So Sorry Alakungfu!
I didn't read that you were hoping for a Valentine's Day entry. It was so hard figuring out how to post the photo, I missed it. Please forgive me and HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAYOriginally Posted by alakungfu
Edit: Ah, the page turned to hopefully no harm done.
This deserves to be posted in many places, the wider readership the better, but as I believe you now understant the poem had to be about the photo posted by the previous winner. Feel free to cower in embarrassment in the darkest corner of your house.Photo of a Haitian Street Kid (Restaveck)
cadaver being ripped apart by dogs.
Stays With You
Firefly - when you pulse among the stumps of trees
sacrificed for cane, shacks and cooking fuel,
shine down the throat of starvation, illuminate the
mosquito crops of a rain soaked soil.
Chronicle the transparent children dying
in urinal city gutters. Their memories of
food, medicine, a home flowing in the
sluice of an angry voodoo morphing rice
to maggot - Manbo’s sons and daughters
into sewer rats and jackals.
Firefly - streak innocent on every cross. Collect
their little lives into a book of wilted poems
inscribed with apathy. Condemn throughout eternity
this pestilent infanticide, this gangrenous ignorance
festering three hundred thousand sores a year.
Call it Restaveck, call it Haiti.
for anyone who might want to get involved, www.haitianstreetkids.com
Great poem, however.
The contest doesn't close until March 8. I just didn't want to miss Valentine's Day.
"It is not the rich man you should properly call happy, but him who knows with wisdom how to use the blessings of the gods, to endure hard poverty, and who fears dishonor worse than death, and is not afraid to die for cherished friends or fatherland."
- Horace
She lotions her hands.
A subtle scent somewhere between
night shade and forget-me-not.
This can’t be rushed.
With deft fingers gathers the
diaphanous length of her serpentine lover.
It's filigreed mouth consuming painted toes
it feeds.
Spiraling the taut ankle and calf,
teasing the delirious crook of her knee,
warm thigh
she smiles knowing
this silk stocking
will be ruined before dawn.
(Feeling like an absolute moron and hoping for a touch of redemption)
They hold each other up,
hold each other strong
but somewhat fearfully
in view of that shadowy figure
approaching them.
Somehow love, true love,
must always have
a shadow of something,
drawing near...
Yes, it is a good poem, isn't it? It stays with you. Like both your subsequent entries, Prince and ~Sophia~, also!
"The important thing is not to stop questioning. Curiosity has its' own reason for existing." ~ Albert Einstein
"Remember, no matter where you go, there you are." Buckaroo Bonzai "Some people say I done alright for a girl." Melanie Safka
Damn! If it were me that silk stocking would be toast... long before dawn!
She lotions her hands.
A subtle scent somewhere between
night shade and forget-me-not.
This can’t be rushed.
With deft fingers gathers the
diaphanous length of her serpentine lover.
It's filigreed mouth consuming painted toes
it feeds.
Spiraling the taut ankle and calf,
teasing the delirious crook of her knee,
warm thigh
she smiles knowing
this silk stocking
will be ruined before dawn.
(Feeling like an absolute moron and hoping for a touch of redemption)
What might you have offered for more than "a touch" of redemption?
What riveting poems. All of the poems so far make you stop and take notice. They seem to have that fatalistic air and arresting quality about them. I'm enjoying reading them, anywho (and everywho). Happy Valentine's Day, everyone.
Last edited by alakungfu; 02-14-2009 at 04:12 PM.
"It is not the rich man you should properly call happy, but him who knows with wisdom how to use the blessings of the gods, to endure hard poverty, and who fears dishonor worse than death, and is not afraid to die for cherished friends or fatherland."
- Horace
Thanks Alakungfu. (Hope that means you've forgiven my previous bad). Have a great rest of the weekend!
ps: I vote for Prince's entry!
"they hold each other up
hold each other strong"
Great stuff Prince.
Last edited by ~Sophia~; 02-14-2009 at 11:13 PM.
Thank you, Sophie. To tell you the truth, I am excited to read any poem that comes from somewhere around the heart, no matter what direction it ends up taking. And these all take a turn of their own. I'm looking forward to judging them, though it's going to be difficult from what we've seen so far. Still three weeks to go.
"It is not the rich man you should properly call happy, but him who knows with wisdom how to use the blessings of the gods, to endure hard poverty, and who fears dishonor worse than death, and is not afraid to die for cherished friends or fatherland."
- Horace
The foxtrot of inseparable love
mazHur
Two glasses of wine,
whatever you may try,
cannot be one strong;
To each his own drink
smacks of duality
of inebriated state;
O my love!
leave alone the goblets
of olden wine;
they are no solace.
no match
for love's exuberance;
love travels
from one heart
to another;
fonder it grows
in absence;
manifests its hues
when lovers meet
holding each other tight
in their arms;
their hearts beating together
with the same pitch,
the same rhythm
of a poetical masterpiece;
Or, the sonorous beat
of the strings of an ephemeric guitar;
music begins to flow,
love's redolence overwhelms,
cosmos rocks and rolls in ecstasy
inebriating the emotions
of the two anxious lovers
with the strong nectar of love;
the lovers forgetful of the world
even forget themselves
that they are Two;
All they feel
all they find
is One soul in two bodies
Like the music of love
emanating from their throbbing hearts
simultaneously
into a single note of enchanting song,
into the foxtrot of inseparable love,
infusing bliss into lovers' lives.
===============
When asked how World War III would be fought, Einstein replied that he didn't know. But he knew how World War IV would be fought: With sticks and stones.
-(:===============
Nice poem mazHur. You tie it together so nicely. One can't help but get lost in the rhythm.
"It is not the rich man you should properly call happy, but him who knows with wisdom how to use the blessings of the gods, to endure hard poverty, and who fears dishonor worse than death, and is not afraid to die for cherished friends or fatherland."
- Horace
One week left to post your poem. Deadline is March 8.
"It is not the rich man you should properly call happy, but him who knows with wisdom how to use the blessings of the gods, to endure hard poverty, and who fears dishonor worse than death, and is not afraid to die for cherished friends or fatherland."
- Horace
Two days left to get your entries in.
"It is not the rich man you should properly call happy, but him who knows with wisdom how to use the blessings of the gods, to endure hard poverty, and who fears dishonor worse than death, and is not afraid to die for cherished friends or fatherland."
- Horace
What I felt most in all of these poems was a sense of imminence. Delightfully polished.
I found Pendragon's poem to be very balanced -- upbeat with melancholy, hard tone with quick rhythm.
Qimissung not only spoke imminence for me but overt breathlessness. Very compelling.
Sophia wrote a sensual and enjoyable poem but most of all it had a touch of nostalgia, which I was looking for. It was frankly evocative and a rich read.
Prince Myshkin uses that ultimate tool of the poet, the imagination, to great effect. He opens up your options and leaves you to choose the poem's fate.
My dear mazHur, one thing I don't find myself doing much of is placing myself within the poem that I am reading, but in this you have succeeded. Your poem manifests idealism, yet accessibly; it still has currency. It also has that hint of nostalgia I wanted.
So, I declare the winner of this contest mazHur.
"It is not the rich man you should properly call happy, but him who knows with wisdom how to use the blessings of the gods, to endure hard poverty, and who fears dishonor worse than death, and is not afraid to die for cherished friends or fatherland."
- Horace
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