# Writing > Personal Poetry >  Poetry Contest

## blondeatheart

OK, so it's not rlly a contest, there's no prize, it's just a bit of fun. 

Here's how it goes: someone posts a picture and everyone who wants to has at least a week to write a poem based on/inspired by that picture. After that, the person who originally posted the picture decides who's poem they like best, and that person posts the next picture and so on.

After at least ten poems have been submitted, the 'judging' begins. The final choice must be explained.

note: We should probably move this into the Games section at some point.
Anyway,
I'll start:


--

*Edited by Logos 4 April 2007 to add:*

This topic is started and participated in on a purely voluntary basis by members of The Literature Network and does not entail any prizes of any sort to be given by The Literature Network.

Also, do *not*  'hotlink' ' images from other websites. 

Instead, read about how to post images.

--

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## blondeatheart

ne1? well i'll give you a couple of weeks...

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## Jarndyce

It's pretty rough, but what can one expect for 15 minutes on a Thursday morning?


Fairy Castle

_"With the fairy, hand in hand..." WB Yeats_

A warm gulf breeze
Floated in over the pavestones
behind the Cà d'Zan,
stirring quiet palm fronds and
waking birds languid 
in cascading banyan vines.
We stood hand in hand
in the shadow of luxury, 
you and I, nothing to our names
but a half-pack of cigarettes,
beer money for the beach, 
passes to the museum,
and a dream of old age:
wrinkled eyes and scraggled fingers
still locked together,
somewhere a child or two 
not calling on our birthdays,
and a small place by the water.

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## smilingtearz

why don't i see a picture there?

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## blondeatheart

??? here's the link: http://mtwatercolor.itgo.com/images/fairy_castle.jpg

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## Isagel

Contest makes me shy... call it a game and I am in.

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## Xamonas Chegwe

It looks like a gate, but it ain't
It's just paint. 
And the sunlight, so bright, is just white;
And the grass and the trees, is just green;
Not a tree trunk, instead, it's just red;
And the building itself is a hue,
Grey or blue?
And the curling wrought iron
And the dapples of shade
And the half-seen facade
And the balled balustrade
Are just splashes 
And dabs 
And swirls
And specks
And touches
And swathes
And flicks 
And flecks
Of pigment and water, applied with a brush
With painstaking care, or perhaps in a rush,
By an artist unknown but with well-tempered sight
For colour,
Perspective,
For texture,
And Light.
It all looks so real but it lacks a dimension;
A beautiful scene, but merely pretension.

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## Xamonas Chegwe

Great idea for a thread Blonde. 

You might want to adjust the timescale though. Maybe a week initially but not before there are at least 3 poems. How does that sound to everyone?

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## blondeatheart

sounds good to me. and yes isagel i suppose it is technically a game
i guess i'll choose as soon as there are at least...hm...7 poems?
we'll see how it goes
and thanx xamonas i used to do these all the time on neopets when i was little lol

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## ktd222

This is a cool idea, but I have a request. The one who picks the winner must give a brief one paragraph explanation: about why he/she chose that particular poem.
10 submitted poems seems like a sufficient amount before the judging begins.

I'll write a poem about the picture later.

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## blondeatheart

Great. I can agree to that. I'll change the first post to include the new 'rules'.

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## Petrarch's Love

OK, I'll give it a go:

In her mind the memory 
Was like a painting in watercolour
The sunlight so bright that the scene was white,
White painted with the colours of familiar shades:
Blurrily remembered trees, 
But the ironwork over the open gate
Etched clearly on the canvas of her mind,
The pattern of the bricks firm and solid
And all lines lead 
Through an impression of shade and sunlight
To that door
Where she had not been alone as now.

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## blondeatheart

bump.........

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## ktd222

I guess there is no interest in this forum for poetry contest, blond?

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## blondeatheart

no  :Frown:  maybe i'll just give it a few weeks

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## ktd222

Keep advertising so people will always see your thread on the Recent Forum Posts. I'm sure there is more interest in here than your lead to believe blond.

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## blondeatheart

yes, good point, i figured, i mean i always mainly look only in the new posts section

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## LauraAmanda

Bleeding Blooms.

A beautiful scene,
A misguided serene.

A bleeding bloom
Hiding an impending doom.

A disquieting silence
In a place of violence.

A memory of fear
Melted with tears. 

An artificial peace
An emotional release.

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## blondeatheart

bump...............

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## Juarez Fialho

*Why do I stay still?*

I wish for once Im not astray,
For crossing gates that come my way.

Advice me if Im wrong or not,
We need to know the chances got!
Im sure this path is best for me,
And sure from up there you can see.

I think I´m young and strong and big.
Than through this gate Ill meet my fate.
If only courage wasnt fake-
Maybe there would be no lig.
I´m - really - not that nice a fig.

_By: Juarez Fialho Jr._

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## Juarez Fialho

I esteemed your initiative Blond, keep it moving...

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## Juarez Fialho

I would like to amend the rules, if I might.
The judge should list not only the winner, but the second and third place as well.
Its just so that we, pitiful poets, have a slight chance of having our names commented, at least.

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## ktd222

Where from did all our distortions form
but from sediment of light that heavens could not quantify
a place with places qualified be controlled.

So dripping down, this light, the scene thats showing
from it's washed out leaf fringes, 
to the concrete columns edged and etched, then smeared _that_ way- 
and loss with depth-we try and we retrace our way up.

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## Juarez Fialho

bump....... ?

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## water lily

LOL, when I read the first post, I thought that Blonde has selected the Forbidden Link icon as the picutre upon which the poem was to be based. I thought it was strange, but conceivable. Then I read the fiirst poem and was like, "That has nothing to do with a Forbidden link...  :Confused:  It's about fairies..." Lol, then I figured out that the picture had not worked, at least on my computer... Lol, sorry for my lack of faith in your picture-choosing abilities, Blonde.

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## ktd222

Who else wants to contribute a poem? We need 4 more before the voting begins! 


side note: where are you blonde? aren't you suppose to be getting everybody amped up about writing poetry?

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## blondeatheart

lol sorry having a few issues beyond cyberspace neway...bump...

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## Juarez Fialho

Why don´t you just do the thing blond, waiting for 10 poems seems a lot, the fun of it is writing the poem... I guess the game should go faster so we don´t have to wait that long for the next round!
p.s. what´s the bump thing? I didn´t get it...

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## autolycus

The pillar was the fulcrum, after all;
Raven stood undecided there,
Wondering if he at all should dare
The spiral of the iron stair
Where flight might fail and he might fall

He had no memory of the pathway dark
Where leaf and shadow fell benign
Or darkened on an unseen line,
Feared the regular design
That drew a path into the park

His yellow gaze interrogated space:
There were tombstones in the light,
A quiet morning to the right
Rose unhurried from the night
As if to demonstrate its grace

His disquiet struggled, but it found no voice;
The hunter's tidy shot erased his choice.

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## ktd222

Come on everyone in the forum we need three more poems before the judging begins. Will you not join the contest and submit a poem?

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## Juarez Fialho

> Come on everyone in the forum we need three more poems before the judging begins. Will you not join the contest and submit a poem?


YEAH!!!
Please keep it moving! LOL

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## rabid reader

Here's a choka I wrote:

*The Sun*
Waking mornig sun
Liberate me from my sleep
Tell me what will come
In this day you shine on me
Light the path I choose
Shine, the path of liberity
Ignite the fire of the dove
So I can one day be free

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## blondeatheart

ok that's 8
i'll slowly start judging

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## blondeatheart

bump
feel free to add more i'll make my choice this weekend!

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## Jarndyce

> "That has nothing to do with a Forbidden link...  It's about fairies..."


Just for the record, the name of the picture is Fairy Castle, so I used it as the title of the poem. The poem itself has absolutley nothing to do with fairies. The Yeats quote is meant to transition the title to the poem.

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## spally

just like before

how did we get this way
how did we drift apart 
i wish we could go back 
knowing what we know now
before we loved, before we hurt 
this friendship used to mean a lot
i beleived when you said it wouldn't change 
we've drifted so far apart 
i don't think we'll make it back
we're too far a part, the tide has taken charge 
i wonder why we talked as friends 
but not a word as lovers
we talked about everything and anything
then there was just nothing 
i'm sorry for my incolence
and my arrogence 
but most of all i'm sorry for this loss
just lets go back to before 
and be like friends again

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## Juarez Fialho

Spally, I really like your poem!
Where does it intersect with the picture chosen though? I couldn´t get it...
Please forgive me if I´m being stupid! =]

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## spally

i guess it stands at the older i get the suckier my poems get. my new stuff sucks but my earlier poems were pretty good. and thanks, its good to know someone likes it.

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## Juarez Fialho

still couldn´t get it...

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## spally

its about my best friend/ex boyfriend.

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## Juarez Fialho

I recon, but what has it to do with the fairy castle picture???

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## spally

fairy castle picture??????

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## Juarez Fialho

I think you might have posted on the wrong thread spally!!! Or maybe you havent read it

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## Jarndyce

> I think you might have posted on the wrong thread spally!!! Or maybe you havent read it


Or maybe its a poem about an "X"...

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## Juarez Fialho

> Or maybe its a poem about an "X"...


WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT???

this thread is a poetry contest, read the rules on the start.
The poems should be about the picture chosen by blondheart and the first picture chosen was THE FAIRY CASTLE.

Am I going crazy or are you?

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## Jarndyce

> WHAT IN THE WORLD ARE YOU GUYS TALKING ABOUT???
> 
> this thread is a poetry contest, read the rules on the start.
> The poems should be about the picture chosen by blondheart and the first picture chosen was THE FAIRY CASTLE.
> 
> Am I going crazy or are you?


Well, I'm not going to make any judgements on your sanity, but there was initially some confusion, as the image didn't work for everyone. As such, some people saw a red "X". I was merely trying to make a joke, using spally's comment about how the poem was about her "ex" boyfriend, and equating that to the red "X" image error.

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## Juarez Fialho

Jarndyce, I understand your joke now, I did laugh now. ALOT I thought I was going crazy, spally is nuts! (just joking buddy) LOL

Anyway, blond VOTE THE THING, misunderstandings are happening because you are delaying the end of the round LOL

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## blondeatheart

OK, I guess I should make a decision

They're all really good, I like the last one coz it's so true, but of course it has nothing to do with the picture lol so I'm not counting it

Anyway, I've decided on the poem by Xamonas
::
It looks like a gate, but it ain't
It's just paint. 
And the sunlight, so bright, is just white;
And the grass and the trees, is just green;
Not a tree trunk, instead, it's just red;
And the building itself is a hue,
Grey or blue?
And the curling wrought iron
And the dapples of shade
And the half-seen facade
And the balled balustrade
Are just splashes 
And dabs 
And swirls
And specks
And touches
And swathes
And flicks 
And flecks
Of pigment and water, applied with a brush
With painstaking care, or perhaps in a rush,
By an artist unknown but with well-tempered sight
For colour,
Perspective,
For texture,
And Light.
It all looks so real but it lacks a dimension;
A beautiful scene, but merely pretension.
::

I just like the rhythm and the story behind it
especially the last lines

anyway, that means xamonas gets to post the next pic - have fun!!

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## Xamonas Chegwe

Wow - I won something!!

Thanks a lot Blonde. I was quite proud of that poem, but the competition was stiff, so I never really expected to win.

Enough false modesty.  :Biggrin:  Here's the next piccy...



Good luck to everyone. I will judge by the end of the June, or when there are 10 entries - whichever comes first.

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## blondeatheart

interesting pic...i'll post a poem later have to think about it
yea congrats i rlly liked ur poem

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## rabid reader

*The grey eyed critic, meets self served therapy*   
Huge balloons of cluttered thought
Take off from my littered mind
Theyre big, but efficient; not
They seek to travel a sky unkind

Take off from littered mind.
So many here, I cannot think
They seek to travel a sky unkind.
The sardonic sky, the unquenchable drink.

So many her, I cannot think,
When will they begin to fly?
The sardonic sky, the unquenchable drink,
What will become of my balloons in the sky?

When will they begin to fly?
But with their judging eyes
What will become of my balloons in the sky?
They will deflate, the ideas will die!

But with their judging eyes
They will not kill my determination
They will deflate, the ideas will die
But still as out there, my ideas can go to nations

They will not kill my determination
Though the balloons are big, but efficient; not!
But my ideas will have travelled to other nations
As huge balloons of cluttered thought

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## LauraAmanda

Eyes as wide as the sky before him
Emotions filled up to the brim
His feet no longer touch the ground
He's flying high around and around.

Up here he's free from the demon inside 
Up here is the only place he can hide
The cancer inside is eating him away
But here in the sky they stay at bay.

No thoughts are wasted on the speeding clock
No endless hauntings of the tick.....tock.
He imagines his arms turn into golden wings
And in his imagination the angels sing.

A little boy of three or four
Up in the sky we watched him soar
His soul so calm, his mind content
Free of pain and the torment.

Not longed after the joyous sight
His little body could no longer fight
No longer will he enjoy this joyous event
And so for him i write this lament

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## autolycus

They came at dawn
Like a new age
In happy hues

We laughed at them
Revelled in reds
Billowed in blues

We did not care
That all the world
Was turning black

Our world was bright
Though in free-fall
No turning back


(PS: Congrats to Xamonas!)

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## ktd222

I want a recount  :FRlol:

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## Jarndyce

Tonight I'll raise a drink to XC...


Corner Woman

Hearts lift and swell,
dip and sink,
the ballast and baskets
of so many balloons,
a cold Sonoma morning,
cocooned by color, 
the hush and hot fuel
moments and time, 
and her, all in grey,
small, almost forgotten,
turned to the corner.

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## Riesa

Dragons breath
balloons, birds below 
Basket and strings tangling 
with the clouds, in between winds
grin and gales challenge, let us 
float in search of Jacks Beanstalk
And the frazzled, lonely giant.
I will most happily leave
The earth



Just to be 
Alone for a 
moment with 
you and the sky,
To find we _can_ fly.

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## Petrarch's Love

He wore a vest to match the bright balloons
Dressed in their party colours
Ready for their day out
Of being lighter than air.
He stood beside his old white truck watching
More and more vivid colour
Expanding into shapes
Full and round, filled with warm air. 
He saw them rise one by one and become 
Objects of brilliant colour
Against the white cloud sky,
Freed from their ropes into the air.
But first they sat beside him on the ground.
Like circus tents of colour
Blocking all other sights
Except patchwork spheres of air.
Still if he closed his eyes he would remember
Sterile halls drained of colour, 
The IV rope in her hand,
Her final strained breath of warm air.
But open eyed, wearing the vest his wife made 
To match the party colours
Of all the bright balloons,
He at last allowed bright sights
To make his heart lighter than air.

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## Juarez Fialho

wow! I think well have 10 pretty soon this time. Thats super!

XC, your poem was far the best. I thought it was perfect from the first time I read it. Lucky you cannot participate on this round!

Ill post my poem soon as well, no time for thinking right now.

P.S. the picture is a little awkward, but I think we can manage it

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## Xamonas Chegwe

> wow! I think well have 10 pretty soon this time. Thats super!
> 
> XC, your poem was far the best. I thought it was perfect from the first time I read it. Lucky you cannot participate on this round!
> 
> Ill post my poem soon as well, no time for thinking right now.
> 
> P.S. the picture is a little awkward, but I think we can manage it


Thanks, Juarez

No need to rush too much - it looks like people have got the hang of this post. I will revise the rules ( :Biggrin: ) - I won't pick a winner until next week at this time, however many we get. That's to give a chance to those that don't visit the forum every day and those that like to revise their poetry before posting (my entry took me a few days effort - not everyone can write something in a few minutes.)

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## blondeatheart

Fly Away

Sometimes I wish I could just fly away
In a burst of colour
A spot of rainbow in the clouds
Above the world
Above the stars
Get away from you
For the love I dream will never be true
I just want to fly away
Maybe tomorrow
Maybe today
But for now I think I'll stay
And keep loving you
Even if you don't feel that way too
One day you'll love me
In the stars we'll be

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## blondeatheart

bump...........

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## Virgil

Hey this is a wonderful idea for a thread. And I have to participate.

OK, a little preface here before my poem. I thought the balloon scene was kind of funny and absurd, so what better poem but a sequence of Limericks. Now Xam, as you will see in the poem, I'm not always politically correct. I can also sink to some low depths.  :Wink:  




> *Ballooning Limericks*
> 
> I
> 
> The day for ballooning was here
> And Jack brought Jill for a beer
> But lines got all tangled
> And balloons were all mangled
> And Jill thought Jack was a queer.
> ...


edit: I have decided to change the poem a little bit. Perhaps I got carried away and was as crude as Jack (in the poem). So, I offer my apologies if you read the poem and were offended. I agree it crossed a line. Poetry need not be crude in any way; suggestion is more powerful than pornography. I guess, Xam, I am PC.

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## spally

fly away my sanity, 
taking all my worries with.
be now with out time,
passing into the clouds.
with my thoughts all jumbled, 
and not a sane thought to think.
fly away my sanity, 
if so to only keep me sane.

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## Grumbleguts

> OK, I guess I should make a decision
> 
> They're all really good, I like the last one coz it's so true, but of course it has nothing to do with the picture lol so I'm not counting it
> 
> Anyway, I've decided on the poem by Xamonas
> ::
> It looks like a gate, but it ain't
> It's just paint. 
> And the sunlight, so bright, is just white;
> ...


Oh dear. Now he will never fit his hat again. I doubt his head will even manage the space betweeen the door-jambs.  :FRlol:   :FRlol:  

Xamonas old friend, congratulations. I must confess that it is actually quite good (for you!) Nice to see that you have learned how to rhyme at last.

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## spally

by the way Xamonas, congrats on winning. i did quite enjoy readingyor poem. compared to what i have been posting it was a master piece  :FRlol: . congradulations agian.

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## white camellia

Are you serious, Mr. Balloon?
If I were as costumeless as you,
You would entertain me 
In your secret cloud-castle?
You are born with colorized skin,
But I am only yellow--
Isn't it true, Mr. Balloon?
Inflated West laughed at meagre East,
Crowded North laughed at sparse South,
Frigidity scorched Torridity,
Apotheosis of reason suppressed instincts?
But I was once primitive--
You are chagrined, Mr. Balloon?
People parade their intelligence and bravery
When you lament your ancestors,
The victims of martial explosion,
The scapegoat of iniquitous desire?
But I shall be humble--
My color of topaz will be revealed
To you, Mr. Balloon.

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## Xamonas Chegwe

I've got my work cut out to judge this lot - there are some excellent entries - thanks to all that have entered. I will announce a winner tomorrow sometime - I've got to read them all again first.

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## blondeatheart

bump....................

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## Xamonas Chegwe

And the winner is......
.
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.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.




> Dragons breath
> balloons, birds below 
> Basket and strings tangling 
> with the clouds, in between winds
> grin and gales challenge, let us 
> float in search of Jacks Beanstalk
> And the frazzled, lonely giant.
> I will most happily leave
> The earth
> ...


Although I was torn between this and another (which I won't mention - they were all very good). In the end it was the clever shape and the 'strings tangling with the clouds' that clinched it. 

Well done Riesa and thank you all for making my job so difficult.

XC

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## spally

congradulations Riesa!!

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## Riesa

OH! I never thought I'd win, there really were some excellent submissions, maybe we should have a runner up? thank you so much, xc. I'm really pleased! 

I have to run, but I'll come back a little later and post a new picture.  :Biggrin:

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## white camellia

Congratulations, dear Riesa! This poem is my favorite of all those from you. I just realized its balloon shape, very pleasing!

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## Riesa

thanks, white camellia and spally.


these little rascals have been on my mind lately, I can't wait to see what comes out of this.  :Biggrin:

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## Virgil

Congratulations Riesa. I agree you had the best poem. 

Question on you photo: Is that a crab or spider or scorpion or some other animal?

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## Riesa

it's a scorpion!

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## Petrarch's Love

Congrats Riesa! Fascinating pic. I'll have to give it some thought.

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## autolycus

we turn in dwindling inclusion
to define where we are at,
trapped in narrower seclusion
by tightening legal caveat -
for the threat of execution
dwarfs the execution of threat

from the height see how the land lies,
each hazard hid within its bower;
clad in white men with clubs realise
importance of four holes an hour -
for the power of joint exercise
masks the joint exercise of power

we - scorpion race that raises fire
(venom of stars in sting of faith;
the tighter turn in heat of ire,
the closer stilling of our breath) -
know: the death of all desire
follows all desire of death

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## blondeatheart

bump.........................

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## Jarndyce

Tails of Scorpions

Feeling green and tired and sick of rain,
an ancient Berber sits sullen 
in the park's wet grass, face lined deep 
with sand dune wrinkles, remembering
the tastes of his homeland: Salt. Sweet 
water. Fires built from dung, 
lost twigs, brittle bones of the dead. 
Mother frying bread in a thick iron pan
taken from an Englishman called 
Smith of all things, traded 
for a blanket spun of camel hair thread
and the tails of scorpions.
Forty years eating brown falafel 
and too-dry gyro, tahini from a can.
His mother never knew can, only 
the cunning desert and the herd. 
Meager fire. She is dead. His hands ache
after forty years in warehouses, 
having escaped the tidal sands 
for cardboard dust and heavy lifting. 
His American wife left him--
after bearing three olive-skinned girls--
alone in this sprawling city,
only a speck to his great desert,
where his mother died and left him 
to feed himself, to flee the wars, 
to trade his strength for passage
on the Argentinian freighter 
that carried him to the west, 
beneath looming landscape buildings,
to this park never still, or quiet
or soft with golden sunsets, 
but always green and wet with rain.

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## blondeatheart

bump................

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## Virgil

OK, here's my entry.





> *A Desert In The Heart*
> 
> Through sage brush and ironwood 
> Brown dust floats so fine it seems 
> The entire moons dirt has been
> Transplanted to this flat plane
> Of sun and dry wind.
> 
> Sunset brings relief.
> ...

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## blondeatheart

bump.....................

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## mir

Sunset scintillating
On overworked oasis;
In insect-induced ictus,
Eagles endure egg-full eyries.

Desert darkness  
Night nears narcolepsy
As all animals are asleep.

Dawn dimming dark  
Heartbeats hasten, heralding heat.
Sun seizes supremacy  
Basilisks bask beneath burning.

Fire fades;
Dusk deepens dumbly.
Out over orange-tinted oasis,
Slowly sinking sun shadows scorpions.

Water with wasteland  
Such secrets seek sand.
Life living, laborious, leafless  
Such secrets, seek scorpions.

mua ha ha, ten minutes in study hall = really crappy poem. still, good contest, blondeatheart!

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## blondeatheart

bump.......................

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## Petrarch's Love

The End

Beauty is poised in a jointed pentagon.
Supple Grace curves in a tense backward question mark.
Beauty and Grace are a deep black silhouette.
Every joint, every limb, every tiny hair
Sharply visible against the violent death
Of the light. All revealed distinctly down to the last
Sharp Point.

Beauty is poised in the end it posesses.
Its end is curved like the talon of an eagle,
Or like the tooth of the great Smilodon cat
(Once great, now old bones poised in a museum).
Beauty's end is curved like the thorn of a rose;
Prouder than the rose by possessing poison in its
Sharp Point.

Grace holds itself still and always ready,
Aware of the great power contained in movement.
It knows the way to curve itself gently.
It knows the way to hold the pose steady.
Grace knows the end of its every swift movement.
Grace knows how to grant grace painlessly with a flick of its
Sharp Point.

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## Riesa

Okay guys, beautiful entries so far, from all of you. I'm going to pick a winner, (maybe out of a hat  :Wink: ) on Monday, to give white camellia and spally a chance, or anyone else too to submit a poem.

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## white camellia

Soft, sick sunset seeping in
With submission 
My bruised pinchers unknown
To confession,

Stirred, stygian Styx sighs over
Beyond sands
My Scorpian lover's specter
Amid bands.


Thanks, Riesa.  :Wink:

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## Riesa

I've chosen a winner among the excellent submissions.

This really got to me, PL. I felt it was the most connected to my own feelings about the image. 






> The End
> 
> Beauty is poised in a jointed pentagon.
> Supple Grace curves in a tense backward question mark.
> Beauty and Grace are a deep black silhouette.
> Every joint, every limb, every tiny hair
> Sharply visible against the violent death
> Of the light. All revealed distinctly down to the last
> Sharp Point.
> ...



Congratulations, Petrarch. Gorgeously done.

----------


## Virgil

Yes, congratulations Petrarch. Very nice.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Oh wow, I won?!  :Banana:  Gee, thanks Riesa. I thought all the submissions were really good. I'll have to go find a fascinating pic. for you guys to write on now. I may not post it until later though, because I'm in the middle of preping for a really big presentation just now and _must_ run. Maybe this win will grant me luck and the profs won't tear my paper to shreds too badly as I sit there parrying their questions about it for two long hours  :Eek2: . Anyway, couldn't be happier with honor of winning contest, and picture due to arrive this evening post paper defense.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

O.K., here's the new picture. I browsed around a little and this one really grabbed me. Have fun!

----------


## blondeatheart

bump.......................

----------


## Virgil

What is it?  :FRlol:

----------


## Jarndyce

> What is it?


I think that's what you're supposed to tell us, right?

----------


## Petrarch's Love

> What is it?


That's why I picked it.  :Wink:  I found it striking in it's ambiguity, and I thought it would be interesting to see what people make of it. If you really can't stand not knowing any background info., I'll give you a hint that it's an Ansel Adams photograph. I'm sure a quick google or google image search will help demystify things for those who so desire.  :Nod:

----------


## alicialiv

> It looks like a gate, but it ain't
> It's just paint. 
> And the sunlight, so bright, is just white;
> And the grass and the trees, is just green;
> Not a tree trunk, instead, it's just red;
> And the building itself is a hue,
> Grey or blue?
> And the curling wrought iron
> And the dapples of shade
> ...


I.Love.This.

----------


## blondeatheart

bump..........................

----------


## mir

ha ha! the photographer yells at the sky,
you ruined my pictures so now say good bye!
you furred them, you blurred them, you reddened blue eyes,
you wouldn't respond when i cried to you, "why?"
but here's my revenge, and boy will it be sweet,
this picture box holds in it for you a treat.
it'll split you and kit you with your deeds to eat - 
it'll change your high tune, i swear by my big feet!"
the box then unloading, the photoman set
some strange things by his feet - strange, alien, yet - 
to see those set free from the box which he let,
one did not think of such words as "weird" or "grosquete".
no, to all purposes it looked as his equipment
was such as could be found in any new shipment
to room or dark tomb in which photos' lips sent
sweet uncaught kisses to unseen and skipped gents.
yes! none but a camera, lens pointed on high
as the man shouted curses at the silent sky
and railed and bewailed the unfortunate tie
between he and the life-debt given by sun's bye.
"But be that as it may";
he shouted at the day,
"I'll change you - rearrange you - just as i say!
you'll see that you shouldn't to treat me this way!"
and things set - though do not ask me how they work - 
he poised one thin finger and did not once shirk
but pressed it, and blessed it, the button which lurked
on the side of his camera, primed, ready, and perked.
then a flash of bright light split itself 'cross the air - 
and more, and another; there one, and there! - 
and in glee, jubilee, the photographer stared,
"how's that, sky?" he yelped, "now 'tis you who's ensnared!"
and thunder and lightning rent the afternoon - 
as far off, the sun's light began to vent the moon
and sunset fell, soft clouds dwelled 'mong the loud booms
as the sky cracked and writhed, its peace ended too soon.
but strange - far too strange for the man on the mount,
whose dreams had poured themselves into this mad fount,
the flashes did fade, did shade themselves out! - 
and night fell with calmness upon day's account.
"what"? mumbled the picturist, fervor now worn,
"what - how -" but no words came, his genius was torn,
and he walked but not talked away from the sky's scorn - 
and that is the why, and the how, of a storm.

whoa . . .that turned out interesting. oh well, anyone who likes canterbury tales or Kipling's just so stories . . .

----------


## thevintagepiper

Thunderstorms crash 
And the sky cracks,
Raving in anguish and beauty and story.
"I must take it back!
I must get it out! 
I must capture the dream on a canvas of glass!
The blue is now grey
The white will be black
Grass will grow longer and brush at my back"
The shadow, the shadow, the shadow is coming
The darkness, the darkness, the darkness surrounding
Now as I stand and gaze and imagine
The shade of the stone is so cold, now imagine
A world of no clouds 
Or never-blue skies
The hunger, despair, and cold beauty my eyes
Would behold if the sky
Keeps splitting and storming and crashing and growing.
Again, he cried out that he'd soon have it done--
Forever engraved catapulting sky action
Of minutes worth hours of time and refraction.
Now he stands back and sighs with new joy
As the blue returns quickly with new sunny ploys.
The shadow, the worry, the storming is done,
And a gentle light rain breaks through the bright sun. 
All that remains is a plate of dark glass
That keeps the remainder of thoughts going past. 



That was fun  :Smile:

----------


## Orionsbelt

There am I
At least one who I once was
Where am I now
That there once was 

Who shall I be
When I return where I was
Will the shadow lay as it did
Exactly as it was

----------


## Orionsbelt

P.S. What a great idea. I read the entire post. Lot's of good stuff.

----------


## Virgil

Here's my entry.




> *The Climb*
> 
> This purgatorial climb thins 
> The breath from my lungs.
> The boulders lay like zebras
> Drinking from a desert pond,
> Mountain stones shaped by eternal storm.
> 
> I drink from my canteen
> ...

----------


## Taliesin

Skies have no shadows
just the ones of clouds
wandering birds
flying dutchmen and
dragons.

Skies have no open holes in them
just those that are filled
with industrial smoke
shadows of birds
lightning and 
light
(speed of 300000 kilometres per hour)

Skies are not old photographs 
they have no dust on them
no cracked edges
no coffee stains
(but perhaps both forgotten
by the ones
that made them?)
No dead art
nor capturing the soul 
of the shadow.

So, certainly
this thing
(jumping over its nonexistant shadow)
this rain
rainbow
moon
stars
and the footprints of legendary lovers and hair of a young greek girl
fullness of night
(and the promises whispered in it)
are just

graffiti
on a wall of an old soviet-time
block of flats

----------


## bodica

Hope im not too late........

Tender

I have wandered through these gates in my childhood dreams. I have sat with my bare feet dangling in the fountain, the cool water encapsulating my skin allowing for no penetration. I come here to think of you and plunder the treasures that we once enjoyed. No sadness is present here no pain stalks me in this haven I am free from the world outside. I have not forgotten you I have just buried you deep inside of me and when a certain song or spoken word reminds me of you I come to my garden to quell you. I can control you here I can allow the presence of our warm embraces to flood uncontrollably over me. I bathe in the incandescent light you once shone on me. I will go forward one day, but not today, not yet ,my wounds are open and my lifes blood flows freely from me.

Think of me my Juliet, remember our time, and let my love for you encapsulate you forever in my warm embrace.

----------


## bodica

ooops bus missed well done Riesa!!

----------


## bodica

The camera never lies

Why , because it was there and now I am here, do I want to be elsewhere?
I am alone ,the picture testifies to my throne, but I am alone, so alone.
The air rips into my lungs searing my throat with every breath I take
I am not moving from this place ,I have no feeling in my face, but I am awake
Cold fire burns in the extremities, but no warmth is evident to me in this place
Up here where only the wind whispers your name ,life stands still. I feel no pain
Solitude fuels the philosophers and our true worth is understood and defined.
But it casts no shadow , only mine, only mine ,only mine.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

My, looks like a tidy sheaf of entries has cropped up the last few days. Since interest seems to have just recently been rekindled, and to give all who are interested the chance to participate, I'm going to refrain from judging until the week is out. Saturday I'll name the next winner. Looking like a tough job so far. Best luck all.  :Smile:

----------


## thevintagepiper

> whoa . . .that turned out interesting. oh well, anyone who likes canterbury tales or Kipling's just so stories


I love how what you write takes you by surprise...the poems come inspite of and through you, not because of you. It's like a thrilling ride...

----------


## mir

i know . . . it's so fun to start writing something with absolutely no idea what you want to say, and watch it evolve on its own . . .

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Just a reminder for any interested parties...today's the last day before judging.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

O.K., at long last we have a winner. There were some really intriguing ones in this batch, and I'll admit I was a bit torn but I finally decided the winner is (drumroll please) 

Virgil, with this ascendant poem:




> The Climb
> 
> This purgatorial climb thins
> The breath from my lungs.
> The boulders lay like zebras
> Drinking from a desert pond,
> Mountain stones shaped by eternal storm.
> 
> I drink from my canteen
> ...


Those last few lines really sold me. So congrats Virg., and have fun selecting the next pic.  :Smile:

----------


## mir

great job virgil! nice poem!

----------


## Virgil

Oh wow. Thank you all. All the poems were very good. I did get lucky with the last two lines. Those actually came to me first, and I built the rest around it. Let me go find a photo for the next contest. I have something in mind, but I guess it has to be on the internet.

----------


## Virgil

OK. Here's the picture of the next photo contest. I hope we get lots of entries. For those who haven't played yet, it's fun. Just try to put together some lines that form a poem based on the photo. After several weeks and at least four or five entries I'll pick a winner.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Good pic., Virg. Reminds me of something out of a Bronte novel. Should get some nice dramatic entries. I'll meditate on it a little and pen something when I've the time.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

O.K., here's my entry. It doesn't have a title yet, but maybe I'll think of one.


Mother dead, father dead
Only their names remain
Entered three times over:
Births, Marriages, and Deaths
Entered three times over
In the family bible
Held to her heart like a sheild
Her name entered just once.

Sky dark grey, ground dull brown
Yellow hair in the wind
Wind blowing to reveal
A firm little profile
Wind blowing to reveal
A vibrant, living red
She is the color left behind,
The others swept away.

One foot firm, one forward,
She stands and advances
The coming and going
Of parents is in her,
The coming and going
Of herself and her child
And of all those the wind sweeps away
While land stays and art stays.

----------


## whiskey

This was it; no more decisions,
No more digressions. Her life had been decided.
Why should she fight?
For a split second it flashed
In her mind: resist, run, assert yourself...
But these thoughts felt just as other
Dreams she had recently encountered.
No. This was her time, she would accept it,
As everything else; just one more step.
She was silent...

----------


## thevintagepiper

They are her only friends now, those worn pages.
There is comfort in that, and yet
She is unconsolable.

Together, they look out over the dreary cliff 
Into the weary looking span of sky
And she wonders.

A tear threatens to wet her eye and quickly
She forces it back, then finally
The figure turns, and breathes, and hopes.

The hill is bare now, and one drop that might
Have fallen upon its soil 
Remains in her equally dry eye.

----------


## LauraAmanda

*Nature* 

If you close your eyes and listen intently 
You'll hear the voice that resides in the wind 
It whispers secrets to the trees ever so gently 
It soothes the raging soul of the beast. 

If you watch the ripples of rain upon the lake 
You'll see the movements of those who are lost 
They twist the water; make it shimmer and shake 
When the lines between living and dead are crossed. 

Listen to the raindrops beat out a tune 
A rhythm to calm and soothe the soul 
Look out and see the mystery of the moon 
Let it's healing powers comfort and console.

----------


## Virgil

Bump......

Another person contributing a poem would round out the contest. Any takers?

----------


## arrrvee

maybe i'll try not to care
like this all happened before 
it's hard pretending though
when i know real well 
and aware of all that 
i'll be leaving

could i just 
let things happen
and leave 'em 
as they are
it'll be easy 
for the both of us
to say: no regrets/no heartaches

maybe i'll try not to care 
like this all happened before
it's hard pretending, though
when i know real well 
and aware of all that
i'll be missing..

----------


## Virgil

Great!!! We have five good poems. I'll give it through this weekend and by early next week I'll pick a winner. So any last minute people who wish to enter, hurry up.

----------


## Riesa

Driven towards the sea,
Saturated with thunderous clarity unrealized
By the familiar strangers left behind,
Her inward gaze rests on a shattered oath.

The breathless, 
Fearless exploration
That once upheld her stoic grace,
Is understood now only
In the chivalrous exploits
Deep in the pages of her books,
And a lone pressed crimson petal.

Behind her, 
Brilliant lupine 
Lit her way with 
Blossoming spears,
While the fireflies
Sought to guide her 
In their blinking, 
Disconcerted way.

She wanders far, 
Breathes in the misty
Air ripened with fallen tears
And feels the brewing wind 
Deftly lift her heavy skirt...

Though she knows nothing more
Keenly now than the strange 
Heart beating dutifully in her,
And the tug of the paths
Precarious end.

----------


## thevintagepiper

That is amazingly beautiful, Riesa. I love the vibrant imagery.

----------


## DStrangelove

She sure does have skills. Wonderful flow and imagery. So much to like, but this is particularly poignant: 

"Is understood now only
In the chivalrous exploits
Deep in the pages of her books,
And a lone pressed crimson petal."

Beautiful words, I only wish I could write so well.

----------


## LauraAmanda

So are these going to get judged this week?

----------


## Virgil

Yes Amanda, over the weekend. I'll defintely have a winner Monday.

----------


## LauraAmanda

Oki doki.

and it's laura my middle name is amanda

----------


## Orionsbelt

Just got back from vacation. I wasn't going to post but I can't help myself. This is a quick one.

Innocent angel with auburn hair
Whos locks ride a stream of warm summer air
Where do you send your gaze?

Search the far set
for a promise not kept 
What figure is shaped in the haze?

Perhaps you dream
of a future unseen
Where would a soul settle and rest?

Make a stern glare
for a friend who would dare
What secrets are held to your beast?

Will I one day 
Be one who can say
What purpose have you lovely chance?

----------


## Virgil

Going once..................

----------


## Virgil

Going twice.....................

----------


## Virgil

Wow, it's hard being a judge. All were excellent and I was really torn between several. Ultimately I gave it to Riesa's poem, untitled and quoted below. The phrase "the strange / Heart beating dutifully in her" won me over as the perfect phrase characterizing the photo. By the way, the photo is a painting by an American, Eastman Johson, titled, "The Girl I Left Behind Me," 1870-75.






> Driven towards the sea,
> Saturated with thunderous clarity unrealized
> By the familiar strangers left behind,
> Her inward gaze rests on a shattered oath.
> 
> The breathless, 
> Fearless exploration
> That once upheld her stoic grace,
> Is understood now only
> ...



OK, Riesa, you get to choose the next picture.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Congratulations Riesa! I really enjoyed that one too.  :Smile:

----------


## thevintagepiper

Congratulations!! I loved your poem.

----------


## Riesa

Hey, thanks Virgil, and thevintagepiper, dstrangelove and Petrarch for the nice comments. All of the poems were very good. It's pretty fun coming up with these stories behind the images. I've got absolutely zero time to search for a new picture right now, but I promise to try to come up with something interesting soon.

thanks again, Virg.

----------


## Orionsbelt

Congrats Riesa. I personally liked the verse "Deep in the pages of her books,
And a lone pressed crimson petal." The image, the emothions, and the impact were immediate. Looking forward to your choice.

----------


## Riesa

Thank you, Orionsbelt. I liked your poem as well.

I found this photo intriguing, I hope you all like it and I'm looking forward to the poetry that comes from this. Happy writing!

----------


## Petrarch's Love

_þa gyt hie him asetton segen geldenne 
heah ofer heafod, leton holm beran, 
geafon on garsecg; him wæs geomor sefa, 
murnende mod. Men ne cunnon 
secgan to soðe, selerædende, 
hæleð under heofenum, hwa þæm hlæste onfeng. 

(High o'er his head they hoist the standard,
a gold-wove banner; let billows take him,
gave him to ocean. Grave were their spirits,
mournful their mood. No man is able
to say in sooth, no son of the halls,
no hero 'neath heaven, -- who harbored that freight!)

~Beowulf, Prologue_ 
*
At Sea*

Then there were no ashes on the mantle 
Or boxes neatly stacked in concrete crypts
No stillness or sterility in death, 
Instead another journey out toward
Whatever harbor lies along the line
Between endless grey sea; endless grey sky.

Wearing their swords and battle scars they stood 
Where we stand now. This ship was then the bed
Where a king was laid to rest on rare treasure,
While above him in the sharp sea air
Cloth of pure gold glowed against the grey sky,
And the chanting of the mourners, rhythmic, rose
And fell, continuous and changing.

Ten strong men bore the fallen king
In his ship, to the shore, to the sea. 
The chanting of the mourners rose and fell
Until the sounds grew distant to the dead ears
And mingled with the rhythm of the sea.
The sea, which now sounds in our ears,
Continuous and changing, while the ship
We now see is a weather wearied boat
Finally come to rest on a stony shore,
Worn and old and nothing golden in it.

You and I stand here in our funeral black
Clutching our printouts of a smiling face
In a fuzzy digital picture, and some
Carefully typed words about the deeds
Of a noble life. Are these enough
To carry all the memories that rise up
In silent suddering sobs? Are they enough 
To send him on a journey in which lifes
Great change blends with lifes great continuity?
What chants can be made of these memories?
What gold can they be wrapped in I wonder,
As you and I look out across the grey water 
Longing for once and future things.

----------


## rabid reader

*Low Tide*
The tide has passed, I am the bye.
The dreams are dead, dead as the sky.
I wish to be back, out at sea.
Yet the tide has passed, passed beyond me.

I once would walk among my friends,
And speak so beautifully of my end.
Yet here it is, or at least it must
As my pen now lies in dirt and dust.

My pen once was held in my hand
While I was out at sea, a disturbed land.
A land that held such profound glory,
But it's over. My Story.

I see the clouds on their finally leave,
As the tide has left and abandoned me.

----------


## LauraAmanda

The boat it tells of stories, 
stories untravelled in the mind of man
but give this chance to a child
the untravelled tales begin to fly

imagination is a wonderful tool
to transport the mind from
the world
weary
views.

This child tells of tales untravelled
of pirates and treasure
as yet to be discovered
of maidens in danger
and brave young sailors

it tells stories of battles 
not yet fought
of victories and losses
scars and wounds
lost loves and kisses
from the little girls views

This boat tells of untellable tales
in the eyes of the man.
But give it to a child
and let the adventures begin.

----------


## Riesa

Nice entries so far, but Jon1jt, Page, VIRGIL, any takers?

----------


## Virgil

I'm working on something Riesa. I need a little more time.

----------


## holograph

Very nice poem Riesa. Very well written, and I must comment on Virgil's poem. Excellent.

----------


## Psycheinaboat

I don't want to sway the judge or anything, but wanted to tell Rabid Reader that I really liked his poem.

All the poems I've read here are wonderful. So much talent in one thread!

----------


## rabid reader

> I don't want to sway the judge or anything, but wanted to tell Rabid Reader that I really liked his poem.
> 
> All the poems I've read here are wonderful. So much talent in one thread!


thanks, no one's ever complented my poems before

----------


## Riesa

> Very nice poem Riesa. Very well written, and I must comment on Virgil's poem. Excellent.


Thanks, holograph, and you are right about Virgil's. He's finding his voice in this thread, I think.

By the way, I hope you will submit a poem too. I read your recent one in the personal poetry section and liked it a lot. It gave me chills.

----------


## Virgil

> Very nice poem Riesa. Very well written, and I must comment on Virgil's poem. Excellent.


Thank you.




> Thanks, holograph, and you are right about Virgil's. He's finding his voice in this thread, I think.


I think you're right Riesa. The contest is forcing me to hone my skills.

----------


## holograph

> By the way, I hope you will submit a poem too. I read your recent one in the personal poetry section and liked it a lot. It gave me chills.


I am glad you enjoyed it. I certainly will attempt to submit one as well.  :Wink:

----------


## Orionsbelt

Well here we go.

I could spend more time on this and I probably will at some point. Bit of a limrick I think. 

dawn breaks on the hull of the umbra
at the edge of the sentience sea
creation far in the distance
a lifetime away from me

sit for a while and wander
through currents on that yonder shore
where babies laugh or ladies dance 
and men like the eagles sore

new babies are covered in cloth
to cover their skin from the sun 
brothers and sisters, cousins and friends
share what is lost and won

maidens set flowers floating 
on a rivers of soft falling hair
pastel and powders applied to the cheeks
soften sunlights glare

young men contest their athletic command
with a ball, a wick, or a sprint
sweat and dirt the hallmarks of glory
in teams of two and a quint

fathers and mothers attend to the children 
a carrot, a stick, and due care
the warmth of the fire is felt by the legions
who surround the family affair

The oldest gathered in gaggles 
reflect on days long passed 
feet propped just so on the porch rail
viewing days that are moving so fast

in the ebb and flow of the tao te jing 
from every man, woman, and child
amber of joy is pressed from the mix
to a mead tasting sweet and mild

I for my part have passed through the mash
the esters have passed to the drink
I sit now here on the hull of the boat
where the oarsman meets those on the brink

I look to places Ive passed through
And those where I wanted to go
Ill tell you fellow traveler
Its a wonderful place to know

----------


## pigeonordove

I would like to have my poem put into the contest and see how it matches up with the ones I have read here today. They are a very good lot and I would be curious to see exactly where I stand as a poet along side this expressive bunch.

----------


## jon1jt

Here goes...all in an afternoon's work. Hope you can find something in this conglomeration of sorts to sail with.  :Smile:  
----------------------------------


VANISHING POINTS

We all see them at least once in our lifetime
the way you catch a person sneer from the corner of your eye
or how you felt when you dropped the ball
the kids who laughed at moms bloomers 
flapping on the clothes line 

Or the white schooner that scraped the ocean floor because it could
steered by a seafaring virtuoso 
barreling across to-die-for-spaces for all she's worth 
jutting keel, endearing white curves, gleaming eyes 
against a roaring tide
the girly girl heart drenched in wine watching him sail away
as he swabbed the deck with borrowed water 
into the smoldering orange sun that bit down playfully
on that single sail 
taking its beating for him alone
across the ocean hearth to Mexicano blues 
on a rickety radio off some porch 
where a dilapidated man coughs, as if to say, 
Dont forget me, hombre

The man in his boat 
the man who pulls the cords 
who swabs the deck
Who drinks scotch out of a moonlit glass 
and watches for days on end the liquid sky
splattered with juicy marmalade and marshmallows
brooding currents below the surface

of the woman in her teeming summer dress 
the city he left without beggars or winos
the bell of that trombone at Carnegie Hall
offering its white highs and black lows 
That gallant flute player with timid elbow 
stoked high as the boats warbling mast
But ah, those piping fingers that seared the smoky city 
night

Its just a windblown time, man
Youre heading toward the vanishing point
Buckling to the vaporous elements 
Like the boat that returns 
to a tattered woodpile 
Still 
against the backdrop of a sulky earth

----------


## holograph

you guys are amazing. i dont have time to write now, but ill contribute just for sport. this is my five minute contribution. it's hard to write without internal inspiration (at least for me), but here it goes, the photo was very thought provoking.
__________________________________________________ ______________
impending sky, impending sky 
cast away your thick foam and I 
will sail to you.

the sea has died [its shroud is 
glazed by ice and my
strained fruitless sighs].

the vessels sailed 
[its cracked and lies] 
on your thin, cold and 
bumpy loins: 

the prospects filled 
with bleak black tumors 
rotting on your sadd
-ened groins.

relinquish me! disparate 
earth [for you, Ive 
no fidelity]; 

let me sail airily to my 
umber abyss in the fair sky
and float to a void melody.

impending sky, impending sky 
cast away your thick foam and I 
will sail to you.

the sea has dried 
[forever shrouded by the
foam from your deep
melancholy eyes].
__________________________________________________ _______________

----------


## mir

once-bright future faded,
leaving only brown and grey;
beached fantasies
on the shore of time - 

so a poet might say,
slyly turning 
wood to memory,
sea to life,
broken oars to broken dreams.
what does it mean,
the forsaken vessel
stripped of poetry, stripped of words?
emotion contained
in the space of a painting;
pixels inspiring
an unforseen tear - 
but in a heart filled with years
which losses have touched 
like dust clouding color,
there is nothing but a boat
like any other, standing alone,
standing forsaken, like so many one remembers - 
a boat forgotten by time,
timber by the sea,
waiting for the tide.

sorry - that sucks - short on time - but good picture, riesa!

----------


## Riesa

Mir, it absolutely does _not_ suck!

Well, great contributions, once again. I'll pick my favorite, which is going to be quite difficult! next week sometime to give any last takers a chance to come up with something.

----------


## holograph

*clears throat* mir, that is an awesome poem!

----------


## white camellia

old boat, 
stuffing scraps of withered seaweed,
looked sad and strange.
cracky gunwale was slightly tilted,
looking over the rim of the bleak ocean
into the endless deathly voyage.

old boat,
accompanied by a thousand tears
that were turned into pebbles flickering
against another break of the nightmare
when light crept up between the clouds,
said nothing about a hopeful return.

----------


## Virgil

Ok, here's my entry:




> *The Chantry*
> 
> Where on earth does one go?
> We sailed slowly out,
> As if in rendezvous with the setting sun
> Navigating ocean and whales,
> Sea gulls suspended on a breeze,
> Discussing surf and trees with sailors,
> The soft sound of wings in our ears.
> ...

----------


## miss tenderness

> thanks, no one's ever complented my poems before


Really!!rabid your poem touched upon my feelings, seriously. I loved your poem and your flooding words ,keep writing. 

Dear friend Camillaa, my heart with you to win :

Jon ,deep deep poem, I read it two times and thinking of the third.

Virg, you write Poetry , and not any poetry but very neat and gifted.why we do not see yours around??

oh my, what talented people we have here. Resia, hard decision ,yah?The pic. Reminded me of the Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Coleridge, can I just steal it and join the contest?  :Biggrin:   :Biggrin:

----------


## Riesa

> oh my, what talented people we have here. Resia, hard decision ,yah?


Ha, you said it. 

Okay, 
first, thank you all for each poem submitted, every single one of them stands alone in my opinion. However, I must pick a favorite. 

First a few thoughts:


*Petrarch*: The Beowulf quote left me breathless, and then I could have chosen yours for the first three stanzas. The twist into present day threw me off course and I wanted to be back where I was, but lovely nonetheless.

*Rabid Reader*: reading yours I felt I was rocking in a boat, nicely done.

*Laura Amanda*: yours made me think of a brightly painted clipper ship sailing the high seas, nice poem!

*Orionsbelt*: 


> Maidens set flowers floating/ on a river of soft falling hair


 is a beautiful image, there was a lot to like in the rest too.

*Jon*, I agree with miss t, I have read it over and over, and it is deep. 
lots of favorite lines, and the second and third stanzas were absolutely amazing! I like where the image led you, and then me, by getting to read it. Thank you!

*Holograph*,




> relinquish me! disparate 
> earth [for you, Ive 
> no fidelity]; 
> 
> let me sail airily to my 
> umber abyss in the fair sky
> and float to a void melody.


This is excellent, you have an impressive style, it's very distinct and well crafted. 

*mir*, wonderful, beautiful poem that spoke to my heart, and I hope you never say anything disparaging about your work again, you are a gifted writer! and sheesh, I can't believe you are so young, and I expect amazing things from you from what I've seen so far of your poems. I think your words nailed my feelings most about the boat, and I loved it.

*White Camellia*,always a pleasure to read your poems, the second stanza was perfect...

but I have to say that Virgil's epic wins this one. I was spouting impressed expletives as I read it, it could have gone on forever and I would have been content to sit and let it play out in my head. So many images packed within a few words. I'm highlighting my favorites, the ones that had my jaw dropped open. (I could have done without the struck me in the muttonchops, though  :FRlol:  otherwise, damn near perfect.) Thanks.

(maybe next time you should sit out, and give someone else a chance?)





> The Chantry
> 
> Where on earth does one go?
> We sailed slowly out,
> As if in rendezvous with the setting sun
> Navigating ocean and whales,
> Sea gulls suspended on a breeze,
> Discussing surf and trees with sailors,
> The soft sound of wings in our ears.
> ...


Congrats, Virgil, well worth waiting for.

----------


## Virgil

Oh my. I didn't think I would win this one. There were quite a few I thought were better. I thank you both Miss T and Riesa. I had a lot of fun writing this. I'll have to search for a new photo and post it in a day or two. I urge everyone to play. Win or lose, this is fun.

----------


## holograph

virgil, you are amazing. i wish i could include religious references in my poetry with feeling and tenacity like you do. (but i am a heathen). and i must agree that there is enormous talent in this room, i have not been exposed to good writing on a personal level for a long time. thank you guys. for the next poem, im going to actually contribute real stuff. if it wasnt for lack of time, id be writing incessantly... ah the burden of being po'.

----------


## rabid reader

Riesa thanks for the kind words and Virgil congrats, and I iggerly await the next picture.

----------


## Virgil

Halograph and Rabid reader, I thought both your poems were excellent. After I re-read them now, it seems the three of us had similar themes. I'll have to look for a new picture.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Congratulations Virgil. Your poem was quite gripping. Not quite playing it like your namesake though, skipping eclogue and moving straight to epic  :Wink: . Looking forward to seeing the next pic.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

And thanks to Riesa for taking the time to give all of us runners ups some criticism. Very thoughtful of you. I appreciated getting your thoughts on my submission,especially since I had been debating whether to leave off that last stanza myself.

----------


## Virgil

> Congratulations Virgil. Your poem was quite gripping. Not quite playing it like your namesake though, skipping eclogue and moving straight to epic . Looking forward to seeing the next pic.


Thank you.

----------


## Virgil

OK. After a search through some of my favorite images, I've decided on this one. I hope you find it interesting, but more importantly, inspirational.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Thanks Virg. I've loved that Bellini ever since seeing it at the Kunsthistorisches Museum in Vienna. Yet another of those exquisitely luminous paintings from the Venetian school. I look forward to reading the exquisitely luminous poetry it generates.

----------


## mir

does marble ever dream, in its long-living quiescence?
or sometimes think of summer, which would bright its endless snow?
a mouth that cannot speak cannot reveal what souled quintessence
may have been chiselled into that sculpture long ago.
still and sweet in picture, uncomplaining these masques stand,
with not a sound from posing lips to keep silence at bay
beauty and decorum oft do not go hand in hand,
so though many come gawking, almost nude the forms must stay.
alabaster stillness, painted nymph of long ago,
on whom brighter colors look like only a mistake,
if you were a statue, where did your emotions go?
frozen like your form, ever in one unchanging state?
gazing in the mirror, could you your irony see?
mother of a family of poetry and dreams,
but once statues were all that those of curving form could be;
perhaps the sadness in your eyes is more real than it seems.

yeah. um. feminist social commentary. is it too obscure?

----------


## rabid reader

Okay, I'm not very happy about this one and I kinda want to explain where I got these images for the poem. I am not very into Art as I really have little eye for non-literary symbols and all paintings truly mean to me is a bunch of bright colours mixed with dark ones. Sure I can stare at a painting and impress on something or other that I can see and hold up a convorsation, but that is mostly my talent of eminse bullspit at work.

So I read this is a painting by Bellini and doing some research I find out that this is his first nude woman, painted somewhere in his mid-eights. I also remember from the novel _Angels & Demons_ by Brown, that Bellini was hired by the Church to paint. I also know since he is part of the Renaissance, which is famous for its return to natural beauty, that he may of thought of nature the holiest form. So with out further ado, here is my entry:

_The Incumbus_  




> They never know do they?
> When I paint my skin,
> They think I am one of them.
> They think Im their kin.
> I know to be vain, and what to say.
> I know their secrets that they hide.
> I am their focus, their gem.
> Through temptation I am Hells guide.
> 
> ...

----------


## holograph

[well done rabidreader and the rest of the excellent writers who submitted. kudos.  :Smile: ]

[always by the window].

voloptuous and languid she sits
nervously naked 
her small plump tits 
anxiously peek from behind

a creamy vanilla arm
like an elephant tusk
[the reflection 
of dusk 
in her eyes]

rapunzel, rapunzel 
open your locks 
and push down the door
the renaissance clock

just struck [a 
concrete black] four
and it's ticking
[pecking at your 
hear-no-evil ears]

a cancer eating away 
at your coarse 
haughty fears

that raspberry robe shrouds 
the truth, my dear--
your shame is evident.

it’s clear [you are 
no chaste care
-free Eve]

your gaudy depiction 
cannot deceive
the dry-ice in 
your optic cones.

that robust torso 
nurses a secret
walled in black 
and packed 
in forest green,

and the corpulent 
clouds wait for 
you

[forever entrapped behind
a frame].

----------


## Virgil

Wow!!! Three great entries already.  :Thumbs Up:  I can already see this is going to be a hard one to judge.

----------


## Psycheinaboat

I love to write, but lack confidence in my poetry. Here is my honest try. The letter in my poem refers to the paper lying next to the model in the painting.

*****

Beauty read the letter today,
It robbed her of her smile.
Her glow remained,
And eyes sustained
The musings of my soul.


Deep mocha eyes
That looked about
The hazy country side,
Fell upon her reflection
And tragically she cried.

My love and mirth 
Were not enough
To maintain foolish pride
That tries to force its will upon
A heart refusing to abide.

I could not master
Beautys chasm,
Could not mend her broken heart.
When death came calling
Leaving me bereft, we had to part.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

I wanted to see how it looked on.
The fabric was the finest from the East.
With pearls of choicest luster sewn among
Swirls green like the earth and blue like the sky.
Indeed, the merchant told my lover
It was such cloth that when the ground was bare
And the sky grey I, his mistress, wearing this,
Would renew the color of the dead world. 
My love believed and bought, and told to me
The nonsense, which I laughed at and loved him for.

I wanted to see how it looked on. 
So I wrapped my long, loose hair in the cloth
And gazed at a reflection of reflection
To contemplate the way the pearled border
Divided colored silk from silken hair,
All the while half thinking of my young duke,
And partly of the letter from my sister
(Whose husband never bought her such fine gifts).
I did not see my beauty then but felt it.
Sometimes I felt it in the urgent press 
Of the Dukes body against my own, 
But also when I sat alone I felt it
In the glow of my youthful blood and in 
The strength of my young body. I did not see
My own beauty (that was just me, nothing novel);
I saw the beauty of the silk and pearls.
Delighting in my present, I forgot
The eyes of the aged painter looking on,
Over four score years, grey bearded, slow, 
And hired by my love, the Duke Alfonso who
Wanted to see how I looked on canvas.

Because the artist looked like my old grandfather, 
Looked drained of manly vigor to my eyes,
And waked no spark of passion in my pulse
My naïve self assumed no lust in his eyes,
Assumed his pulse a chaste paternal beat.
(If I knew then what I know now of old men!)
That is how it came that I forgot,
As women never can with young men,
That the old painters eyes were on me,
And that is how he asked me to pause
As I admired my new coif, and how he stopped
My movement, stopped my hand, stopped my breath,
Stopped my pulse, and kept all of me still
For everyone to see and none to feel.

----------


## ktd222

Here's my entry:

Even the eyes transcend a momentary cause
a haze, as if the vast boundlessness
of fields were her.

(It would seem so)

The way the bedclothes slid away
and left her body bare,
a peach-touched texture,
nonspecific, gaining softer 
against the soft lit air,

or how the greenery and sky 
uplifts her hair, caressing softly
there and there.

She, like an Atmosphere of Land in part,
beside a bedroom abrupt and distinct

(in me)

----------


## white camellia

> Dear friend Camillaa, my heart with you to win :


My heart smiles with your words, my tender!  :Nod:  

And Riesa, thank you so much for your comment! 

And Virgil, your epic is possessed of certain grandeur, like your name! Congrats! 

Up to now these portrayals of this beautiful lady are all amazing and the one from k222 is very enticing with the ending words "in me" and it gives a feeling of the spontaneity of emotions, denseness of beauty.

Good luck to all the excellent poets!

----------


## rabid reader

Just wondering when the decision is going to be made.

----------


## Confusecius

this is short and soulful but rather rough.


The Muse

There sits she, by the window, nude,
'Tis her source of primal capers,
And if you examine to the right of her a**,
You'll lay eyes on her rolling papers.

There sits she, with tiny mirror in hand,
Her countenance couldn't be kinder,
It's surprising to see that she is not blonde,
As she didn't see the large one behind her.

There sits she, wearing naught but her curtains,
Her hair draped where clothing is not,
Onlookers have grown quite accustomed to this,
This lady goes nude quite a lot.

There sits she, in the pride of her womanhood,
Being immortalized by the artist Bellini,
Far into the future, with the ease of a keyboard,
Confusecius makes fun of her obscenely.


Do not take this seriously.
 :Biggrin:

----------


## Virgil

> Just wondering when the decision is going to be made.


Oh, I'm sorry. I was away for a bit. I'm now back. How about I choose the winner on Friday? This way any last minute entries will get a chance.

----------


## smoothherb

Hey there with your golden eyes 
Will you come down to save me 
Shall I be left here to die
While your comradz recruit
The obedient and the vain
Us with a lack of virtue 
Must stand up to the pain
In your glass eyes I see no sympathy
Like you face was frozen by power
As I watch the ritous rise 
Like a child holds up a flower 
I guess they win the final prize 
A life continued in heaven 
The rest of us will die 
forsaken here forever

----------


## Page

Such wonderful poems by all. Holograph AND ktd222 have my vote.

----------


## Virgil

The winner will be announced within six hours. Last mnute entries can still be entered.

----------


## Virgil

OK, I've chosen the winner. It was a very hard choice. All of them were enjoyable and could easily have been selected. I liked Riesa's format from the last contest where I give a short little comment on each poem (I think everyone is at least owed that) and then I pick the winner.


Mir: Your poem was very elegant and really had some nice phrases. I almost selected it. What prevented me was that the poem kept addressing a statue and I was a little confused with that.

rabid reader: Very nice poem. Loved the line, "Safe from nature's tooth." The only reason it didn't win was that I couldn't invision the subject of the painting as an Incumbus. While it was imaginative, your poem didn't quite match for me the painting.

halograph: Also a very nice poem. Could have won easily. A lovely poem. The repunzal stanza hit an off note to me, but the "raspberry robe" and "optic cones" made up for it.

Psycheinaboat: Also close to a winner. The openning stanza seemed a little trite, but the other three were excellent, the last one being perfect.

Petrarch: I took it as a Browning-esk interior monologue, and excellent at that. I really loved the last stanza, some really fine lines there ("Assumed his pulse a chaste paternal beat" - !). The only thing that knocked it down a little for me was the frame of the woman wanting to try on this fabric didn't connect with the story line you created. 

Confucious:  :FRlol:  I enjoyed it. A comic poem can win, but this painting was not a comic subject. So I couldn't give it to you.

Smoothherb: a good poem, but I think a disconnect (at least for me) with the subject of this painting. 

And the winner is ktd. What i particularly liked about ktd's poem is the sounds that interlink the poem: texture/softer, bare/air/hair/there, greenery/softly, abrubt/distinct. The openning lines are wonderfully invocative, and I loved "a peach-touched texture"




> Even the eyes transcend a momentary cause…
> a haze, as if the vast boundlessness
> of fields were her.
> 
> (It would seem so)
> 
> The way the bedclothes slid away
> and left her body bare,
> a peach-touched texture,
> ...


OK, ktd, you pick the next picture.

----------


## ktd222

Whoohoo!!! I’d like to thank Bellini, because without his painting my poem wouldn’t make sense. I’d also like to thank Virgil for accepting the cookie I offered him in the lobby for picking my poem. For how else could my poem have been picked over so many great poems. 

Thanks a bunch Virgil, this means a lot coming from a person knowledgeable about poetry. 

I’ll try and come up with an image later.

----------


## smoothherb

I didn't know anything about a painting lol

----------


## miss tenderness

congrats ktd,it was a lovely poem man. You all were amazing :Smile:

----------


## Psycheinaboat

Ktd, congratulations on your wonderful poem winning. I look forward to seeing what sort of picture you choose.

----------


## holograph

awesome man. this is fun. ktd ure poem was fantastic. can't wait for the pic!

 :Smile:   :Banana:

----------


## ktd222

Thank you White, Psych, Holo, Miss, for the kind words. I was thinking about this subject for the past few days and would like to see what you all thought about it. I will explain why after the contest. I think the openness of this image will lend itself to a wide range of interpretations. I look forward to reading your submissions.

----------


## rabid reader

Congrats ktd. Awesome poem
*Thinking and Living Outside the Box*
To live outside the box.
The slight container
of limited sight and mind.
To live outside the box
Leaves my dreams 
to be the achievable kind.

A Life outside this box,
This blank and bleak
Welling up of spirit.
A Life outside this box,
Lives fantasy, love
or anything near it.

The sight outside the box,
Seems empty in the eyes
Of those in side in coil.
But the sight outside the box,
Is the mythical landscape
That makes creativity boil.

So to live in the box
One must sacrifice
their hopes and dreams.
To live in it
Is to never realize
the beauty in the seams.
TO never see this
Should be the only
true form of crime.
To ignore the wonderful
beauty of creation, is 
the biggest waste of time.
So when their is a box,
A box that you can see,
Never think about what's inside
Never eliminate your dreams.

----------


## holograph

ill have one in soon. ktd i LOVE THIS PIC. THANK YOU.

----------


## Will Press

A crystal cube, a diamond box
With glassy chains and unseen locks
Transparent chest with treasures hid
Beneath its bright and shining lid

Its faces clear as shallow stream
Encases, I can only dream
Some secret, longing to be sought
Though covered, caged, and long forgot

But who, if sound in mind and health
Would cage in glass to shield his wealth
His secrets plain for all to see
Therein lies the mystery

A crystal cube, a diamond box
A puzzle and a paradox
A lesson learned to those who try
Not asking what or where, but why

----------


## mir

Line, Defined

when is a line not a line?
when its borders are too fine?
when it's points disconnected, ink in perspective,
and its straighness seems elective?

perhaps when dimensioned to two
so one single line gains three new
and clear, empty air, becomes no longer bare,
and instead now is filling a square?

Or when raised to a power of three!
What less like line could there be?
Not one simple stroke, but TWELVE - what a joke!
Was the artist off on coke??

Perhaps a true line is that which
Does not bend, wriggle, or twitch,
But in Math class, is allowed to pass,
As that with substance - but not MASS.

yes. yes, this is the first day of school. *falls over*

----------


## Psycheinaboat

I like this one. Here is a poem that for me captures the simplicity of the picture.

*****

Ice cube:
Melting
Melti 
Mel
M

----------


## ktd222

I just wanted to stop in, before I leave for work, and say there are some great entries so far.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

I've been pre-occupied for a few days, so wanted to drop in now to congratulate ktd on her win.  :Smile:  Looks like you've choosen a deceptively simple pic. for this round, an the competition's already heating up. I'll have to submit something myself if a good idea strikes.  :Idea:

----------


## white camellia

> ill have one in soon. ktd i LOVE THIS PIC. THANK YOU.


holo, are you sure you've seen the picture? Why can't I see it?!  :Idea:   :Frown:

----------


## Will Press

> holo, are you sure you've seen the picture? Why can't I see it?!


If you can't see it, it's pretty simple. It's just a cube drawn from black lines on a white background.

----------


## ktd222

Thank you Holo, Petrarch, I loved your poems as well. 

I'll announce the winner sometime next week, so there is plenty of time for submissions into the contest, all.

----------


## white camellia

I appreciate your help, Will Press. That image sounds really appealing, a simple abstract touch.

----------


## LauraAmanda

Simple in shape, In shade
In light, A box
Where we all reside
A place to keep 
forgotten memories
Something to stand on
To reach a little taller
We all feel small sometimes.
A place to hide
unwanted emotions.
A place to keep
the socially unwanted.
A box
Simple
In shape

----------


## ktd222

There's about a week left before I determine the winner, so entries are welcome.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Linear Evolution

1Twelve lines of the first dimension variety 
2Arranged themselves with contained sobriety
3On a typical plane of the second dimension
4(They did it without too much pretension),
5And when well arranged they admirably 
6Produced an image from dimension three.
7The twelve straight lines were, with pride, reborn
8Into the dimension of higher forms
9Where the box they made could contain a treasure
10Or be dice or ice or a house at pleasure,
11And the space outside it metaphorically 
12Could represent individuality.
But still, these lines, which ascended disciple-like
From their thin, singular, simplicity to complex, tangible, fullness
In pursuit of something greater,
Still they lack the fourth dimension
Of unseen animation
And still they lack that numberless dimension
With the infinitely faceted simplicity
Of a spiritual geometry.

----------


## holograph

Home has 2 dimensions.

Every rhythmic knock 
sends a hollow static 
through the walls,

and these walls are 
my bed, and 

I lay like 
spoiled sandwich meat 
between them.

They aren’t as thick as 
you’d think, but heavy: 

the shroud of night 
on the eyelid--

a child’s carriage veil. 

I live within 

the box outside the box enclosed 

between 

two integrals in these four walls 
of fog, and the fog casually thickens 
like a sad housewife

that eats and eats, and 

precipitates its smog
on my tender cheeks, an 

acidic red. I am x, and 

I’ve no derivative.

And I’ve been miming for years 

get me out 
get me out

let me back in

But all I hear are the brooding 
winds of nothing. 


[amazing poems you guys!]

----------


## ktd222

There is still a few days left for anyone else who would like to submit a poem.

----------


## Virgil

OK, here's my entry:




> *Cubic Haiku*
> 
> The lines today stay
> Upright for a framed pinfold.
> Press out to find home.
> 
> Step back breathlessly
> Find the cubes open back side.
> Lean over the edge.
> ...

----------


## ktd222

The contest is closed today at 12 A.M. PDT. I will tell you who the winner is on Monday.

----------


## ktd222

I read some C.S. Lewis books recently, and when I came across this image of a cube it reminded me of an example he gave for knowing Gods identity. That each of us  even if we are unable to discern Gods identity in this world  is of Him. And that we are only able to see in components now. Just as the deconstruction of this cube results in only its component parts(or lines). And it is when we move beyond this world that we are revealed a clearer image of God. Just as the component parts begin to interconnect to form structure. Until we are totally enveloped into Him and the structure interconnect with structures to reveal the true image of God. 

I preface this by saying these are only my opinions and may not actually be what you all are trying to achieve in your poems.

----------


## ktd222

rabid:
This theme, even though a bit cliché, will never grow tiring for me. It is what keeps me growing and maturing into a capable adult. This is a poem about goals and dreams and keeping your focus and aim in order to achieve them. I like your symbolic use of the box/container as the barrier that limits your sight and mind. The container is the thing with the fake form. Even if in reality the container is whats in front of you - the blank space outside the box is the true form  the place where thinking and living exists. I had particular trouble with phrases like slight container, which I assume means flimsy or fragile container; and seems empty in the eyes of those in side in coils, which gives the impression of huge amounts of potential energy, so I dont understand how a slight box could hold back such potential energy. The title correlates being outside the box to where thinking and living is; and the whole of your poem is about living and seems so positive that the word crime seems out of place. This is just me though. I do like the movement of point of views from outside the box, to inside the box, back outside the box, as you read on down the poem. It gives me a sort of first hand experience of these two realms. I also think the use of the word can (third line from the bottom) is wonderfully placed in your poem. The only thing that we can see is not necessarily the thing we should ponder, because that will sideline our dreams; which will waste away our thinking; which is the actual type of living we can have if we live for our dreams.

Will Press:
The box itself is the treasure, not whats inside. A crystal cube, a diamond box: these are descriptions of value attached to the box; while the walls of this cube is described as wrapped with unseen locks and glassy chains, like the faces clear as shallow streams. These are some wonderful descriptions lending clarity and palpability to whats inside the box,  nothing. The I can only dream of some secret, whatever this secret was. But this is where value, just like the kind attached to the cube, attaches itself to questions asked. You have movement from abstract value towards palpable value. The important question to ask is not what or where this secret is, because its long gone. The important question is to deal with what you do have and ask why this kind of box was used to store such a secret in plain view. I dont see a use for end rhymes; or care much for cliché phrases like a puzzle and a paradox, or not asking what or where, but why, or therein lies the mystery, but youve got plenty of positives things going on in your poem as Ive mentioned above. 

mir:
I have a sense youre reconstructing the image of the box in your poem. You have this movement from primary lines, to secondary lines that form simple structures, to tertiary lines that interconnect to from complex structures. But it is beyond these primary lines the idea of what a line is defined as fails. I think the words perspective and elective are crucial to your poem. And I guess thats why youve highlighted them by rhyme, right? The other rhymes I cant figure out though. Anyway, those two words make me believe the definition of a line is dependent on perspective; but more than that, dependent on the held belief in that perspective. In this case, the perspective is the Math classs  not even a perspective because of ones choosing. The poem is restrictive in this sense. The word but in but in Math class is perfectly placed towards the bottom of the poem because it contradicts what youve set up throughout the poem: which is defining to me what a line is NOT. Which is coincidently what a line is in the perspective of an artist? So the words but and not create a mathematical equations where two negatives(or contradictory words) equals a positive: 

Perhaps a true line is that which
does not bend, wriggle, or twitch,
but in Math class, is allowed to pass 

For me the poem still succeeds without the last line, mir. I like how you deal with how different people defined what a line is in comparison with the image.

psycheinaboat:
I do like your poem Psycheinaboat. A simple reduction of the image 1 minute from now; 2 minutes from now; 5 minutes from now. The ice cube becoming less and less recognizable  just like the words of the poem becoming less and less like a word. But I guess Im left with the question of why this reduction is happening? What is the reason for you seeing this ice cube dissolving?

----------


## ktd222

lauraamanda:
I do like the functional element you’ve introduced into the image; turning the box into an actual place where ‘forgotten memories’ and the ‘unwanted’ things go to dwell or live. Hence the word ‘reside.’ And where ‘we’ go if ‘we’ want to use the box ‘to reach a little taller’. But there is also a lot of ambiguity that I can’t quite wrap my brain around. What is it that ‘makes us feel small’? This is a box that keeps both positive and negative things, right? Or is this a place for just negative things to dwell? I would like to know what is it about the things that reside in this box that makes it ‘something to stand on to reach a little taller’. Or are you just talking literally? Is ‘simple in shape, in shade in light,’ a reflection of what is in the box or just a description of the box itself? If it was the first, then that would match nicely with the positive and negative things that dwell in this box. I think with a little clarification your poem will be quite amazing. 

holo:
Holograph, you have a lot happening in such a short poem. In any case, your poem almost succeeded on so many different levels.

The first is this ‘rhythmic knock.’ Is this knock coming from outside the eyelids? Is the structure of your poem, containing short stanzas, trying to mimic this opening and closing of eyelids? That would be a cool effect! But I’m not positive on this.

The second is the position of the ‘I’ during this poem. You say the ‘I lays…/between them,’ and I’m assuming ‘them’ is the eyelids. What makes me also believe this is that you say ‘I live/within the box/outside the box/enclosed between/two integrals.’ Which points to the shape that an eyelid is: an integral. But then in stanza 5 and 6 you say the ‘I’ lives within and outside this box. Now I’m confused. Maybe you meant the different Parts of the ‘I’? One Part lives in one place, and the other Part(the living Part?) lives in another place; and you’re trying to unify those two Parts into the true ‘I’? I don’t know. 

The third is the comparison of the box to eyelids. I’m not sure that is what you’re trying to do but it’s what seems to me. Such an abrupt alteration of this box, I can’t get to imagining eyelid from box. 

One aspect of your poem I do see achieved is the vivid description of deterioration of the ‘I.’ A deterioration, that like fog, comes on slow, but gets thicker, or more severe as in the case of human deterioration, as time passes. A representation of fog as being acid adds that vivid element for me, to imagine the type of deterioration that’s happening. Nice use of word, describing the fog as ‘casual.’ Fog doesn’t seem harmful at first, but over time it can be blinding. Just like life doesn’t seem wasteful when your young; but towards the end of your life, the amount of time you have left becomes more important. 

Petrarch:
I saw your poem more as ‘mental evolution’. Not evolution in the sense where organisms change in order to adapt, in order to reproduce more successfully than competing organisms. Because your poem involves interaction of component parts(or lines) in order to achieve something more than it is alone: a line. But the first step is to instill your lines with intellect. I don’t know how you did this, but you did. Referring to the lines as having ‘contained sobriety’: giving them a sense of awareness. And as having ‘pride’: giving them a virtue. These lines need certain ability in ‘processing’ to understand such things, as virtue and awareness! I wish I were able to see how the lines developed intellect. That would have been pretty awesome. 
The voice in line 4 is interesting. It seems to be saying these lines that interact to form structures had no motive or end purpose. And that’s why I don’t think evolution in this first sense works. There is always an end purpose to evolution. But who is this that is saying, ‘in pursuit of something greater’? I’ll leave it at loving that you’ve instilled mere lines to contain something more. 
The word ‘contain’- you’ve used a couple times – seems important in your poem, because it points to what is containable, or capable, for these lines to achieve. It seems to go well with the numbering of the first twelve lines, because maybe the content in these lines are all that such lines are capable of: forming more complex structures. 
Lines 11 and 12 caught me off guard because your poem seems to be moving towards a building and forming of things, that suddenly jumping out into the void of this image just confused me. 
So maybe it is within these twelve lines that nothing spiritual can be conceived. A space to create two paragraphs would have also been pretty neat: to show disconnect in evolving the intellect in order to understand the ‘spiritual geometry.’
I also like the rhyming you’ve set up in the poem. An end rhyming that stops passed line 12. You may also be using this to show the fracture between the two types of geometry.

Overall I loved your concept.

Virgil:
Your representation that this cubical structure, formed from lines, – forms the world(the place we need call home) – is amazing! Because what is discovered when ‘stepping back’ outside the box is that this world is just a world made from lines. Made because whomever it was before needed a place to call home; and as a result, turned the dimensionless into a world of dimensions. 

The way the world is being looked over made me gasp, because in two stanzas you were able to encompass and represent the world in this box; as well, take the reader to a perspective where the world can be inspected. 

I’m not sure who this ‘you’ inside the box is referring to. Is this ‘you’ referring to the reader or the ‘I,’ himself – that part of the ‘I’ that remains bound in this world? Obviously the ‘I’ shows up towards the bottom of this poem, but who is doing the ‘stepping back?’ Is the ‘I’ asking this of the reader? Even though I’m not sure yet, it is still a very imaginative way to try connecting these entities described in your poem. 

And as I said above, this world is now a world made of dimensions. And the answer to the question whether we’ll ‘be free then’ will be, no. Because just like the cube’s perimeters being erased, we no longer recognize that we are actually inside the box. We are in a world of dimensions without knowing so. 

A very unique way of interpreting this image, Virgil. I love it!



Petrarch, this contest was yours. And then I read Virgil’s poem; with its playful way in approaching such a serious topic, and in-depth inspection of the image, both literally and figuratively, that I have to declare him the winner. Congratulations Virgil! 




> Cubic Haiku
> 
> The lines today stay
> Upright for a framed pinfold.
> Press out to find home.
> 
> Step back breathlessly
> Find the cube’s open back side.
> Lean over the edge.
> ...

----------


## jon1jt

KTD: Good feedback. But to judge a "poetry" contest that way is a bit overanalytical, no?

----------


## rabid reader

thanks kk for the kind words, I love the indepth feed back. Truth be told I have to go read it again to see what your talking about.

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## ktd222

> KTD: Good feedback. But to judge a "poetry" contest that way is a bit overanalytical, no?


I don't think so. Go read any poem that is analyzed and you'll get the same in depth analysis. Some poems just require that. I'm just showing you what I see. Poetry is more than just ideas expressed.

----------


## Virgil

Well, thank you ktd. I thought there were better poems. I played with my poem for a number of days and finally just went with it. I had a vague feeling for what I was trying to express and then it kind of of came together. I'll need a few days to find a new pcture.

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## holograph

Congrats once more to Virgil, the reigning king of the poetry contest forum. :thumbs up great poem. the rest of you guys also had very awesome poems. I loved them all.

Heh. Now, to ktd. Thank you for the evaluation. I am a firm believer that once the poem is written, it is subject to infinite interpretation, and no longer that of the poet. However, [please do not take this the wrong way] but your analysis of my poem was completely off. There is one mention of the word "eyelid" but nothing more. If the images yous saw were those of lashes and eyes, that's cool, but not an intention of mine. This poem was evoked by the image, and very personal for me. I wrote it in a fit of passion. The poem is my lifelong struggle, and I think it succedded on all accounts to convey that. There were many references to math, rigitidy, entrapment, and boxes, and when I looked at that picture you posted, I saw my struggle (that's why I was so happy to work with it). But this is all in good fun. Can't wait for the next one.  :Smile:

----------


## ktd222

> Congrats once more to Virgil, the reigning king of the poetry contest forum. :thumbs up great poem. the rest of you guys also had very awesome poems. I loved them all.
> 
> Heh. Now, to ktd. Thank you for the evaluation. I am a firm believer that once the poem is written, it is subject to infinite interpretation, and no longer that of the poet. However, [please do not take this the wrong way] but your analysis of my poem was completely off. There is one mention of the word "eyelid" but nothing more. If the images yous saw were those of lashes and eyes, that's cool, but not an intention of mine. This poem was evoked by the image, and very personal for me. I wrote it in a fit of passion. The poem is my lifelong struggle, and I think it succedded on all accounts to convey that. There were many references to math, rigitidy, entrapment, and boxes, and when I looked at that picture you posted, I saw my struggle (that's why I was so happy to work with it). But this is all in good fun. Can't wait for the next one.


O.K. Did you not read the preface? I saw all of those references but didn't know what to make of them. So I had to use what* I* saw.

----------


## Will Press

Thanks for the feedback ktd. Virgil, good luck finding a new picture.

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## Psycheinaboat

KTD, I appreciate the lengthy explanations you gave. I know it helped me.

Congratulations to Virgil for his/her excellent poem! I look forward to the image you choose.

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## autolycus

unusual virgil
guiding us through many squares
a rectified hell

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## mir

a rectified hell
it is fun to mix and match
random lit net games!

 :Biggrin:

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## Virgil

I hope this isn't too difficult a subject, but it's a little dfferent from what we've had so far.




OK so go write them. But take your time. I see some just rush in a submit whatever comes off the top of their head.

----------


## mir

hey, that's fun!  :Smile: 

When Wolves Had Wings

Long ago, in days when creatures
Talked to men, and so were heard
Life and Hope filled every feature,
Every sound of every word.

Long ago, in days forgotten,
When miracles went unheeded;
Tribes of men and beasts begotten
Good; no marvels such were needed.

Gemstones in the earth abounded,
lent glitter to every eye
Trumpets through the air resounded
As proud throats leased fearless cry.

But of all the wonderful things
Then, that are but Myth today,
Greatest of them were the bright wings
Which each creature could display.

Not just birds could loop and twirl,
Glory in the joy of flight - 
Every man and every girl,
Every beast had such delight.

Then what wonder was upon us,
Upon land, and sky, and sea!
The same mother Earth that spawned us,
Gave us wings to set us free.


But.

Look around now, spare my story.

Tell me what such things are there?

How much of this place is glory;

How much glides free 'pon the air?


I do not know how it happened,
Do not ask me when or why
But from Heaven tightly fastened
All but few fell from the sky.

Lions, fish, the bugs and turtles,
Men and women, snake and wolf,
From the clouds to Earth all hurtled
Gravity their dreams engulfed.

The one return we were given - 
Curse or blessing, ask the sky - 
Was the chance to make hearts shriven;
Was the painful gift to cry.

Most these days have long forgotten
swallowed in the maw of time - 
Except those, as I, besotten
By those Sirens, art and rhyme.

We few, through tears carved or written,
Mourn for pasts where peace was king
Though by fate our dreams are bitten - 
In shadows, we find our wings.

----------


## thevintagepiper

I love it Mir! Thta's an interesting picture Virgil....I'm going to try but I'll have to think first.

----------


## autolycus

Guardian

guardian i was made
who bore a sword of flame
i kept the secret
of the sacred name

i was in eden
when fire sealed the gate
i sat with adam
as he learnt his fate

i gave him daughters
who wouldn't have my wings -
he would have children,
poor defenseless things

years passed in thunder
man's paradise is gone
i sit still waiting
in my skin of stone

he never called me
from all his billion homes
where my children guard
all the world he roams

angel of the flame
and guardian still on post
eyes hard as gemstones
knowing what i've lost

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## mir

very nice, autolycus!

----------


## autolycus

mir: well, I must admit that your poem actually points out that mythical creatures require a mythical setting, so I followed...

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## snowpetal

This is such a good idea! I usually just use this site for reading but I clicked on this thread out of interest, and I've ended up spending the whole afternoon reading poetry when I should have been working! oops! Anyway, now I am totally inspired and I actually joined the community (which I've always been a little shy of doing before). So just as soon as I figure out how this whole business works, I'm gonna post a poem! Hooray!

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## snowpetal

This is actually kind of scary. Posting a poem, I mean.

Blue Eyes

My ears were pricked and my senses whetted
I could run with the wind in its starry soar
My home was the forests, my heart was intrepid
And my sinews and strength were my body’s law. 

Now my nose is not wet and my breath has abated,
I chafe at the bonds that myself I created
A life carved in stone which for years I awaited
My pride in my beauty my ultimate flaw. 

My eyes were the colour of sky and sea,
My coat was the softness of silk in the raw
Now tourmaline bright is my spiritless sight
And my petrified fur ripples windswept no more.

I asked for the life that is given to statues
I begged for the fortune that comes with the fame
The prize that I sought has long palled in reflection
For years I have dreamed of my freedom of yore -

Before I fell prey to a life of indebted-
ness, longing to flee to a life I regretted for-
ever I dream of my past silhouetted, while
frozen alive in a candlelit fetidness
Frozen in stone in a prison of pride

With no door but my eyes,
My blue eyes, which though sightless, 
Though silent and lightless,
Forever implore.

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## mir

snowpetal, that's AMAZING! great job! and welcome to the forum!

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## Virgil

Yes welcome Snowpetal. And thanks for contributing to the poetry contest.

----------


## snowpetal

Thanks! I have to confess, I was kind of nervous - all the poems I read have been *so* good!

----------


## Riesa

Fun picture, Virgil. All the poems entered so far are well done. My vote is for Mir's though if you need help deciding.



Early this morning, right before I woke,
A Vulcan came by and hovered near the ceiling
Quoting wise sayings from seven different planets

Like 

_a Carcin Ott Ott should beware of upside down shoes,
For even one sight of a sole can rupture friendships._

Or 

_water dwellers with ears often speak the native tongue
Better than the natives._ (that one is from a planet called Tark, the Vulcan assured me.)

The one that seemed to make the most sense to me
Was the one from Landis Five, it went something like this:

_Fiery quadrupeds wing farthest 
In search of satisfaction,
Often finding their eyes
Just where they left them
Most of them forget to look 
Where they belong;

So seek out new sights, blind 

Only finding at the end that
They were just so, 
this was the way
they were to be
and nothing could be finer
Than that._

I offered the Vulcan a cup of coffee then, 
Because I heard the automatic coffee pot
Began to bubble and hiss

Unfortunately he was late for some appointment with one of the C.E.O.s
Of Horizons Unlimited, Inc.

----------


## Orionsbelt

Snowpetal I really liked your words!


Riesa, I was wondering how much coffee is required to meet Vulcans on the ceiling. I am curious about your referances. They seem fun. 


I considered this for a while. I couldn't really come up with anything that struck me solid about this one. 

So I just had some fun with it. I hope you all have fun reading it :Wink:  

In the council of the insect kingdom
On the root of an old oak tree
The ant set forth the proposition 
“A hero” said he

The Butterfly objected
With a laugh both loud and long
“Such an idea is prepostioous,
I insist, we agree, it’s wrong!”

The mosquito considered the grey staunch wings
“It flies there is no doubt!
Can you imagine how the wind would flee,
when stretched and moved about?”

The lightning bug pondered the electric gaze
“A wonder not a whim.
Such power was not given by accident
blue fire pours out from in!”

The potato bug wondered at the hard stone coat
“A hard and durable shell!
Through the valley of death I could walk with it
and storm the gates of hell.”

The grasshopper cried of strong rear legs
“To the moon in a single bound!
An entire continent would be required
for the daily hoppings around”

The fly was heard to comment 
“An obviously sensitive nose. 
No delicacy would be missed
In any direction you chose”

The spider called 
“A predator of the most advanced skill!
See how very patient,
Absolutely still”

The council conviened far into the night
The gargoyle consigned by fate
for all the grace in heaven 
stone lips will not enter debate.  :Biggrin:

----------


## mir

you know, we should really do something with these poems. only one can be selected each time, but they're all so great! we should make a book or something . . . like haiga (haiku combined with paintings or pictures)

----------


## mir

virgil . . . ? i really don't want this thread to die . . .

----------


## Riesa

Orionsbelt, I appreciate that you found the fun in my poem, I know the quality is subpar, but I did want it to at least amuse someone besides myself.
All the references are just made up, but I need at least a three cups of coffee before my mind starts thinking that way.  :Goof: 

Mir, great idea! and I believe Virg has been busy lately, he'll get around to it, I'm sure. 
and I also like the idea of an Haiga thread! Hmm?

----------


## Virgil

OK let's set a deadline for Friday as the last day for this. And then I'll pick a winner that evening.

----------


## Orionsbelt

On the contrary - Subpar is not a word I would have used.... Unless I was talking golf but then they say "birdie" which was more applicable to bad mitten I think, at least before they used a ball and changed the name. 

I was seeing all sorts of cool connections. Something like a Finnagan's wake thing. At least some of them..


"a Carcin Ott Ott should beware of upside down shoes,
For even one sight of a sole can rupture friendships."

My friends aren't real kick about my socks sometimes either. 

"water dwellers with ears often speak the native tongue
Better than the natives."

I live in Pittsburgh (LOL to fellow citizens).... :Wink:  

almost always true when grass grows anywhere.....

"In search of satisfaction,
Often finding their eyes
Just where they left them
Most of them forget to look 
Where they belong"

I thought it was great. 

PS. Vulcans .. at least as presented on Star Treck always struck me as tea drinkers... It's proper if at least not ah ... logical?

----------


## mir

hey! a pittsburgher??? i didn't know any litnet people lived here! where in pittsburgh?

and Riesa:

http://www.online-literature.com/for...193#post262193

----------


## Juzjon

Went out to the carpet store
to buy a brand new rug
When the sales guy on the floor
came up and gave a hug

He thaid how can I help you
I said I needed sisal
he thaid no Thir, thath incorrect
I think that you mean thithal

I was a little red cheeked
words just came out I guess
Don't know what made me say it
but I answered yeth !!

Tho he thowed me all his thithal
thix rugth to be ethact
We found the one we wanted
off to the car we packed

Thtopped by to get thom dinner
a cafe near the lake
The waitreth thaid "and you Sir?"
I thaid the t-bone thtake

Medium, rare or well done?
whilth writing on her pad
I thaid it did not matter
ath long ath ith not bad.

----------


## Orionsbelt

Hi Mir,

I live in West Deer Township... most people never heard of it but its the furthest northeastern township in Allegheny county. I love this board. There are so many good ideas floating around. You?

----------


## mir

Allison Park - another place most people have neve heard of.  :Smile:  it's in Hampton Township. but i go to school in the city.

is Allegheny near Hampton?

i love this forum too! it's really interesting to make friends with people you've never even met. and there are lots of great literary games.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Don't know if this is in time for Virg. to consider for contest purposes, but thought I'd post it anyway. By the way, great poems this round everyone.  :Smile: 

*Modern Mythology*

He is the light bearer
Like Lucifer 
But unfallen.
He is the sharp toothed
Like Fenris Wolf
But unbound.
He is the winged
Like Icarus
But unmistaken.
He is stone
Like the Gargoyle
But Unworn.

He came from the far East
(Made in China).
He emerged from a womb
(Of styrofoam packing).
His blue glass eyes guard 
Everyday rooms
Where he is many things to many people.

He is stone, 
A beautiful statue
For the one who admires the Gothic.
He is winged, 
An angel
For the one who misses a departed pet.
He is sharp toothed,
An image of strength
For the one who imagines running with wolves.
He is the light bearer,
A candle
For the one who is tired of the dark.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

ktd--Since I was away when you gave out the responses and decision, I wanted to say thanks for the detailed feedback now. It was nice of you to take the time to write a careful response to each poem. 



> Petrarch, this contest was yours. And then I read Virgils poem


I'm honored to have come so close  :Wink: , but I think you made a great choice with Virgil's streamlined haikus.  :Nod:  A belated congrats to Virg. as well.

----------


## Virgil

Thanks Petrarch.

The current contest is now closed. I will post a winner this evening.

----------


## Virgil

First, let me apologize for taking so long. My father's illness and ultimate passing took me away from this. OK we have a winner. Let's start with the others.

Petrarch's: The repetition of "He is" at first seemed a little boring, but then I realized it reflected the fixed nature of a statuette. I partcularly liked the ending:



> For the one who imagines running with wolves.
> He is the light bearer,
> A candle
> For the one who is tired of the dark.


What I didn't care for was I felt were two opposing tones, one of seriousness ("He is the light bearer/Like Lucifer/But unfallen") and one of comic ("Made in China" and "from a womb/Of styrofoam packing). 

Juzjon: Your poem had nothing to do with the image. Perhaps you don't understand the rules? I also didn't understand your spelling, which I at first thought was a mistake but now I believe to be intentional.

Orionsbelt: I thought this was very interesting. This could easily have won, but what confused me was why the insect kingdom? I liked the form and I liked quite a few lines: 



> The potato bug wondered at the hard stone coat
> A hard and durable shell!
> Through the valley of death I could walk with it
> and storm the gates of hell.


and 



> The council conviened far into the night
> The gargoyle consigned by fate
> for all the grace in heaven 
> stone lips will not enter debate



Riesa:  :Eek:   :Confused:  

Snowpetal: Very nice. Could have been a winner. Some great lines: "I could run with the wind in its starry soar" and



> I asked for the life that is given to statues
> I begged for the fortune that comes with the fame
> The prize that I sought has long palled in reflection
> For years I have dreamed of my freedom of yore -


I felt the ending was a little weak, though. I think if you had deeted the last stanza, the poem would have ended just right. I hope you continue with us, Snowpetal.

autolycus: a good poem. I really liked the flame/fire imagery that ran through it. It's drawback was that I couldn't find any superlative lines that overwhelm. But an interesting story around the statue.

And which brings us to the winner, Mir: A really fun poem. And the rhythm and rhyme was maintained throughout and it complimented the fun and exotic nature of its theme. For instance: notice how this stanza reflects the mood:



> Not just birds could loop and twirl,
> Glory in the joy of flight - 
> Every man and every girl,
> Every beast had such delight.


But the fun also has the sense of darkness, "the painful gift to cry". I really like that phrase. Here's that stanza:



> The one return we were given - 
> Curse or blessing, ask the sky - 
> Was the chance to make hearts shriven;
> Was the painful gift to cry.


And the concluding stanza marries together the dark with the auspicious:



> We few, through tears carved or written,
> Mourn for pasts where peace was king
> Though by fate our dreams are bitten - 
> In shadows, we find our wings.


Very good Mir. Now you can select a photo.

----------


## Riesa

> Riesa:



 :FRlol:   :FRlol:   :FRlol:  Oh, Virgil.  :Tongue:  

Congratulations mir! You deserved it, one heckuva poem.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Congrats Mir. A well deserved win.  :Smile:

----------


## autolycus

Congrats Mir! *grin* the inspiration for my own poem anyway. Can't wait to see your new image.

----------


## Orionsbelt

Well Congats mir... I agree. Virgil, the answer is just a whim... I do appreciate your comments. I am not so concerned with winning, I just love making these things up. Looking forward to the next one.

----------


## mir

WHOA  :Eek2:  !

didn't see that one coming!

thanks virgil!  :Biggrin:  though seriously, i thought everybody's poems were great. i have to say, riesa's was my favorite . . . if only because it is the wordly incarnation of :Goof:  .  :FRlol:  

okay, for a picture . . . i just want to see what everyone makes of this. it's by my favorite artist, Rodin:



it was either this or the Hand of God, but i couldn't find a good enough picture for that.

----------


## Riesa

What on earth is that person doing?  :FRlol: 

I'm glad you like a little  :Goof:  mir.  :Wink:

----------


## Virgil

> WHOA  !
> 
> didn't see that one coming!
> 
> thanks virgil!  though seriously, i thought everybody's poems were great. i have to say, riesa's was my favorite . . . if only because it is the wordly incarnation of .  
> 
> okay, for a picture . . . i just want to see what everyone makes of this. it's by my favorite artist, Rodin:
> 
> 
> ...


I guess that's a female?  :Confused:  Does anyone know for certain?

----------


## AimusSage

Okay, I justed made a little poem  :Smile:  It's a little rough, but I'll leave it as is.

*Sculpting day.*

Im not wearing any clothes today.
The sculptor makes me strike a silly pose,
Balancing on my small and nimble toes.
He slowly begins to shape me out of clay.

The pose is getting too hard for me now.
All he shaped is my little, nimble fingers,
And meanwhile the sculptor lingers,
as hes working on my frowning brow. 

A five-minute break is what I need.
Drinking some booze and eating a cookie,
The sculptor thinks Im a rookie!
I wouldnt be if he took up some speed.

Hes working faster than before.
The clay is slipping through his hands,
And an almost finished statue stands,
When there is no more clay galore.

The left arm is still missing.
The sculptor tells me to stop posing
He is now done with all the shaping,
And I look like a freak gone fishing,
On a sculpting day.

----------


## mir

> What on earth is that person doing?


i have NO IDEA . . . but i still like the sculpture  :FRlol:  

i don't know if that's a female or a male, Virgil . . . but i'm leaning toward female because the name of the sculpture is _Iris, Messenger of the Gods_.

nice poem, Aimus!  :Biggrin:

----------


## Dry_Snail

The Satan lured her
The Apple lured her
The Snake lured her

HE came back and saw us hiding,
HE found the Apocalypse absurd,
HE left us with a bane.

Now,

I stand here
I watch my posterity
I regret.

----------


## mir

? nice poem, but . . . it's not really about the picture . . .

----------


## holograph

I love Snail's. Mir, when a pic is posted I don't think the poem has to be about it per se. It should be inspired by the picture. Here is what I got out of it:



The writhing past is cast 
in weathered bronze

the changeless tides still 
foaming at her rigid sides

[an eerie coo of rabid waves]

Push and pull
Waste and swell

cord grass beats against her thighs
the ocher skin of monotone 
a broken statue’s metal sighs 

[only the merry go round and 
round on time’s decapitated rim]

Push and pull
Waste and swell

the vestige of a moving limb

Time has no head to rest no face
her neck is an industrial fence 

one foot just one precarious knee
held high above her severed waist

What do they pray to?

Push and pull
Push and pull

Agony drunk with agony

Take her.

----------


## Dry_Snail

Thanx MIR,
well the poem is not about the statue per se, but i interepreted the statue in this way.
I felt that the statue represents Adam and the way he is standing is the personification of that regret....well its all about perception i guess....


and thanx Holograph!!!

----------


## mir

okay! sorry i misinterpreted!  :Smile:

----------


## Dry_Snail

Mir, I think...you didnt Mis-Interprete 
...i think You interpreted it Differently  :Wink:  


ha ha ha  :FRlol:  

what say???

 :Brow:

----------


## mir

:Tongue: 

so you think the statue's Eve?

heh misinterpreting things is fun . . . http://www.online-literature.com/for...=4389&page=243

----------


## Dry_Snail

NO.....again Misinterpretation he he he 

i think its ADAM

----------


## mir

ACK!

*hides head in shirt*

sorry . . the "her"s confused me . . .

----------


## Dry_Snail

lol
well i guess things are clearer now a bit !!

----------


## Virgil

> ii don't know if that's a female or a male, Virgil . . . but i'm leaning toward female because the name of the sculpture is _Iris, Messenger of the Gods_.


Well, that answers it.

----------


## Orionsbelt

As I circumscribe a circle through the zodiac with my toe
I know
I stand at the center and all else expands outward from here
I realize
This is the only place that I have experienced since birth
I suppose 
Others stand in the their center with me toes out 
We dance 
 :Biggrin:   :Thumbs Up:

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Interesting pic, Mir. I was just wondering if you know where the statue in the photo is now. I seem to remember seeing "Iris, Messenger of the Gods" in Paris, but I thought that version was headless, so I'm confused.  :Confused:  Maybe there are two versions? Maybe I'm just imagining things and it's had a head all along?  :Confused:   :Confused:  Incidently, I happen to know a bit of background as to the subject of this statue, and the highly suggestive way it was supposed to have been placed into a larger work, but I'm afraid that fact might spoil everyone's fiction. Do people want background material, or would you rather know about that only after the contest is over?

----------


## Petrarch's Love

According to Michelangelo
Statues are born, not made.
Their forms are waiting 
In the hearts of marble blocks
And in the hot essence
Of liquid bronze.
They are waiting to be brought forth
From the passionate heat of fusing metals
Like infants into a crying world, 
And to bestow on that world their beauty.

What then, of this aborted birth?
This monstrous, misshapen birth,
Lacking an arm, with a visage of half-melted skin,
Most of all, lacking the decency to emerge stillborn,
Lacking the decency to calm those flailing, living limbs
Which she presents open and willing
To the initiation
Of another birth.

----------


## mir

> Interesting pic, Mir. I was just wondering if you know where the statue in the photo is now. I seem to remember seeing "Iris, Messenger of the Gods" in Paris, but I thought that version was headless, so I'm confused.  Maybe there are two versions? Maybe I'm just imagining things and it's had a head all along?   Incidently, I happen to know a bit of background as to the subject of this statue, and the highly suggestive way it was supposed to have been placed into a larger work, but I'm afraid that fact might spoil everyone's fiction. Do people want background material, or would you rather know about that only after the contest is over?


Petrarch, you're right, i beleive the statue's head originally is missing - i think i remember seeing it in the New York Metropolitan museum, with no head. but i also found this picture when i google imaged the statue, so what i'm guessing is that other casts were made of the figue, and one still has its head. i used that because i thought it would be easier to write poems on.

i'll go for background material - i'm not writing the poems, though  :Tongue:  

thanks for posting your poem! it's great!

----------


## mir

alright, since this thread doesn't seem to have attracted any more poems for a while, i'm going to say that the contest will be closed this Saturday at 10 AM Eastern Standard time (for a reference, it's 3:05 here right now.) so if anyone else wants to submit, please do so! and thanks for everybody who has done so so far!  :Smile:

----------


## Virgil

OK mir, I will try by saturday. But personal reasons of the last month have prevent me from focusing on anything creative.

----------


## mir

Okay . . . i guess i can extend the deadline a little longer; i just thought everybody had forgotten about it so it needed a revival.  :Biggrin: 

But i might not be able to get to it until the sunday after next if i don't do it next weekend (this coming weekend, that is). is that okay with people?

----------


## Virgil

OK with me.

----------


## Riesa

Okay with me too, I haven't had a chance to try yet, though I'm afraid it's gonna be tough to beat Petrarch's .

----------


## Riesa

_Solidly made, the inherited sacrificial drive
comes easy, taught by other, older
Goddesses of Wondering

Once, her unlined eyes mesmerized
While her brushed cotton softness
won her a place as the artists muse

now her embrace is useless, 
her discarded passion rusts

A shabby box nests the
few articles of affection 
shes gathered 
from him who,
when memory stirs,
checks to see
if she is still capable
of affecting, 
he finds 
she isnt, and disregards
the sentiment for a more
tangible ornament, 
unconcerned with the woman 
forever poised to give all
at the cost of her own 
fragile balance._


Mir, did you ever see the film _Camille Claudel_?

----------


## Virgil

OK, I got one in before the deadline.




> *The Recumbent*
> 
> Oh those bitter mountain peaks
> Thin to meager pennies.
> The recumbent feels the fever
> The heart recoils into itself
> The eyes look back to youthful strife
> The end is here, this was life.
> 
> ...

----------


## mir

OKAY!

sorry this is late, i had a lot more to do this weekend than i thought. and i wanted to write something about each poem, because i thought all of them were wonderful.

But anyways, first here is the picture again:


And the poems.




> The Satan lured her
> The Apple lured her
> The Snake lured her
> 
> HE came back and saw us hiding,
> HE found the Apocalypse absurd,
> HE left us with a bane.
> 
> Now,
> ...


Snail, i didn't get this the first time i saw it. i sort of like that, though, because it made me have to think about what you were saying and try to interpret it. i love your last stanza, but i still have to say that the poem is confusing, especially in that it's hard to figure out if you're talking about Adam, Eve, or both, or something else. i think that it's a very good poem, but since you had to explain it to me before i got it, i couldn't choose it as the winner.




> As I circumscribe a circle through the zodiac with my toe
> I know
> I stand at the center and all else expands outward from here
> I realize
> This is the only place that I have experienced since birth
> I suppose 
> Others stand in the their center with me toes out 
> We dance


Orion, hello from Pittsburgh!  :Biggrin: 

i liked your poem as well, especially the first and last lines. the last conpleted the imagery of the poem; the first was just a beautiful sentance that i thought was really cool. i did think that the poem could have used a bit of editing, especially in the little interspersing-lines - "I know", "I realize", "i suppose". But i still thought it was a great poem, and i hope you submit for the next contest!




> According to Michelangelo
> Statues are born, not made.
> Their forms are waiting 
> In the hearts of marble blocks
> And in the hot essence
> Of liquid bronze.
> They are waiting to be brought forth
> From the passionate heat of fusing metals
> Like infants into a crying world, 
> ...


Petrarch, your poem was very sequential, really telling a story and following a theme, something not many people did. i love some of your ideas - "Lacking the decency to emerge stillborn"; "the initiation of another birth". Your poem captured the contorted changelessness of the statue, forever stuck in a "monstrous, misshapen" form. i think that if the first stanza had been as good as the second, it might have been the winner. but i sort of felt that you really only hit your stride, and the rhythm you wanted, in the second part - although i do love the "infant into a crying world" in the first bit. i still thought that it was a wonderful poem, just a bit too storylike and not flowing enough in the first stanza.




> *Sculpting day.*
> 
> Im not wearing any clothes today.
> The sculptor makes me strike a silly pose,
> Balancing on my small and nimble toes.
> He slowly begins to shape me out of clay.
> 
> The pose is getting too hard for me now.
> All he shaped is my little, nimble fingers,
> ...


Aimus, your poem really made me laugh.  :FRlol:  the first line is great! and a lot of the rest is very good and funny too, and keeps on track without becoming boring. however, i thought your poem could have used more editing - the rhythm was off in several places, and the rhymes didn't seem quite right to me, like "cookie" and "rookie". i did like your rhyme's form, though; i haven't seen that ABBA structure before and i thought the way you did it was really cool, especially when you moderated it in the last line. so good poem!  :Smile:  




> The Recumbent
> 
> Oh those bitter mountain peaks
> Thin to meager pennies.
> The recumbent feels the fever
> The heart recoils into itself
> The eyes look back to youthful strife
> The end is here, this was life.
> 
> ...


One thing this poem did is teach me a new word!  :Tongue:  no, i didn't know what recumbent means.  :Bawling:  but all the same, Virgil, i liked this poem a lot even before dictionary'ing recumbent. i thought that you had a really cool idea - the quick phases of life, so dance if you can, while you can - if i got it right. but though your second and third long stanzas (the ones ending with "that was life") were very good, i thought the first one wasn't really connected. i did like the "dance, dance, little girl, dance" interludes, but i didn't really get the "recumbent" connection in places. However, as always, your writing makes me feel like finding out where you live, going over, shaking you, and saying "Teach me how to write!!!"  :Tongue:  




> _Solidly made, the inherited sacrificial drive
> comes easy, taught by other, older
> Goddesses of Wondering
> 
> Once, her unlined eyes mesmerized
> While her brushed cotton softness
> won her a place as the artists muse
> 
> now her embrace is useless, 
> ...


These last two poems, Riesa and Holograph's, made me wish that there could be allowed two winners for this contest. both these poems were beautiful. Riesa, the last part of your poem - the longest stanza - was absolutely wonderful, especially from the "Unconcerned with the woman" until the end. Your imagery is lovely, and i liked the way that you humanized the statue while still sort of keeping her confined in her bronze shell. But, though your poem was very good, it did have a few things that kept me from choosing it as the winner. A lot of the things you said were confusing, and didn't really connect to the picture - for instance, "brushed cotton softness", "shabby box", or the very first stanza. after the first two stanzas, i thought the rest was great - but i think that the poem could use a different beginning, and be a bit more true to the statue. unless i've gotten completely confused about what you were trying to say. but anyways, great poem, i had a lot of fun reading it.  :Wink:  




> The writhing past is cast 
> in weathered bronze
> 
> the changeless tides still 
> foaming at her rigid sides
> 
> [an eerie coo of rabid waves]
> 
> Push and pull
> ...


Holograph, your poem definitely gave me the most vivid images of any. the detached rhythm and the beautiful imagery, and the seeming disconnectedness the first time i read it, but which i was soon able to realize a common theme in - all of that made the poem a sort of great timeless, melancholy observation. i didn't really get the connection of several of the lines to the main idea - it was that the statue is like time, right? - but even when i didn't get them, they seemed to fit. you drew in a background for the sculpture, at least how i saw it; i felt like the statue was at the edge of a grey, endless sea, and i really felt something when i read the poem. Great job! can't wait to see your picture!  :Biggrin:  

and thanks everybody for submitting - i loved all the poems.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Congratulations Holograph!

And thanks for the comments Mir.  :Smile:

----------


## Virgil

Congratulations from me too Holograph. A very nice poem.

And thank you Mir.

----------


## Riesa

Congratulations Holograph!  :Biggrin:  

Thanks for the comments mir. I'm glad you liked it, sorry it confused you.  :Blush:  Ever since you posted the Rodin Pic, I was thinking of that film Camille Claudel, and those thoughts led to that poem, I suppose. Thanks for the comments!

----------


## AimusSage

Aye congrats Holograph. It's quite nice indeed  :Nod:

----------


## holograph

hey kids. mir, thank you so much for picking my scribbles as the winner of this very competetive, but very much fun, poetry contest. i don't think i deserved it. i read the one's everyone else posted and i thought, wow, i have no chance. virgil's, petrarch's riesa's aim's all were Amazing.

thanks again. I will post a cool pic, I promise. I need to be inspired.  :Angel:

----------


## holograph

-----------------------------------------------------------

----------


## holograph

I'm not religious, but this painting by Dali struck me. I'm not going to judge based on how close the poems are to my interpretation of the piece. I will look at the poem as its own entity, like a new critic would. Have fun, don't rush and good luck amigos. --Alina  :Smile:  

This one's called "The Cross of St. John" by Dali.

----------


## Orionsbelt

Holograph congratulations! I agree with the choice. Honorable mention for me goes to Virgil. 

Mir - No need to worry. I write because I like to not to gain points with other folks. I do however appreciate comments letting me know how it has affected you and other folks. I have not been since childhood a very detailed guy. No news here -- Lol :Wink:  Poor mum!

Having said that I am intrigued by Riesa's words"

"she’s gathered
from him who,
when memory stirs,
checks to see
if she is still capable
of affecting,
he finds
she isn’t, and disregards
the sentiment for a more
tangible ornament"

There is a storyteller in NY named Judith Black who touches this theme in a kind of ballad that she performed at the National Storytller's Conference this past summer. When I heard her story and watched the reaction of the largely female group, I conclude that this casting of thought in this way must be something close to the minds of many females (pure conjecture on my part). It is an ancient theme sewn through many folk tales in many countries. Not judging here just noticing. I don't know if Riesa is male or female. From my point of view interesting... I wonder if Carl Jung is reading along? :Tongue:  

Next Picture Wooah! I  :Eek:  have to think some on this one!

Great day all.  :Banana:  Looking forward to reading some more cool stuff. :Thumbs Up:

----------


## Virgil

Wow. I just saw the photo. That is a fantastic Dali. I have never seen it before, and may be the best Dali I've ever seen. For the most part I've never been overwhelmed with Dali. But this one is great. I will need a little time to think on this one.

----------


## miss tenderness

congarts Holo :Smile:

----------


## holograph

Thanks Ms. T.  :Smile: 

OK, so to keep this contest moving, let's make the deadline eh, next Wed. night at 9 PM. Let's get some entries kids. <3

----------


## mir

ack!!!

i'm working on it, holo!! i keep getting good ideas and forgetting to write them down!  :Tongue:

----------


## mir

OK! sorry it took so long, Holo - we love you, we're just slow poets!  :Tongue: 

Empty Eucharist
Hung in endless sky
Below, the boats
Wait their own chance to die.

Consecrated cross
Clouds swelled red with blood
Shifting seas
High and low both the flood.

Prickling punishment
The thorns in his crown
Forgive the fishermen
And lay your burden down.

----------


## Virgil

Oh I'm working on it too. I hope I have a few more weeks.

----------


## Orionsbelt

I'm working on it too but the left brain stuff keeps stepping on the words... :Goof:

----------


## ktd222

I'm suprised only one poem has been posted so far, for this image.

----------


## Virgil

> I'm suprised only one poem has been posted so far, for this image.


We've only had the picture about a week. We normally get several weeks.

----------


## holograph

mhm. i won't rush you guys, even though I am russian. hehe. inside joke with myself. ----mmmm great entry mir.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

..........

----------


## Petrarch's Love

OK, here's my entry, since Holo is Russian into things  :Wink:  :
edit: I can't figure out why it's posting mine before thefemalemind's entry, since hers was already there when I posted, but I guess I'll just have to accept that the ways of computers are many and mysterious. :Goof:  

*In Nomine Patris et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti
(In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit)*

Water smooth and flat to conceal its sins,
Blameless face of blue presents itself
To the pillars of the light of heaven
Which pierce through the remnants of the storm.
The trinity stand by the waveless sea:
Papa distant where his old blue boat is tied,
Oldest brother with the nets in hand,
Middle brother ankle deep beside
The boat with a knot like an eye in its prow.
All have been witness to the same event.
_
Pater noster, qui es in caelis_
Our father, our father, the words come by instinct
To the minds of the trinity on the shore,
Words come from the years of childhood kneeling 
Between Mama and Papa in Sunday best.
Words come from the years of fatherhood kneeling 
Beside their own children and wives. Words come
As they came to the youngest brother in his last moment.
_Fiat voluntas tua, sicut in caelo et in terra_
Our father, your will be done; your will be done.
The words came by instinct to their son and brother,
Who had knelt beside them with his wife and child
Whom theyd watched as a baby carried with hope 
To the priest for the blessing of water,
Whom theyd watched as the water choked him
In the midst of his prayer to an angry sky.

_Et dimitte nobis debita nostra,_
Our father, forgive us, forgive us.
Our father, are you in heaven?
Our father, can we forgive the trespasses against us?
Our father, you know not what you do.
We ask you to deliver us from evil
And you take away our good, our brother and our son.
Our father? Our father? The words come by instinct
From something born in them, from before birth.

And the unseen questions rise to where
Unseen nails suspend incarnate anguish
While the bones snap and muscles tear 
And the neck, limp with suffering, drops the head.
The page above the bending neck presents no INRI,
No explanation, only a blameless face of white-a _tabula rasa_.
The light illumines pain on earth as it is in heaven
All else is darkness 
As the Son lowers his head over the bending world.

----------


## thefemalemind

_Hello! I'd like to try out this contest but it might take a while for me to get a poem done for this picture! how much time do we have left?_

----------


## thefemalemind

_He made a sacrafice
On the cross where He lay.
The work of His beauty
Stunned in dismay.
He looks down apon us,
His soul very tired,
A gentle smile
Was all that was required
To mend the bleeding,
Hurt,
Needing.
He looks down apon us
With love and care.
For his children,
He will always be there.
He floats softly
In vast skies of gray
Because He made a sacrafice
On the cross where He lay._

By: The Female Mind
Krista

----------


## thefemalemind

its been doing that to me too in other threads.

----------


## Taliesin

Okay, out of the blue it came, but it was fun writing it:


Out of the blackness
between the blue water
and blue mirage of heavens
a cross-shaped conture
hung out for forever
flies.
And all the sunken boats come to surface
dead bodies grasping air
people stepping out from the trees
into which they grew 
in graveyards.
stepping out from the heat of the ovens 
and boxes in museums.
"where the hell is my left foot?"
somebody, forgetting when he is,
speaks.
Somebody, whose body was long stored away
for the glory of history.
Everybody, in long patient files
waiting for Judgement.
But the figure flies on
uncaring of the files below
freely
without having to stand for anyones' hope
suffer for the guilty
with no responsibility left
it has all passed on
and he can rest now.
Last chance of
bading goodbye
to the blue skies
which won't be here tomorrow.
Sunset of the world.
The Son is free.
Flying
exalted
as if it was the last day of Earth
into the dying skies.
Lightness is unbearable.
How do they deal with it?

----------


## Riesa

Light
ever bound to dark,
as truth to deceit,
far below vertiginous heights



depths
whirl away,
flotsam and jetsam
grip and ride
sucking,
twist-
ing
waves

Hanged man
shimmering
in the oily heat,
flies tickle and drink;

but agony ends,
adjusts to pain by
turning numb,
and he has witnessed,
in a metamorphic flash


toed-fish
slink from the primordial deep
mammoth beasts fall,
and furred, grimy hunters
reflect fire in dark eyes

and
begin to sing

and
forget to sing as 
blades dig, scrape earth and tender flesh,
flesh bathed in war's craze,
hate in hot and sultry waves,
the grim disdain of God's soldier 
meting out ordered death.

Hanged man beyond broken:
_this is not what I meant, no
You were mistaken,
let me go, Father
let me join the dead gods.
There was no hope._

(And yet, 
salvaged from the muck
of humanitys wreck,
deep in an expanse of 
sea,
a sailor,
boat tied to the rhythm of 
Southern winds, 
sailing quiet 
beneath
Cassiopeia;

Stargazer 
on the clean wooden deck 
night cracking open, 
spilling starlight so potent
he opens his soul and howls
unsuppressed.)

----------


## holograph

nice. good job everyone. impressive, impressive. virg, cmon out with it. ill give you guys a few more days. woot.

----------


## Virgil

> nice. good job everyone. impressive, impressive. virg, cmon out with it. ill give you guys a few more days. woot.


Oh please let me have one more weekend. :Bawling:

----------


## Orionsbelt

Hi,

My appologies but I haven't been able to work on this at all so don't wait on me I'll catch up on the next one.  :Sick:

----------


## holograph

ok kids, ill give you another 48 hrs. but that's it.  :Smile:  cmon virg and orion. you still have some time.

----------


## Virgil

Just finishing up, Halo. I'll post my poem within an hour. Thanks.

----------


## Virgil

OK, here's my poem. I don't have a clear sense of an assessment, but I'm sure you will tell me.





> *The Rivet*
> 
> A thunderous evening and the last moments of human marrow.
> This is the moment that life severs to spirit,
> That timber crosses to pole,
> When positive and negative lose static opposition.
> As the earth spins in perpetual motion
> It spins along the axis of this cross,
> Along the axis of this body, poor and beaten.
> ...

----------


## miss tenderness

you guys all are amazing, seriously, I couldn't make up my mind as to who's the best :Thumbs Up:

----------


## Riesa

nice poem, Virgil! yep. darn.  :Biggrin:  oh, well.

----------


## ShoutGrace

Are we allowed to comment on the submitted poems, and ask questions of the submitters? 

Maybe on an individually assented basis?

----------


## Virgil

> Are we allowed to comment on the submitted poems, and ask questions of the submitters? 
> 
> Maybe on an individually assented basis?


Why don't you do that, Shout, after a winner is chosen? Otherwise it might influence the decision.

----------


## ShoutGrace

I guess I will, but I wouldn't want to talk about someone's work if they weren't up for that (like the short story competition). Though the judges have been critiquing the submissions so far, so I guess it's expected.

----------


## Virgil

> I guess I will, but I wouldn't want to talk about someone's work if they weren't up for that (like the short story competition). Though the judges have been critiquing the submissions so far, so I guess it's expected.


Well, the short story contest is an official lit net contest; this poetry contest is completely informal and done as a member inspired thread.

BTW, Shout did you read my short story in that contest, "Shop Talk?" What did you think? I didn't get many comments. Here I set up a thread for comments: http://www.online-literature.com/for...447#post280447.

----------


## thefemalemind

so when is the judging?

----------


## Petrarch's Love

> Are we allowed to comment on the submitted poems, and ask questions of the submitters?
> 
> Maybe on an individually assented basis?


Virg. is probably right about not wanting to influence the judging with comments beforehand, and I also wonder if the thread might get cluttered and hard to follow if people were commenting back to different past poems at the same time as new submissions were coming in. I've wanted to comment on peoples' poems too though, and been curious about other reactions to my own. Maybe what would work best is to do something like what's done with the short story contest. If people would like further remarks about their poems they could start up a thread for comments in the "personal poetry" section of the forum for that purpose. What does everyone think? Would that work? If you really wanted to comment on someone's poem and he/she didn't offer up a thread for comment on it in the forums, you could always pm her/him and ask if he/she would mind getting some feedback privately or would be willing to post a thread for further discussion of her/his poem.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Virg.--I hadn't seen your story. I enjoyed reading it and left some (hopefully helpful) comments on the thread you started.  :Smile:

----------


## Virgil

> Virg. is probably right about not wanting to influence the judging with comments beforehand, and I also wonder if the thread might get cluttered and hard to follow if people were commenting back to different past poems at the same time as new submissions were coming in. I've wanted to comment on peoples' poems too though, and been curious about other reactions to my own. Maybe what would work best is to do something like what's done with the short story contest. If people would like further remarks about their poems they could start up a thread for comments in the "personal poetry" section of the forum for that purpose. What does everyone think? Would that work? If you really wanted to comment on someone's poem and he/she didn't offer up a thread for comment on it in the forums, you could always pm her/him and ask if he/she would mind getting some feedback privately or would be willing to post a thread for further discussion of her/his poem.


Good idea, Petrarch.

----------


## Janine

Virgil, interesting poem. Fresh way of seeing the painting. The painting is phenomenal. One of Dali's best, my favorite actually; it is housed in a museum in Scotland. I missed seeing it at the Philadelphia Dali Show last fall; unfortunately it went back early. Dali's work is wonderful. I saw the show twice! 

Hello, everyone else. I read 12 pages into this poetry contest and love it!!! I am truly impressed - so much talent here. Hey, how long does it take to write one of these poems? I don't think I should attempt one, or not yet. At any rate this thread is very entertaining and I love the photos. I loved the boat on the shore photo....really luminous. Nice poem Virgil, think you won that one - the epic! Petrarch's poems are appealing to me (kind of romantic), Reisa has some nice stuff, too. I really enjoyed and and liked most of the postings. I need to re-read many of them. Good job to all. Wish I had your talent! This thread is a smart idea. :Idea:

----------


## Janine

There are many good poems for this photo. I forgot to say that. I wanted to commend everyone. It sure will be hard to judge. Everyone did such a fine job. The photo must really have inspired you.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Thanks for your kind comments, Janine. I know I've been impressed with the contributions of the other poets on this thread. I hope you'll think about joining our happy band in the next round. Even if you haven't done much poetry, you may find it really enjoyable, and we're always glad to add a new voice to the mix.  :Smile:

----------


## Janine

Thanks Petrarch, so kind of you to ask me to join in. I am afraid I am a better artist, than a poet. I dapple once in awhile in words, but not too seriously, and later read what I have written and feel it is trite. We will see. Maybe I could come up with something simple to start with. It seems that people are naturals to post such original ideas one after another. How long does it take to write one? Or how long would one have to do it? It seems in reading them, they were just dashed off of ones head. But that is not to say they certainly are good and worth reading, because they really are! Quite entertaining to have found this thread. Thanks again everyone!

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## holograph

OK KIDS. CONTEST IS OFFICIALLY CLOSED. CERRADO. PUNTO. THE JUDGMENT (hehe) WILL ARRIVE SOON. 

But, let me just say--you guys are great, really. Not only do you have souls (if you don't, at least you've infused your poetry with some [jk]) but you are talented, really. I will judge very soon. There will be no real basis for my judgment/ it will be subjective but well thought out and base don poetry not history of victories.. I apologize. I wanted to make sure everyone had a chance, and I have college apps. I hate my life. cheerios.

----------


## holograph

i just realized that my previous comment makes no sense.

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## Janine

holograph - what did you mean at the end? About hating your life? Anyway, I read your profile and "Demian" was my favorite Hesse book, the first I read. I read it many many years ago. Is the signiature on your post a quote from the same book? Just curious?

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## Janine

What happened to the poetry contest? When will it be judged. I been awaiting the results.

----------


## toni

Can I join the next contest? I just discovered this thread and regretted of not having found it sooner...

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## Virgil

> Can I join the next contest? I just discovered this thread and regretted of not having found it sooner...


Of course. Just wait for the winner to post the new picture.

When is Holo going to announce the winner?

----------


## thefemalemind

> What happened to the poetry contest? When will it be judged. I been awaiting the results.


i was wondering too....

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## Janine

Toni, welcome and certainly join in. It is fun. Bascially I am still an observer, but it will be interesting to see new talent in here. The poems so far have been really great! Can't wait till a new photo is picked. Hope to read one of yours soon.

----------


## toni

Thanks, Janine! I can't wait for the next photo either... Hope it won't take long..

----------


## holograph

Alright, I'm sorry to have kept you waiting. Life has been a bit hectic for me lately. Janine I was only joking about actually hating my life. When Im under a great deal of stress my mind becomes a bag of noodles. Anyway, yes Hesse is one of my favorite writers, and the quote is from Demian.  :Smile:  

I am not going to over-comment on the poems. Just briefly highlight some points to preserve each ones integrity. This, as always, was a difficult decision. I take off my imaginary hat to you all--you did a fantastic job. Poetry is a painstaking art, I know that. There will be no negative comments from me by the way, only happy thoughts. However, what I was specifically looking for was a cold anguish omnipresent in the painting. The nothingness, the representation of Christ as the suffering of mankind. Etc.

And now

*MIR*- your poem was great. Short and sweet with undertones of foreboding. _Empty Eucharist...lay your burden down_. Very nice. Kudos.

*PETRARCH*- descriptive, beautiful, story-like, holding true to your style. Capturing an anguish evident in the painting--As the Son lowers his head over the bending world.

_Unseen nails suspend incarnate anguish
While the bones snap and muscles tear 
And the neck, limp with suffering, drops the head._
[Awesome descriptions.]

*FEMME*- welcome to the poetry contest. good job on your first entry: pretty, very hymn like. It was very sweet and it rhymed, which was cute and refreshing. 

_He floats softly
In vast skies of gray
Because He made a sacrafice
On the cross where He lay._


*TALIESIN*- Interesting and pretty well done. I especially liked your spurts of rhyme in the middle. Oh, and "where the hell is my left foot?"ßlol. 

_Last chance of
bading goodbye
to the blue skies
which won't be here tomorrow.
Sunset of the world.
The Son is free._

*RIESA*- mmmmm. Beautiful. Every line is quotable, thats what I like. Descriptions are rich. Nice rhythm, as well. Very, very well written. Oh, and there is the overtone of writhing anguish that I was looking for.

_and
forget to sing as 
blades dig, scrape earth and tender flesh,
flesh bathed in war's craze,
hate in hot and sultry waves,
the grim disdain of God's soldier 
meting out ordered death._

In the colloquial language of my peers, I must say word. to this poem. If you dont know what that means, its ok. It means I think its fantastic.

*VIRGIL*-Also a fascinating, very well written poem. Excellent descriptions, also all quotable. You, mi amigo, are a poet. I like the thought pattern in this one, and the conflict Christ is having with himself.

_No, the flesh is gone, but the rivet remains.
The spinning earth, the expanding universe,
The hills are fixed to earth._ 

Yes, thats all we have, isnt it? Great job.

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## holograph

Wait, so who wins this one?

There are no rankings or winners or losers in poetry.  :Tongue:  

Congratulations, you all win.  :Bday 2:  

But I would like Riesa to pick the next picture.  :Thumbs Up:

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## Virgil

Thank you Holograph. That was fun!! All poems were very good. It would have been tough to judge, and i'm glad it wasn't me. Pick a good one, Riesa.

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## ShoutGrace

I agree, every entry was fantastic. It was PL's that I wanted to talk about.  :Blush:  


That excerpt you took out was good, Holograph, and there were so many ideas there . . . one of the first things that struck me about the picture was the lack of the INRI on the cross - for some reason or another, so I was excited that she mentioned it.  :Biggrin: 

Maybe I'll just send you a PM *Petrarch's Love*.  :Smile:

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## Psycheinaboat

I look forward to attempting to participate in the next contest. Hurry up and pick!  :Smile:

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## Petrarch's Love

Congrats Riesa! And great job everyone else too. I sympathize with the difficulty of Holo's judging task. Looking forward to the next pic. 




> That excerpt you took out was good, Holograph, and there were so many ideas there . . . one of the first things that struck me about the picture was the lack of the INRI on the cross - for some reason or another, so I was excited that she mentioned it.
> 
> Maybe I'll just send you a PM Petrarch's Love.


Thanks for showing the interests, David. I'll initiate the new option of opening ancillary threads for commentary by starting up a thread for my poem for this round where you and anyone else with a mind to can comment and question. It would be great if some of the other entries wanted to similarly start up threads so we could continue discussing this really good batch of poems even as we move into the next contest round.  :Smile:

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## mir

WooT! nice job, Riesa, and everybody else!! and welcome to all the new people joining this thread; it's really exciting to get some new poets.

Petrarch, that's a very good idea about posting the poems on new threads - i'll start a thread on mine, and anybody can comment or bash it all they want.  :Biggrin: 

also, Holo, those were lovely critiques. thank you.

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## Riesa

all of the entries were amazing, it was a difficult image to write on. Thanks for the comments, holo, and entrusting me with choosing the next picture.

I'll try to make the new image as challenging as holos. I'm looking forward to all of the new contestants entries too, and I foresee a difficult decision ahead of me.

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## ktd222

Congratulations all! Good job. Some great works!

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## Laura11

Oh, yes yes yes, I'm very interested. It's just things to do, little time and... may I say I don't dare participate for I think Xamonas' poem is unbeatable. Waw I like it so much, it was a real delight.
I continue reading you all. It's really a pleasure.
Laura

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## Laura11

Oh, yes yes yes, I'm very interested. It's just things to do, little time and... may I say I don't dare participate for I think Xamonas' poem is unbeatable. Waw I like it so much, it was a real delight.
I continue reading you all. It's really a pleasure.
Laura

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## Laura11

I don't understand what's happening: I'm trying to reply to another thred and I find my messages here!
 :Crash:

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## Laura11

Well, I'm new and I hope you help me with this forum.

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## Janine

To holograph - this is really great since I feel this way very often, too often really. Nicely expressed in your quote - "When Im under a great deal of stress my mind becomes a bag of noodles." Great analogy - all those noodles swimming around in ones head!

WELCOME - to all the new people expressing a desire to write a poem. Can't wait to see what you come up with. So far, I am on the sidelines observing and reading them - very enjoyable! Last contest was amazing and no wonder a winner could not be picked. I guess it was a tie. Well, that is fine, too. Everyone was a winner - how nice :Biggrin:  

Good points brought out on your critical reviews - holograph. Bye, the way, glad you don't really hate your life. No apologies necessary - everyone is busy with real life...not just virtual life, on this site. 

Any luck finding a new photo - who's picking - is it you, Riesa? Anxious to see the next photo you post. I like your avatar. :Smile:

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## holograph

:Banana: .

[mm, Janina, I have to do college applications, so I am completely out of it. Essays, essays, essays, and I don't know what the heck to write about. Life is an "empty Eucharist" sometimes, isn't it?  :Smile: ].

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## Riesa

Okay guys: after much deliberating and google image searching I decided on:



I'm looking for this empty mirror to be filled with honesty and heart when all is said and done, don't be shy, indulge your vanity! Every artist must create a self-portrait at some time or another, now's the chance to show the world, or at least the interested readers, yourself.  :Biggrin:  "Know Thyself", urges Plato, (I think it was Plato, anyway.)

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## Virgil

What a fabulous idea. Too bad you can't participate yourself, Riesa. I would like to see what ou come up for yourself.  :Wink:

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## Riesa

I'll write my own version and give it to you for christmas.  :FRlol:   :Wink:

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## Taliesin

How much time have we got?

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## Riesa

how about December 4th? that gives two weeks plus a weekend. That's not set in stone but we could begin to wrap it up around then. Is that enough time?

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## Virgil

The old rule Riesa was when we had enough 5-6 entries to have a reasonable quantity. I have to admit I'm terribly slow at this.

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## Riesa

well, it's flexible. we'll see how it goes.

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## Laura11

I'm trying to reply here, what's happening?

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## Laura11

I don't understand what's happening, I was replying in another discussion and unce submitted I find my reply here, in a different thred.
Astonishing. Could you help me?

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## Laura11

> no  maybe i'll just give it a few weeks


I'm very interested in this matter and I liked poem with the rhythm, I can't say the author now....

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## Petrarch's Love

Laura 11--What are you trying to reply to? Was it to a post earlier on this thread perhaps (a thread is made up of multiple pages)? I noticed you quoted from something Blondeatheart posted back in May and I thought perhaps you didn't understand that you can only post a response after the most recent post on a thread. If you hit the "post response" button under the post you quoted from blondeatheart on the first page of the thread then your response would logically end up here on the last page of the thread. If you want to make comments on earlier posts you can do so by quoting them. Incidently, I haven't seen Blondeatheart on the forums in a few months. I don't know where she's got to. 

If you mean that you're on a completely different thread with a different topic then maybe you should try asking Logos or one of the other mods for help with the problem. Hope this helps.

By the way, welcome to the forums! I hope you enjoy it here.  :Smile:

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## Laura11

I'm very interested in this issue, go on please.

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## Petrarch's Love

Riesa--What an interesting idea. I'll have to give this one some introspective thought (either that or stand in front of the mirror and make faces for a few hours  :FRlol:  ).

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## Laura11

Thank you very much, Petrarch. I'm new here and I'm so confused! But I hope I'll get the knack of it all in this forum. And I'll continue reading and posting messages here to learn.

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## Laura11

...and the poem I liked so much is Xamonas Chegwe's. The discussion is "poetry context". 
I'll continue searching. This forum is not like the ones I've been to.

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## Petrarch's Love

> ...and the poem I liked so much is Xamonas Chegwe's. The discussion is "poetry context".
> I'll continue searching. This forum is not like the ones I've been to.


Yes, you're still on the "poetry contest" thread. Xamonas' poem was on page 1 of this thread (you'll notice the page numbers listed to the upper left of where the posts appear). If you click on page 4 of the thread (post #48) you'll see that his poem won the contest for that round. Currently the thread is 25 pages long (with 363 posts counting this one), so any new posts will pop up on page 25.

By the way, unfortunately Xamonas isn't posting here anymore, but I'm sure he would be glad that you liked his poem.

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## Riesa

> Riesa--What an interesting idea. I'll have to give this one some introspective thought (either that or stand in front of the mirror and make faces for a few hours  ).



well, Petrarch, if you stand in front of the mirror and make faces for a few hours you'll certainly break through some kind of barrier, perhaps the _sane_ kind of barrier, but the resulting poem will certainly be interesting.  :Tongue:  
 :FRlol:

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## Pensive

Very interesting image! I hope to submit a poem soon.  :Smile:

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## toni

Very interesting Image there, Riesa. It will be my first time to join this contest and honestly, Im a bit nervous because you all are terribly talented poets! I will try my very best and it is really good that the deadline is still on December 4th! Very Good for me..I even saved it as my desktop background so I can always delve on the photo.

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## Pensive

> Okay guys: after much deliberating and google image searching I decided on:
> 
> 
> 
> I'm looking for this empty mirror to be filled with honesty and heart when all is said and done, don't be shy, indulge your vanity! Every artist must create a self-portrait at some time or another, now's the chance to show the world, or at least the interested readers, yourself.  "Know Thyself", urges Plato, (I think it was Plato, anyway.)


This is my first free poem, without any rhythm and rhyme. I know it will be a heck but couldn't resist writing it down.  :Smile:  

I am always unhappy
When I stop and think
Wake up and see what I am

I pushed her away when she asked me out
But I shouted, cried and wept bitterly
When the one I loved went for another man

While driving a car, I saw a begger
She asked me for money for her good
I shouted and sweared at her

In the meetings I talk about helping poor
Never did anything for them personally
Here I am dead sure

I am the one who provokes women rights
Every women should have them
Other than my sister, daughter, mother and wife

Peace, peace, peace and peace
That's what I say I always preach
But my own house resembles war ground everyday

Leg-pulling is what I do even with those,
Whom I call my very dear friends
Listen up friends! This is my profession

I like it when I am busy
Everything is then so different
From when I wake up and see
Realize what really I am!

I am a politician
A f****** b******!

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## Virgil

> I am a politician
> A f****** b******!


 :FRlol:   :FRlol:  Is that the Pensy I know who actually wrote that? Goodness Pensy! But that was a wonderful poem and self portrait.

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## Pensive

> Is that the Pensy I know who actually wrote that? Goodness Pensy! But that was a wonderful poem and self portrait.


Well, I imagined myself as a Pakistani politician (believe me they are artists in deceiving people) and that's what came into my mind.  :Frown:  God forbid my crappy mood.

It is a famous Urdu proverb about _siasatdan_ (Politicians)

Jab paida hoa siasatdan to shaytan ne kaha
Lo aaj mein bjhi sahab'e oolad ho gaya.

It means that when the politician was born, devil said that he had become a father.

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## Virgil

> Well, I imagined myself as a Pakistani politician (believe me they are artists in deceiving people) and that's what came into my mind.  God forbid my crappy mood.
> 
> It is a famous Urdu proverb about _siasatdan_ (Politicians)
> 
> Jab paida hoa siasatdan to shaytan ne kaha
> Lo aaj mein bjhi sahab'e oolad ho gaya.
> 
> It means that when the politician was born, devil said that he had become a father.


  :FRlol:  I think it's all politicians, everywhere. It's universal. Perhaps some worst than others.

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## Pensive

> I think it's all politicians, everywhere. It's universal. Perhaps some worst than others.


I will have to agree here. Politics is a dirty game, whether played in Arctic region, or in Pakistan.

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## Janine

Interesting image and interesting idea Pensive! I may write something to this one....we will see. Atist's love picture/mirror frames and they all do self portraits....hummm......

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## mir

???????????

??!!!!!!!!!!

i posted a poem and it didn't display!!!!! and i didn't save it either!!!

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## Orionsbelt

OK here we go :Biggrin:  

Silver drop falls start to end, 
Tracing ribbons bow and bend,

Top to bottom creeping down,
Seek the sea wherein to drown,

Pass ra shi da forth and back,
Right on left the glassy track,

What is real and what is not,
Regard brahman deep in thought,

Were I he and were he me,
Where in us would conscious be,

Is it whimsy, life, or dream,
Sun, and moon, or cosmic gleam,

Passing on, then return,
Fuel for corporeal eternal churn,

Contemplate those eyes staring at you, staring at you, staring at you

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## Janine

"Were I he and were he me,
Where in us would conscious be,

Is it whimsy, life, or dream,
Sun, and moon, or cosmic gleam"

I especially like this part - Orionsbelt. You must be the first contestant. Good job! 

Poor Mir seems to have lost his poem and did not save it - that is sad  :Bawling:  So sorry.....

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## Orionsbelt

Thank You Janine. I'd say I was the second since Mir's has taken flight over the net to land in some far off place. I missed the last round. The whole real life thing getting in the way. Anyway looking forward to see what others have to offer including Janine.  :Wave:

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## Laura11

Hi, could you tell me what is the difference between the post reply on the left and the quick reply on the right? Or is it the same?
I think now I'm responding to the entire thread, the other icon for reply must be for replying to a single message, isn't it?
Thank you
Laura

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## Laura11

Hello again.

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## toni

Hi Laura!  :Smile:  The post reply on the left, you use if you want to use the other thingies like the bold or the italics and smilies. The quick reply, is, most definitely quicker, this is the one I use. It doesn't matter which one you use, it still counts as a reply. did I explain that well? :Smile:  :Smile:

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## Janine

Hi Laura, if you do the "Go Advanced" you can first view your post as it will appear; that way you can edit it first or correct typos or spelling mistakes or grammar, etc. I use that one, from now on, unless I am just posting a few lines. There is a full tool bar on that and you can underline, make bold, etc. your text....and add smilies if you choose to. It is more fun!

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## mir

okee, can't resist. here is a NEW poem.  :Tongue: 

Silvered glass, what does it show?
By now i should really know!
Staring in, what do i see
As myself stares back at me?

Bright-black eyes and button nose
Silky hair which grows and grows
Four long limbs, one head, two ears
Charcoal body, two white tears.

Every surface bears short fur,
Whiskers sprout from pink mouth's purr
Skinny tail, paws padding nearer - 
Come on, cat, get off the mirror!

 :Biggrin:

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## Janine

Cool Mir using a cat. I love cats. Don't think Janine will be making a poem this month. Things got so busy (in real life) all of a sudden. Cleaning and decorating is beaconing me. If we had till about January I might settle down and think of something brilliant...we will see. It might come to me while I am drudging along with the hated tasks of cleaning and dragging decorations out. Can I say (?) - I liked you poem. Hope it won't influence the judging. I just wanted to stop by to see what has been happening on here lately. You guys all write terrific stuff!

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## Taliesin

Considering it being made on the last minute we wrote it out of the blue, with no plans or anything. But here it is. "Kiigele!" is a phrase meaning "to the swing!"in Estonian. Often used in older swinging folksongs as a one-word refraine.


Swing 

Up and down 
Before and after. (Kiigele!)
Up and down
Before and after. (Kiigele!)
Me and Us
I and We. (Kiigele!)
Verve is building high
from one side to another. (Kiigele!)
Before and after
Past-future-now. (Kiigele!)
Town before us
delicate little alleyways full of possibilities(Kiigele!)
Intellect and wit. Friends.
Culture. (Kiige-)
Me? Us. (-le!)
Marsh behind me
its bogs crying for the words and wisemen (Kiigele!)
and mittens with old patterns that ward off evil but what nobody can read anymore
besides the cranes but they fly off with aurora boreolis (Kiigele!)
to the land of Toonela, to visit the dead
and those unborn yet (Kiigele!)
Blood. (Kiige-
Us. Me? (-le!)
Town before us
little cafes, bookstores (Kiigele!)
Kafka and Rachmaninov
Coffee. Would you agree? No? (Kiigele?)
Very well then. Meet again at six o'clock tomorrow, shall We?
Shall I? (Kiigele!)
Crows and cyberpunk and midtown.
Punk. Hippies. Bohemianism. Postmodernism. (Kiigele!)
Till this evening is this morning life is fine.
Unless the Evening fails. God bless Spengler. (Kiigele!)
Culture. (Kiige-)
Me. Us. (-le!)
Marsh behind us
Polaris reflecting from the midnight bogs (Kiigele!)
Moss makes plasters to bind wounds and mouth
but also intellect? Will it free us of that? Will it free us of me? (Kiigele!)
Stones and trees are forgetting their songs
in the walls of the supermarkets. In the pages of books. (Kiigele!)
How old am I really?
How old are we really? (Kiigele!)
Blood. (Kiige-
Me. Us. (-le!)
Where can you find a smith strong enough to hammer together 
the past and the future? Culture and land? Me and us? (Kiigele!)
With sheepswool and Internet bound together
into one thick yarn (Kiigele!)
both light and dark. Both day and night
and ink and paper (Kiigele!)
To bind together the two sides of the coin
into myself (Kiigele!)
by an old crone in the end of the world
who watches over the fate of humans (Kiigele!)
and also the movie adaptation of Agatha Christie novels
Her spinning wheel turns with the speed of light and thought. (Kiigele!)
Could it be?
Should it be?(Kiigele!)
Swing goes faster and higher
until I fly so high (Kiigele!)
that I make a circle
of past and future (Kiigele!)
there are no contradictions left.
And one equals many.

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## Pendragon

Of course the name at the bottom of this villanelle is me!

Carpe Diem

He wakes me up before the alarm clock rings,
And I rub my eyes and groan and grumble;
But he shouts, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

He goes downstairs, and starts to sing,
While, wondering if I actually got any sleep for my clothes I fumble.
_He wakes me up before the alarm clock rings!_

He plays cat’s cradle with a piece of string—
While I have my coffee—black and strong! A double!
But he shouts, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

He’s off again, like a new fledged bird on wings!
I rub my eyes, and stretch, yawn and stumble.
_He wakes me up before the alarm clock rings!_

Sighing inside, I try my best to keep up with his youthful springs,
Mouth ever ready to shout: “Keep out of trouble!”
But he shouts, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

Ah, wretched time! What a curse the passing years bring!
Now my son is the one watching a little son blow bubbles.
But I remember how He woke me up before the alarm clock rang!
And shouted, “Hey, Dad! Let’s do something!”

&#169; 1996 D. L. Harris

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## Pensive

These are amazing poems, Pendragon and Taliesin!  :Thumbs Up:   :Biggrin:  




> And one equals many.


Got the mystery behind "we."  :Tongue:  

I (we?) better should start calling myself (ourselves?) "we"? Because I (we?) equal many.  :Tongue:  

This is an interesting idea man!  :Biggrin:  _Seriously_

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## Riesa

As requested the deadline has been extended to Dec 18th. so the rest of you scribblers get busy! great stuff so far.

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## Laindessiel

Wow! Toni can still legally join! She'll be elatedly relieved. With all the books to read (she's bought 3 more while 3 books are still lined up on the shelf, waiting to be read), newspapers to flip, School and this forum, she hardly has time to make an entry for this contest. But she'll be able to now....Thanks Reisa!

*Shouts* "Toooooooooooooooonnnnniiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii iiii, gueeeeeeeessss whaaatttt???!!!!!"

----------


## bookworm246

> OK, so it's not rlly a contest, there's no prize, it's just a bit of fun. 
> 
> Here's how it goes: someone posts a picture and everyone who wants to has at least a week to write a poem based on/inspired by that picture. After that, the person who originally posted the picture decides who's poem they like best, and that person posts the next picture and so on.
> 
> After at least ten poems have been submitted, the 'judging' begins. The final choice must be explained.
> 
> note: We should probably move this into the Games section at some point.
> Anyway,
> I'll start:





Every road has en end, but my end isn't going to begin.
Without my beginnig, I won't have to worry about ending and losing you for ever. Without the chance of losing you, I won't have to cry. And without the tears in my eyes, I won't have to be afraid of not seeing you there at the end, where it all began.

----------


## Laindessiel

> OK here we go 
> 
> Silver drop falls start to end, 
> Tracing ribbons bow and bend,
> 
> Top to bottom creeping down,
> Seek the sea wherein to drown,
> 
> Pass ra shi da forth and back,
> ...


If you can be like Clark Kent and read my mind right now, "THIS IS SO DARN GOOD" can be deciphered. And add to the fact that the last words in each line rhymes! I love rhyming!

Good job, Orion!  :Thumbs Up:  




> Of course the name at the bottom of this villanelle is me!
> 
> Carpe Diem
> 
> He wakes me up before the alarm clock rings,
> And I rub my eyes and groan and grumble;
> But he shouts, Hey, Dad! Lets do something!
> 
> He goes downstairs, and starts to sing,
> ...


But ofcourse I can't resist my Uncle's villanelle. As _usual_, it's no surprise you made me smile again, Uncle Pen. Villanelles are hard to make!  :Nod: 




> This is my first free poem, without any rhythm and rhyme. I know it will be a heck but couldn't resist writing it down.  
> 
> I am always unhappy
> When I stop and think
> Wake up and see what I am
> 
> I pushed her away when she asked me out
> But I shouted, cried and wept bitterly
> When the one I loved went for another man
> ...


Haha Pense, I can't even get myself to write those asterisks in place of the _actual word_. It's too horrid for me. But you are brave enough! 

In politics, there is no good. There's only worse or worst.  :Sick:  

Man, this contest is tight. :Thumbs Up:

----------


## bookworm246

I'm lost. No idea where I am. Just wondering around. Hoping I find my way. But if I don't. It's not the end of the world. Just of me finding out what I really knew in the first place. Nothing.

----------


## mir

? . . . 

is that your poem, bookworm . . . ?

anyways, cheer up!  :Smile:  it's not where you end up that counts, it's how you get there. 'cause we all end up dead anyways! 

umm . . . . OK, perhaps that wasn't the most cheerful thing. But cheer up anyways. we love you! and existentialism/nihilism/solipsism (i never can tell them apart) are cool.

----------


## Janine

So happy we have an extended date. I will have to think of one when I am out shopping for gifts. Maybe by the 16th I can come up with a little one at least. I have some ideas. Thanks for extending the contest.

----------


## toni

Yeah, thank you, Reisa! I'll promise I'll work hard on it.. :Biggrin:

----------


## Pendragon

> Originally Posted by Pensive 
> This is my first free poem, without any rhythm and rhyme. I know it will be a heck but couldn't resist writing it down. 
> 
> I am always unhappy
> When I stop and think
> Wake up and see what I am
> 
> I pushed her away when she asked me out
> But I shouted, cried and wept bitterly
> ...


I have always thought free verse harder to write than form poetry, but you did very well, Pensy. I just cannot imagine you as even writing the last line, for you certainly are not that type of person! Too kindhearted!  :Wink:  But, yeah, we all have our days when we snap and snarl at the world like a rabid dog!  :FRlol:

----------


## Pensive

> I have always thought free verse harder to write than form poetry, but you did very well, Pensy. I just cannot imagine you as even writing the last line, for you certainly are not that type of person! Too kindhearted!  But, yeah, we all have our days when we snap and snarl at the world like a rabid dog!


I don't know. I just have a bad opinion about most of the politicians. (wouldn't give out the names for the sake of forum rules.) You might think that it is too cruel of me to say - but there are many politicians in this world who deserve to be hanged, in my opinion. 

Kill thousands of people for their sake. Promisses people and never fulfill those promises. Talk about an individual's rights and are always the ones who violate those rights. Say that if they will take the charge, things would get better and those things never get better, sometimes get even worse. Power-hungrey most of them are. I just can't help hating such types.  :Frown:  

I don't say that there are not good leaders/politicians in this world, but by seeing *most of them* in my country, I have come to this conclusion.

----------


## Pendragon

> I don't know. I just have a bad opinion about most of the politicians. (wouldn't give out the names for the sake of forum rules.) You might think that it is too cruel of me to say - but there are many politicians in this world who deserve to be hanged, in my opinion. 
> 
> Kill thousands of people for their sake. Promisses people and never fulfill those promises. Talk about an individual's rights and are always the ones who violate those rights. Say that if they will take the charge, things would get better and those things never get better, sometimes get even worse. Power-hungrey most of them are. I just can't help hating such types.  
> 
> I don't say that there are not good leaders/politicians in this world, but by seeing *most of them* in my country, I have come to this conclusion.


Not really to cruel. I can think of some I'd probably take to the "necktie party" (old West for a hanging) myself!

----------


## toni

Here is my entry! Finished it last night. :Smile:  It doesn't have a title yet. Suggestions would be welcome, though. PM me. Thank you! :Biggrin: 




The throbbings of age
And the Immanent Song brought her to life
A thousand beastial stares she had to withstand
While carrying the burden of false principles on her back

From her twisted mouth flowed twisted ideals
But she runs, to the pebbles of light
But the fingers of debauchery were freed from its chains

And with an anguished cry she fell,
Withered,
Pasted in the pages of History.

----------


## Virgil

I'm almost done with mine, Reisa. Please don't close the contest yet. I just need to touch up. I promise I will post it by Friday, which is quite appropriate for this self-portrait since Friday is my birthday. *hint, hint*  :Smile:

----------


## Riesa

okey dokey. party time again?

----------


## Virgil

No party for me. Just dinner out with my sweetie.

----------


## Riesa

And what kind of meal out does Sadie prefer?  :Tongue:

----------


## Virgil

> And what kind of meal out does Sadie prefer?


Sadie? Well, it's my birthday so I get to choose. Our fancy Italian restaurant where I got the Limoncello.  :Biggrin:

----------


## Riesa

I meant Brandi. oops.  :Wink:  who's sadie?

----------


## Virgil

> I meant Brandi. oops.  who's sadie?


Brandi will only get her dog food.  :Tongue:   :FRlol:

----------


## Riesa

but she's your sweetie.  :Frown:  poor brandi, all those kisses she gives you and you wont even take her out to dinner.

----------


## Virgil

OK, here's my entry. I've worked on it long enough. It will never be perfect.





> *Self Portrait*
> 
> The pencil shadows the face,
> Rounds the head into a sketch,
> The dark hair, the thin lips,
> Features of a Roman bust,
> Tied through DNA,
> The blood at Cannae, victory at Zama...
> 
> ...

----------


## Il Penseroso

This is a terrible self-portrait, but I wanted to add something.



A semblance play of myself
this shadow sprung from the slanted sun,
the grey sidelong profile
stretched across the grassy stage,
leaning aside by leaden rays.

Eclipse of my shape that dims the ground,
accident of the angular beams 
conformed by the orient sky,
an ornament of the earthen reply,
the dusky reflection that opens the void,
the double print impalpable.

Is this the shape my future stores?
This blurred copy of my form,
no custom figured, just the grey expanse?
Each color dropped by poorer light,
my existence fled to shadow?

Skimming the serrated surface
the hollow twin grafted like a stone
to tragic end, silent repose,
grades the inclination to sustain,
the reflection made too true.

----------


## Poetess

> Well, I imagined myself as a Pakistani politician (believe me they are artists in deceiving people) and that's what came into my mind.  God forbid my crappy mood.
> 
> It is a famous Urdu proverb about _siasatdan_ (Politicians)
> 
> Jab paida hoa siasatdan to shaytan ne kaha
> Lo aaj mein bjhi sahab'e oolad ho gaya.
> 
> It means that when the politician was born, devil said that he had become a father.


* Hahahah believe me Lebanese politicians are much more deceiptive! Anyway, nice shot up there
*

----------


## Riesa

so is everyone finished? and where is holo? Janine? Susan Sonnen?

----------


## Petrarch's Love

It's still pretty rough, but since the contest is either closing or already closed, I thought I'd go ahead and post. If I'm too late for contest entry purposes, this can just be considered a decorative entry.  :Smile:  Of course, given that we can't see ourselves in the image of the mirror, I was sorely tempted to pretend I as a vampire in this round, but I'm not sure there's enough out there to rhyme with Dracula.  :Tongue:  


_Reflections_

Two eyes, seeing and seen,
Gazing through the looking glass
To what is and will be and whats been
Fresh skin of the child; red blotches of the teen;
Plucked brows of the woman; laugh lines of the mother;
Folds and wrinkles of the grandmother; 
And the eyes are the same.
Two eyes seeing and seen,
In the vision passing like stop-motion animation 
Of what is and will be and whats been.
Gleaming surface bordered by flowers.
Childhood on tiptoe 
With only eyes peering over the painted edge;
Standing tall with pale hand pinning up hair
While a fresh corsage waits downstairs;
Standing too calm and stoic 
In clothes blackened by loss;
Glint of gold on the hand;
Standing back to see the bellys growing crescent;
Standing behind child on tiptoe
With only her eyes peering over the painted edge.
Eyes watch the childs eyes,
And the eyes are the same.
Two eyes, seeing and seen
Changed and unchanging
By what is and will be and whats been.

----------


## Riesa

all right, great Petrarch! I guess the contest will close tomorrow.

----------


## Il Penseroso

Sweet, I still would like to edit mine - I just hate editing however.

----------


## Triskele

uh, well, i might as well swing, here are my somewhat meager effort, enjoy, or not, not my problem


simple sway of time
echos of a wishful past
winding word blow
down the road at last

the sad lament of time
sad creaks tell the tale
of loves lost garden
and how it came to fail

still the image lives on
the oily swirls dry
leaving dust a bit more
then an ancient sigh

----------


## Riesa

*Pensive* ~ interesting poem. a nice portrait, you managed to give him depth at the same time as painting them so shallow. I like your spunk, kid.  :Biggrin:  Grow up and become a politician, will ya? but remember this poem and when you look into the mirror- don't see someone like this, but instead a beautiful free bird!!  :Goof:  

__________________________________________________ ___________
*Orionsbelt* ~ as always your poem has such a wonderful rhythm and imagery I can sink my teeth into…




> Were I he and were he me,
> Where in us would conscious be,


And I really felt like I was getting a glimpse inside your head..which was very cool and what I was hoping for when I posted that image. Intriguing, guruesque type of person, eh? 




> Contemplate those eyes staring at you, staring at you, staring at you


A little eerie, but I know that sensation, I like the whole poem very much. 

__________________________________________________ ______________

*Mir*, you have such a delightful wit, sometimes I think you are Jane Austen reincarnated. (lots of coffee on those days) darling poem. With a funny twist, you had me going there for a while…feeling a little confused by the




> Every surface bears short fur


I was relieved when I realized you were talking about the cat. 

__________________________________________________ ___________

*Taliesin!*
Excellent through and through, I loved the (Kigele!’s)
And wow, did I ever get a sense of your culture and the integral part it plays in who you are, not to mention discovering more about you, I’ve always been fascinated by the We thing, I just thought you were some locked up royalty somewhere with access to the net. 




> Marsh behind me
> its bogs crying for the words and wisemen (Kiigele!)
> and mittens with old patterns that ward off evil but what nobody can read anymore
> besides the cranes but they fly off with aurora boreolis





> Where can you find a smith strong enough to hammer together 
> the past and the future? Culture and land? Me and us?





> Swing goes faster and higher
> until I fly so high (Kiigele!)
> that I make a circle
> of past and future (Kiigele!)
> there are no contradictions left.
> And one equals many.


What else can I say, I loved your poem. Thanks.
__________________________________________________ _________

*Pendragon,*
You astound me with those villanelles and sonnets you write, this one had such a sweet wistfulness to it, drew me in and showed a lot of love, and I liked the circle of life in it too. 

__________________________________________________ ________


*Bookworm:*


> I'm lost. No idea where I am. Just wondering around. Hoping I find my way. But if I don't. It's not the end of the world. Just of me finding out what I really knew in the first place. Nothing.


Cool. just great. Feels familiar to me, and very honest. Love the shortness of it, don’t really know if it is an actual entry or not, but tempted to give you the contest based on originality if nothing else, but I haven’t seen you since…so. 
__________________________________________________ ____________

*Toni* ~ wow, very dignified and a little dark, cool.




> From her twisted mouth flowed twisted ideals


I really like your language here.

__________________________________________________ _______________

*Virg* ~ another epic poem. Some great lines. 




> What starveling life has pressed
> Upon this face?


I liked the integration of your Italian heritage, and Catholicism, building blocks of yourself. And there was brutal self-honesty in there I have to admire…




> The face, fattened and graying,
> Has never confronted a bayonet
> Not even saddled arms upon the back
> Or paraded upon a field.





> An irascible son
> De quello paise d’o sole,
> Narcissistic husband, 
> Abbraciatta with my honey pear,
> Stoic and spoiled, lustful and laughing,
> Adopted citizen and patriot,
> Flourishing the flag,
> Inseminating the garden,
> Eagle and oriole from Brooklyn.





> The glass now shatters
> Into composite fractions


(that reminded me of my Light poem)




> [I wear the Renaissance like a necktie.]





> A writer with eyes


All wonderful lines. 

__________________________________________________ ______________

*IP* ~ ok, I’m probably going to get in a little trouble for this, but honestly I think you are the best poet around here.  :Biggrin:  Imagery is always stunning, your layered depths make me want to talk philosophy, words are always beautiful, and there is this timeless quality to your style I absolutely love. 




> Eclipse of my shape that dims the ground,
> accident of the angular beams 
> conformed by the orient sky,


Crap, I wish I could write as consistently well as you do.

__________________________________________________ ______________
*Petrarch* ~

Cool. You got it all in those lines, past present future, admirable feat! 




> Changed and unchanging
> By what is and will be and what’s been


Nice feel of watching a montage of your life..

__________________________________________________ ______________

*Triskele* ~ I enjoyed it anyway, so thanks.

__________________________________________________ _________________
But....
Please, *Taliesin*, choose the next image!

----------


## Virgil

Congratulations Tal. I thought it was excellent too. Besides the ones Riesa mentioned, I loved these lines too:





> Polaris reflecting from the midnight bogs (Kiigele!)
> Moss makes plasters to bind wounds and mouth
> but also intellect? Will it free us of that? Will it free us of me? (Kiigele!)
> Stones and trees are forgetting their songs
> in the walls of the supermarkets. In the pages of books. (Kiigele!)
> How old am I really?
> How old are we really? (Kiigele!)
> Blood. (Kiige-
> Me. Us. (-le!)


What does Kiigele mean?

----------


## Riesa

> Congratulations Tal. I thought it was excellent too. Besides the ones Riesa mentioned, I loved these lines too:
> 
> 
> 
> 
> What does Kiigele mean?



this is from's tal's entry, Virg.




> Considering it being made on the last minute we wrote it out of the blue, with no plans or anything. But here it is. "Kiigele!" is a phrase meaning "to the swing!"in Estonian. Often used in older swinging folksongs as a one-word refraine.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Congrats Tal. I really enjoyed your poem too, and had a suspicion it might win.  :Smile:  Looking forward to the next pic.

----------


## Pendragon

Nice going Tal! A good, strong poem, and actually the inspiration for the villanelle I posted (already written  :Blush: ) as it spoke of childhood to me, and I actually never saw the picture we were all writing about! I'll look forward to this one, though!

----------


## Pensive

> *Pensive* ~ interesting poem. a nice portrait, you managed to give him depth at the same time as painting them so shallow. I like your spunk, kid.  Grow up and become a politician, will ya? but remember this poem and when you look into the mirror- don't see someone like this, but instead a beautiful free bird!!


World will be better off with all of us as birds, wouldn't it be?  :Biggrin:  But even in birds, there are always some birds who eat each other's eggs.  :Frown: 





> *Taliesin!*
> Excellent through and through, I loved the (Kigele!’s)
> And wow, did I ever get a sense of your culture and the integral part it plays in who you are, not to mention discovering more about you, I’ve always been fascinated by the We thing, I just thought you were some locked up royalty somewhere with access to the net. 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> What else can I say, I loved your poem. Thanks.
> ...


And he says that he can't write good English poems.  :Flare:  

Congratulations! And keep on writing poems, it is not always good to be so modest!  :Biggrin: 

*waiting for the next picture eagerly*

----------


## mir

Great job, Taliesin - and everybody else!!  :Biggrin: 

Come on, Tal, post, post!  :FRlol:

----------


## Orionsbelt

Congrats Taliesin, I wasn't sure how to pronounce "Kiigele" so my brain kept saying "ching!" Yes I'll have to get it fixed one day but right now I just listen to it with quiet amazement. I looked up Estonian mythology to find Toonela. Now I'm curious about the whole genera. Looking forward to the next picture.

Thanks all for your very kind comments. 

For those to whom it has meaning; Have a great holiday season. For the others: Have a great holiday season.

----------


## Janine

> Congrats Taliesin, I wasn't sure how to pronounce "Kiigele" so my brain kept saying "ching!" Yes I'll have to get it fixed one day but right now I just listen to it with quiet amazement. I looked up Estonian mythology to find Toonela. Now I'm curious about the whole genera. Looking forward to the next picture.
> 
> Thanks all for your very kind comments. 
> 
> For those to whom it has meaning; Have a great holiday season. For the others: Have a great holiday season.


My mind would probably say "Kringle" like in Kris Kringle. :Santasmile:

----------


## Taliesin

Oh us. 
Thanks, Riesa, for choosing our poem. 
It seemed like a tough competition looking at the other competing poems, but well, it is now up to us to post the next picture, it seems.








> "Anything that can be done to a rat can be done to a human being. And we can do most anything to rats. This is a hard thing to think about, but it's the truth. It won't go away because we cover our eyes. That is cyberpunk."




The deadline? We think that everybody will be busy around the christmas and new year so perhaps 7th January 2007?

----------


## Triskele

Moon

Dark suns of fiery grace
Parade the sunshine of lost souls
Who dares the shrapnel of the heart?
What thought drives men to love
Darkened spires of desire, tipped with poison
The jagged shaft of deaths arrow
Speeding onward, driving we to act
In desperation before days moon ends
Lack of light skies in our minds
As thoughts travel onward… past… present
Life’s love of action drives men to fly
Pushes women to deaths edge
So all can say they have gone

----------


## Virgil

> Oh us. 
> The deadline? We think that everybody will be busy around the christmas and new year so perhaps 7th January 2007?


Oh I'll try, but it never seems to come together in two weeks.  :Blush:  

Very interesting photo Tal.

----------


## mir

Speared Sky

In paths of darkness
Walk the worker
Only ever
Looking down;
Though the sun 
Fell ever slowly
To its end,
He looked not round.
What meaning 
Are worlds given
When each tenant
Never sees them
Trapped inside
Their own dimension
With wireless
To disease them?
If the sun,
The moon, the stars,
Should quietly 
Implode
Wishing only
To be noticed
For their work - 
A heavy load! - 
No cell phone 
Would ring a query,
No email 
Comment
On how dark
It seems these days
Or where the 
Rainbows went.
For no one
Looks anymore
Or has a care.
These mumbles - 
As skies fall down
Upon our heads,
We watch our feet
For stumbles.

----------


## mir

meep . . . my interpretation, anyways . . . it's a cool picture.

----------


## Pensive

> Oh us. 
> Thanks, Riesa, for choosing our poem. 
> It seemed like a tough competition looking at the other competing poems, but well, it is now up to us to post the next picture, it seems.
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> 
> ...


*A Toy*

The immensely dark clouds are over him
Night has fallen on everything; 
To him everything looks very dim

He can't guess what's happening around
Whoever is playing with him, he can't merely think
From a human being, he is made a machine
Who can't sing, who in front of his controllers, can't even blink

Holding his briefcase, he is ready for the bomb blast
Ah this terrorism, wasting and killing lots
Just the battle of race and sexes
It has already killed enough with its cruel shots

Out of his mind
He works and works
Keep on doing his dirty work
In the alley, the little girl shrieks
"Beware of the evil that lurks!"

A very dark night
Full of silent horror
Evil again regaining power

Using him as a tool
Making him a fool
Controlling him
His mind, his soul
His doings and his fate
Developing his personality
Into what everyone would hate

Treating him like a toy
After it, they will destroy
Destroy the world
Destroy the very him

After all he is just a toy they are playing with
A doll being used as an actor in this drama of world

These gods
His creators
Have no pity
They try to be witty
But killing people
And creating a DEVIL
I think is really ****ty

I just wrote this poem down. I am looking forward to read other poems!  :Smile:  And can't wait for the result. What a pity, 7th January is so far far away.  :Frown:  
Oh well, time passes quickly.  :Biggrin:  

Good poems, mir and Triskele!  :Smile:

----------


## dramasnot6

I FINISHED MY POEM FOR THE CONTEST! YAAAAY!!!  :Biggrin:  And ,for once, i actually like it  :Smile:

----------


## Pendragon

> 



The Stork's Nest: Changes

High above precariously perched atop the highest chimney,
The bundle of sticks seems to be a monstrous thing;
Down below, all the lights are on, and people are so busy—
A young man ducks to one side as he hears his cell phone ring.
Progress has came, and with it taken many of the legends we once heard,
The television set replaced the books and nursery rhymes.
In that nest of sticks up there, there lives a very special bird—
Who would have never gone unnoticed in those slower times.
Now the story that she brought humans their babies is only fairytale,
Told by parents too embarrassed to try to explain the truer word.
But when she built her nest upon the housetop, o’re the eves it’s shadow fell—
And everyone rejoiced with gladness, for it was a good-luck bird!
Time does more than change a village into busy cities that never are still:
It steals from us things that we should treasure while we have them with us still…

Pendragon

One good picture yields so many great interpretations! Great poems everyone!

----------


## Triskele

very... interesting Pen, i like it, kinda provoke thought, it really does kinda sneak up on you, i read it through once, then again before it hit me, very very thought provoking, still kinda thinkin about it, thanks

----------


## Orionsbelt

Well here we go. I'm not sure if it egg nog in the noggin or cookies in the can but I'm having trouble getting into this one. Here is what struck me first. I may re-visit this one.  :Brickwall:  

Dooooooooooooooooooooo, Dooooooooooooooo, click, Joe?
Yeah! George. Look, I need you to know.
Later, can we meet?
There are unspoken things that I need to say. 
Face to face seems the best way. 

Sure George. Say four. Starbucks OK?
We can meet at the office and walk a short way.
Plan for a treat!
They have in the window a white icing truff,
Expresso, Frappuccino, and the regular stuff.

Ahhhh, great! Dont worry. Forgive my tone.
Some years I have carried a secret alone.
Its good, a warm place to eat.
The weight this burden I do want to end.
Joe as always you are a good friend

Say George can you give a glimmer or hint?
Im not a fast talker, my thoughts do not sprint.
Simple, and sweet.
As a friend I have moved to some concern.
What ails my companion, I would like to learn.

The trouble grows larger each passing day.
Its not easy to keep things from you in this way.
Please wait to meet.
Like a dark cloud in the air it presses on me.
Some sun in the sky I am longing to see. 

 :Santasmile:

----------


## Petrarch's Love

OK, here's my attempt:


The roots of heaven descend in a balled up mass,
And below in the dingy light
The message is lost in a bad connection, 
The coming unseen in the night,
The eyes below fixed on streets below as they pass. 

Tall spires reach out toward heaven to touch the gray 
Some end in the sign of the cross
Some finish in an offering of smog incense
And all blink with a pulse of loss
As red lights keep things that fly in the dark at bay.

With his hearing trained on the faint voice in the phone,
The young man misses the sharp scream
That emerges from the alleyway behind him
And he walks, wrapped in his own dream,
With all the others, through a nightmare, toward home. 

Passing through the maze of streets, at last they also pass
(They hope) to heaven and to bliss.
But those creatures below, How can they blame Gods sins?
How can they hope for grace when this
Is the earth the roots of heaven grow in?

----------


## Petrarch's Love

An additional request for any mods that might be viewing. Is there any way this thread could be made a sticky? It's obviously a very popular thread, but because it sometimes takes a few days between people posting contest entries, and because so many other threads are started in this section of the forum to showcase peoples' works, it often gets bumped down to places where it's a tad hard to find.

----------


## Pendragon

> An additional request for any mods that might be viewing. Is there any way this thread could be made a sticky? It's obviously a very popular thread, but because it sometimes takes a few days between people posting contest entries, and because so many other threads are started in this section of the forum to showcase peoples' works, it often gets bumped down to places where it's a tad hard to find.


Second the motion!  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## mir

yeah, me too - i think this is a really great thread, and tons of people would join if it was more obvious!!

----------


## Triskele

i'm down with that, i like the connection b/w a picture and words, makes work for pictures fun.

----------


## dramasnot6

only 5 more days till i can post up my poem  :Biggrin:  how exciting!

----------


## Taliesin

Well, as the unspoken rule goes, there will probably be an extension of time anyway.  :Wink:

----------


## Pendragon

Yeah! A STICKY! The squeaky wheel gets greased!  :Thumbs Up:

----------


## ktd222

I wish blondeheart, the starter of this thread, was here to witness this. She tried so hard to gain other's interest in this thread.

----------


## Triskele

when does the the judging begin...?

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Thanks to whichever mod took up the suggestion and made it stick.  :Smile:

----------


## Scheherazade

> Thanks to whichever mod took up the suggestion and made it stick.


No worries!  :Smile: 


> when does the the judging begin...?


We are being judged all the time... Be warned... Be very, very warned!

----------


## Arania

Funny, you know
How time presses forward
In scenes such as these -- 
And you call me a coward!

Sit tight and I'll show you
Ambition's the key 
To removing the madness, 
Miss Earth? Who is she? 

Have you noticed I see it? 
The thing passing by
Oh there -- to the side now
That man with one eye. 

Sit tightly! I'll teach you
To see what is there
Relax - Watch the teacher
Don't worry, I'll share.

Remember the task now
Look closely, you'll see
Right there - by the trashcan
The real world? Who's he?

----------


## dramasnot6

it ends on the 7th right? maybe i should end my 2 week procrastination and post mine soon....

----------


## Virgil

Please don't wait for me. I haven't worked on this one. I've been a little busy.

----------


## Matsiah

Either way, concluded or not, I'm going for it; straight from the mind of me (me being he who scribes freely) to you. Don't "achew' this one away because it's off the top of my fatigued mind in one day - after hold need for rest at bay and stashed away... One day again allowed to show itself and play... Anyway, here I go...

P.S. After attempting to quickly review the picture I previously bore my eyes upon, I realized that I am either typing in a different thread that what was reviewed, or they changed to a new picture within an instant... huh. I'm currently torn between two, so, what should I do. I'll obviously choose one or the other and go from there, so I see no point in further pondering the dilemma.

Lacy metal overpass,
I've seen shades of the greenest grass,
Among other shades are cool glades,
'Twas beside a brick barrier, fortifier, or gate,
'Twas of perfect use, when shown irate,
'Tis of induced serenity when near,
What is there to fear here... nothing,
Even the trees cast sightly songs of peace,
A true place of freely existing,
All who've seen left missing and longing,
Picture this long and tapered entrance of stone,
Stone that reflects radiantly... all shown,
Behind stone of romancing,
'Tis many 'o species prancing,
Faint singsong stretches my way,
This home reminds me of pure joy within today,
Seeing species casts at me meanings,
If I weren't there I'd still not it's steaming hot,
Almost as Palm Springs, but not,
Picture this threefold heat mold,
Though humidity keeps a far from deep fold,
'Tis shallow,
For whom can swim? 
Not I,
Perfect.


First and foremost, I'd like to apologize for any drastic punctuational mishaps, for I'm far from faliliar with correctly punctuation poetry; as well as writing it....here you are...Oh, slightly botched here and there but I'm sure there'll be more of these awards... Right?

----------


## dramasnot6

ok....here it is. 


"The Conversation"
Branching from the orb of human existence
Enclosing my thoughts in designer bags
As I step from my building
With the others, all identical with tags

Hello, it’s me, I’m calling
Sorry, but I’m terrible with names
Just thought I’d be remembered
An exception in midnight games

Only freckled neon that surrounds me
Red lipstick and red lights a brush from bright
Yet my dim composure insidiously blinds me
Trading livelihood for bitter sight

Just hoped you got home safe
Watched the news, I think there was a storm
You left so quickly
What scene did you perform?

My mind turns to sweeter days
When the heart, boundless, sunk its teeth
Back then misty evenings had no ways
Ending nights with sheets beneath

Oh, I’m terribly sorry
Will your mother be okay?
You used my favorite story
Lies are great fillers of the day

A passion becomes clandestine then turns to dust
Impaled by carnal candles from the gut
My fingers pinch the cell phone, kills candle’s flame
Door creaks open, found the window firmly shut

Do tell me when we meet again
Preferably when you are coldest to touch
Don’t bother with a note this time
Easier when there is emptiness to clutch

Immune to city smoke selling whispers
Retching from the alienation of my soul
Crosswalk lined with paths of solitude and hiding
The looming darkness of urban control

I’ll have to call you back.

----------


## Matsiah

Postscript: Did I manage a placing? Oh, or are we not racing. Of how many weeks wait would you say I'm facing? Face to facing with a mere inch spacing. Well, I suppose I should have been pacing; however, no regrets in life, I'm macing. Not really though, because I don't boast. Not really lucky so I'm never acting cocky; for he who saw me, has permission to sock me, should I be blinging and singing of winning and chanting of prizes that are dies, roll and see how long ye cries. Tis this which I despise, mellow dramatic sadistic sadness to rob ye of all gladness. Matsiah's blast is madness. Anyway, you people who wonder what the devil does, will probably see this sporadic sadness plastered automatic. I don't think, I'm scribe addict. DONE! NOW! UGGHHH!!!!

----------


## Matsiah

Whew damn... Can I say that? Anyway, I'd like to acknowledge dramasnot6's recent success with her entry of the poetry contest. When in comparison with mine I'm simply like the rest, so to you I toast, a crest of your own one day; for your entry - when in comparison - proved best.

----------


## Matsiah

Hey dramasnot6,
I just wrote out a lengthy acknowledgment pertaining to the success of your latest entry; however, I encountered an unexpected misfortune - that is my web browser fatally losing mountains of potentially valuable information - thus, not allowing my to say what I had originally written... I can tell you this: I'm loving the entry...LOVING IT. But really, I'm pondering over the potential that my participation holds now. A splendid work from the mind of a mystic.

----------


## Matsiah

PFFT...and there it is! Suddenly, Matsiah looks up after posting his newly written post only to see the previously written edition thought to be missing right there glistening. Ah. I just can't get right today.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Hi Matsiah--I see you're new to the forums, so welcome. I think you wrote your poem on the first picture in this thread. A lot of new people have done that because it's the first thing they see. The picture we're writing about now is on pg. 29, post #423 of this thread. I think this round of poems will be judged in the next few days (not sure exactly, it's kind of an informal thing around here). The winner doesn't get a prize or anything, just the joy of winning and the privilege of posting the picture for the next round of the contest and being the judge for that round.

----------


## dramasnot6

> Hey dramasnot6,
> I just wrote out a lengthy acknowledgment pertaining to the success of your latest entry; however, I encountered an unexpected misfortune - that is my web browser fatally losing mountains of potentially valuable information - thus, not allowing my to say what I had originally written... I can tell you this: I'm loving the entry...LOVING IT. But really, I'm pondering over the potential that my participation holds now. A splendid work from the mind of a mystic.


Thank you so much for your praise of my poem Matsiah!  :Biggrin:  I really like yours too, although like Petrarch said, you might want to take a look at the most recent pic on this thread. Welcome to the forum! Glad to see another passionate poet  :Smile:

----------


## Riesa

interesting image, tal. great poems, all. 

mine written quickly but wanted to be a part of the games.




falling evening beats its
slow pulse,
pushes 
grey to black,
obscuring
days shimmering
nucleus 
in an obsidian nest 

a million mill-stoned 
voices rise
above the bones of a church
to the hovering 
technical God engorged to 
starry magnitude
by the citys
electric impulses

The voice of
home tempts 
in candlelit tones,
(Come, be still.)

but he blends elementally
with the undercurrent
and finds it is
increasingly difficult 
to deny
the hinting shadows.

----------


## Taliesin

So.
We are busy now, unfortunately. 
We'll try to get finished rating these poems for Friday, let's say, but We can't be sure even on that.

----------


## mir

That's okay, Tal! Take your time!  :Smile:

----------


## thefemalemind

when's the next pic gonna b up?

----------


## ktd222

> when's the next pic gonna b up?


There's not even a winner picked for this contest yet.

----------


## thefemalemind

> There's not even a winner picked for this contest yet.


oh... ok. then is it ok if i post, when i get a poem finished?

----------


## ktd222

> oh... ok. then is it ok if i post, when i get a poem finished?


I don't know if there is a deadline yet. I'm not the judge for this round. You will have to pm Taliesin, I think.

----------


## Janine

Hi everyone, I was wondering when this contest would end and when a new picture would be posted? I think I might like to take a crack at it next time around. 
Riesa, I like your new avatar.....I love nautilus shells...good choice and interesting word beneath your name...unfurling....very creative!

----------


## dramasnot6

> Hi everyone, I was wondering when this contest would end and when a new picture would be posted? I think I might like to take a crack at it next time around. 
> Riesa, I like your new avatar.....I love nautilus shells...good choice and interesting word beneath your name...unfurling....very creative!


Hi janine!  :Wave:  Taliesin is busy right now so we are waiting for her to judge our poems and pick a winner to post the next pic. If you want to know you should probably PM her  :Smile:

----------


## Janine

:Banana:  Hi Drama, thanks - I won't bug her, I will just hang in there and wait, knowing soon now we will have a new picture to write to.

----------


## Il Penseroso

I'm pretty sure Taliesen is a male, although referentially an androgynous (think Woolf) one I believe.

----------


## Pensive

> Hi janine!  Taliesin is busy right now so we are waiting for her to judge our poems and pick a winner to post the next pic. If you want to know you should probably PM her


It is not her. It should be _them!_  :Tongue:

----------


## Janine

> It is not her. It should be _them!_


 :Wave:  Hi Pensive, thanks, Who's "them"? Is/are "them" the judge? 
Are they arguing  :Argue:  over the winner? :FRlol:

----------


## Pensive

> Hi Pensive, thanks, Who's "them"? Is/are "them" the judge? 
> Are they arguing  over the winner?


Maybe they are arguing over the winner? Maybe they are enjoying mead in their secret chamber? Maybe they are reading a very interesting book? Maybe they are having fun with their fellow crows? Or maybe they have forgotten about the contest? There are many possibilies.  :Biggrin:

----------


## Taliesin

Choosing a winner is much more difficult than we imagined.

----------


## dramasnot6

> Choosing a winner is much more difficult than we imagined.


That's fine Tal! Take your time choosing.  :Smile:

----------


## Pendragon

We will still await you choice-- prehaps the picture was too interesting-- left open so many doors!  :Thumbs Up:   :Smile:

----------


## Il Penseroso

One thing I've been thinking about, to relieve some pressure; how about making choosing the winner a voting process? What are your thoughts?

----------


## mir

well - that might be nice, but i also like it being the last poem winner's prerogative. sort of makes it more special to be the one picked. and the person who posted the picture might also have an idea of what they wanted to see in the interpretations.

i guess it's up to the winner each week though . . .

----------


## dramasnot6

The problem is there would be the bias of people choosing their own poems, that is why the winner does not write one. We have the everyone voting system for short storie competitions though,right?

----------


## Riesa

It's an interesting idea, I like it, however there is such a challenge in reading, thinking about and ultimately choosing the winning poem, I think it would let the winner off the hook if there were a common vote. Poets could vote for their own, but in an open poll, everyone would know because the poems wouldn't be anonymously posted.

----------


## Virgil

I've thought of this too, but all the poems would have to be in at a deadline and someone would have to collect them an set up a poll and a new thread for each time.

BTW, I think Tal is taking too long. I think it's been two months. I mean I hate to rush people but I think it's getting rediculous. I mean he could just pick a winner and not have to explain.

----------


## ktd222

I love the idea of one person judging the contest. The part I love best about this is that that person judging gets to comment on everyone's poems. If we did a group polling, too many comments from too many different people might just lead to confusion.

----------


## Virgil

Yes, I like the current method.

----------


## ktd222

> BTW, I think Tal is taking too long. I think it's been two months. I mean I hate to rush people but I think it's getting rediculous. I mean he could just pick a winner and not have to explain.


Yes. Tal? maybe you should provide a definite deadline.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Yes, I think we'd all like to see a winner for this round so we can get to writing some more poems. Don't worry about responding to everyone, Tal. Just relieve us all from the suspense.  :Biggrin:

----------


## Janine

I think there should be a time span or limit - maybe a month for each poetry contest. Two months is too long...some people may lose interest in the thread and depart forever.

----------


## Riesa

It hasn't been two months, not even a month yet. He posted his picture on the 22knd. and Virg, if I'm not mistaken YOU are repeatedly asking for more time to write them, what's the big deal if he takes a few days to judge them?

----------


## ktd222

> It hasn't been two months, not even a month yet. He posted his picture on the 22knd. and Virg, if I'm not mistaken YOU are repeatedly asking for more time to write them, what's the big deal if he takes a few days to judge them?


I think he meant it felt like two months :Tongue:  But I must say I lean towards agreeing with you. We Lit-Net members are just going bananas for this poetry contest deal! :Banana:   :Banana:

----------


## dramasnot6

Let's just wait for Tal for as long as it takes before we brainstorm big changes like this. Everyone goes through busy times.

----------


## Pendragon

Well, as I said, the picture left so many interpretations. Give Tal a break, it must be hard to chose. I agree there should be a time limit. However, if we say poems must be in by a certain date, then there should be no extension of writing time if one is not willing to wait on judging time. It would only be fair. Then the one judging would have "x" amount of time to review and judge. The day for the posting of the winner would be known to all from the start. Sound reasonable?  :Smile:

----------


## Janine

Sorry, I was thinking also from what others said it was two months. If it was just over one - understandable with the holidays and all and eveyone tired and sluggish afterwards. I agree with Pen, maybe some kind of loose structure would be good....some time limit and some guide lines.

----------


## dramasnot6

Sounds good! Of course, like the contestants, I think under reasonable circumstances the judge should be able to request an extension for maybe a few days? But we can limit extensions too?

----------


## Virgil

> It hasn't been two months, not even a month yet. He posted his picture on the 22knd. and Virg, if I'm not mistaken YOU are repeatedly asking for more time to write them, what's the big deal if he takes a few days to judge them?


Oh you are quite right.  :Blush:   :Blush:  I just cheked and Tal posted his picture on December 22nd. My humblest apologies Tal. For some reason it does feel like a long time ago.  :Wink:

----------


## Riesa

btw...where is tal?  :FRlol:

----------


## Pendragon

> Sounds good! Of course, like the contestants, I think under reasonable circumstances the judge should be able to request an extension for maybe a few days? But we can limit extensions too?


It would certainly have to be guidelines everyone is involved in drafting, or someone is going to get their feelings hurt. So we should perhaps all be thinking about this, how much time limit is reasonable for writing of poems, how much extention is reasonable, how much time limit is reasonable for judging (always taking into mind the number of poems submitted!) and how much extention is reasonable before making a decision. But it must be a team effort, not crafted by any one of us. Virgil makes a good chairman, if no one (besides himself!), objects, we could pass the info on to him, or run a poll. What say you?  :Smile:

----------


## Virgil

Let me say that when I've been a judge, it has taken me about two hours to read the poems and come to a decision. It's usually just a question of finding two straight hours available. And then perhaps a third hour to write up something which offers comments. I don't really understand what takes so long.

----------


## ktd222

I think that this round is just the rare exception. Every contest before this one I felt was done in a timely manner.

----------


## Taliesin

We are sorry for being so late judging the poems.  :Blush:  But anyway, here goes.





> Moon
> 
> Dark suns of fiery grace
> Parade the sunshine of lost souls
> Who dares the shrapnel of the heart?
> What thought drives men to love
> Darkened spires of desire, tipped with poison
> The jagged shaft of deaths arrow
> Speeding onward, driving we to act
> ...


A good, eerie poem. 

We especially liked these stanzas:




> Who dares the shrapnel of the heart?
> What thought drives men to love
> Darkened spires of desire, tipped with poison





> As thoughts travel onward past present
> Lifes love of action drives men to fly
> Pushes women to deaths edge
> So all can say they have gone


***



> Speared sky
> 
> In paths of darkness
> Walk the worker
> Only ever
> Looking down;
> Though the sun 
> Fell ever slowly
> To its end,
> ...


We like the short, rhyming stanzas. The rhythm of the poem feels punctured, almost broken. And these lines were fantastic: 




> What meaning 
> Are worlds given
> When each tenant
> Never sees them
> Trapped inside
> Their own dimension
> With wireless
> To disease them?
> If the sun,
> ...



***




> A Toy
> 
> 
> The immensely dark clouds are over him
> Night has fallen on everything; 
> To him everything looks very dim
> 
> He can't guess what's happening around
> Whoever is playing with him, he can't merely think
> ...


Interesting interpretation, Pensy. And you know, somehow, when we first read the poem, we missed the rhyme sceme and read it Reality and thought why you should censure it, but then we understood.

And



> He can't guess what's happening around
> Whoever is playing with him, he can't merely think
> From a human being, he is made a machine
> Who can't sing, who in front of his controllers, can't even blink


 :Thumbs Up:  
***




> The Stork's Nest: Changes
> 
> High above precariously perched atop the highest chimney,
> The bundle of sticks seems to be a monstrous thing;
> Down below, all the lights are on, and people are so busy
> A young man ducks to one side as he hears his cell phone ring.
> Progress has came, and with it taken many of the legends we once heard,
> The television set replaced the books and nursery rhymes.
> In that nest of sticks up there, there lives a very special bird
> ...


We liked the general tone of the poem, uncle Pen. Its atmosphere is different from the others  lighter, more happier. The more classical form of the poem also stresses the point, in our opinion.

***



> The call
> 
> Dooooooooooooooooooooo, Dooooooooooooooo, click, Joe?
> Yeah! George. Look, I need you to know.
> Later, can we meet?
> There are unspoken things that I need to say. 
> Face to face seems the best way. 
> 
> Sure George. Say four. Starbucks OK?
> ...


We liked the last stanza, and that the form of the poem was a cell phone call. Starting it with Doooooooooooooooo, dooooooooooooo made us smile. 
And we miss sun too.
***



> The roots of heaven descend in a balled up mass,
> And below in the dingy light
> The message is lost in a bad connection, 
> The coming unseen in the night,
> The eyes below fixed on streets below as they pass. 
> 
> Tall spires reach out toward heaven to touch the gray 
> Some end in the sign of the cross
> Some finish in an offering of smog incense
> ...


Wow! This poem has a nightmarish, dark tone that we enjoyed very much. Especially these lines:



> The roots of heaven descend in a balled up mass,
> And below in the dingy light
> The message is lost in a bad connection,





> Some end in the sign of the cross
> Some finish in an offering of smog incense


and the last lines really have impact:



> How can they hope for grace when this
> Is the earth the roots of heaven grow in?


***



> Funny, you know
> How time presses forward
> In scenes such as these -- 
> And you call me a coward!
> 
> Sit tight and I'll show you
> Ambition's the key 
> To removing the madness, 
> Miss Earth? Who is she? 
> ...


We found these lines especially amusing:



> Miss Earth? Who is she?





> The real world? Who's he?

----------


## Taliesin

> Lacy metal overpass,
> I've seen shades of the greenest grass,
> Among other shades are cool glades,
> 'Twas beside a brick barrier, fortifier, or gate,
> 'Twas of perfect use, when shown irate,
> 'Tis of induced serenity when near,
> What is there to fear here... nothing,
> Even the trees cast sightly songs of peace,
> A true place of freely existing,
> ...


We like the a bit archaic style (twas, tis) but we think that your poem was inspired by some other picture - you mentioned in your comment that somehow you saw two of them. 
But a good poem anyhow, serene and full of greenery.

***




> The Conversation
> 
> Branching from the orb of human existence
> Enclosing my thoughts in designer bags
> As I step from my building
> With the others, all identical with tags
> 
> Hello, its me, Im calling
> Sorry, but Im terrible with names
> ...


A very good poem. 
We like the rhyming and the touches of irony:



> Hello, its me, Im calling
> Sorry, but Im terrible with names
> Just thought Id be remembered
> An exception in midnight games





> Oh, Im terribly sorry
> Will your mother be okay?
> You used my favorite story
> Lies are great fillers of the day





> Do tell me when we meet again
> Preferably when you are coldest to touch
> Dont bother with a note this time
> Easier when there is emptiness to clutch


And the last line stands out because it is out of stanzas and therefore one notices it better and it has more effect to end the poem.
***




> falling evening beats its
> slow pulse,
> pushes 
> grey to black,
> obscuring
> days shimmering
> nucleus 
> in an obsidian nest 
> 
> ...


We like the freeform lines, it gives the whole poem an interesting rhytm. 

And these lines we especially liked.



> obscuring
> days shimmering
> nucleus 
> in an obsidian nest 
> 
> a million mill-stoned 
> voices rise
> above the bones of a church
> to the hovering 
> ...



The decision was difficult but the honour of posting the next picture belongs to Petrarch's love.

----------


## Riesa

hey Tal! thanks.

Congratulations, Petrarch!  :Biggrin:  whoot. pick a good one!

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Wow, thanks Tal. I'm honored to be chosen among such exceptional competition. :Smile:  O.K. folks, give me a little time and I'll go find a picture to post.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

I figured it's probably about time that the Lit. Net. poetry contest had a book related picture, so here it is. The recent to do over the ambiguity of the judging process has awakened the teacher in me, so I'm going to set up a deadline for three weeks from now (that seemed to have been a reasonable time for past rounds). That means *this round of the contest will close at the end of Saturday, February 10th.* The *results will be posted by the close of Monday the 12th.* If people have serious objections to this for some reason, or want to plead for a short extension or something, then either post here or pm me. 

Good luck everyone!

----------


## Il Penseroso

That's a sweet picture, PL, and I'll try my best to work up a poem.

----------


## Virgil

Congratulations Petrarch. Neat picture. I wonder if h's naked behind that book.  :Biggrin:  Well, I'll have to get my creative juices going.

----------


## dramasnot6

The Bibliophile

I fish for my spectacles
My hearts beloved tool
Armed with sight 
I retrieve my waiting stool

Toes tipped as dancers in their sleep
I sway upon my elevation 
Ascending the shelves
What I seek grows near
As the fall grows steep 

Scanning as hope is drawn to the floor
Meticulous inspection, no one to ignore
Then she is spot like sunlight to a prison cell
Judgment not needed, title alone cast the spell

Caught in the moment, I lunge at her rim
Collapse from this paper fortress
So entranced by her sight
That a ten story fall wouldn’t come close to grim

My conscious closes then for the night
Body swimming in stories, but being escapes on a weary flight
Wake without confusion to the morning sun
Only concern in my fingers grasp
To see if my 1000 page angel had been undone

Head unstable and limbs semi-dead
All insignificant when there’s a heaven to be read 
A gasp of elation makes it way through
As I impatiently sink
Into this foreign worlds debut

A letter hits my vision like cupids arrow to the mind
Taken with so few words, I leave the day behind
A cacophony of conflicts all shove to steal the stage
Some endings strike bliss, some aim to enrage
Each voice slipped on as if shopping for disguise
All seem to fit when reaching their unique demise

This entwinement of thought
Melting pot of fears
Ignites so much laughter
Right after it evokes endless tears
The moment finally comes
Where my thumb presses on a single line
Saying goodbye to this friend
For whose life I pine

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Thanks for the congratulations Virg. and Riesa, and thanks for the first entry dramasnot.  :Smile:  Let the games begin.

----------


## Pendragon

Thank's for the comment, Tal. Good picture choice, Petra, if you don't mind my shortcut on your name. Have to think on this one a bit.  :Wink:

----------


## Janine

I am thinking hard, too; I jotted some words/thoughts down last night. I just may make this one in time. Then may have the nerve to post it, but I have to say I was quite impressed with the last batch of poems. Good work everyone! I like this current picture.

----------


## Pendragon

Well, here goes: The Sonnet Freak's Sonnet

The Open Book

The God of Knowledge holds the giant tome open
Below the human race gathers beneath his feet.
In darkness still, like blind men they are groping;
Yet before them lies the source of victory or defeat.
Many see nothing there except for blank pages
Pages unmarred by writings of wisdom of any kind.
Others see marvelous things, the work of many sages
Some just turn away, and choose to remain forever blind.
But The God of Knowledge turns the next sheet over,
Inviting all to read and to act upon the truths they see.
What one may read may not be the same as another
Wisdom comes to each in various ways and degrees.
Dont blame the one who holds the open tome:
If what you know for truth is yours, and yours alone

Pendragon 
© 1/22/07

----------


## Orionsbelt

Wow this place is like a flash flood. No rain for a bit and then woooshhh. Thanks for all the great comments Tal. I have to say that was a little weird for me. I was trying to break the rhythm to express a bit of trouble and chaos. I'll take another crack at that idea again I think when I'm not so holidayed up. Great picture though very dark with lots of stuff in it. Congrats to Petrarch's Love. I think that would have been my choice too. Great picture. I'll get back with something soon.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

> Congrats to Petrarch's Love.


Thanks, Orionsbelt.

----------


## Pensive

Congratulations, Petratch! Thanks for the poems, everyone! Thanks for the comments, Tal!  :Smile:

----------


## Janine

Glad we are rolling along again....people posting interesting poems to read. Good responses so far!

----------


## mir

The huddled masses at his feet,
He stands giant to men
And offers ants the learning
That would too enlarge them.

Words which make the mind grow
And raise the soul from soil,
To deify the daily grind
And form Heaven from toil.

Here is written wisdom,
And meaning, such as known;
The lines which teach the children
And guide them when they're grown.

But here, the page is open
Not to sages' delight:
For greater than reading a life
Is power, that to write.

----------


## mir

woo! five minutes between math and arts!  :Tongue: 

sorry, i didn't have much time. But congrats, Petrarch, and i really like that picture!!

----------


## Triskele

hey y'all

Challenge of Word

what times are these, when the pens power wanes
fading to feint grey shadows, dust to dust
motes of age that float to dark tides of war
where swords gleam bright, beneath the white tooth snarl
growls and screams of rage echo across worlds
decades of gnarled growth, shattered by the ink
smooth curves and dots fight the red stains of bleed
who now dares to stand, neath the tall blank book
the unwritten page, that holds thoughts of old
words they dared to speak, but could not bear to write
for fear the future might judge their mind
cowards did fall, but now there needs to stand
the one who would be judged, by the white book

----------


## Neil Thomas

Swell of Springs Night Sweet Sadness



Evenings glow falls upon gathered stones

As nights silver shimmer unveils by suns warmed moon

Shallow breath, quick glance

Bristle winds blow through leaves of many

I sit and wait patient no more

Cool night's silk embrace my self as soul

While he runs phantom on fences of light and crystal

tunnels with whispered roar

My mind races with fear and loss

then numbed in despair

For not cut of brow by viscous brawl quells the spirit 

of tigers call

For love of night and sweet scent

As the night shown bright by suns warmed moon

And crystal tunnels under fences of light fall silent

With swells of springs night sweet sadness..

----------


## Will Press

sorry it's been awhile, but I did write something for this one.

----------


## Will Press

Mercury Rises

Winged herald standing solemn 
Scouts for hope through misty eyes
Resilient as a brilliant column 
Gazing down from opaque skies

He stands above the world, aloof
From sublunary sorrow
The seraph’s name called Providence
The book he brings: “Tomorrow”

The writ he wields will fan the air
Its cover coarse and torn
The pages like its bearer bare
And likewise unadorned

Tomorrow’s text unmarred by ink
From troubling years now past and gone 
Men free to rise, or free to sink
In vast Horizon’s crystal dawn

----------


## Lil Stras 007

I know this isn't very good but I thought I'd give it a shot. It was kind of rushed and unedited but oh well. I haven't had much expirience with poems since I am only in 6th grade and I hope you my poem doesn't scar you for life with it's terriblness. ( is that a word?)
Truth
A man holds the book of truth,
of light, of knowledge ,of power.
For if your words should grace those pages
they shall be cherished for ever.
If you would be so bold,
to spill your mind onto the paper,
to let the vivid colors of your imagination,
paint this blank canvas full.
Of dark and bright and in between,
colors that make a beautiful world.
For you to explore,
For you to Love and enjoy.
In this world which is your own,
You are truly free
To think and feel however you please.

Books are the key to the door
Which leads to enlightenment and understanding.
Be sure you are ready, for once you open that door,
There is no turning back.
Light will come pouring through
And you can not stop it
No power can, for this is
Truth. Pure unblemished truth
And with the Truth comes power
It makes you feel big and strong
You tower over the weak ones who
Do not know the truth.
So open your eyes,
Pick up a book
And let the Truth be known

----------


## ktd222

Congratulations Petrarch! Looks like you have your work cut out for you judging this rounds poetry contest.

----------


## Pensive

> I figured it's probably about time that the Lit. Net. poetry contest had a book related picture, so here it is. The recent to do over the ambiguity of the judging process has awakened the teacher in me, so I'm going to set up a deadline for three weeks from now (that seemed to have been a reasonable time for past rounds). That means *this round of the contest will close at the end of Saturday, February 10th.* The *results will be posted by the close of Monday the 12th.* If people have serious objections to this for some reason, or want to plead for a short extension or something, then either post here or pm me. 
> 
> Good luck everyone!


_I worked on it hard;
Day and night
In every kind of weather
Even in the candle light
I could not afford a tube-light
I could not afford a good dinner in the restaurant
Just because of this book, my wife and I had a big fight
She was angry with me because I did not earn much
Dear Lizzy was right on her place; children had to survive on a poor lunch
But still I kept on working on this very book, with no other thought
"Work and earn for yourself, children and wife," I forgot what my mother had taught
Dreams of being a writer were over me
So most of my time was spent under a tree
Away from home; children and Lizzy
And then one day, I completed this book, I was fizzy
So lively, happy and I was on the moon
But the published threw the copy away - my happiness he had to ruin!
He took away everything at that very moment
My dreams - my hard work of many years
Things happened according to Lizzy's fears
Now I am standing here, with this book in my hand
A poor man, but not as much poor as I was before
The experience has taught me well
I have started to work to have bread on my table; work other than writing
But am I going to make up for the past years?
Is this book going to cover me up well?
Is this book going to cover me up well?_

----------


## Petrarch's Love

> Congratulations Petrarch! Looks like you have your work cut out for you judging this rounds poetry contest.


Thanks, ktd. Yes, it would seem I have my work cut out for me. Great seeing the submissions so far and look forward to reading more.  :Smile:

----------


## Lil Stras 007

Yeah! Some of these poems are pretty good! Would you guys please read my story? http://www.online-literature.com/for...090#post322090

----------


## thevintagepiper

He stands there 
Holding his world it seems 
And it feels empty
Maybe just invisible 
Maybe just foreign
Maybe hidden
Maybe locked away.
Perhaps he is crying
Pushing himself back
Perhaps he is rejoicing
That no one will remember. 
The pages of his life are 
Not as invisible as they look
Rather they are filled
Line upon line upon line
Of scribbled ink and mystery 
Of hope and dream and crime
Of love and pain and faith
Of struggling and suffering. 
Or maybe they are filled with 
Nothing but longing
Longing to show themselves
Longing to be read 
Longing to be loved back
Longing to feel fulfilled. 
Perhaps he is a facade
Perhaps he wears a mask
Perhaps he feels a giant 
Perhaps his life feels 
Far too overwhelming
His struggles too hideous
To show the world
That to him is both
Worse and better
Than himself. 
Perhaps he was forced 
Into hiding his soul 
Perhaps he is afraid 
Of revealing his mind
Of rejection
Of hate
Of distrust. 
Or perhaps what he shows
Is merely the flyleaf
Of some great and
Beautiful work.

----------


## Orionsbelt

Hail Titans spawn,
Conceived in earth by time,
Midwived by thunder,
What would you add?

Re-returning again,
The words of our fathers,
As if from your brethren,
And none are their own.

Words carried, never possessed,
Forever given, never at rest,
What part of our soul
Shows on the cave wall?

Genesis, Sutra, I-ching, sing
Isaiah, Oyasama, Joe Smith, Bramah, bring
Hope, peace, charity, and love
How shall we call you?

----------


## barneythebear

Music that speaks with accents

Where others plainsong rasps the air and jars
That harmony to which it might aspire,
Two-part invention, loudly screeching, mars
A flimsy manuscript thats born of ire.

Yet you, whose chant beguiles my dirge within,
With added fortune truly worth the name,
Will fashion soothing pulses on my skin
And sing so sweet the birds shall die of shame.

For some, the birthing blood of music rests
In dark discord where bitter rankling stains
Biopsy of lineage. Yet, perverse, attests
Denial of which; its wriggling whelp disdains.

Such sucklings we then, who, with vision joint,
Sing on in love ... with heed to counterpoint.

----------


## Triskele

ooh, barney, that is i think my favorite so far

----------


## thefemalemind

when's the contest over??? i think i might enter

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Hi Female Mind--The contest closes February 10th, so you still have ten days. Here's the original post with the picture for this round:




> I figured it's probably about time that the Lit. Net. poetry contest had a book related picture, so here it is. The recent to do over the ambiguity of the judging process has awakened the teacher in me, so I'm going to set up a deadline for three weeks from now (that seemed to have been a reasonable time for past rounds). That means *this round of the contest will close at the end of Saturday, February 10th.* The *results will be posted by the close of Monday the 12th.* If people have serious objections to this for some reason, or want to plead for a short extension or something, then either post here or pm me. 
> 
> Good luck everyone!

----------


## Virgil

Oh good. I have time. I wrote one, but I wanted to give it a little time to digest.

----------


## thefemalemind

ok. thanks Petrarch

----------


## Triskele

can we post more than one? or is that a fairly arrogant and intrusive concept?

----------


## ktd222

> can we post more than one? or is that a fairly arrogant and intrusive concept?


I don't think that would be fair to the other contestants or the person judging the contest. I mean if you have more than one poem for an image then just choose the one you believe is best and sumbit it. Don't water down the pool of entries.

----------


## Virgil

I agree. One submission per person. If you wish to substitute for the one you submitted, either you can edit that previous post by deleting the first and replacing it with the second. Or you can tell Petrarch which one you want in.

Sorry Triskele, but it will get too confusing otherwise. But if everyone else agrees, then what can I say.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

To second the above posts, only one poem per person can be judged. It's fine if you're inspired to post two poems, but only one can be considered for the competition. If you do post two, please clearly mark the one you want considered for contest purposes versus the one that's just for fun.  :Smile:

----------


## Triskele

> I don't think that would be fair to the other contestants or the person judging the contest. I mean if you have more than one poem for an image then just choose the one you believe is best and sumbit it. Don't water down the pool of entries.


i certainly agree, in retrospect probably a bad thought. thanks for setting me straight and remaining true to the contest.

----------


## Pendragon

Besides, the person judging has enough to do deciding on a winning poem and commenting on each entry with only ONE per person!  :Wink:  And Petra has only given herself two days to do all of that! Take pity on her!  :Wink:

----------


## Virgil

OK, here's my entry to this one.





> *The Point of Hinge*
> 
> The pages pivot across,
> While words animate to a conclusion,
> A maelstrom of logic inveigles the reader.
> We can parse all we want,
> But the pages still pivot.
> 
> Is it logic we seek?
> ...

----------


## ktd222

Wow! This is the most entries I've seen for a poetry contest.

----------


## mir

Yeah, this thread is really warming up for this contest.  :Biggrin:  I've just been reading through some of the entries - these are all amazing! I love everyone's poems; great job, all!  :Smile:

----------


## Petrarch's Love

> Besides, the person judging has enough to do deciding on a winning poem and commenting on each entry with only ONE per person!  And Petra has only given herself two days to do all of that! Take pity on her!


 :FRlol:  Thanks Pen. This contest is shaping up to be especially challenging to the judge since, as ktd and mir point out, there are quite a number of entries. Since they're all such good entries, though, it makes it an exceptionally pleasant challenge.  :Smile:  Besides, I'll just have finished grading a big stack of student papers that weekend, so I'll be in top form for meting out judgment.  :Biggrin:

----------


## Triskele

> Thanks Pen. This contest is shaping up to be especially challenging to the judge since, as ktd and mir point out, there are quite a number of entries. Since they're all such good entries, though, it makes it an exceptionally pleasant challenge.  Besides, I'll just have finished grading a big stack of student papers that weekend, so I'll be in top form for meting out judgment.


wow, hell of a workload, i wonder if you do not have time turner to do all of that in a mere 48 hours

----------


## ktd222

> wow, hell of a workload, i wonder if you do not have time turner to do all of that in a mere 48 hours


You need to subtract the amount of sleep out of that 48 hours :Biggrin:  What's left?

----------


## Janine

Oh good Feb. 10th is the deadline then....I have a few more day to come up with something. Who knows maybe I just might scribble something down and enter this time. 7 more days may be enough time to find a spark of brilliance...ha~

----------


## Virgil

Give it a try Janine.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

> You need to subtract the amount of sleep out of that 48 hours What's left?


47 hours  :Biggrin:

----------


## thefemalemind

lol. i think im just going to skip out on this contest

----------


## Petrarch's Love

> lol. i think im just going to skip out on this contest


Sorry to hear it F.M. Just too busy? I guess there's always the next round.

----------


## Susan Sonnen

ok...I took a shot at it! Please keep in mind that this is spur of the moment and unedited!

Welcome, Child!
Look and see the empty pages -
a life yet unfulfilled,
a world not yet created.
Only empty pages that await your touch.
Pick up your quill
and take part in your life!
Every page is in your hands.
Your every word is life itself.
Now breathe!

----------


## thevintagepiper

> ok...I took a shot at it! Please keep in mind that this is spur of the moment and unedited!
> 
> Welcome, Child!
> Look and see the empty pages -
> a life yet unfulfilled,
> a world not yet created.
> Only empty pages that await your touch.
> Pick up your quill
> and take part in your life!
> ...



That is beautiful! It reminds me a lot of Calvin Miller's trilogy, The Singer, The Song, and The Finale. They are all powerful stories written in beautiful freeverse.

----------


## ktd222

> ok...I took a shot at it! Please keep in mind that this is spur of the moment and unedited!


There is still five days to edit and get to a final draft. As for me, inspiration will not strike, although I'm still hoping it does in the next few days.

----------


## toni

Was awake till 6am trying to produce something... got 2 brilliant lines, but other than that, nothing more.  :Frown: 
Let's see tonight, though.

----------


## ktd222

> Was awake till 6am trying to produce something... got 2 brilliant lines, but other than that, nothing more. 
> Let's see tonight, though.


Sometimes a poem is not about length, but content. You should just submit what you have when you feel it's done and not worry about finding extra lines.

----------


## toni

> Sometimes a poem is not about length, but content. You should just submit what you have when you feel it's done and not worry about finding extra lines.


Oh, okay! Thanks, KT! mio amicco :Smile:

----------


## Orionsbelt

> Was awake till 6am trying to produce something... got 2 brilliant lines, but other than that, nothing more. 
> Let's see tonight, though.


Well that's two more than me... keep rolling.

----------


## Janine

When does the poetry contest end? I have been working on something and it is almost done. Don't want to miss the deadline. I thought it was the 7th, but I could be wrong. Please let me know.

----------


## Virgil

> I figured it's probably about time that the Lit. Net. poetry contest had a book related picture, so here it is. The recent to do over the ambiguity of the judging process has awakened the teacher in me, so I'm going to set up a deadline for three weeks from now (that seemed to have been a reasonable time for past rounds). That means *this round of the contest will close at the end of Saturday, February 10th.* The *results will be posted by the close of Monday the 12th.* If people have serious objections to this for some reason, or want to plead for a short extension or something, then either post here or pm me. 
> 
> Good luck everyone!





> When does the poetry contest end? I have been working on something and it is almost done. Don't want to miss the deadline. I thought it was the 7th, but I could be wrong. Please let me know.


Here you go Janine. You have a few days still.

----------


## thefemalemind

> Sorry to hear it F.M. Just too busy? I guess there's always the next round.


well its not that i'm too busy, i just can't think of what to write for this paticular picture. its challanging for me.  :Frown:  

 :Bawling:   :Bawling:

----------


## Janine

*Virgil*, thanks for refreshing my memory. Yes, good, then I have a few more days to revise my poem, or redo it completely...I keep thinking of new things or a different ending. I will work on it. At least I did put down something in print and will post it this time, as feeble an attempt as it may be. :Biggrin:  

*Toni*, keep on writing but if you only come up with 2 brilliant lines please post them. I want to read them. :Smile:

----------


## Triskele

> Was awake till 6am trying to produce something... got 2 brilliant lines, but other than that, nothing more. 
> Let's see tonight, though.


hate when that happens, yah, get an incredible start, two lines and a structure to rock the world, and the words just don't fit, its like trying to fit a jugsaw into a rubix cube...  :Wink:

----------


## Gazette

"Things have changed, and people have died, but unless we try all the harder to keep the rights of freedom and true happiness uncorrupted then those people might have died in vain. If it is that we are to be the last generation that recognizees freedom, then what of the future. Is it that in later years both the bond and free will be as slaves to some forgotten king. And will all the people of the Earth be brought down to the dusts of the Earth from which they were created. Maybe so, but as for me I shall preserve the rights and statutes which I do so dearly cherish."

----------


## rintrah

I walked up on some bright evening
The sounds of the village in my ears,
Voices prickling with the intensity
Of old men, making good their promise
To not go gently into the night,
The hush of the heavens above my head
A few arrayed stars marking out
The bounds of men, the faint
Glistening edge of the sun
Making the presence of the world
Seem thin and narrow, a squinted
Place, an awkward squinted place
And I drew in the air, clearing my
Head, and I thought of the man
Who once told me that the last
Thing the world needs is another book,
he, trim-framed and arrogant,
Placing himself as a the solution to
His own pointless problem

And I thought of the volumes and pages
That dot the sky like stars, endless, seemingly
Like an ocean of mens ideas and womens thoughts
The crashing of waves, clusters of cloistered keepsakes
Bookends washing up on the shore by the harbour,
Floating folios spewing their ink onto the gravel
Mixing the tide-spill with hushed voices and dead thoughts
Thought no more by dead men

And I wondered if there was just one book, only one
A drawstring that pulls us in, makes us fit.
I sat up there for some time, and said
It's just one book, its all one book.
I made my way back down, stumbling in the
Evening light, hearing the men again talking
Their way through life, laughing at old Evans
When he lost his way home and slept in Geraint's
Shed, they slapped their legs and the
Table and howled, and I said, I think you 
should write that down.

----------


## rintrah

Perhaps a little off target, but it's what came out.

----------


## toni

> Well that's two more than me... keep rolling.


Many Thanks, Orion! :Smile:  



> *Toni*, keep on writing but if you only come up with 2 brilliant lines please post them. I want to read them.


Thanks, Janine :Smile:  . Fortunately, I finished it this morning-slept at 5am.
I thought my Mum would kill me :FRlol:  .



> hate when that happens, yah, get an incredible start, two lines and a structure to rock the world, and the words just don't fit, its like trying to fit a jugsaw into a rubix cube...


Tell me about it. I worked on it for 3 nights-I mean 3 dawns and got 2 lines.
I finished it at last, though. :Alien:

----------


## toni

*Slave of the Spine*

The heart of the tale lay down the spine,
his eyes, glued on the revelations,
knocking on the surface that once were flapping tides.


Spiral musings sit on every line,
Hios screeching tongue now silenced,
snapped shut by pages of lips,
bathed by sweet candlelight.


Once, he went catching silver sunlights on leather palms;
And tied songs in paperback rhyme.
But he marched a tune, once upon a time,
walked hand in hand with sunrise;
strigs of manuscripts, passages, gripped in aging hands,
watched forever unfold in his old eyes;
The immortal- Slave of the Spine.

----------


## dramasnot6

WOW TONI! ABSOLUTELY BRILLIANT! I loved it dear! Best work yet!  :Biggrin: 
Congratulations on quite the success!

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Just a reminder to any interested parties that tomorrow is the last day for submissions to the poetry contest. So if you have a mind to add your work to the wonderful group we've collected so far, then get scribbling.  :Smile:

----------


## Gazette

> Where have all the flowers gone, long time passing?
> Where have all the flowers gone, long time ago?
> Where have all the flowers gone?
> Young girls have picked them everyone.
> Oh, when will they ever learn?
> Oh, when will they ever learn? 
> Where have all the young girls gone, long time passing?
> Where have all the young girls gone, long time ago?
> Where have all the young girls gone?
> ...


Pete Seeger (Born on May 3rd 1919) and Joe Hickerson ( Born in Highland Park IL. 1935.)  :Biggrin:

----------


## Gazette

How do you join the poetry contest?

----------


## Gazette

> BECAUSE ALL MEN ARE BROTHERS
> Bach/Glazer- Amrita Music Corp. ASCAP 
> Because all men are brothers wherever men may be
> One Union shall unite us forever proud and free
> No tyrant shall defeat us, no nation strike us down
> All men who toil shall greet us the whole wide world around. 
> My brothers are all others forever hand in hand
> Where chimes the bell of freedom there is my native land
> My brother's fears are my fears yellow white or brown
> ...


 From the cd Songs of Conscience and Concern.  :Smile:

----------


## mir

Gazette, you join the contest by writing an original poem about the picture the last contest winner posted. (it should be the only picture in the thread for the last few pages, so you can just find it by looking there.) Anyone can join, but the poem has to be your own work.  :Smile:  Welcome!

----------


## Riesa

here's mine, strange and odd, but it's all I could come up with, and it kind of suits me, being strange and odd myself.  :Tongue:  

Illumination
offered plain and bold 
from the whetted stylus 
dips the fantastical nib
into intrinsic stillness

fright ties simple
involuntary knots
inside the huddling timid,
peering ever sideways down
and never fixing forward.

As winds carve the ripening clouds
painters spill and leisured lovers drift 
on waves of deepened honey
against the canvas pale skin they melt
unraveling inner boundaries

they reach as winged gods do reach
by urging away reality
glazing the barest page
with truth and lavish beauty.

----------


## Riesa

and can I just say, rintrah, that I absolutely loved this. 





> I walked up on some bright evening
> The sounds of the village in my ears,
> Voices prickling with the intensity
> Of old men, making good their promise
> To not go gently into the night,
> The hush of the heavens above my head
> A few arrayed stars marking out
> The bounds of men, the faint
> Glistening edge of the sun
> ...

----------


## Janine

Well, I have read some of these great poetry entries and been quite impressed. I had better post this since I have been working on it for awhile now. Here is my humble attempt. My first entry in the contest. Hope to enter many more times in the future. It was fun to write.



Aftermath 

Banished, blank, blanched.
Anticipative eyes stare 
Into pulpless white pages;
Stark stone’s potential space
Stares back – waiting.

Black type, bleached white,
No trace of inky time, 
No smudge of knowledge, 
All lost forevermore -
Eradication of all wisdom!

History purged away, 
Kingdoms crumbled, 
Goverments turned to ash, 
Empires lie pulverized, 
Democracy a dream.

Statue stubornly stands 
Imitating man, stonecold; 
Behold his empty book 
World’s “past” evaporated.
Fragments locked in minds?

World with an end!
Books burned to embers,
Art’s ultimate destruction,
Rare treasures shattered;
Time, banished, left dustless.

Keepers of knowledge,
Curators of cultural realms,
How did you not notice 
Arts' slow disintegration,
Dust settling mighty pyramids?

Is there no trase, 
No particle or tiny cinder? 
No seed to nuture us
Kindle new knowledge - 
Thoughts to render fresh ink?

Where shall we begin,
Seek identity, in history's extinction? 
Can one miraculous speck 
Bring "past" back to blank pages;
How to begin history anew….

They weep, emersed in questions
World stands still as stopped clocks.
Knoweledge extracted and lost,
In the rubble of future's fatal hour;
Ignored we all the warnings.

Now worlds look on stone tablets,
Great minds grasp for hidden clues, 
Barely recalled, we see through obscurity -
Labyrinths of history, timespan recalled 
Man surfaces, past shattered truths.

Witness history’s total destruction?
Can the past be recovered; 
Extracted from inward seeing minds? 
Is seed born from flames;
Can dormant "time" be restored?

Man grasps at memory eternal -
For that which a few once knew,
Recalled in their humanity alone,
To steer the course of history anew,
Now glorious "hope" dawns our renewal.

----------


## rintrah

> and can I just say, rintrah, that I absolutely loved this.


Thank you Riesa. I have just read your wonderful poem, and I am deeply touched by your compliment.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Just so that everyone knows, this round of the contest is officially closed. Thanks to all who participated. You all have certainly made my job as judge a tough one. Results will be posted by the end of tomorrow (that's tomorrow, U.S. central time).  :Smile:

----------


## Laindessiel

To supply my Italian hunger, Petrarch, what does your Italian signature mean? I can't do 1+1 on this one. Hehe, I'm not an accomplished translator yet.  :Tongue:

----------


## Laindessiel

Everyone's are marvelous!

----------


## Janine

Lain, how sweet of you to say that. There sure were a lot of entries. Can't wait to see the winner and the next neat photo to write the poem to.

----------


## Janine

Toni, I see your all nighter payed off. Wonderful work and more than two brilliant lines! Glad you completed it. Will say more after the contest ends. Good work, Toni!

----------


## Gazette

Maybe not the best but here it is;




Why is it that we live, what is our motive? Do we only exist to live and breathe, and then leave? Or is there some sort of divine entity in us, and when will we cross over the mortal line and become beings that cannot be harmed by the disappearing time.

----------


## thevintagepiper

I hate time zones  :Frown:  I have to go to bed without reading the winning poem.

----------


## thefemalemind

hey guys. what's the new pic and who was the winner?


tfm

----------


## Janine

> hey guys. what's the new pic and who was the winner?
> 
> 
> tfm


Petrarch has her work cut out for here - there were so many good entries this time. Be patient. She said we would get a winner today. Will be interesting to see the new photo, I agree.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

Just to feed the suspense, because everyone's expecting my next post to be the contest winner, I'm going to answer Lain's question first. :Tongue:  



> To supply my Italian hunger, Petrarch, what does your Italian signature mean? I can't do 1+1 on this one. Hehe, I'm not an accomplished translator yet.


Lain--My signature is the opening lines from the first sonnet of Petrarch's _Canzoniere_, also known as the _Rime Sparse_ because of this opening line. It translates roughly as "in scattered rimes the sound/ Of those sighs with which I fed the heart/ In my first youthful error." Here's a link to the whole poem with translation: http://petrarch.petersadlon.com/canzoniere.html

----------


## Petrarch's Love

And now, having got my students' papers graded, I've had a chance to finish agonizing over the winner of this contest (no easy task). First a few comments to each:

*dramasnot* (The Bibliophile)I think all we readers can identify with desperately seeking that desired book and then getting lost in it when its found (why is it that the book you want always seems to be at the top of the library shelf, so you have to get one of those little step stools andI digress). Nice rhyme, and I like some of your phrases: armed with sight, and your 1,000 page angel. 
*
Pendragon* (The Open Book)Another sonnet from the maestro. I like the idea of the pages being blank so that each person reads his or her own truth into them, just like life. I especially liked the final couplet. 

*mir* (untitled)Good rhyming poem. I like the line deify the daily grind, and the call to not just read but to write at the end of the poem.

*Triskele* (Challenge of Word)Very nice. The words have a strong sound and a natural flow. These lines particularly stood out to me:



> growls and screams of rage echo across worlds
> decades of gnarled growth, shattered by the ink
> smooth curves and dots fight the red stains of blood
> who now dares to stand, neath the tall blank book


I like the contrast of the smooth curve of the lines with the rough deeds and history that they record. Good ending too.
*
Neil Thomas* (Swell of Springs Night Sweet Sadness)A nicely written poem with a lyrical lilt to it, but Im not sure how it connects with the picture for this round of the contest. Maybe you just didnt know how this thread works? We write on a different picture each week. 

*Will Press* (Mercury Rises)Very nice poem, with an even meter, and a strong sound. Your penultimate line, Men free to rise or free to sink, reminds me of the line in Paradise Lost: Sufficient to have stood though free to fall (P.L. 3.99). Were you consciously channeling Milton, or was that by chance?

*Lil Stras* (Truth)A nice prosy poetry. I like these lines especially:



> paint this blank canvas full.
> Of dark and bright and in between,
> colors that make a beautiful world.


*Pensive* (Untitled)I like the story youve imagined behind the creation of a book. Love the repeated line at the end. It really brings together with an emotional impact. 

*thevintagepiper* (untitled)I like the rhythm of your short lines and your use of anaphora. My favorite part is the end, though:



> Or perhaps what he shows
> Is merely the flyleaf
> Of some great and
> Beautiful work.


*
Orionsbelt* (untitled)Beautiful rhythm to this one, and I liked the theme of divine inspiration. I love the phrase Midwived by thunder, and I like the ending question, How shall we call you? Nice.

*Barneythebear* (Music that Speaks with Accents)A very nice love poem, but I dont think it goes with the contest picture. All the same, I like the way you handle the music conceit. Parts of it sound like imitation of old love poems, like those by Donne. 

*Virgil* (The Point of Hinge)This is an interesting one. I like the sense of the eternal pivot, the points on which the book and the world hinge. The last line feels like a bit of a non sequiter, but in a delightfully absurd and fascinating way. 

*Susan Sonnen* (Untitled)I like the simple delight of this one. It has an understated charm about it. I like the inviting imperative of the final line. 

*rintrah* (Untitled)An elegant, lyrical narrative. Its like a combination of a real world story about storytelling, and a mystic vision. I love the whole stanza with the ocean of books, especially these lines:



> Floating folios spewing their ink onto the gravel
> Mixing the tide-spill with hushed voices and dead thoughts
> Thought no more by dead men


and the ending brings us back wonderfully to the connection between the poetry and the prose, so to speak. 
*
toni* (Slave of the Spine)Some really interesting descriptions here. I like the revelations,/ knocking on the surface that once were flapping tides, and the pages of lips. The ending has an almost fairtale-like quality to it, especially the final line The immortalSlave of the Spine. Glad you finished it in time to submit.
*
Riesa* (Untitled)As always your words have a graceful and distinctive sound to them. I think my favorite stanza is the third one:



> As winds carve the ripening clouds
> painters spill and leisured lovers drift 
> on waves of deepened honey
> against the canvas pale skin they melt
> unraveling inner boundaries


Beautiful. The only thing that bugged me was in the second stanza where you never seem to find an object for the following:



> inside the huddling timid,
> peering ever sideways down
> and never fixing forward.


Maybe its just the English teacher in me, but I kept wondering what was huddling, timid, peering etc. Overall I enjoyed it though. 
*
Janine* (Aftermath)Im glad you slipped this one in at the last minute, Janine (almost literally the midnight hour I think), since I enjoyed reading it. Lots of interesting ideas coming out here. I think I like the first stanza the best for its alliteration and description.

----------


## Petrarch's Love

And now youre all wondering who won. As you can see from the list above, there were quite a number of entries this round. All of the writers are undoubtedly talented and I was really torn between some when making a decision. So many wonderful poems, how is one to choose?! That said, Ive decided in favor of Rintrahs poem:



> I walked up on some bright evening
> The sounds of the village in my ears,
> Voices prickling with the intensity
> Of old men, making good their promise
> To not go gently into the night,
> The hush of the heavens above my head
> A few arrayed stars marking out
> The bounds of men, the faint
> Glistening edge of the sun
> ...


Congrats Rintrah, and well look forward to seeing the picture you select for the next round.  :Smile:

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## thevintagepiper

Congratulations Rintrah! It's lovely. I love how it has quite a story in it...

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## rintrah

I feel very honoured! Thank you. I haven't written poetry for some time and this thread has got me going again. I was not envious of Petrarch's job judging this round, and now here I am!

I'll have the next image up soon . . .

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## rintrah

Here goes . . . hopefully not too many groans on this one. I thought it would be interesting how everyone responds to some form of human interaction . . . I look forward to reading everyone's entries.

Taking into account how the thread has developed shall we set the closing date for this in three weeks from now - *that means this round will end close of day 6th March, results to be posted by 8th March*.

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## Riesa

Congratulations, rintrah! I truly did enjoy yours, such a smooth poem, excellent lines:



> Making the presence of the world
> Seem thin and narrow, a squinted
> Place, an awkward squinted place


and great story. I think Petrarch's decision was a sound one, not to say I didn't enjoy all of the contributions! 

Thanks, Petrarch, for your kind comments, and just so you know, the huddling timid are all the people at the feet of the book-holder.  :Biggrin:

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## Virgil

Very good poem, Rintrah. Congratulations. I particulaly liked this passage:



> ... the faint
> Glistening edge of the sun
> Making the presence of the world
> Seem thin and narrow, a squinted
> Place, an awkward squinted place
> And I drew in the air, clearing my
> Head, and I thought of the man
> Who once told me that the last
> Thing the world needs is another book


"edge of the sun," "the presence of the world," "an awkward squinted place," wonderful imagery and phrasing.

Kudos to Petrarch. This was probably the hardest of all our competitions to judge, not only in the quality of the poems, but the quantity too.

Hey Riesa, you're up early.

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## Riesa

Hey Virg! Yeah, I'm getting used to early rising, part of getting old, I guess.  :Biggrin:  Asleep by 10, awake by 5. good lord, what has happened to me.

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## Susan Sonnen

Rintrah, your poem is wonderful! I love the flow of thought... Congratulations!

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## rintrah

Thank you all! Your comments and feedback are very much appreciated.
@virgil, you are certainly right, kudos to petrarch indeed.

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## Pendragon

Very nice poem, congradulatios, Rintrah!  And Petra, thank you for your comments! _Mastero!_ Ah, shucks!  :Blush:

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## Pendragon

Sorry. I had an inspiration from the past...

*Stairway Proposal

She listens in wonder to the tale that he spins
As they sit all alone on the stairs.
With gesticulation he measures out words,
To describe what he is trying to make her understand.
Thinking maybe this will be the right time

Shes cloaked her eyes behind darkened lens
Hoping that he wont see into her soul.
She hears all the words as if from a distance,
Far greater than the one that keeps them apart:
Watching and waiting for something

He still talks of roads taken, of places hes been
The things that hes done and hes seen.
Then as his hands form a small circle,
He looks straight into her heart:
And talks about how hed like to share it all with her

In half disbelief, she leans her head over
And she returns his look with one of her own.
How did he get past her barriers so easily?
But there is a smile on her face as she looks in his eyes.
And a nod of acceptance, she gets up and meets him halfway

Pendragon
© 2/13/07 
*

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## Susan Sonnen

now I like that, Pendragon!!

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## Janine

> Hey Virg! Yeah, I'm getting used to early rising, part of getting old, I guess.  Asleep by 10, awake by 5. good lord, what has happened to me.


*Riesa,* I think I am older than you and that rule does not hold true of me. If I stay up any later I will just have to not go to bed at all and then maybe I can reverse my silly schedule. 

Yes, I agree with everyone. *Petrarch* had a tough job and did a fine one - I like the way she commented on each poem - very professional and well critiqued. 
*Petrarch* - in Eastern time my poem says I posted it 10:14 PM. It must have been the time difference. I did sneak in just in time. I was not happy with my poem, but decided to make a first effort; had to break the ice someway. It was then or never. Thanks for your kind comments. I look forward to trying the next one. Should be fun.

Congratulations, *Rintrah!* I liked you poem and the great idea behind it. How true it is! I especially like the lines that *Virgil* pointed out and quoted in his post.  :Thumbs Up: 

Interesting new photo. Yes, interaction "live" sure is nice. This one should be fun to write about.
*
To everyone else* - great poems! Nice to see so many this time around. Hope the flow continues.  :Smile:

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## Petrarch's Love

> Kudos to Petrarch. This was probably the hardest of all our competitions to judge, not only in the quality of the poems, but the quantity too.





> Petrarch had a tough job and did a fine one - I like the way she commented on each poem - very professional and well critiqued.


Thanks, both of you. It was indeed hard to choose a winner, though it was such a pleasure to get to read and comment on all the poems. :Smile:  

Rintrah--Nice picture. I'll have to give it some though. It'll be fun to get to write a poem again this round.  :Smile:

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## Laindessiel

> Just to feed the suspense, because everyone's expecting my next post to be the contest winner, I'm going to answer Lain's question first. 
> 
> 
> Lain--My signature is the opening lines from the first sonnet of Petrarch's _Canzoniere_, also known as the _Rime Sparse_ because of this opening line. It translates roughly as "in scattered rimes the sound/ Of those sighs with which I fed the heart/ In my first youthful error." Here's a link to the whole poem with translation: http://petrarch.petersadlon.com/canzoniere.html


Thanks a lot for the time (and for having a reason to suspense the people  :FRlol: ) The message is nice.  :Thumbs Up:  

Althought Toni didn't win, I'm sure she'll be happy you gave it interest.  :Smile:

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## thevintagepiper

> Here goes . . . hopefully not too many groans on this one. I thought it would be interesting how everyone responds to some form of human interaction . . . I look forward to reading everyone's entries.
> 
> Taking into account how the thread has developed shall we set the closing date for this in three weeks from now - *that means this round will end close of day 6th March, results to be posted by 8th March*.


Interesting photo...hmmm...I like it! I had to go through an anonymous websurf to get to it though, cause flickr is blocked here  :Frown: 

I'll be back!  :Smile:

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## rintrah

Sorry to hear you had problems, vintagepiper. If anyone has any difficulty seeing the image just let me know. It is my image, and I can email it. Glad it is provoking some thought . . .

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## GimmyDiamond

Arg! I always hated contests, but, well, I sorta, kinda wrote a poem for the pic so I _might as well post it . . . right_  Don't ask why I saw it this way, maybe cuz the neighbourhood I live in or b/c I have bad manners  :Wink: 
Anyways . . . here it is . . .  :Biggrin: 

*Good grief!
What is it this time?!

Is he selling something?
Or is it money?
Lost and cant get home?
Man that line is old . . . 
Or is it more???

Either way
Cant he see feigned interest for just that
FEIGNED . . .

OH bloody hell,
He keeps leaning further
Like thats something I havent seen before . . . 

Why do I always get these people who ramble
Who seem to think I was born yesterday
Do I need a leave me alone sign

Damn manners and 
Not feeling right about ignoring him
But the hell with it, if hes here again tomorrow

One things for sure
These steps arent big enough for the both of us*

Well, there it is . . . think what you will . . .  :Biggrin:

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## mir

Nice poem, Gimmy!  :Smile:

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## GimmyDiamond

Thanks mir!  :Blush:  I wasn't too sure about it . . .  :Smile:

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## dramasnot6

You have a unique, strong voice Gimmy  :Smile:  Well done.

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## Susan Sonnen

Gimmy, Your poem made me smile!

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## Pendragon

A Gem from Gimmy!  :Thumbs Up:

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## GimmyDiamond

Thank you guys Dramas, Susan, and Pen!!!! I was worried someone (or everyone) would think I'm mean or something . . .  :Smile:

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## thefemalemind

Okay, here it is. 

*Rap*

Look at how hes swinging his hands.
Nonsense is filling my ears.
What is it with these people?
Or do I just not understand.
His rhymes tell a story of how he lives
Feel the beat of his life.
Feel the words calming your mind.
Get lost in the rythm of his heart
...His soul.
And just listen...
Then maybe youd understand
It's Who They Are...
It's All They Are...


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay so there it is. i havent written in a while and ive never written something like this but i figured i had to enter something. its different...

 :Smile:

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## thevintagepiper

I love the poem, Pendragon!




> Sorry to hear you had problems, vintagepiper. If anyone has any difficulty seeing the image just let me know. It is my image, and I can email it. Glad it is provoking some thought . . .


Don't worry about it, it's just that the internet company here is extremely strict.

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## Adolescent09

Well, I gave it my best shot. I'm glad to be participating for the first time in this contest and I truly admire some of immaculate poetic works that this enduring thread has produced. In time, perhaps, my work too may be comporable but as of now, it's constant work and enlightenment  :Smile:  

Here is my banal attempt to classify the most recent image presented in poetic terms:

*Blocked*
Upright on a surface of stony layers we cast our thoughts into the wind,
adjacent, though physically it seems, 
our minds self reflect, rendering speech, prolonged and dim
a pole of steel, in my wake, lays an impregnable boundary 
where I may sit and he may watch, 
telling swashbuckling tales, 
while I am huddled in my cubicle, 
and neither his speech,
or his tone,
leaves me desirous of hearing more. 
I tell him this is so 
but my words flow over him, 
as does his over me, 
for blocked we are, barricade in between, on this endless pillar of stone.

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## Pendragon

Nice one, 'Dole!  :Wink:

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## rintrah

I have enjoyed the entries so far . . . you have 2 weeks left to post your poem in this round. Good luck!

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## Adolescent09

Your last poem was fantastic Rintrah. You are very adept at this.

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## Pendragon

Took me a few readings to really grasp the poem, but I like it, Female Mind!  :Thumbs Up:  Not bad at all. Good show!  :Wink:

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## AdoreroDio

OK I'll try this "contest", here goes

A twenty-one year old runaway



I sat there listening
just listening
his tale fascinating
drawing me in
yet all that ran through my head was
a twenty0one year old runaway
running away is for two year olds
maybe 12
but not twenty-one
you cannot runaway from life
he will find it were he's going
he's a twenty-one year old runaway
bags packed
cigarette in hand
and I can't help thinking
Can I run away to?



I don't know if it's that great but.....

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## Orionsbelt

Right hand, Left hand
Yinging, singing, yang
Two by two by two by two
Bilaterally symmetrically similar 

North Pole, South pole
Four floating orbs
Two turtle doves
Divided there, in the middle

Man made, stone brigade
Natures shade
Cascading barriers 
Falling down grey stone

Hey you 
Seek you 
Reach you 
Similar not the same

 :Wink:  ||  :Wink:

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## dramasnot6

LOVED the poem Orion!
Very...balanced  :Biggrin:

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## jab

Your poem was moving and convincing at illustrating the impossibility of successfully running away. And, to top it all off, as I began to feel like an expert on such things, for being educated by your poem, you turned it all around in the last line and reminded me that we mustn't condescend the runaway. Very moving, in sum, connecting me with emotional insight, brotherhood, and introspection!

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## rintrah

Some more wonderful entries! Thanks to all who have submitted. If you haven't submitted yet you still have some time.

BTW, thanks Adolescent09 for your kind compliment - very much appreciated. 

Good luck all!

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## Orionsbelt

> LOVED the poem Orion!
> Very...balanced


Thanks! Especially since balanced is the last word people use when they talk about me. :FRlol:

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## AdoreroDio

> Your poem was moving and convincing at illustrating the impossibility of successfully running away. And, to top it all off, as I began to feel like an expert on such things, for being educated by your poem, you turned it all around in the last line and reminded me that we mustn't condescend the runaway. Very moving, in sum, connecting me with emotional insight, brotherhood, and introspection!


Thanks! I like turning things around and giving different views of one thing in one poem. Some people say I'm contradicting myself but I think it makes for a more interesting poem. :Biggrin:

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## autolycus

*Introduction*

An electron has four quantum numbers,
A human being made of dust has five:

Friendships - number and degree, deception;
Hardships - in sense of quality and weight;
The will - to live, or die, or vegetate;
Strangeness - of the inner mind's perception;
Magnetism - attractive kinds of state.

These are the things which keep our songs alive,
Distill the stuff of dreams from our slumbers,
Make sense of both pre- and post-conception.

*Deduction*

Given that electrons exist
Here is a little human list:

Humans can be bond-paired
Humans can be non-bonding
Humans can be so very scared
When other humans are responding

Humans can be lone-paired
Humans can be radical in bent
Humans can be startlingly shared
By what seems a human accident

*Reduction*

I realise I am a singularity
I look out of a window which cannot be:

And I see at once with blinding clarity
Electrons are fortunately not like me.

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## ktd222

Nice poems. Seems like people are waiting till near the due date to enter their poems :Nod:

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## Pendragon

Nice one, Orion! Could almost hip-hop to that one! Are the smiles the last line? If so, neat idea! 

Pen

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## Pendragon

> OK I'll try this "contest", here goes
> 
> A twenty-one year old runaway
> 
> 
> 
> I sat there listening
> just listening
> his tale fascinating
> ...



I think it's very good! I'm 46, and God knows there's times I feel like running away myself! You hit the bullseye, Dore'do!  :Thumbs Up:

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## thefemalemind

> Took me a few readings to really grasp the poem, but I like it, Female Mind!  Not bad at all. Good show!


thanks. i usually dont write like that. ill do better next pic.

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## Orionsbelt

> Nice one, Orion! Could almost hip-hop to that one! Are the smiles the last line? If so, neat idea! 
> 
> Pen


Thanks Pen,

The smiles occured to me as I was posting it. I thought it would be a fun addition. Glad you liked it.  :Thumbs Up:

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## dramasnot6

OOo that gave me an idea for the personal poetry forum, does anyone like the idea of a smiley poetry game/contest/misc. poetry thread?
Maybe it will turn out better than the How do you do EMOTICON STYLE? thread

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## Pendragon

Could work, Drama. One vote, anyway!

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## rintrah

OK, time for an update: there's one more day to post your entries in this round! I'm in the UK, so I will post an 'event closed' message 8am GMT 7th March. Thanks for all our entries so far!

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## Petrarch's Love

Well, since the deadline is upon us, here's a last minute effort: 

He has traveled and he has traveled
To Iraq and back
Then with backpack 
And army issue duffel
Along the long highways
Of the fifty states,
And again across an ocean. 
Now backpacking through Europe
To round out the experience of youth, 
To find excuses to keep moving on,
To make an army cut a rebels shaved head,
To change into the uniform
Of a wandering poet,
Twenty-first century bard.

The beat of the same songs,
Still the beat of the same songs
Have accompanied him through the experience
Of food, sleep and death
In lands of war and lands of peace.
Now he wears those songs about his neck
Prepared to try, in the beat of his own words,
To fill the space between his hands 
In which he suspends the whole round earth as he has seen it.
He searches for the words to show
The way the wide curious eyes of children are the same
As they watch him pass
In a Jeep through Baghdad,
In a Ford through Kansas,
In a bus through London
Searches for the words to show
The white teeth of welcoming smiles
The white teeth of grimacing pain
Searches for the words to show
Dirty alleys
And long stretching grasslands.
Hot desert sun
And long northern nights of questioning darkness.

She has lived her whole life in the same city
And in the same city 
Of tree lined streets she walks to work each day 
And each day takes a break
To have a smoke at noon.
Sits on the steps 
Leans forward in the bright noon sun 
To hear the words of a stranger
What he has to say
What he has to share
And he pauses before
Simply asking for a light.

----------


## rintrah

OK, it's a little late - but here's the notice; this round of the contest is now closed. Thanks for all your entries. I shall post the results anon!

----------


## rintrah

Congratulations everyone - what an interesting and diverse poetic response to the image! I'd like to respond to each of the entries before posting the final results:

Pendragon: Stairway Proposal
I love the tension which builds up as you contrast the seemingly opposing forces, and then it is all finally resolved into harmony. The ending surprised me, a welcomed unexpected denouement! I loved the imagery completeness offered:'Then as his hands form a small circle', as if he is offering a symbol of wholeness, which she desires.

GimmyDiamond: These steps aren't big enough
This is a wickedly accurate internal monologue - haven't we all felt that at times! I was particularly struck by the 'Damn manners and/
Not feeling right about ignoring him'. Here the woman has pressures from both sides; the more obvious force which is trying to engage her in conversation, and the more mystical sense of social responsibility and etiquette, which struggles and competes for attention. Though she wants to shut it out with, 'But the hell with it', it doesn't every really go away - this is the real tension at operation here. 

thefemalemind: Rap
Wonderful rhythm here! And 'swinging his hands' gets us into the meter. Again there is a theme of social norms here - the central question 'how do I fit into society' is picked up with the idea that either I am crazy for not understanding this guy, or everyone else is crazy but me; 'What is it with these people?/ Or do I just not understand.'

Another interesting theme here is the notion that a person is what they say - their speech defines them in some way. People are what they talk about, or even HOW they talk. The poem ends with the sense of mesmerizing trance that the rhythmically spoken words can induce - like a spell.

Adolescent09: Blocked
Wonderful use of oppositional ideas such as 'a pole of steel, in my wake' giving a sense of motion and movement, when in fact the 'action' is inert, the will stifled and the characters arrested. This tension builds; words 'flow' and move, as the wind may carry their ideas, but our protagonists are planted in concrete, boxed in and framed.

AdoreroDio: A twenty-one year old runaway
The poem draws you down one chain of thought and that cleverly inverts in the final line, making us want to reread to see if there is any hints that this was to happen! So we must examine the sincerity; the tone from the fifth line introduces the rejection of running away, but line eight is the one to watch - 'perhaps' hints at possibilities, if 12 maybe older still? The poem, while disparaging, 'you cannot run away from life', maintains the appeal; 'bags packed' sounds all too alluring! 

Orionsbelt: The Problem
This clever poem picks up on several motifs from the picture and draws them together to develop the theme of polarity - oppositional but connected forces, 'similar, not the same'. I love the lines 'Man made, stone brigade/ Natures shade'. It operates to contrast the artifice and the natural so succinctly, and stone brigade for the steps is wonderful, as is the 'Cascading barriers'. There is a feeling of magnetism from the poles to the orbs, and push and pull of gravity, like some big generator or electro-magnetic engine turning over, and this is picked up by the rhythm of 'Two by two by two by two'

Autolycus: Both ways at once
The poems introduces us to the closeness we share with electrons, having five quantum numbers, and gives us a quantum recipe for humans: Friendships, Hardships, The will, Strangeness, and Magnetism. The rest of the poem seems to examine these notions, and shows that while we are made of the same 'stuff', we are so different; 'Humans can be bond-paired/Humans can be non-bonding'. There is a fascinating rhyming scheme at play here, which changes and develops, shifting like the variations and unpredictability of humans. The instability of humans is examined, and the closing remark sets us at odds with the natural world, which is more fixed and definite. Thus the poem sets out with our closeness to electrons, then in examining that closeness shows that we are in fact opposite.

Petrarch's Love
I love how the weight of experience and adventure is drawn to a an ironic 'Simply asking for a light'! The clever lines 'The white teeth of welcoming smiles/ The white teeth of grimacing pain' show us that things which appear the same can have very different meanings, setting us up for the ironic ending. I also loved the motif of transition: 'To make an army cut a rebel’s shaved head'. The woman here is offered as a willing ear, the man is presented as an perhaps an unwilling speaker, perhaps as one who fails to draw lasting conclusions about his experience. Yet it could be said that the woman operates at a much needed level of grounded reality - while the man is all ethereal experience.

----------


## rintrah

Needless to say, a horribly difficult choice, and I'm sure you don't envy my job right now. But the conventions of the contest force me to select a single winner, so here goes. Congrats to everyone who participated in this round, your entries were a joy to read!

The winner is autolycus with his poem Both ways at once.

I loved the interesting definitions, the almost scientific quirkiness, the sheer dog-gone silvery slipperiness of the rhyming scheme, and the line 'These are the things which keep our songs alive/ Distill the stuff of dreams from our slumbers' is mesmerizing! Well done!




> *Introduction*
> 
> An electron has four quantum numbers,
> A human being made of dust has five:
> 
> Friendships - number and degree, deception;
> Hardships - in sense of quality and weight;
> The will - to live, or die, or vegetate;
> Strangeness - of the inner mind's perception;
> ...

----------


## Virgil

Congratulations Autolycus. That was very good and innovative. I like the originality of that.

----------


## Pendragon

Congradulations Auto! What new picture awaits us now?

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## ktd222

Congratulations Auto!!! A very *productive* piece :Biggrin:

----------


## Orionsbelt

Congratulations Autolycus. I really like your poem. Shape changer ... good fit....

Rintrah - your analysis is outstanding thank you for all of that effort.

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## Petrarch's Love

Congratulations Autolycus! I think Rintrah made an excellent choice.  :Smile:  Lovely sense of rhythm, with some memorable lines. I also particularly liked the ones Rintrah quoted and the whole "deduction" section. 

And, come to that, thanks to Rintrah for doing the work of judging and for giving us all some great feedback.

----------


## dramasnot6

Congratulations Autolycus! I loved your unique interpretation of the structure of that poem.

----------


## Adolescent09

*autolycus*, without a doubt that is one of the greatest pieces of poetry I've seen around here. Terrific job. You definately deserved to win..

----------


## Adolescent09

Man, the more and more I read these poems, the better and better they get. I'm sorry for double posting but I just had to profess my compliments to everyone. I'm so fortunate to be just a little part of this great site..

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## Janine

*Hi Everyone*, Good job! Congratulations to *autolycus*, the winner! Excellent - I loved your unique poem. I have not read all but the entries yet but what I did read I felt highly impressed. I will try to read all that entered this round. 
*Adolescent09*, don't be so modest. I am so happy to see you finally posted and entered the contest. I always enjoy your wonderful insight and sensitive poetry and know you will be an asset to this site.
Will be interested to see what the next picture will be.

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## rintrah

> And, come to that, thanks to Rintrah for doing the work of judging and for giving us all some great feedback.


Thanks Petrarch. By the way, I got your PM and replied. Sorry, I forgot to look at it for some time.

----------


## seasong

Congrats to Autolycus! That was a wonderful poem. I adored it, especially since I've studied molecular orbital theory. It was so fun to see it applied to relationships. Amazing.

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## autolycus

Argh. I've been away submerged in marking term papers... Sorry. I am overwhelmed by the sheer positivity of the comments here. *grin* I almost wish someone had said something negative, but I'm not a saint. I must thank all of you (especially <rintrah> for selecting my poem, and - although I'm not sure how it will be received - <Petrarch's Love> for writing excellence under pressure) very much!

Picture:



Artist acknowledgement: Justin Jenkins, Imaginative Pencil

I still can't get my head around his art.

Deadline: April Fool's Day, 0001 GMT. Thanks!

----------


## ktd222

Great image, auto!

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## Pendragon

Abstract images... huummmm. Challenging...

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## Virgil

I love that image too.  :Thumbs Up:  Fabulous.  :Smile:

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## Petrarch's Love

Fun picture, Auto. Should be interesting to see what people come up with. 




> and - although I'm not sure how it will be received - <Petrarch's Love> for writing excellence under pressure) very much!


And thank you for the compliment, Auto. Can't imagine why it would be received other than happily.  :Smile:  Congrats again on your win.

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## hockeychick8792

You need to expand! People do not just want to write about a single painting. Sure you may sensor it a bit by giving a general topic, but let the creativity flow through there bodies. Get them to think!!!

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## Adolescent09

nice to have you here hockey, although I really don't know what you mean lol... I hope you have a pleasant time on these forums. They are really great. And yes! Kudos to Auto for the great pic! My poem is already done, but I'd rather wait until other entries are submitted so I can um... steal ideas  :Biggrin: . no..jk.

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## dramasnot6

Very interesting image, I have only just started boiling up some ideas  :Biggrin:  Good luck to everyone!

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## ktd222

> You need to expand! People do not just want to write about a single painting. Sure you may sensor it a bit by giving a general topic, but let the creativity flow through there bodies. Get them to think!!!


I don't know what you mean, hockey. I thought every poem entered was very creative and thoughtful. Do you mean give them a math problem, or an image that can only be deduced in one way? Do you mean post two images, side by side?

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## ktd222

> nice to have you here hockey, although I really don't know what you mean lol... I hope you have a pleasant time on these forums. They are really great. And yes! Kudos to Auto for the great pic! My poem is already done, but I'd rather wait until other entries are submitted so I can um... steal ideas . no..jk.


Ahhh! I used to have that ability to write, write, write...but now I'm full of pauses. What happened to me? :Confused:  I might just have to wait till you post your poem so I can have something to work from. :Biggrin:

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## rintrah

Nice picture, Auto. I'm looking forward to Adolescent's entry - the speed of your composition has got me thinking about what your first impressions of the picture may be - like when you're playing chess and you're considering your options and someone says 'I can see the move you need to make' . . . and you just can't see it for yourself . . . lol! Hey. Wait a minute. There's a poem there! Can I submit a poem about Adolescent's posting about his poem about the picture? Ha! Made myself chuckle then. Good luck everyone.

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## Adolescent09

I'm flattered by your cynical anticipation for my entry, Rintrah :P I'll be posting at the half of the deadline (a fortnight I think it is?). Then I'll be posting in a week. Goodluck all and keep up your open mindedness  :Smile:

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## rintrah

Oops! Sorry, Adolescent, not cynical, just interested.

Here's my entry:

So I got up, shook the leaves from my coat
And made my way up past the Serpentine,
Dappled grey mirror punctured with fat ducks,
And I walked on past Albert's Memorial
It's golden spire stifled by the dim light
And I prayed to the muses that brought me
And gave such triumph to life, such hope.

I thought of the boys of the town, too young
To shave without pain, standing at bus stops
Where the girls smoke cigarettes and dream on,
The clustered noisy chatter echoing
On the black roof tops, the thin slates hanging
Clacking nailbound, clinging to chimney stacks
They appear to adore, they want to save.

And I looked up across the street to the
Albert's Royal Hall, where buses laden
With travelers disembowel their innards
To the sprawl, and I saw some young girls there,
Mothers pestering, steering them to the
Entrance, bags and wire hangers with black sacks
Shielding costumes within I supposed, and
I looked and saw some street performers decked
Out in colours green and orange, leg-swung
And head-high, spinning and poised upon toes
Too small for the feat, and I watched them leap,
Those gaudy marionettes, whirling round
In a froth of pink netting, hair tightened
Back to perfection, mothers looking on 
Casting one eye to the seem stitching 
Laboriously laid at one a.m.

And I smiled at those girls, their cheeks beaming
Bright red in the autumn air, and I walked
On past Old Albert, making my way home.

----------


## Xeryous

He was silenced, for a want of faith - 
Re-imagine. For the sake of restless states
And crumbling empires. 
Settling instead in the dust of shaken echoes
The future foregone, given up to dissolution. 
He cannot perceive the light, clouded 
As it is by the hypocrisy of now
Against that which had been.

Lost minds, lost souls, by the choking dust
Asphyxiated by unchecked lust
This is all for me. 
Ishmaelites. No longer a care
For the benign, in much-malignd stares
Fateful, awful, dissolution

Awake! And see the poverty.
Our wounds caressed by the tongues of greed.
Awake. In the midst of crashing waves
And howling gales, a slow lament sees us stripped
Of all design, and folly,
Exposed for all we are. There 
Are survivors.

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## Adolescent09

That's a fabulous poem Xeryous although I don't see how it ties with the image... I guess different people have different ways of viewing art  :Smile:

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## Pendragon

Nice poems so far. Araugggh! Bogged on mine right now! It will come through!

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## mir

The ideal not flesh
But spirit inside contained 
Beauty in chaos of mind

hm. half haiku half tanka . . . ?

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## autolycus

*grin*

Keep 'em coming; what with the view of London and the oddly Byzantine (in the manner of W B Yeats) and the half-tanker (heh heh), I am beginning to feel like the picture looks. And I haven't been on any hallucinogenic drugs...

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## Adolescent09

Here you go Rintrah ;P. At least with this I stand a chance at barely comparing with you! I tried really hard:

In the following poem I present minute descriptive imagery 
of the most recent contest picture. All of the imagery (covert and overt) 
might not be noticed if read over too quickly, so I'd ask
that the readers/critics/judge read it slowly line by line, 
while looking at the picture periodically to notice 
exactly what I'm describing. Thanks in advance and good luck 
to all.  :Smile: 



*Geometric Tropic Saints*

The Pervasive song is mosaic twirls, 
warmly inviting Carribean Color, 
giving shape, 
in form and grace, 
to postures painting rainbow wonders, 

Taking intuition,
Making passion, 
through angular knee 
geometry

low rectangle, low triangle, 
with outpost block to rest a hand, 

a left leg, a swan end, 
a high hand, a white head, 
one foot down, its three-toed leg 

for nature's drift on brick walk,

brown faced sweetness, cocked far left,
in bows of greatness, 
in motley's twists, 
in oily skins to mark saints' meekness,
in gracious flow.....

for which it stands

Adolescent09
&#169; 3/12/07

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## Pendragon

Order From Chaos 

Vibrant yellow and pink slashes
Form a bodice and tutu
Seemingly meaningless scrawls become
Dancers arms and legs in poise.
Roses bloom among controlled chaos
Faces finely formed lost in the artistic surf,
My artists eye looks for perspective,
That single focused vanishing point.
Note the leg just right off center
Formed in bold scrawls like all the rest,
Careless, daring, seemingly random whorls.
Focus microscopically upon it just a moment
Hidden meaning in plain sight may be found
Naked is the best disguise
Al Hirschfeld would enjoy the irony.
In his works you find the hidden Ninas,
What message is there hidden here?

Pendragon
© 3/12/07



To show you what I mean, here's an Al Hirschfeld. Can you find Nina? Look closely...

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## dramasnot6

Wow guys, looks like some amazing poetry there! Everyone has used such gorgeous imagery, Im going through a little block right now myself but am pretty certain of my participation later on.  :Smile:

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## mir

Pen - I used to look at those Hirschfeld paintings all the time!! They're great!  :Smile:

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## Pendragon

> Pen - I used to look at those Hirschfeld paintings all the time!! They're great!


I loved them, and was addicted to finding the "Nina's" Nina was his daughter's name, and he incorporated in into every drawing as often as possible. Knowing where to look, I count at least five in this one, with several other possibles. It has been said that Hirschfeld drawings have been used for mental training. If you can find his hidden "Nina's", you are sharp, but that is only hearsay...

Pen

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## rintrah

> Here you go Rintrah ;P. At least with this I stand a chance at barely comparing with you!


Love your work as always, Adolescent, particularly "in motley's twists/
in oily skins to mark saints' meekness". I blush at your compliments.

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## decon_blue

She never taught one,
How could she. She was worried.

Still that could not become her fate.
She might have started late.

Tust me, I’ve poured over her ‘form’
(Her thighs are great  :Smile:

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## decon_blue

Here's one from the one-frame future.
Sorta...: )

In our father’s sunshine, we were just outlines
In our mother’s orchards, we were shade
My sisters and I, we were free.
Till he came by, taught us why
The sunsets butchery exists.
How we could never die.

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## Adolescent09

> Love your work as always, Adolescent, particularly "in motley's twists/
> in oily skins to mark saints' meekness". I blush at your compliments.


What can I say? Your poetry shows great imagination. All the poems this round are sounding great! It's going to be a daunting task chosing a winner...

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## decon_blue

...just wondered if there was an art forum out there posting sketches to poetry.

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## ktd222

> ...just wondered if there was an art forum out there posting sketches to poetry.


Drawings from poetry written? Not that I know of on this forum.

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## thefemalemind

> To show you what I mean, here's an Al Hirschfeld. Can you find Nina? Look closely...


....i cant see it.  :Frown:   :Frown:   :Frown:

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## Petrarch's Love

All this talk of hidden Ninas has put me in a playful mood, so I had a little fun with this one with a little hidden "art". Great pic. to write on. 

"Telling the Dancer from the Dance" 

Drawn to the barre like birds to fruited branch,
Alighting with detailed poise and skill,
Nodding, swaying gently as they start the dance,
Controlling every move with focused will
Every muscle tautened into grace until
Limbs turn to lines and color streams from sweat:
Instant metamorphosis when lungs fill,
Veins course and flesh fulfills its debt,
Inspiring the spirit to forget
Nagging sins and fears that it is heir to.
Glowing more bright than eye can see they let
All themselves be transformed and created new.
Routinely, while in quiet practice they devote their hours
The air around them bursts, and moves, and changes with their power.

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## ktd222

> "Telling the Dancer from the Dance"


This is a line from a Yeats poem, right Petrarch?

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## Pendragon

> ....i cant see it.


 Most obvious one, focus on the center singer's skirt.  :Wink:  






The others are hard, I have seen many of these drawings and know where Al usually hides them, but you might not see them without a real good magnifying glass and some imagination.  :Smile:   :Thumbs Up:

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## Petrarch's Love

> This is a line from a Yeats poem, right Petrarch?


Yes, it's a shameless paraphrase alluding to the final line of "Among Schoolchildren." Yeats' much finer line is "How can you tell the dancer from the dance" and the complete poem isn't here on Lit. Net, but can be found here: http://www.web-books.com/Classics/Po...eats/Among.htm.

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## Dante Wodehouse

Sonnet by Wodehouse

As the pentangle fades the saints stir souls
Their knee-joints be cufféd, no more to move
Their crowns unfast'ned, invaded by shame
Yet, they dance, life, to them be still the same.

The shackle no more a hurt to the pride
Than humility inflicted by the breast-plate.
As the first light shone Godly, so the saints
In this new light appear to us, the saved.

Accoutered so bravely, they catch the soul's eye,
And in this new inspection they stand firm
Calling their audience like a **** for the sun
'Out come ye, up and rise, strike at the dark!'

Called at by them, the souls up and do rise,
With intent of ill's premature demise.
Their faith leads them, as holy words,
Faith, they are lead, these artificial birds.

This is for the dancing saints picture. I always like, if I can, to throw an unexpected little anticlimax in the end.

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## Adolescent09

I wrote about them as dancing saints as well but took a geometrical side to my stanzas. I don't know what the **** word is for sure but if it is the "S" word or the "F" word (or any other four letter crude/curse word for that matter) it really undermines the poem's overall quality..

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## Pendragon

Wodehouse, its a very nice, vibrant poem, but no sonnet. It has the wrong rhyme scheme and number of lines. 'Dole, I believe the **** is for another name for a rooster, which is not vulgar used that way, but still gets blanked out. Happened to me once when I wrote something on preparing a gun for firing, so I remember! That line would be 

"Calling their audience like a rooster for the sun" in other words. 

Call him "Chanticleer" perhaps next time, Wode?

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## Dante Wodehouse

Thanks for the advice. Yes, the word means rooster, but rooster has two syllables, which overides my poem scheme, and is less poetic than the word which I used (I believe shakespeare would have liked it more). I called it sonnet because I wanted to do the 16-lines in iambic pentameter with a rhyming couplet, which is a lot longer of phrase than sonnet, so for succinctness, I said sonnet.

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## Pendragon

> Thanks for the advice. Yes, the word means rooster, but rooster has two syllables, which overides my poem scheme, and is less poetic than the word which I used (I believe shakespeare would have liked it more). I called it sonnet because I wanted to do the 16-lines in iambic pentameter with a rhyming couplet, which is a lot longer of phrase than sonnet, so for succinctness, I said sonnet.


As I said it is a very vibrant, solid poem. After a re-reading, yes, I like your sticking to your iambic pentameter. It's something I have never really accomplished, is sticking to a precise meter, even in my song writing. It will vary by a bit one way or the other. Don't you hate the way that very poetic word gets blanked out because people misuse it? It's hard on mystery writers to post a story, because you have to invent new ways to say something like this: "Adams jammed his gat to the moll's skull and and thumbed back the hammer. "Make wit th' dough or it's curtains for youse, sweetheart. And shut yer yap!" since you cannot use the other word.  :Thumbs Up:

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## autolycus

What, now I have to cope with missing words in poems too? Not only acrostic sonnets but le coq sportif en la quatraine as well? Oops, I am getting a bit translingual here (or is that a banned word too?)

Keep the poems coming. Hmm, I don't see a judgement emerging before April 6 at this rate...  :Smile:

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## Virgil

> Picture:


OK here's my entry:




> *Three Sisters At The Dance*
> 
> Triple meter unset,
> Melody rounds roulette
> They turn to pirouette.
> 
> Three sisters at the dance
> Stop their legs in coy stance
> Eyes balk with girlish glance.
> ...

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## Adolescent09

"Triple meter unset,
Melody rounds roulette
They turn to pirouette.

Three sisters at the dance
Stop their legs in coy stance
Eyes balk with girlish glance.

Synch in legs, arms and feet
Pitch and hurl to the beat
Fold midriff to a pleat.

Balance, poise, ballet springs,
Mother glares in the wings
Violins sway in swings.

Sister one spins on toes,
Sister two roughly flows,
Sister three down she goes."

This first part of your poem sounds so similar to the style i've inherited in my recent poetic works. It's using short stanzas and repetition of words such as "sister" but conveying points of very strong imagery. Isn't it so effective? I like it! Keep it up  :Thumbs Up:

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## Virgil

Thank you, kindly Aolescent. I think it gave this poem a nice feel.

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## Orionsbelt

Well here goes... this one was fun. :Cool:  



Immersed in a sea of silver blue harmony
Schools of white notes swarm in pastel chord
Currents of color turn symphonious whirlpools 
White waves splash cross a sandy sound board

Ride the grey back of the tuba phone tortoise
Hop the bright fin as the angel fish prance
Blue fish staccato then red porpoise allegro
Shadows of manta rays three in a dance 

Orange brass ensemble vibrate yellow amoroso 
Bright red pitches swirl round the dark green refrain
A dark minor scale fish lead light major dolphins 
Stepping the time of the rainbow quatrain 

Swim with musical mermaids
Drift river lyric to chromatic sea 
Join the ballet of color and music 
Rest three beats caper the colorless lee

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## ktd222

It's amazing how certain individual's poetry writing skills are getting better each round. I guess practice does make perfect. :Smile:

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## Adolescent09

"Certain individuals"? I'd say every individual here is getting better with every round. That's no anomaly. And what makes you guess that practice makes perfect? Of course it does..lol

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## ktd222

> "Certain individuals"? I'd say every individual here is getting better with every round. That's no anomaly. And what makes you guess that practice makes perfect? Of course it does..lol


No, I mean certain individuals. Practice only makes perfect if you know what you're are doing.

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## Adolescent09

Then again we don't always know what we are doing even when we think we do. This is how practice makes "perfect".. Keep doing what you think is right until you find out the *actual* way of doing it. The whole object of being a "perfect" writer is writing the way you do until it gets better and better. And technically there is no "perfect", because the writing you think is "perfect" is just going to keep getting better the more you practice. So practice always exists but perfect is the false notion we feel when we believe that practice is no longer needed, which we term perfect. But practice is always needed so perfectness is never sustained.... Writing is all about trial and error so no "certain" individual is going to advance, but mostly everyone who engages any form of avid writing.
________________________________
Well this is my thoughts of that matter. I don't intend on debating or anything because firstly this isn't the topic to do it and secondly, I don't want to, but I just wanted to clarify my view.

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## ktd222

Youre reasoning is moving in circles. Not everyone knows what theyre doing. Im not trying to ruin this thread by arguing with you.

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## Pendragon

I feel that encouraging people should be the goal of any poetry circle. Myself, I see improvements in everyone's writings as time goes by. To say that there are some here that do not know what they are doing seems a bit harsh, KT. Every poet has to start as a neophyte, get their proverbial feet wet, catch a few criticisms along the way, pay their dues, and improve. Not even Shakespeare came from his mother's womb spouting the lovely prose and poetry that made him immortal. He undoubtably had his flubs and periods of writers block. 

Ah, but if we write the words about our friends
And say they have no clue what they do
The things our enemies shall say may be without end,
And time, alone, the judge of which is true.

_Wisdom from the Dragon_

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## Virgil

Nicely put, Pen.  :Smile:

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## ktd222

Well then its harsh. Im sorry. Do you want me to lie? I dont see improvement in every persons poetry.

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## Petrarch's Love

Given the above post, it looks as though ktd is channeling the brutally honest spirit of a certain Unnamable former member.  :FRlol:

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## Adolescent09

> Well then it’s harsh. I’m sorry. Do you want me to lie? I don’t see improvement in every person’s poetry.


You'd have to be "perfect" to make a statement like that. You're no one to decide who's getting better and who isn't, frankly because all of the poetry here is good. You say you don't want to argue but you post offensive stuff like this and say "I'm sorry"? Get real. You're just asking for others to argue with you.

And...my extremely simple reasoning makes perfectly good sense once you get past your confounded ego.

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## autolycus

Errr... could we get back to the poems?  :Smile: 

"To Errr... is human, to forgive is fine."

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## ktd222

What? It is called an opinion. Youre not welcome to it. Frankly, Im glad I have my own judgment on which poets are making progress. Perfect? No. I have an opinion. You have an opinion. You are just taking offense to mine becausewell I dont know why? What does this say about you, your work?

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## thefemalemind

oh my goodness... just stop arguing... both of you.
lets get back to the thread shall we?

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## ktd222

> Errr... could we get back to the poems? 
> 
> "To Errr... is human, to forgive is fine."




Picture:



I'm sorry, autolycus. My intent was not to ruin your contest. I think the contest is still open for a couple more weeks so please people, entries are still welcome.

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## autolycus

Thank you!  :Smile:

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## ktd222

Here is my entry:



Fundamentally we do not exist.
Compare Nature in our being:
the light which spirals in
to shape our hands shapes
the motion of Her grace,
and spills dawn, and noon, and evening light
into our bodies, shaping, Her radiance,
and whirls our legs, in stars, in bright stars, Her elegance;
and our looks, like blocks projecting:
black black black black black

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## ktd222

Does someone know how to insert extra spacing between words? When I do it in the reply box, and hit submit, the spacing reverts back to single space

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## Scheherazade

Please resolve your personal differences via PMs.

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## dramasnot6

Sometimes i feel that I can over-write. Once i tried to do many different poems in a short period of time and at the end they were pretty bad. I think we can all agree that constructive practice with consideration of the author to improve and actions taken to better one's writing does lead to improvement. I think ktd was just commending people for constructively improving by being more conscious and careful for the second time they wrote in order not to make the same mistakes. It is up to the individual whether to continue making mistakes or to fix them in the course of their practice.  :Smile: 

and back on track...well done to everyone for some great poems!
Orion- The rhyme scheme is lovely
Ktd- I loved "like blocks projecting:
black black black black black" this last line serves as a great contrast to your description of color in the rest of the poem

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## AdoreroDio

here's my entry:

A whirl of colors
spinning
muscles stretch and warm
toes point
a swish of a hand
the soft thump of a landing
twisting legs
hearts soar 
so do bodies
colors dance across the floor
music plays softly
each person dances
to the beat that flows through
their bones
A whirl of colors
spinning
muscles stretch and warm
toes point
but all that is seen
by simple eyes
is a ballet class
but I see different
I see the faces move across the room
their emotions flowing 
through their movement
I see the heart
I see the color

I see the soul.

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## autolycus

my only regret is that i can't chuck out many of the posts which are obscuring my easy access to the poetry... *grin*

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## Il Penseroso

Her ankles move
like tufts of string,
a rhythm unravels
as she steps.

The dress defies
its frame of threads,
a gown painted, 
chromatic shards
drip beauty like
a morning petal.

And her fingers 
dissolve each color,
sweep the rays
like curling waves,
spreading to fill 
the yawning moon.

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## autolycus

hmmm... some time has passed
the last pensive post betrays
should i end it now?

:-)

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## dramasnot6

oh please dont! im still trying to finish mine up  :Frown:  sorry im taking so long...
though if im not done by deadline dont wait about, thanks!

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## autolycus

No problem! Please take your time! I did say 1 April, just after midnight GMT...

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## mir

mm, lovely poems, everyone!

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## kandaurov

Here is mine. Simple rhyme, four feet per line. Hope it's good enough for your attention, since English is not my mother tongue...


The dismal landscape, grey and dark,
He beholds with jovial bliss
The wind that blows fierce and stark
He feels as soft as a heartfelt kiss.

No larks or nightingails, but crows
Whose caws he heeds like lullabies
And as the dreadful night is close
He regrets his sight's demise.

The clouds draw near; they threat to rain
And boom a frightening thunderclap
Though joy he wants to feel or feign
In his soul persists a gap

He tried to run away from pain
But pain pursues his every step.

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## dramasnot6

Dance of life

Red
A tango of touch commences-
Disperses, she writhes-hospital gown billowing around her
Tiny cries muffled by flesh and longing
The curtain falls- the cord is cut
Sweaty lips speak of swollen worries
Heart beats tap out cautious joys

Orange
Ah the giddy tap continues with Astaire-like perfection
Her partner has not missed the cue
She wails with will and wonder
At the sudden spotlight trained upon her
Backstage in the dark there was no performance
No lines, no blocking, no need to kill or die for my public

Yellow
To waltz alone- concerto solo uno
Accelerando! Accelerando!
Liquid gold covers the field
I peel off each soft strand of the clover flower
Sick with spinning I drop to my knees
Drowning in a solar shower

Green
Leap across the moss-streaked stage-Bravissimo!
We pirouette in verdant passion
Scent of sage clouds our senses
Winks and giggles in the fashion
Hair and leotards pulled tight
Unravelled by the rhythm of the night

Blue
Wrinkles sachet across weary skin
Bones creak and hairs thin
Dancers body sinks into deep sea
Tear-stained leotards and stolen grace
A life long shore washing up my plea
Feet ache to reclaim the pace

Indigo
Floorboard echoes 
A rainbows shadow
The demise of a decrepit dance
Ballet plunges
Cut-off lunges
Left with shards of stance
Violet

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## autolycus

OK OK I am going to close this competition after giving a bit of leeway for late submissions... *grin*

Give me a few days, everyone. The entries are mind-blowing enough already, without deeper analysis.

Thanks!

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## Angie Mae

Beautiful work posted on this forum. Enjoyed.

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## AdoreroDio

Yes, that was the general idea I believe- winner posts a picture and everyone writes a poem to go with it then the original picture poster judges the poems and chooses the next winner. Read the first post on this thread.

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## kandaurov

> [...] winner posts a picture and everyone writes a poem to go with it then the original picture poster judges the poems and chooses the next winner. Read the first post on this thread.


Shoot. Was it? Disregard my poem then, I didn't know about the picture thing  :Brickwall:

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## autolycus

OK, I have not forgotten... I hereby promise to make a final decision this weekend! Grr. Tough tough tough.

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## dramasnot6

Thanks autolycus! Good luck.

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## AdoreroDio

can't wait!

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## Pendragon

Good luck! you'll need it!  :Wink:

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## autolycus

In keeping with the newly-established tradition of agonizing over excellent poetry, I am going to put my thoughts down first, in this post. The next will announce the winner. If I don't get this down now, I shall just drop dead from nervous tension...

Rintrah: Yours is the London of the late-19th and 20th centuries, the London almost of Neil Gaiman and Christopher Fowler; the poem is a poignant balancing act between the poverty of the world and its concurrent moments of richness. I love the narrative style. I must think about the inherent bias I bring to this, though, having been a Brit for half my life. *grin*

Xeryous: I think you see three figures crucified. I could be wrong, but your poem seems to suggest it, and you have taken the picture into the realms of spiritual transcendence. A very thought-provoking piece, very dark against the jolly colours. It is even more disturbing when I opened the text up alongside the picture.

Mir: Heh, this mode of poetry doesn't go well with explicit pictures. But it comes very close to some sort of trinitarian (triadic?) exposition - flesh, spirit, mind. I think your piece probably contains almost the fewest words which can do justice to the picture.

Adolescent09: 'Geometric Tropic Saints' makes a good attempt to capture the meaning woven into the intense emotional colouring of the picture. I especially like the line 'Making passion/through angular knee/geometry' - it made me laugh in pleasure; it just sounded so naughty. ;-)

Pendragon: "Order from Chaos" sounded like part of Mir's poem, heh. Ah, for some reason (I don't quite know why, though), your poem reminded me of Browning's 'My Last Duchess'. That, too, examines a painting. Your poem makes one want to examine the picture obsessively; for that reason, it belongs in a museum guide to such pictures. *grin*

decon_blue: Hmm. Not sure which is your entry, but I was amused by the six-liner that began with "She never taught one,/How could she. She was worried." The last two lines didn't do justice to the first four though, I feel. The second one is a little obscure to me though; maybe I'm just being obtuse.

Petrarch's Love: "Every muscle tautened into grace until/Limbs turn to lines and color streams from sweat..." could almost be about the poem itself, 'Telling the Dancer from the Dance'. Somehow, the cadence gathers to fullness; the whole piece, especially the last line, reminds me of Keats's 'Ode to Autumn', rather than the imagery of Yeats. And it's an acrostic poem too! *grin*

Dante_Wodehouse: 'Sonnet' really reminds me more of Yeats - specifically, -Sailing to Byzantium' - because of the artificial birds, the dancing saints, the sense of pervasive light. The rhythm does a good job of emulating the marionette-like behaviour of the subjects of the picture.

Virgil: 'Three Sisters At The Dance' is a tour-de-force of triplets, I think. But why twelve triplets? *grin* I almost expected 3 x 3. It's a very dynamic poem.

Orionsbelt: Hey, this one was really entertaining. I read it at least four times, trying to see it without reference to the picture. It actually implies its own picture, one which is at least as entertaining as the one I provided. It's a very active, iridescent, kaleidoscopic sort of image that it leaves in my mind. "Orange brass ensemble vibrate yellow amoroso... dark minor scale fish lead light major dolphins... " indeed!

ktd222: Nature in three persons, ending in black. I love the first seven lines, from "Fundamentally we do not exist./Compare Nature..." to "...into our bodies, shaping, Her radiance..." I wonder, though, if you could have done better with the rather too abrupt last lines - "black black black" would have done well left at three, perhaps?

AdoreroDio: I see a dance teacher in the zone... Sometimes, when I look at my students, I feel the sensation which your poem describes. Yours is a very (I hope I do not insult you) teacherly poem. It brings out that particular essence of human experience.

Il Penseroso: There is something very beautiful about the imagery in your poem, especially after "...drip beauty like/a morning petal... " and to the ultimate "...spreading to fill/the yawning moon." It makes me wonder which of the three dancers is the protagonist here, or whether all three dancers are actually one...

Kandaurov: I'm so sorry that you missed the rules. We certainly would welcome you to the next round. Your poem doesn't fit the picture, but it's a very intense piece of writing; it would do well with a little editing to fit another picture, perhaps? For some reason, it reminds me of Virgil's wolf avatar.

dramasnot6: 'Dance of Life' is a marvellous piece, melding rainbow and stages of life. It ends with a fabulous denouément as well. Each of those verses could be a poem in its own right. In fact, personally (and of course, I don't hold you to it!) I would like to see each section developed into a full poem. Otherwise, it seems too great to fit into the small matrix ordained for it. *grin*

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## autolycus

After much agony (and four unmarked stacks of essays which will now return to torment me), I declare the winner of the competition to be...

Petrarch's Love

for an outstandingly developed concept which just 'happened' to have some great lines and manage to be an acrostic poem all at once.




> ```
> "Telling the Dancer from the Dance" 
> 
> Drawn to the barre like birds to fruited branch,
> Alighting with detailed poise and skill,
> Nodding, swaying gently as they start the dance,
> Controlling every move with focused will
> Every muscle tautened into grace until
> Limbs turn to lines and color streams from sweat:
> ...


I would have liked to award further prizes; thank goodness I don't have to - seeing as the rising level of excellence makes it brain-bustingly difficult.

Congratulations to PL! *grin*

And now I shall go away and bury my head in a tun of cold beer. Considering that at one point I found myself drafting essay outlines for commentary on some of your poems, I deserve it. Thank you, everyone, for giving me a good Friday night (and the many days before that)!

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## dramasnot6

Thank you so much for all your time and effort autolycus. And also thank you for the wonderful, thorough commentary you gave us all.

Congratulations Petrarch!

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## rintrah

Congratulations PL! Victory well deserved. And thanks Auto for your thoughtful response to our entries.

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## kandaurov

I agree! PL won fair and square, congratulations! Autolycus, thank you for your zeal and patience! I appreciate all the trouble you went through by commenting all poems, even the ones completely off-the-mark, such as mine  :Biggrin:

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## Logos

No, nobody's been naughty...ok well maybe a few of you have   :FRlol:  This has been a great contest! but this thread is getting reeeeeeally long (and was started almost a year ago), there is tons to read here, especially for a newbie who might want to join in, so, I think it is time to start off fresh with a new one. 

Someone /anyone feel free to start another thread for this contest with the rules etc and maybe with a link to this one too, I will make the new thread a sticky once its been posted  :Smile:

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