thanks for your kind words!Originally Posted by BienvenuJDC
thanks for your kind words!
"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.
Today (April 12) is the due date for this installment of the Subject contest. If you have a poem in mind, please submit it ASAP. I'll do the judging tomorrow.
“Oh crap”
-- Hellboy
I loved every submission here. And I don't say that out of common curtsy. The Judging was most difficult. But here goes:
Bien's "Breakfast in the Morning" is a beautiful poem of charity and civility centered around the contest subject: a shared meal. Bien's work addressed the idea of shared meal as something we should do out of a moral responsibility to humble and the hungry. I also enjoyed his incorporation of the required line about "steam" as coming off the mendicant's neck which evokes a profound image of chill and isolation.
Dark Muse's "The Ritual of Morning" was an excellent tragi-comedy with the most unexpected ending of the group. DM, I greatly enjoyed your build up to the momentous occasion of one's first morning cup of Joe (denied!) as rite of manhood and adulthood. Too true!
Pendragon's "Final Meal" offered a sad glimpse into the life of hunger and isolation. (If only the narrator of Bien's poem could have seen them, I wondered). I thought that the great strength of Pendragon's poem was its use of a playful rhythm to contrast the horror of the narration. This combination gave the horrible event an even greater horror of commonality. I felt that Pendragon also played on the grand idea of a Biblical "last supper" with this sad lot's "final meal".
Haunted's poem "Hot Dish" (Dear Lord are you from the Mid-west?) played on feelings of appetite and the ancient connections between the sensuality of eating and courtship. Each numbered bit of the poem was soaked in anticipation.
paradoxical's "Newlyweds" was an amazing poem. I loved the subtle parings of divergent cultures in the opening two stanzas: "pizza", "Mexican beer", "St. Patrick's Street", "rice" which perfectly parallel the idea of two different people learning the art of a shared life. The modern, free-verse stanza added a contemporary feel to the poem. And the simplicity of the scene somehow felt, accurate (lousy word, I know) to me.
But the winner is. . .
the sad sack herself: AuntShecky. There is no other way I can say it: "Sunday 'Din'ner" kicks ***. The iambic pentameter & rhymed couplets structure the traditional idea that the poor mom is going for with her meal (and how she structures the meal). But this structure contains bombastic blasts of chaos, tension, noise and distraction in both content and the aural qualities of this poem. "Sunday 'Din'ner" is funny as hell and sad as hell at the same time.
Hey Auntie! I'll clean up the kitchen; you pick the subject for the rest of us sad sacks.
“Oh crap”
-- Hellboy
Aw, thank you very much, Comedian. I am honored and surprised. The quality of the entries this time was remarkable, with Bienvenu's clever, alternate rhyme scheme, DarkMuse's soft and comforting imagery, Pen's philosophical mixture of despair and hope, Paradoxical's refreshing wit, and Haunted's pithy lines which call to mind the work of A.R. Ammons (the poet who used adding machine paper to keep his lines short.) These were all gems, methinks.
So I have high hopes for the next round of this contest. I'm purposely not including a line to quote, as the topic will be more-or-less wide open, and that is:
change (either temporary or permanent) upon a specific placeand its effect upon a particular individual. (The change should not be merely seasonal.)
Length: 4 lines minimum, 36 lines max.
Any form, meter or free, rhymed or unrhymed.
Use contemporary language; colloquial diction okay, though not required.
You can post your entries anytime between right now and May 10. (Hope Pong II holds out that long!)
Thanks again!
Last edited by AuntShecky; 04-14-2010 at 02:08 PM.
I'm interested in submitting for this contest but can I just clarify: do you mean on a particular place OR a particular person...or both?
Also, as I said earlier, I loved your poem and it deserved to win.
'Anger's my meat; I sup upon myself,
And so shall starve with feeding.'
Volumnia in Coriolanus
Great Job, AuntShecky!! I will be working on my entry directly....great subject too!!
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.
Those were good entries. Well don everyone, and a special congratulations to you, AuntShecky. Yours was brilliant.
"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
Hey, Dave, that very question kept me awake last night. I think I mean both -- a change upon a place and its effect upon an individual. In both cases we're looking for specifics.
Thanks for your kind words.
After Twenty Years
We were just kids, barely sixteen,
And we were in love—
Or in lust, or whatever—
And we’d kiss and cuddle and giggle
And have a wonderful time.
We were often serious,
Playing grown-up to the fullest;
That “Perfect Couple.”
One year later, we had split up—
A hurt that I thought would never go away;
A betrayal of all that I called “Me.”
But I had a friend, a wonderful friend
Who became more than just a friend—
My lover, my wife, and the mother of my children.
Now I stand here shaking your hand at your Uncle’s wake.
As I stare into your eyes once more,
I am amazed at how much has changed—
After twenty years…
Pendragon
with a nod to O. Henry for the title
Some of us laugh
Some of us cry
Some of us smoke
Some of us lie
But it's all just the way
that we cope with our lives...
Here's my submission:
Cleaning Up the Crap at #6
When I walked the path by Reservoir Six
In a business suit and Italian shoes
Each morning before work and during lunch,
I thought "there are so many ways to lose".
A new career, a new wife, a new walk
Five ties, two blazers (blue), one ham sandwich -
And this same piece of litter on the path,
I thought "what a thoughtless son of a *****!"
A few months pass with this endless sad schtick:
Same steps, same sandwich, same ugly litter.
Drunk on depression I picked up a butt,
And thought "I'm sick of being a quitter".
After that I picked up all sorts of junk:
Torn bags, old soles, spent fags, pop cans and glass -
And threw them all away. "My business suit,"
I thought, "is no excuse for being an ***".
Last edited by The Comedian; 04-23-2010 at 08:38 AM.
“Oh crap”
-- Hellboy
Thank you Pen and Comedian for the first two entries. Keep 'em
coming, folks!
War Torn
We both bare our scars,
your black and charred
beneath my feet where
once golden fields of
fertile grain grew in
an endless sea dancing
upon the breeze.
And I with a blackened heart,
blood that will never wash
away, broken down and
filled with unearseable pain.
I was born of this land in love
working this earth with my hands,
voices of laughter once filled
the air of children at play.
Those dreams shattered,
no growth found here any longer,
and my heart closed like a fist,
too parched even for tears.
War tore through us
reeking havoc,
silence replacing the sounds
of happiness, yet nothing
will quiet the screams in my soul.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there, wondering, fearing, doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before. ~ Edgar Allan Poe
AuntShecky, I had so much fun reading your poem. It deserves first place!
I never heard of A.R. Ammons but I too write my stuff on adding machine paper. Ohh just kidding
I wrote something for the new subject and will humbly submit it once I get my act together...
"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.
School Grounds
where she was standing
is now a science lab
colorful chemical spatters
cover an old stain beautifully...
she’s an awkward child
timid. invisible. pathetic.
life would have
thrown eggs at her but
she did it herself first
she was eating
a soft boiled egg
her sickly mother made
to take to school
yellow yolk dripped
on her sorry looking
hand-me-down
dark blue uniform
in shame she ran to
the little girls room
she washed off the mess
but the stain is permanent
she didn’t know if
any got on her face
she avoids the mirror
the only thing
uglier than her
is life
she gradually advanced
to dissociation...
I pity her
it’s not easy
to be her
but I had
no choice
"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.
Groovin to the throw down of the winds of change
Waitin' for the pieces to all rearrange
Material melody dances through her hair
Does the sky move her, or is she the air?
I stare and there between the breeze I see
a breakdown of flow and though
she shows it doesn't grow on trees
I know that wrapped in rhapsody
she moves the sound as much as moves me.
Soothed by the rhythm of a spinning Earth's song
She moves to the repair of a world gone wrong.
Last edited by krymsonkyng; 04-26-2010 at 01:59 PM. Reason: Better entry
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