Due to death in the family and my own health being bad, the contest being ended today, and no poems having being submitted for days, this is the final judging. Thanks to everyone who entered!
Pendragon
Picture Poetry Contest Winner:
Lucidnightmares: Your poem was, like the picture, very surreal. You did not give it a title, “Point of Grace” might have been worthy of this romp through your nightmares, as you insist that
“a demon rests inside our soul
losing patience, i lost control”
And then you are asking for some unnamed someone to:
“so rip it out, my roting heart
take this sorrow, tear it apart
only then will i show my face
when i`m lost inside your endless grace”
A wonderful expression of the battle within between good and evil. Well done.
BrownEyedBailey: Your poem expressed things I have said to myself so many times that even though it was not the words of the original poem, it was words expressed by me.
Deep down a demon possesses me.
Help, I cry, help me rid of this curse
None come to save me.
I failed.
I fell.
Death overtakes me.
Gone.
You see, people have accused me of demon possession due to my Bi-Polar, about which they refuse to educate themselves. And I have felt cursed to hell. A good title for your poem would be “Misunderstood”. You show the hopelessness and helplessness of the person with the demon or feeling of possession very clearly. Well done.
NickAdams: Nick, you pulled an e.e. cummings poem style on me, for which I was totally unprepared! I must have read your poem a dozen times before one line opened the secret of the poem and I understood.
Herd the flock
to flock when heard
and ‘round and ‘round
the globe will turn
(to the tick of a one-hand clock).
That line was the very last one—“(to the tick of a one-hand clock).” What is in the heart? The beat of that clock runs the world. But we assist at putting fanged monsters in there. Well Done!
ALaKungFu I had thought the picture itself was rather surreal, your poem about it reached into the depths of the metaphysical:
and invention
for the enlightened to conjure
at will
Indeed. Though I might find shades of William Blake in your poem, I don’t think I could find him in my poor artwork. Great poem, I’m just not really certain it fits the picture.
Autolycus: I would title your poem “The Sin of Hate”. You turned the green “daemon” into hate. Hate that once was love.
“A demon hate
Within this shell abides
Love spoke too late
And now in fear still hides
Behind her gate”
I like it very much. Well done!
And you had one of the most interesting styles of poetry with it:
mazHur: I would have to title your poem “The Lure”. You interpret the picture as a daemon holding up a rose as a lure, when the trap is already set and if one falls for the lure one is doomed.
He has no face, no arm, no legs,
yet he manages to grow up
a hand and hold a bough of flower
to attract, to lure people
towards him and be his disciples.
Do not judge him by his proffered kindness
look beyond that and further
all that appears pink is not rose,
The only way to avoid the already set trap is not to fall for the pretty lure. Very well done. I love it!
AdoreroDio: I think I would title yours “Efforts At Denial”. You make the bold statement that there is a daemon in you, even if it is but a poor shriveled one.
yet I am still beautiful
still loved
still the same to the world
holding a single rose
a sign of love
but really I am clenching it
this lie in my hands
this hatred
the thorns are digging
digging into my weak flesh
for I know
know that my demon is loose
Despite this, you are going to hold your pink rose out to the world and lay claim on beauty, yes, and subtlety, behind that, innocence—but the thorns cut your hand and you know in your heart you are merely lying to yourself. Very well done. I love it!
Prema: Well, your poem was so short that I can just reproduce the whole thing right here:
I worked five long years in my red coverall.
Hey body, get out and play
get out and play rock and roll!
Which body becomes confusing? Is it the one that holds the rose, as in Guns N Roses (get out and play rock and roll!) or the one peering out of the body cavity? Does this make the torso the (red coverall)? A neat little evil twist.
This one is a very hard choice. I narrowed it to three. Bailey, you came close to the original poem. That is something I cannot overlook. AndyDio, you also hit elements of the original poem, perhaps even closer than Bailey, so I cannot overlook you. But maHzur saw something in the picture that maybe I was trying to get out from my darkness and drew without knowing—a warning: Beware of false innocence, for even the mighty have fallen. Remember King David’s fall and his repentance.
This was my poem to go with my picture:
THE CREATURE WITHIN
He stands shirtless in the drifting snow,
offering a pale pink rose in his left hand,
unmindful of the thorns that prick his flesh
causing the ruby drops to stain the white carpet.
The creature within reaches out jade-green claws
and parts the venetian blinds of his ribcage,
to peer with distinct malevolence at the world
that it viciously hates…
Dale Harris
© 1996
maHzur, I declare you the winner of this round! You may choose the next picture:
Originally Posted by lucidnightmares
!
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