Poem Contest

[songbird36]

Here's a challenge for the poetry geniui amongst you.

I challenge you to write a short poem (rhyming or non-rhyming), to be judged in approximately 12 hours by a panel of three judges comprising Geoff, CC and myself (majority verdict wins).

Theme: anything that takes your fancy

Grab a black coffee, Coke, nicotine, or whatever else gets your creative juices flowing and put pen to paper!

[songbird36]

Wow Waxwing. This is a serious contender..

[Geoff]

Wow, how did I end up a judge. Not sure what I know about poems ;)

*thinks* - can I have one of those Darth Vader sized popcorn portions?

-Geoff

[songbird36]

Well you are going to play the role of the sane and measured judge.

I will be the bad cop and CC can be the good cop..

[Geoff]

Well you are going to play the role of the sane and measured judge.

I will be the bad cop and CC can be the good cop..

Me? A Judge? I'm not particularly judgemental, I'll just be nice about everybody's.

And Sane. Hmm. *wibble*. ;P

-Geoff

[Edmond Zedo]

O!...I'm drawing a blank.

What's on the line here, exactly?

[songbird36]

O!...I'm drawing a blank.

What's on the line here, exactly?

The prize is a date with me heli-skiing in the South Island or (if the winner is female) a date with Geoff in Cornwall.

Now - can we count you out?

:lol:

[Geoff]

The prize is a date with me heli-skiing in the South Island or (if the winner is female) a date with Geoff in Cornwall.

Now - can we count you out?

:lol:

I reserve the right not to turn up, appoint a substitute or at the very least turn up with my wife as a chaperone.

Cornwall is also about 5 hours drive away, at least choose somewhere I can get to ;)

-Geoff

[songbird36]

I just realized that by having CC as a judge she won't be able to submit an entry!

damn

[Edmond Zedo]

"I glanced coyly to my right, and I saw a piece of fuzz..."

[songbird36]

Is this an official entry?

[Edmond Zedo]

Yeah, consider it your second. What do you have, two hours left?

[songbird36]

Yeah, consider it your second. What do you have, two hours left?

I'll have to arrange an alternative prize for you then.

A date with CC at the Mardi Gras?

[darlets]

As they say on the cooking shows, "Here's one I prepared earlier"
Not even sure it qualifies as a poem.

I tip my hat to the person who inspired this work,
you played the game better than I and you won.

I wrote this when I was rather emotional and is quite raw as a consequence,
but I like it that way.

<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<<>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
The Stone Gnome and the Fairy

Hairy, muddy, broad feet scamper along.
Starred opaque wings flutter effortlessly propelling their owner on.
The wing's rate of beating matches the pulse of the heart of the purser.
Chasing to glimpse the owner. Giggling echoes from afar.
Scampering faster and the briefest hint of movement is sighted ahead.
A heart skips a beat, despite the desperate need to keep pumping.
Gold dust deliberately falls from wings and a rose blooms where it lands.
Gnome hands climb the rose using the thorns as holds.
Blood drips from gashes but doesn't slow his ascent.
Laughter ensues, how silly was the gnome to try?.
The fairy has her trophy, has her ego boast.
She pushed and prodded and awaken the Gnome from his stone slumber.
And wormed her way around his heart and slowly massage it bit by bit into action.
The Gnome responded and she fled laughing.
Silly Gnome, she had what she wanted.
Attention, Nothing more, nothing less
You are dismiss silly Gnome. I tire of this game.
I need a new challenge.
The heart once started could not be stop.
It's owner pleaded with it to cease its increased motion.
But it had to run its course.
Friction was needed to slow it back to normality .
Friction meant pain;
It wouldn't happen now but it would slow with time.
But forever it would be a trophy, stirred to action on a whim.
Why? To see if it could be done.

[avidApathy]

a rather light-hearted one...unusual for me, but im feeling in a good mood for once.

Nerd Clubs

Envirothon Competition:
favorite class—AP Biology;
we never won a Spelling Bee.
Nerds galore cram for the Competition;
bio. Hangman in the intermissions.

Ink Blots our Literary Mag:
when the Lit. Mag. president, Monday, noon,
announces meetings coming soon,
Nobody really listens, they all sneer;
except Us Nerds of Lit. Mag., We all Cheer!

Math = Mu Alpha Theta:
Texas math league Tests are never boring
bright and early Tuesday morning.
they’re always so hard, we Love a Challenge.
though High Scores we always Seem to Manage.

[songbird36]

Any more entries for this?

I will try and convene a meeting of the judging panel later on..

[Sackanaka]

I would enter my poem but it was posted in an earlier thread that was reduced to three posts.. two of them my own.. so I don't think I would be considered anyway :'(

plus I still don't understand what comprises a "good poem." I'll chalk it up to some fault of my own to save you guys the trouble.

[FallenAngel]

Pearl street
Endless strip of concrete
Black gray and oily
not a single pearl to see

Such a little epihany
nothing nice is meant to be
speaking sounds so pleasantly
but seeing strikes so violently
life moves on continuously
from here to there and you to me
it's only us that stop so suddenly
standing firm, resistanly
and looking back appealingly
seeing only what we want to see
and avoiding the bad so ignorantly
or maybe realizing subtly
that the bad wasn't so ugly
and the words weren't so angry
So we smile just slightly
and our eyes can become twinkly
if and when we finally agree
that what we hear
is
not
what
we

want

so endlessly

[Geoff]

Ah, I like that. the changed meter. I am resigning from being a judge because I want to post something :)

-Geoff

[Geoff]

The city breathes a hidden crime
A suffering reft of tortured time
Tainted stalks that gasp their last
Grieving for a greener past

Bustling hordes that know not how
To lift their lives beyond the now
Walk the road that at the last
Leaves glory in a humble past

The bell that chimes sets the tone
Of crowded souls that drift alone
A maddening rush on to the end
Our futures break and will not mend

[songbird36]

I would enter my poem but it was posted in an earlier thread that was reduced to three posts.. two of them my own.. so I don't think I would be considered anyway :'(

plus I still don't understand what comprises a "good poem." I'll chalk it up to some fault of my own to save you guys the trouble.

Criteria for a good poem can include:

* It has a strong rhythm or "forward momentum"
* The ideas or imagery are cohesive
* It is not cliched or overly literal
* Use of language is sparse and economical

[songbird36]

I would like to judge this in around 5 hrs time when CC is on-line. I will confer with her.

[Ascending]

I liked your poem Sackanaka, I just did't have any feedback worth posting.

I suppose I'll stand this one up again. Although it enjoyed even less popularity then Sackanaka's. Perhaps I'm too avant gard? :)
It's supposed to be read straight through with a consistant pace.

"Truth Description"

I walk this world in sky bound stride.
Seeking something I can't find.
Don't know what it is, but know what's left behind
Although things that matter rarely confide.

Always looking for revelation.
Define reality by sensations.
Good or bad, both define,
the world around us,
the truth inside.

Miss the days when air was lucid
Time has decisively blurred the sky.
Those who sleep in the lies of the times,
they’re the ones life passes by.

Those who won't see, they’re lost.
Try to persuade, fall short at their cost.

This is a truth description,
of the life I live, in anticipation
of finding the unveiling vision.
Manifestation, revelation, proclamation.

Those who seek to cure the graying borders
decline life's offers for limitations.
If they can break the ties, they're free.
Finally, no longer bound by mediocrity.

I want to fly; in this world outside my imagination.
Still looking for the motivation.
Hoping it's in the revelation.

I walk on waters untested,
whether I can is still contested.
There are those who won't believe it's real.
Dreams I dream become surreal.
The lines solidify and refuse to yield.

Sagacity,
Always trying to break free.
Whispers that my mind won't accept this reality.
The wanderings of the heart and mind tell me there is more to see.

Can you tell the ones who seek to achieve
the limitless visions of infinity?
Curse of the dreamers, the paradox of 3rd party reality.

All the time they’re telling us that it’s all we can see through.
Those who fear to shed that which binds them to this plane.
Is it Mind immortal or earthly reign?

Always scan the clouds for clues to the life of this mind.
There are those who ascend, and those who are left behind.
To the latter party, I decline.

[songbird36]

Thanks for the guidelines. I don't think I will meet expectations but I have a few other questions anyway: Are there only two judges then? Were the standards in praise of Modernism? How much dignity do I lose for posting the poem again (and again with alterations) in the forums?

oh well, so it goes.



The Quartz Table Sits

The Quartz Table Sits
Upon a Wooden Floor-
if ever it should Brazen-Kissed
I'll love it all the more-

pellucid diamond Flesh-
patina- felt Divine-
a fleecy, fluid sash of silk
which soaks into the Wine-

Rosen Relics- Dozen-
sat fragrant with some bread-
allocated cherished Palm
from graying Ancient Head-

Though Propriety- it pelts
residual decay-
the Hand that wiped across its face
had purged the crust away.

The Quartz Table Sits
upon a Wooden floor-
for every moment Brazen-Kissed
I've loved it all the more-

Did you read the guidelines on economy with language and avoidance of cliches? The less description the better.

Suggest a few discreet edits here.

[Star Cannon]

Interesting...


The sun rises
the sun falls
Everyday. Up. Then descension.
Without fail.
Everyday the sun paints the sky
Everyday we rise with the sun
We sleep with the sun
as we have done for thousands of years.
And still...
The sun rises.
The sun falls...

[songbird36]

Nice rhythm and meter Star Cannon.

A little sparse on substance..

[Solo]

Damn you Songbird and your contest. Now you've got me flipping through the endless notebook pages filled with the times I've tried to express myself so unsucessfully.

Do I choose the misanthropic poems? or my love poems? or my random poems? or my fantasy poems? or my religious poems(which are quite inflamatory)? I hate choices sometimes.

I want to enter "Revolution of the Minds" which is my anger at the world for not recognizing my greatness(arrogant I know) but it may be too angry for you guys. I could enter "Epilogue" which is my take on the death that awaits me but that has too many allusions you guys would know nothing about.

Hmm... I guess I'll choose "Epilogue" because the beginning of RotM is weak. There are no guaruntees this poem is any good but I like it. Just something to note is that I don't use punctuation with my poems.


Epilogue

Execute the life
With a knife so sharp it'll cut through the darkness
Now I see the light once again

Never before did the wheel turn so slowly
Never before have I felt so lonely

All alone I sit curled up
Shivering from the cold

Too late now
I can't run away

I clatter as I shatter and fall to the floor
Whose gonna pick up the pieces

I layed there reflecting
Didn't like what I saw

Laid to waste
I'd been smoten by my foe
Such a disgrace

Born to die
Now I lie

How'd I fall
Lost it all

Wrong turn
Now I burn

Dark as Day
Light as night

Deepest lows
Endless woes

Evil lives
Solo dies
Hear my cries

Fell swoops
Heads roll

Angels sing
Devils keen

Genious bested
There I rested

Red flames
Torture games

Deadly essence
Grim presence

Empty feeling
Nothing left

It all fades away



I can of regret typing that up but I did so I won't delete it. Ah well. Enjoy

[ohnoaninfp]

Any more entries for this?

I will try and convene a meeting of the judging panel later on..

Yes I have an awesome poem, I have to load it on the computer some how.

[Ascending]

I see an angst ridden chart topping song there Solo. :)

[Sackanaka]

Did you read the guidelines on economy with language and avoidance of cliches? The less description the better.

Suggest a few discreet edits here.
So... did you read my questions? I'm guessing love for imagery has been outlawed in the modernist atmosphere? Or is my usage too sophomoric for eligibility?

Or more sincerely, would you mind giving me specific constructive criticism so that I may be up to par, as I wished to have been done in the other thread? I really want the help :'(.

btw, thanks, Ascending. :)

[songbird36]

Damn you Songbird and your contest. Now you've got me flipping through the endless notebook pages filled with the times I've tried to express myself so unsucessfully.

Do I choose the misanthropic poems? or my love poems? or my random poems? or my fantasy poems? or my religious poems(which are quite inflamatory)? I hate choices sometimes.

I want to enter "Revolution of the Minds" which is my anger at the world for not recognizing my greatness(arrogant I know) but it may be too angry for you guys. I could enter "Epilogue" which is my take on the death that awaits me but that has too many allusions you guys would know nothing about.

Hmm... I guess I'll choose "Epilogue" because the beginning of RotM is weak. There are no guaruntees this poem is any good but I like it. Just something to note is that I don't use punctuation with my poems.


Epilogue

Execute the life
With a knife so sharp it'll cut through the darkness
Now I see the light once again

Never before did the wheel turn so slowly
Never before have I felt so lonely

All alone I sit curled up
Shivering from the cold

Too late now
I can't run away

I clatter as I shatter and fall to the floor
Whose gonna pick up the pieces

I layed there reflecting
Didn't like what I saw

Laid to waste
I'd been smoten by my foe
Such a disgrace

Born to die
Now I lie

How'd I fall
Lost it all

Wrong turn
Now I burn

Dark as Day
Light as night

Deepest lows
Endless woes

Evil lives
Solo dies
Hear my cries

Fell swoops
Heads roll

Angels sing
Devils keen

Genious bested
There I rested

Red flames
Torture games

Deadly essence
Grim presence

Empty feeling
Nothing left

It all fades away



I can of regret typing that up but I did so I won't delete it. Ah well. Enjoy

This one is stronger than the previous one (for reasons which will be apparent from my critique of your last one). I'm about to post a poem from the latest edition of "Poetry NZ" (NZ's top poetry publication) which I think contains many of the elements of a strong poem.

[songbird36]

"A FIELD GUIDE TO THE WILD FLOWERS OF THE MOON -
James Norcliffe

this spiky inflorescence
on the answer-phone
troubles the heart

the students are asked
which is the more stressful?
the bad news you anticipate
or the bad news that comes
when you least expect it?

and rats as usual
provide the answer

they droop like
stringy chrysanthemums
the colour of rust

their ulcers bloom brightly
like twitching anemones

they stumble through
falling petals of cancer

and those who have least
knowledge stumble first

towards the wall
towards the door
towards the window

through which
a sharp white
sickle moon
floats in a black sky

in its pale light
letters are lilac
enough to read

the future is round
and dark enough to see"

Can any of the budding poets tell me why this is a strong poem and what important elements of good poetry it encapsulates?

[songbird36]

So... did you read my questions? I'm guessing love for imagery has been outlawed in the modernist atmosphere? Or is my usage too sophomoric for eligibility?

Or more sincerely, would you mind giving me specific constructive criticism so that I may be up to par, as I wished to have been done in the other thread? I really want the help :'(.

btw, thanks, Ascending. :)

No imagery and metaphor are great poetic devices but they have to be used carefully and sparsely (by that I mean without lots of descriptive language - the image or meaning has to be conveyed almost in snapshots that leave a lot to the reader's imagination).

A strong image conveyed in economical language (e.g "the aurad moon") is better, stronger and more vigorous than one with lots of description (e.g "the moon hung pale and glowing in a hazy aura").

[songbird36]

Here is one of my own that I started tonight (for comparison):

MANY MOONS

aurad moon
swims
in a milky puddle
treads water

a haze
unwinded

soundless night
screams
clamours

black holes
choke
as they swallow
stars

[songbird36]

Well I'm no expert here, but I have read and written a lot of poetry (and am about to have one published), so here are my 8 criteria for what I believe makes a strong poem:

(1) Sparse and economical use of language
(2) Fresh and original use of language (you can even invent new words or concepts
(3) Avoidance of cliches and hackneyed ideas
(4) Less is more (often a strong poem is a short pithy one)
(5) Stark and striking imagery
(6) Good flow and forward momentum
(7) Coherence of ideas and structure - or good links
(8) Interesting themes

[Solo]

That poem by Norcliffe is nice. Good imagery and I like the diversity in the language.

I'll give you the last part of "Revolution of the Minds" It is short but there isn't too much to imagine.

Revolution of the Minds

I come too swiftly
I am too deadly

My words are poison
My rage is leathal

With a swing of the scythe
Death comes
Yours not mine

Just remember
It's coming

A revolution of the minds



Well what do you think? I don't find it cliche and I think it had a good flow. It could use work I guess but I've seen a lot worse.

And Songbird when did you come such a poetry buff?

[songbird36]

Yes it's a good start but a little prosaic (I hope you can take criticism Solo).

It's a little too narrative I think to be a really strong poem.

The best way to learn to write good poetry is to *read* lots of it - I really recommend Mark Doty (a Massuchussetts poet who is one of my all time favourites).

[Solo]

Yes it's a good start but a little prosaic (I hope you can take criticism Solo).

It's a little too narrative I think to be a really strong poem.

The best way to learn to write good poetry is to *read* lots of it - I really recommend Mark Doty (a Massuchussetts poet who is one of my all time favourites).

Great now I'm going to spend all day tomorrow writing the most imaginitive poem I can. It isn't like I have something better to do.

I'll have to look into Doty but not right now. As I'm typing it is 5:00 in the morning and I need sleep.

[Hamro]

what rhymes with pwned?

[ApeTheDog]

The meadow

River of emotion, waterfall of disgust
Most native of languages are you
When I hear you calling,
my mind becomes arrow,
The target, the nearest container

Friend of young girls,
Foe of king and duke
To me
You will simply always be...
A bit of puke.

[waxwing]

I was under the impression that these were not previously written poems. Oops.

I took the instructions literally, for once.

[Edmond Zedo]

Nice rhythm and meter Star Cannon.

A little sparse on substance..
This is typical. The poem doesn't follow a meter, yet you say it has nice meter. Okay, okay. *head explodes*

[songbird36]

This is typical. The poem doesn't follow a meter, yet you say it has nice meter. Okay, okay. *head explodes*

It doesn't follow a conventional one, but there is one there.

[Edmond Zedo]

Yeah, if we can include old shit, tell us. Otherwise don't let people enter old poems. I only write when I'm inspired, and I have plenty from the past.

[Geoff]

This is typical. The poem doesn't follow a meter, yet you say it has nice meter. Okay, okay. *head explodes*

Yep, you'll notice I am not a judge now :)

-Geoff

[Edmond Zedo]

It doesn't follow a conventional one, but there is one there.
Wrong again. If you want to try to prove yourself, tell us what meters it uses, where they change. (You can't do it, because much of it is free verse.)

[songbird36]

Yeah, if we can include old shit, tell us. Otherwise don't let people enter old poems. I only write when I'm inspired, and I have plenty from the past.

Post a good one then - not song lyrics.

Read my judging criteria.

[Edmond Zedo]

Post a good one then - not song lyrics.

Read my judging criteria.
Ok. If you blow it off, you're the one who will look appropriately misaligned.

[Edmond Zedo]

It had not been forever, though long enough a time
Since I had seen that sparkle be any more than slight.
What I’d nearly forgotten, a tendency of mine
To be destroyed by beauty--I thought it left behind.
One odd day I looked left, and the strangest thing looked right
Hinting it not gone too far, that rare leaning of mine.
I would have liked to know her, or know she was nearby
To prove thoughts of perfection exist outside the mind.
At the least I am thankful that one was born so kind
To return what I had lost, and hadn’t thought to find.
I must not be just one man, but one of few so bright
Who doubt any angel sees with such angelic eyes.
Neglect would be tragic shame of any art so fine
And I hope Whitney’s adored as much as dream her mine.

[songbird36]

I'll leave it to the other judge.

Anything I say will be misinterpreted by you.

But thanks for the entry.

[Edmond Zedo]

I'll leave it to the other judge.

Anything I say will be misinterpreted by you.

But thanks for the entry.
That one is fully conventional and metered, if you'd like to start learning to differentiate styles of poetry.

[Geoff]

I actually quite like conventional and metered. Which mine was.

-Geoff

[songbird36]

Meter is not a fixed concept. It simply refers to the poetic "form" or "feet". Iambic pentameter is one example of a more conventional form.

Solo's poem (I think it was) followed a set meter, although it was not Iambic Pentameter.

I don't think he adhered rigidly to it, but most of the poem followed that form.

[songbird36]

Zedo I've just realised the other judge is CC and we may have to discount her here on the grounds of bias.

She wants your tail and may therefore not be as impartial as she needs to be..

:lol:

[Edmond Zedo]

I actually quite like conventional and metered. Which mine was.

-Geoff
It has rhythm, but not full meter (Very close). It takes a lot of work to get every syllable lined up.

[Edmond Zedo]

Meter is not a fixed concept. It simply refers to the poetic "form" or "feet". Iambic pentameter is one example of a more conventional form.

Solo's poem (I think it was) followed a set meter, although it was not Iambic Pentameter.

I don't think he adhered rigidly to it, but most of the poem followed that form.
Gah! It was completely free verse! No meter whatsoever! Lie some more, it's hilarious!

[songbird36]

A preliminary ruling from the judge is that Waxwing's poem is the strongest contender from my point of view.

Any others would have to surpass it.

[Geoff]

It has rhythm, but not full meter (Very close). It takes a lot of work to get every syllable lined up.

Well if you overtorture yourself it is no longer a creative exercise - you've just become a card verse writer ;)

-Geoff

[Edmond Zedo]

A preliminary ruling from the judge is that Waxwing's poem is the strongest contender from my point of view.

Any others would have to surpass it.
Come on, I want to hear more about meter. Tell us about the meter in waxwing's free verse work!

[songbird36]

I want to see a poem of about the same standard (or as close as possible thereto) as the James Norcliffe poem I posted earlier.

I'm not averse to rhyming poems but I do think rhyme can overly constrain the flow of a poem and the creative ideas.

[Edmond Zedo]

Well if you overtorture yourself it is no longer a creative exercise - you've just become a card verse writer ;)

-Geoff
Have you read THE RAVEN?! If you have the means, I highly suggest picking a copy up. It's so choice.

[Edmond Zedo]

I'm not averse to rhyming poems but I do think rhyme can overly constrain the flow of a poem and the creative ideas.
I'm sure, I'm sure. :rofl:

[songbird36]

Oh hers doesn't have meter.

But it doesn't need it. Read her poem - it's very good. I would say she is already an accomplished poet and wouldn't be surprised if she's been published.

[Geoff]

Have you read THE RAVEN?! If you have the means, I highly suggest picking a copy up. It's so choice.

The Poe work? If so I am stuck with the image of the Simpsons version of this, heh.

-Geoff

[songbird36]

Have you read THE RAVEN?! If you have the means, I highly suggest picking a copy up. It's so choice.

Yes it's a very good poem, and Poe a very good poet.

I also like Samuel Taylor Coleridge in his earlier (non-alcoholic) days.

[Geoff]

Yes it's a very good poem, and Poe a very good poet.

I also like Samuel Taylor Coleridge in his earlier (non-alcoholic) days.

Rime of the Ancient Mariner? Kubla Khan?

All good stuff

I also quite enjoyed how Douglas Adams wove the words of this into his detective/horror works.

-Geoff

[Edmond Zedo]

Oh hers doesn't have meter.

But it doesn't need it. Read her poem - it's very good. I would say she is already an accomplished poet and wouldn't be surprised if she's been published.
I read it. No, it doesn't have meter. But neither did Star Cannon's.

[songbird36]

In Xanadu did Kublai Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree
Where Alph the sacred river ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea

And thrice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and turrets gouded round

(oops this is where my memory fails me)..

[Sir Isaac Lime]

the city is alive tonight
chasing electric impulses
down the raw highway
arching its back into
wild stretches of night
bearing heat in its muscle
while the echoes of day
tangle so lightly
among the sinews

how distinct a feeling
can one man bear?

[songbird36]

Very good SIL. I'm impressed

[Geoff]

In Xanadu did Kublai Khan
A stately pleasure dome decree
Where Alph the sacred river ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea

And thrice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and turrets gouded round

(oops this is where my memory fails me)..

And if you read Douglas Adams, it becomes a prehistoric space craft crash. It's quite a neat idea.

It's as likely as anything else drugged up Coleridge had in mind :)

-Geoff

[songbird36]

Oh that's right it wasn't alcohol it was opium.

Apparently Wordsworth eventually ditched the close friendship because of that.

Also STC was in love with Wordsworth's sister Clara, and so was Wordsworth!

[Sir Isaac Lime]

this is in the form of a rap. it's not terribly good

were all ghosts
trapped in half collapsed brains
but in 5,000 days
we'll be replaced by mainframes
the world is a just a bubble
and it's not filled in
were novelty items
for space children
from there it takes eight minutes
for light to reach us
so when the sun blows up
how soon will we feel the heat rush?

[songbird36]

It works well as a rap

[Sir Isaac Lime]

Thanks songbird

[songbird36]

Actually I like your poems generally. Please keep writing and posting more.

[Eileen]

Coleridge > Wordsworth

Check out my madd integration of math into literary criticism.

[songbird36]

Where is it Eileen?

I much prefer STC as a poet to Wordsworth (or even Keats)

[Sackanaka]

I didn't know that you couldn't post old poems, even though I did revise mine.
Taking heed from other poets' practices http://search.barnesandnoble.com/booksearch/isbnInquiry.asp?endeca=1&isbn=1551113252&itm=2
didn't read it but I assume poets don't just discard their poems as if running through a box of kleenex. but yea, sorry. I'll shamefully retract my entry.

[songbird36]

Not shamefully. Any entry is good (even cobbled together song lyrics).

lol

[Eileen]

Where is it Eileen?

I much prefer STC as a poet to Wordsworth (or even Keats)

ummm

Coleridge > Wordsworth

Coleridge is greater than Wordsworth.

Of course, I can't remember how to proceed with mathematical proofs, else I would prove it. So I guess my statement is axiomatic and not yet (nor will it probably ever be) mathematic.


But seriously. Another English major friend of mine would bring this up every once in awhile, and to me, the question of which poet (Wordsworth or Coleridge) is better is absurd, because it is CLEARLY and OBVIOUSLY Coleridge.

Rime of the Ancient Mariner vs. I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.

DUH. Coleridge wins the celebrity death match by hanging his dear friend with an ALBATROSS!!

Now the best English Romantic is neither--Blake wins there.

[Star]

Some like poetry

Some--
that means not all.
Not even the majority of all but the minority.
Not counting the schools, where one must,
and the poets themselves, there will be perhaps two in a thousand.

Like--
but one also likes chicken noodle soup,
one likes compliments and the color blue, one likes an old scarf,
one likes to prove one's point,
one likes to pet a dog.

Poetry--
but what sort of thing is poetry?
More than one shaky answer
has been given to this question.
But I do not know and do not know and clutch on to it,
as to a saving bannister.

[mgb]

Your whole body has
a fullness or a gentleness destined for me.

When I move my hand up
I find each place a dove
that was seeking me, as
if they had, love, made you of clay
for my own potter's hands.

Your knees, your breasts,
your waist
are missing parts of me like the hollow
of a thirsty earth
from which they broke off
a form,
and together
we are complete like and single river,
like a single grain of sand.

[songbird36]

Hmm interesting...I like.

[LuridLemur]

poetry is bad
but only when I write it
I don't think I'll win

[mgb]

poetry is bad
but only when I write it
I don't think I'll win

That avatar is awesome.

[Sackanaka]

That avatar is awesome.
Seconded!

[Geoff]

ummm

Coleridge > Wordsworth

Coleridge is greater than Wordsworth.

Of course, I can't remember how to proceed with mathematical proofs, else I would prove it. So I guess my statement is axiomatic and not yet (nor will it probably ever be) mathematic.


But seriously. Another English major friend of mine would bring this up every once in awhile, and to me, the question of which poet (Wordsworth or Coleridge) is better is absurd, because it is CLEARLY and OBVIOUSLY Coleridge.

Rime of the Ancient Mariner vs. I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud.

DUH. Coleridge wins the celebrity death match by hanging his dear friend with an ALBATROSS!!

Now the best English Romantic is neither--Blake wins there.


Ah yes, quite self evident to me that Coleridge is by far the more interesting and creative. Wordsworth is just a little formulaic and staid.

-Geoff

[waxwing]

Quick side-note: I deleted my poem on realizing that others were posting old works. After deleting, I then realized that even if I wanted to rework that one in the future, I couldn't because I wrote it directly onto this forum. It was brand new, spontaneous, very rough. Typical oversight on my part.

Okay, back to my pork chops.

[songbird36]

Please post a poem. I really like yours.

[waxwing]

Ornamental Death

Across the road to everlasting life
I watched a dying man
bury his head beneath a dead mother's afghan.
The purple string rested low around his hairline,
fit snug around his waist,
and dripped like icicles at his ankles.
He clenched his crown in jaundiced hands,
elbows denting the caps of his knees
like branding calves.
The flickering of Letterman
acted as a firefly,
and might have made him cry,
but nothing covered the void
of dry, dusty sockets
or seemed bright enough to catch
in a nail-pierced jelly jar.

From my threadbare couch,
I imagined his yellow thighs
heavy with the weight
of love and death intersecting.
His feet, like candycanes
adorning a blue spruce,
dangled awake but detached.
Shivering from sweat that bled,
he waited for Christmas morn
to let him be alone with baby Jesus
and by lunchtime watch him asphyxiate
on a life-giving tree.
If I could have saved him,
I would have first held his feet,
begging him to go down like a man
while crying an oasis into a birthing basin.

[Eileen]

It wasn't enough to fall just once,
to stumble in the garden and be through with it.
No, I had to fall again, in front of a crowd,
skinning my knees, my elbows.

For a moment, I thought I’d stay.
The earth was cool; I could lie there,
stop moving.
It would be easy enough
to play dead, never ascend,
let gravity win.

But still something pulled me upwards
as I listened to those jeers
and shouldered the humiliation
of being a man down,
broken.

Rising was no comfort.
There is little glory in stumbling
back up to unsteady feet,
which seem bound
to fail and falter again.

[waxwing]

Eileen,

Beautiful. Really.

[Eileen]

Eileen,

Beautiful. Really.

Thank you. Yours, too, is incredibly beautiful.

[waxwing]

thanks

[songbird36]

Thanks you two - another two great entries.

I think I will confer with CC and look at announcing a winner at the end of today (including judging comments)!

[songbird36]

Thanks for all the entries - great effort everyone.

From my POV the winner is Waxwing's "Ornamental Death". It fulfils most of the criteria for a good poem I outlined earlier on.

If CC confirms this it will be official. I will ask her to post her response on this thread as I won't be coming back.

Congratulations Waxwing!

[Solo]

Thanks for all the entries - great effort everyone.

From my POV the winner is Waxwing's "Ornamental Death". It fulfils most of the criteria for a good poem I outlined earlier on.

If CC confirms this it will be official. I will ask her to post her response on this thread as I won't be coming back.

Congratulations Waxwing!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I haven't had access to the internet for 5 days. I haven't had a chance to put up a new poem I wrote. Life is so unfair at times. I'll get over it I guess.

Congrats Waxing. That is a good poem.

[CreativeChaos]

Thanks for all the entries - great effort everyone.

From my POV the winner is Waxwing's "Ornamental Death". It fulfils most of the criteria for a good poem I outlined earlier on.

If CC confirms this it will be official. I will ask her to post her response on this thread as I won't be coming back.

Congratulations Waxwing!

Uhh... I just looked at this. Me? A judge okay. I'll pick my favorites, then and you guys can do whatever. Haa!

[Sir Isaac Lime]

Across the road to everlasting life
I watched a dying man
bury his head beneath a dead mother's afghan.

That was indeed a pretty kickass poem Wax

[CreativeChaos]

I just realized that by having CC as a judge she won't be able to submit an entry!

damn

Yeah Right! :laser:

[CreativeChaos]

[QUOTE=avidApathy]a rather light-hearted one...unusual for me, but im feeling in a good mood for once.

I LOVE your AVATAR!!!! The lazy large cat (what kind is it?) is a perfect picture of Avid Apathy.

Good Job!!!! :thumbup:

[CreativeChaos]

Pearl street
Endless strip of concrete
Black gray and oily
not a single pearl to see

Such a little epihany
nothing nice is meant to be
speaking sounds so pleasantly
but seeing strikes so violently
life moves on continuously
from here to there and you to me
it's only us that stop so suddenly
standing firm, resistanly
and looking back appealingly
seeing only what we want to see
and avoiding the bad so ignorantly
or maybe realizing subtly
that the bad wasn't so ugly
and the words weren't so angry
So we smile just slightly
and our eyes can become twinkly
if and when we finally agree
that what we hear
is
not
what
we

want

so endlessly

Very nice!

[CreativeChaos]

The city breathes a hidden crime
A suffering reft of tortured time
Tainted stalks that gasp their last
Grieving for a greener past

Bustling hordes that know not how
To lift their lives beyond the now
Walk the road that at the last
Leaves glory in a humble past

The bell that chimes sets the tone
Of crowded souls that drift alone
A maddening rush on to the end
Our futures break and will not mend

Holy SHIT! Geoff! THis is GOOD!

[CreativeChaos]

I liked your poem Sackanaka, I just did't have any feedback worth posting.

I suppose I'll stand this one up again. Although it enjoyed even less popularity then Sackanaka's. Perhaps I'm too avant gard? :)
It's supposed to be read straight through with a consistant pace.

"Truth Description"

I walk this world in sky bound stride.
Seeking something I can't find.
Don't know what it is, but know what's left behind
Although things that matter rarely confide.

Always looking for revelation.
Define reality by sensations.
Good or bad, both define,
the world around us,
the truth inside.

Miss the days when air was lucid
Time has decisively blurred the sky.
Those who sleep in the lies of the times,
they’re the ones life passes by.

Those who won't see, they’re lost.
Try to persuade, fall short at their cost.

This is a truth description,
of the life I live, in anticipation
of finding the unveiling vision.
Manifestation, revelation, proclamation.

Those who seek to cure the graying borders
decline life's offers for limitations.
If they can break the ties, they're free.
Finally, no longer bound by mediocrity.

I want to fly; in this world outside my imagination.
Still looking for the motivation.
Hoping it's in the revelation.

I walk on waters untested,
whether I can is still contested.
There are those who won't believe it's real.
Dreams I dream become surreal.
The lines solidify and refuse to yield.

Sagacity,
Always trying to break free.
Whispers that my mind won't accept this reality.
The wanderings of the heart and mind tell me there is more to see.

Can you tell the ones who seek to achieve
the limitless visions of infinity?
Curse of the dreamers, the paradox of 3rd party reality.

All the time they’re telling us that it’s all we can see through.
Those who fear to shed that which binds them to this plane.
Is it Mind immortal or earthly reign?

Always scan the clouds for clues to the life of this mind.
There are those who ascend, and those who are left behind.
To the latter party, I decline.

Nice!

[CreativeChaos]

The meadow

River of emotion, waterfall of disgust
Most native of languages are you
When I hear you calling,
my mind becomes arrow,
The target, the nearest container

Friend of young girls,
Foe of king and duke
To me
You will simply always be...
A bit of puke.

I like this ApeTheDog. It should be the INTP poem. A Rage Against Emotion.

[CreativeChaos]

I was under the impression that these were not previously written poems. Oops.

I took the instructions literally, for once.

Me too. I'm not judging any unoriginal poems.

[CreativeChaos]

Zedo I've just realised the other judge is CC and we may have to discount her here on the grounds of bias.

She wants your tail and may therefore not be as impartial as she needs to be..

:lol:

It's not his tail I want. :devil:

[CreativeChaos]

the city is alive tonight
chasing electric impulses
down the raw highway
arching its back into
wild stretches of night
bearing heat in its muscle
while the echoes of day
tangle so lightly
among the sinews

how distinct a feeling
can one man bear?

Very good. Is this yours?

[CreativeChaos]

Your whole body has
a fullness or a gentleness destined for me.

When I move my hand up
I find each place a dove
that was seeking me, as
if they had, love, made you of clay
for my own potter's hands.

Your knees, your breasts,
your waist
are missing parts of me like the hollow
of a thirsty earth
from which they broke off
a form,
and together
we are complete like and single river,
like a single grain of sand.

Oooooo....MG!!!!!:wub: Are you married? :wub:

[CreativeChaos]

Ornamental Death

Across the road to everlasting life
I watched a dying man
bury his head beneath a dead mother's afghan.
The purple string rested low around his hairline,
fit snug around his waist,
and dripped like icicles at his ankles.
He clenched his crown in jaundiced hands,
elbows denting the caps of his knees
like branding calves.
The flickering of Letterman
acted as a firefly,
and might have made him cry,
but nothing covered the void
of dry, dusty sockets
or seemed bright enough to catch
in a nail-pierced jelly jar.

From my threadbare couch,
I imagined his yellow thighs
heavy with the weight
of love and death intersecting.
His feet, like candycanes
adorning a blue spruce,
dangled awake but detached.
Shivering from sweat that bled,
he waited for Christmas morn
to let him be alone with baby Jesus
and by lunchtime watch him asphyxiate
on a life-giving tree.
If I could have saved him,
I would have first held his feet,
begging him to go down like a man
while crying an oasis into a birthing basin.

OKAY is this YOURS!!! THIS KICKS ASS!!!!

[CreativeChaos]

It wasn't enough to fall just once,
to stumble in the garden and be through with it.
No, I had to fall again, in front of a crowd,
skinning my knees, my elbows.

For a moment, I thought I’d stay.
The earth was cool; I could lie there,
stop moving.
It would be easy enough
to play dead, never ascend,
let gravity win.

But still something pulled me upwards
as I listened to those jeers
and shouldered the humiliation
of being a man down,
broken.

Rising was no comfort.
There is little glory in stumbling
back up to unsteady feet,
which seem bound
to fail and falter again.

This is beautiful Eileen.

[CreativeChaos]

OKAY is this YOURS!!! THIS KICKS ASS!!!!

Waxwing! If this is truly your poem, it is by far the best. I vote for this one. But we need proof it is your own. It's that good.

MG you are second place winner.

Geoff - Third.

There. That is my decision.

[CreativeChaos]

Okay, here is one of mine, just for fun. It's intended to be sexy.

Chocolate Melts
by CC


Chocolate Melts
Confection softened by flesh.
Cream that was whisked to stiffening heights,
Resolves to indulge supple delights.
Churning butter wanes to the touch
Luxurious shape, easing rush.
The yolk that was pierced
Yielded it's fluid,
Delicate walls that once stood
Now formless, unbounded, tender, and good.

[songbird36]

I thought Solo's poetry showed a lot of potential too.

Solo I think it's a case of you continuing to develop what I call "poetic muscle" (original, sparse and economic use of language, and stretching the boundaries of poetic language in an interesting and innovative way). Definitely keep writing.

btw, in terms of my own credentials to be judging this, I don't purport to be an expert or even an experienced poet. I started writing last year, but have already had one poem (Kossovo Polje) which I posted some time ago, accepted for publication in Poetry NZ journal, and I've been accepted into a post-grad modern poetry course in the second semester of this year at Uni, based on a portfolio I submitted a month or so ago. I'm hoping to develop my own skills in this course and move to new heights with what I'm doing!

[CreativeChaos]

Me either. I'm just voting for what I like, and because Songbird designated me judge! Imagine that! So I judged.

Here come the judge, here come the judge...*in black lingo, of course*

[waxwing]

Waxwing! If this is truly your poem, it is by far the best. I vote for this one. But we need proof it is your own. It's that good.

MG you are second place winner.

Geoff - Third.

There. That is my decision.
Uhm, thanks, but....the eighteen + times I revised it on the forum isn't enough? What form of proof did you have in mind? A college transcript? Don't mean to be sarcastic, but would you like me to send you a floppy disk? Give me an idea of what you'd like, and I'll do my best to provide it.

[songbird36]

I like your chocolate one CC. It's one of the best of yours I've seen.

[waxwing]

I was just thinking about how my favorite pastime has become stealing others' poems, entering them in INTP messageboard poetry contests, editing them repeatedly, then complimenting others' poetry to cover myself. My English/creative writing major was a fucking waste, it seems. I should have just mastered the art of cut-and-paste.
Nothing personal.

[songbird36]

I was just thinking about how my favorite pasttime has become stealing others' poems, entering them in INTP messageboard poetry contests, editing them repeatedly, then complimenting others' poetry to cover myself. My English/creative writing major was a fucking waste, it seems. I should have just mastered the art of cut-and-paste.
Nothing personal.

Hehe - the other judge states that we're not officially requiring that standard of proof. We will take it (and you) on face value.

I've seen your photos and you don't look like a sociopath to me.

*SB34 places the blue ribbon over Waxwing's head*.

Now, can we have a victory speech please? You must have people to thank for your success!

[CreativeChaos]

Uhm, thanks, but....the eighteen + times I revised it on the forum isn't enough? What form of proof did you have in mind? A college transcript? Don't mean to be sarcastic, but would you like me to send you a floppy disk? Give me an idea of what you'd like, and I'll do my best to provide it.

Ha! I don't know. But given your anger and response I dub it yours and you are

:D A GREAT POET!!!!!!!:D

[CreativeChaos]

I like your chocolate one CC. It's one of the best of yours I've seen.

Thanks songbird :D

[Solo]

I know the contest is over but why start a new thread no one is going to read.

This poem is called heartbeats because this moment was going so slowly I'm sure I could feel every thump. I tried to make this one less prosaic but I don't like using off the wall words just to make a "good" poem. I do my best to get the feelings across. Oh and I told it from a different perspecive.

Heartbeats

Nervous and tongue-tied
With enough butterflies to take flight
He begins to speak

Words pour out like a river
into the tormented currents
of emotions that hang in the air

With a soul laid bare
There he waits
Not knowing if luck truly favors the bold

Gentle brown eyes and beautiful black hair
hold the key to his heart

Not wanting to enter she buries the key into the sand

Depressed and lonely
Tired and weary
He goes back to his cave of solitude
Replaying images like a broken record player

[waxwing]

Ha! I don't know. But given your anger and response I dub it yours and you are

:D A GREAT POET!!!!!!!:D
Thanks, CC.
Nah, I wasn't angry.

[songbird36]

Yes I too have drawn on difficult life experiences to inspire and enhance my poetry too.

I'm not sure that an "easy" life lends itself to this mode of expression. Partly it is cathartic for me.