Subject Poetry Contest.

[AuntShecky]

Wow, we're getting some entries! Keep 'em coming!

[stephofthenight]

The past Laughter fades
The swings are dauntingly still
The playground Haunted by the terror its seen
The innocence that was stolen
The Helpless child's plea

[krymsonkyng]

I, uh, changed my entry to this:

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.

Is that alright?

[AuntShecky]

I, uh, changed my entry

Is that alright?

When someone else is in charge of posting the topic, he or she may feel differently, but as for yours truly, it certainly
is all right with me to make any changes or editing until the May 10 deadline.

That goes for anyone else who has already posted an entry for this particular round.

My only stipulation is that in cases that go beyond simple editing, you go back and delete the original entry so that your ol' addled auntie won't get confused.

[krymsonkyng]

Thank ya kindly Auntie.

[TheFifthElement]

Longridge House, 15th June 1996

For Les

It is the day before Father's day. Everyone’s shopping.
The overspill spreads from the shops to the streets
where balloon toting children drip ice cream
and shriek for a doll, or a ball or some similar treat
while their parents feign deafness and strangers retreat
to the bunkered recesses of the lesser known streets.

Sunshine strobes out between alley and cloud searing
stripes on the pavements, buildings, and the crowd,
scattering like shrapnel from the centre of town.

Megaphone, exclusion zone, cordon tape, police
explode into action on these Manchester streets.

But not here, in this office block next to the shops
where he waits, ever patient, watching
the clock as it booms its slow way past eleven o’ clock.

He wipes over the counter, sweeps dust from the stairs,
scrubs grease marks from marble, smoothes down his hair,
straightens the guestbook, papers and pen,
empties the bin, wipes the counter again,
and when everything’s right, and everything’s neat
he stands by the window looking out on the street.

Shielded by silence of steel, stone and glass
his thoughts linger on something he saw
the night before last about consciousness,
awareness, the mind, memory. About neurons
connecting, what it means to be me;
how our existence relies on a subtle chemistry.

Through red, white, blue loops electricity seeps,
in the bomb in the van parked outside on the street

10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3…

[AuntShecky]

Thanks for all of these thought-provoking entries so far. There's still time to get in it -- and maybe win it! Please post your subject poem on or before Monday, May 10. (And say a prayer that Pong II doesn't fail me so I can make the big announcement!)

[qimissung]

Caterpillar

it's weedy now
trees and bushes grown up around it
like vines across sleeping beauty's castle but when I broke free of it's
clutching, loving
arms it sat
tidy as a spinster
and, as I thought, as dry

only now can I see that I was not
entombed like Juliet
that all the growing I had left to do
was my stone with sword;
mine the words to find
mine the gown to make
the crown to find
I drank from the milkweed
and
my metamorphosis
nourished there,
I flew away

Sometime I think
I'm still waiting for the powder
on my wings to dry

Qimissung

[AuntShecky]

Thanks for all of the entries so far. This leg of the contest will remain open for the rest of today and this evening. The "lucky" winner will be announced
soon.

[AuntShecky]

Once again, thank you to all of these brave LitNutters who made the effort to compose a verse and post it in this contest thread. Well, I couldn't get out of jury duty this time, and now I must render a verdict. I sincerely hope that I have given these poems justice.

For this round of the subject poetry contest, the choice of topics was deliberately broad, in the hopes of getting really diverse and distinctive entries. Reply # 244 above says that the subject this time around was "change" (either temporary or permanent) upon a specific place and its effect upon a particular individual. The operative words were "specific" and "particular," so the goal was for entries that featured evocative images which avoided clichés and abstractions, all arranged in some kind of form closer to poetry rather than scatter-shot lines of prose. And yes, just as in the rules for a commercial jingle contest, "originality" DOES count!

As a person who has made more than her share of on-line gaffes, I'll be the first to admit that failing to proofread can be a pitfall. Still I was chagrined to see that some entrants forgot to check their work. Even though this round of the contest allowed for later editing, a number of entries still contained errors in spelling, grammar, and punctuation, including, I hasten to add, the winning entry.

Others were unable to make the quantum leap from tried and true prose over to the startling and surprising poetry, but some came pretty damn close.

Although it was extremely difficult to choose a winner, each of the entries undeniably had a redeeming quality. To wit:

"After Twenty Years" by Pendragon (Reply # 249) relates to those of us old enough, alas, to have a past by recounting the familiar situation of running into an old flame at a funeral.

The Comedian (Reply #250) earns high marks for posting an entry that includes the called-for "specifics.," in the place "Reservoir Number Six," in the clothes which the speaker is not only wearing at the moment but also at home, and other details, right down to the detailed pieces of crap, er, litter that the speaker picks up. This verse has extra added attraction of meter and rhyme, along with flashes of wit.

The speaker of "War Torn" (#252) by Dark Muse evokes tragic youthful memories with a view of a former battlefield.

Haunted's "School Grounds" begins by revisiting a childhood classroom and noting its changes. Then shifting focus, the speaker recalls a former classmate, and with childish punctuation, describes her as "timid. invisible. pathetic." Hence she is vulnerable to bullies, but in a subtle way, the reader learns that the little girl has no greater enemy than herself. The tired old expression "egg on my face" is literally turned on its head in this poem. The piece ends with a phrase we hear in some context almost everyday surges with renewed power and haunts the reader with disturbing ambiguity: no choice to do what? Or is the speaker the little girl herself? Even the poem's appearance on the "page" is noteworthy: reminiscent of writing on a blackboard or scrawls on a sidewalk. This outstanding verse gets better every time I read it.

Childhood is also the theme of the untitled piece by Stepothenight (#257), a short piece about a playground, abandoned after a horrific crime.

Another untitled piece comes from Krymsonkyng (#258). Since it has a musical theme, the verse attempts to do does what it says, "groove" and dance, with rhyming couplets, judicious use of enjambment, and even internal rhyme "A breakdown of flow and though." Another appealing feature was this line "Does the sky move her, or she the air?" which is followed up by a slightly later echo: "She moves the sound as much as [it] moves me." This was a remarkable entry.

The late film critic Gene Siskel once said that the best screenwriters film use actual events and show the effect of these current events upon the fictional characters. If memory serves, Siskel was talking about the film version of Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being. Another novel that comes to mind is The Dean's December by Saul Bellow. "Longridge House 15th June 1996" by TheFifthElement fits into that category, as if you read the author's blog --which includes photos, you'll see that her poem is based on an actual event, a explosion from a car bomb. People go about their business of the day -- and in a split second--everything changes. This piece contains some startling images: "the crowd shattering like shrapnel" as well as psychological insight: "shielded by steel, stone and glass/his thoughts linger on something he saw/the night before last." This was an emotionally-charged dynamic piece of verse.

And last but not least, when the instructions called for the effect of change upon an "individual" it didn't specify "human." So, kudos to qimissung for her creativity in thinking outside the species for "Caterpillar," (#263.) In this piece the caterpillar notes the changes when it returns to its birthplace (a chrysalis or cocoon.) The text alludes to fables and fairytales "Sleeping beauty's castle" and uses a fresh and apt simile: "tidy as a spinster." Well-done!

Well, there you have it. There is no doubt that each of these entries has merit and some conceivably could, with a few rewrites, be eminently publishable. I hope I have the privilege of reading more of your work on the LitNet and elsewhere. Give yourselves a pat on the back and see you soon. . .

Not so fast, there, Haunted! Your poem takes this round. Please take a bow and tell us what the next subject is, please!

[Haunted]

Me? The poetically challenged me? Pinch me! I didn't get around to read the latest entries but I admired every poem that I've had the chance to read.

Thanks AuntSchecky, you review is far better than the poem! Yes, the speaker is the little girl. The word to solving it is "dissociation". It's when the mind/self, seeking to escape traumatic experiences, splits off from the person and take on a third person identity.

I'll be back with a new subject in a few days.

[The Comedian]

Yay Haunted! Congratulations. Your poem was most excellent indeed.

And excellent subject and reviews by Auntie.

My poem finger and gettin' a trigger itch, haunted -- can't wait for the next round.

[Maryd.]

Oh my dear Haunted... Knew you could do it...Well done girl... So much passion. Phew, I wipe my brow.
Congrats dear.

[Haunted]

Comedian and Mary, thanks for your kind words!

I don't want Comedian's trigger itch to keep him awake, so here we go...

subject: bus stop

deadline: 6/10

[BienvenuJDC]

Vivid passion and realism. Haunted, you write like I know that you can.....awesome...