"He is asleep. Though his mettle was sorely tried,
He lived, and when he lost his angel, died.
It happened calmly, on its own,
The way the night comes when day is done."
Paths
The marriage of your ambition and doubt
builds a robust
bridge to nowhere.
Here on its narrow platform you stand:
recounting the vacant
vows of vacuity,
shimmering with a black anxiety
and weeping tears for your
lost potential.
You watch them falling, slow as marriage,
to hit the aisle of the bridge
like jealous confetti.
With no hope of anyone to hold your hand
along the zirconium ring of its
daunting arches.
But even the most burdened girder
can suspend over frothing waters.
And paths, made and mended
from the smallest lot of soil.
If only you would divorce your ambition from doubt
and immerse yourself in the free-flowing streams.
Last edited by Babyguile; 03-27-2010 at 05:18 PM.
'Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself,
And so shall starve with feeding.'
Volumnia in Coriolanus
I hope i can come up with better than this but i really got exams and paper to think of ... Sorry for this humble submission. It all came at once when i saw the picture.. It's nyc i will save it and make a design carrying the winning poem .. That is a gift from me to whoever makes it -hehehe
And here is my poem.. Good luck for all !
Guide me through
Help me find the way
Hold my hand
and never let go
Let your love be my light
Let your will be my way
Stay for me
Stay with me
And don't vanish
For you’re my Hope
You make me strive
Through the Darkness
And through the mist
You knew we'd make it through
I knew we'd make it through
It's the love that makes us survive
To survive is to find the love.
"He is asleep. Though his mettle was sorely tried,
He lived, and when he lost his angel, died.
It happened calmly, on its own,
The way the night comes when day is done."
Here's my submission
On the Practice of Modern Construction
Those painted iron rails
That crest and trough like waves
Were shipped from Mexico
By capitalist knaves.
Each picket is welded
To a base and a top,
Frozen in sectioned place
To begin and to stop.
It's hard to tell from here
But those weathered floor planks
Appear pressure-treated
In fabricated links:
Little groups, joining loops
Galvanized, synchronized
To make the new look old
And the sides harmonized.
It's not the touching
That brings us together:
The slouching mist and tree
Are just wood and weather.
Welds and nails, joists and joints,
Loggers and arsenic,
Chopping and injecting. . . .
Slow steps into the quick.
And here this empty bridge
Spans a piece of city
Park where we recreate
Home and community.
Last edited by The Comedian; 04-04-2010 at 09:23 PM.
“Oh crap”
-- Hellboy
Ghost Fog
1.
it was me
last night
just outside
your window
but deep inside
your dream
2.
on the snowy bank
trees have long dropped
their green overcoats
shadows of bare limbs
tightly entwined
3.
what happened next
will remain in the dream
4.
why...
the next day
always comes at
the wrong time
5.
dawn drifts in
loosely clad in a
lavish white sheet
feel it
...the fog
so soft yet
so corporeal
you can wrap your
arms around it
and that’s all
is left of
me
6.
if you don’t want to
be awakened so soon
and it’s not too late
to follow the dream
I’m here
on the other side
of the bridge...
"But do you really, seriously, Major Scobie," Dr. Sykes asked, "believe in hell?"
"In flames and torment?""Oh, yes, I do."
"That sort of hell wouldn't worry me," Fellowes said."Perhaps not quite that. They tell us it may be a permanent sense of loss."
"Perhaps you've never lost anything of importance," Scobie said.
Tomorrow is the deadline. If anyone would like to post their poem you have until midnight of 4/6/10. Then after a couple days I will post the winner. Good luck!
We already have some fantastic entries. I have enjoyed them all. I love that everyone has a little different perspective. Thank you all for your efforts.
Les Miserables,
Volume 1, Fifth Book, Chapter 3
Remember this, my friends: there are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad cultivators.
Before you cross the bridge
of your worldly life
mind your steps carefully
lest under the burden of the knapsack
of your past deeds
that you carry on your back tips
and makes you lose your balance
tripping you on the way
or tires you up in the midst
of your journey to the other world-
the world of Celestial Justice;
If your good deeds
outweighed your evil acts
crossing the test bridge
would be like one step for you,
to make you the hero of the Canterbury Tales;
and if the matter turns out otherwise
your steps will lead you
to the cryogenic abyss of hell!
the mist, the fog, the haze, the blur
is just an illusion for the test of the Righteous!!
by mazHur
Last edited by mazHur; 04-05-2010 at 05:46 PM.
===============-
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.
-(:===============
Dark Muse
Reflections in the Morning Mist
I loved the way that you divided each section. That allowed me to take one small increment at a time. You brought such feeling into it...and I actually felt the cool mist on my face. A magnificent job making me WANT to cross the bridge, yet FEAR to cross it. Very comparable to Hamlet's soliloquy...
In the sixth stanza, I found that the words that you used (mist, glimpse, myth), while not actual rhyme, possessed a kinship. It was not too bound in the traditional pattern, yet they all belonged together.
Pendragon
Bridge Over the River Styx
I loved the theme, especially the title, for the picture inspired to me a crossing over. Again, there was the concept found in Hamlet's words..."To be or not to be". You did well to appeal to my senses of sight and sound, and then alluding to any other senses.
TheDave
Paths
Wow...a completely different perspective, a bridge to nowhere. I liked how you used the illustration of a marriage between opposing concepts, and how it leads to no destination. It inspires me.........deeply. I want to comment more, but I don't know how. Your poetry is truly as deep as what may lie beneath the fog. I especially like the way that you did not leave despair without solution.
hoope
{no title given} (which is okay)
Great style...liked the bold and the two line stanzas...
The first half of the poem is a plea for help (but laden with confidence that the request will assuredly be fulfilled). Sometimes what is not said is as important as what is said. Thank you for not defining the type of relationship between the Requester and the Savior, for it could be between lover, siblings, parent/child, God/follower. You allowed for the reader to make that definition in their own mind (which might change over time). You did well with the second half, giving the assurance found in faith in the other. I was intrigued and focused on the capitalization of Hope and Darkness, two different ideas...possible opposing, but the relationship between the two is still left to the reader.
The Comedian
On the Practice of Modern Construction
Ok, now I love the perspective on this one...however, since I have been working in a metal fabrication shop for the past four years, I cannot help but critique some minor details in my own mind. I will try my best not to though. (This piece is probably not galvanized though....because you typically can't paint galvanizing. It is probably Powder Coated....I'm typing this all with a huge grin on my face because of the irony of my position as a Project Manager in a weld shop...almost laughing now!) OTHERWISE...great job!!
Haunted
Ghost Fog
In dream land, an excellent new scope for this inspiration. I like the ambiguity of what is happening. It allows for the imagination to go and dream whatever it wishes. The lure here is not to death, but into the deepest realm of one's own mind and desires. The 'dawn' attired in the weather was a great illustration. I could almost feel the 'fog' as something to grasp.
mazHur
{no title given}
Good theme, however, I could not find a good rhythm or rhyme in which to read it. There were some great images and lines, but I had a hard time putting them together. Thank you for your submission.
My choice for the winner is yet to come...
Les Miserables,
Volume 1, Fifth Book, Chapter 3
Remember this, my friends: there are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad cultivators.
Bien! You mean my poem clearly illustrates my tendency to make up a bunch of sing-songy bs! Usually I'm so much better at covering up this fact.![]()
“Oh crap”
-- Hellboy
Les Miserables,
Volume 1, Fifth Book, Chapter 3
Remember this, my friends: there are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad cultivators.
Ok...Ok...
I chose Dark Muse... Excellent Job!!
I chose that poem, because I could actually feel and sense being there.
Everyone, great job...and thank you for your submissions.
Les Miserables,
Volume 1, Fifth Book, Chapter 3
Remember this, my friends: there are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad cultivators.
Oh wow, thanks a lot. It was a great photo you choose and I will have the next image posted asap.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. ~ Edgar Allan Poe
I'm looking forward to a great photo. The worst part about the last round was that I couldn't write the poem....but now that I'm thinking about it....why couldn't I? Well, I will be posting a poem for MY picture. Disregard that one for this next round. Then I will post one for the next round.
Thanks again, DM!!
Les Miserables,
Volume 1, Fifth Book, Chapter 3
Remember this, my friends: there are no such things as bad plants or bad men. There are only bad cultivators.
I had a tough time on choosing what image to use, but this one gripped me above the others.
Deadline is pending
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. ~ Edgar Allan Poe