why my friend, that is the language of God!
And by this language the universe is what he came to create.
What?! you dare defy this fact!
How do you think you came to be!
Not only you but:
Me
He and
She

Aha!, but of course, it is obvious why you are blind
You are blinded by those from this fact
They influence you in your thoughts!
and the way you act!

But do not worry my friend!,
for soon you will see.
When you go into the eternal slumber
You will see the truth!, of this fact that was said by me

When you take that one step, that will happen to us all
the one big step in the future, the step to end it all.
Scared?! who, you? but of course silly human!
You are flawed in many ways!, not only by fear
but by anger, and greed,

Those flaws that will one day take the only thing you have left
Exitance

[Pendragon]

All right! A nice little influx of poetry, and a number of different viewpoints! Our little version of the Rorschach tests (poetically, of course!), is off and running. Welcome to mushaboo! Mind if we shorten that to Shaboo?

Pen, stand-in judge for AndyDio, off on a mission of mercy.

[motherhubbard]

I’m working on it, but it’s not coming out like I want. Things usually stew until they just spill over for me, but it’s taking a while this time. It’s very frustrating since I won’t read what everyone else has written until I post my poem. I don’t want to inadvertently borrow from one of you, but I’m anxious to know what you’ve written. I hope to finish in a day or two.

[symphony]

Looking forward to reading urs, motherhubbard

I'm urging myself to write a piece before next week. Since from next week, school--> on, life--> off. So I guess I've got less than a week to write something. But, ironic as it is, nothing's coming out, and it will be idiotic of me to force something out, writing cant be anything but freewilled. So perhaps i wont make it in time... But I'm looking forward to reading all of the different insights on this thoughtful picture.

[dramasnot6]

Guess it's good we have a lot of time before the end of the contest, doesn't seem to be much poetry around thus far...

[Pendragon]

Indeed. AndyDio would be very disappointed with turn out so far, methinks...

Not the poems, the amout of poems!

[motherhubbard]

Well, I have one, but since there is so much time left I want to hold incase something else comes to mind. Everytime I read it I change it a little. I haven't read the others but if I don't start feeling better about what I wrote I may chicken out.

[Pendragon]

NNNNNNNOOOOOOOOOOOOOO! Don't chicken out! What may seem to you your worst might be what others consider a masterpiece. You take me. I never could understand, and I confess I still do not, the art of Pollack. But someone did, and it is priceless art. I can paint myself, when I try, and could take, say, an Andrew Warhol picture and do a close imitation. Mine would be worthless; his priceless. He does something that I cannot recapture. Only you can write your poems. Think of it that way.

Pen

[motherhubbard]

well, here it is.

Sacrificed Humanity

Proudly they came, bearing meaty offerings of written word,
Laying upon the sardonic alter a sacrifice too great.
Elated with the promise, and hungry for more and more,
They gave over this great treasure without a second thought.
Knowledge, language, symbols, history, philosophy, and religion - cast off.
Humanity blindly forsaking its humanity, with no sense of loss.

Now the heart of man beats cold, unable to comprehend the price that was paid.
All that can be found of the past is discarded like rubbish.
Ruffling pages cry out to deaf ears, quieting only with the stillness of the wind.
The world, in its push for more, forsook what it already had.
Upon the steps of the alter are the last few remains.
Relics of the past left to the elements.

Knowledge exchanged for apathy. Mankind no more than a shell.
Turn away from the volumes; shield your ears from the truth.
Stand before the judgment lost, blinded and deafened by a barren lust.
What is hollow will not be filled; hunger and thirst will not be quenched.
When morning opens wide and the silence of loss screams,
Who will hear the pleading whisper of origins yearning to be understood?

[Pendragon]

Thank you. Mother H. I will, of course, reserve comments on the poems until the winner is announced, but I have it copied to my list, and will pour over it. Everyone gets a review from me when I am the "Judge", ick, nasty word, that!

Pen.