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Poetry Competition

a topic in Poetry, a part of the RPG forum.

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For the assorted types of poetry.

Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Circ on Wed Aug 26, 2009 4:40 pm

NOTICE: This topic has been judged. Please see the bottom of this post and any new posts for additional information.




One of our users (thanks, Kyouko) suggested we have a poetry competition. I agreed that it would be a fine idea. On that note, some ground rules!

When does the contest start? Now.

When does the contest end? October 1st.

What will be the basis for judging the poetry? The metric will vary by poem, so please include any additional information you think will help guide that; for example, if you are writing a poem in iambic pentameter, say so; if there is a special meaning behind your poem, include it so that it can be determined whether it came across efficiently; if your garish rhyming scheme is intentional, explain how and why.

Will there be a reward? There will be a 1st, 2nd, and 3rd place rankings. Your reward will be the associated notoriety.



Competition Results!

Please see my response at the end of this thread for a reaction to every poem listed.

As to the poems I liked the most, first, let me state that I expanded the victory spots from three to four, as it was really a tie of the top four, which were fairly different and each very good in their own rite. It didn’t feel fair to exclude any from being given a nod of affirmation. They are all great from a technical standpoint of spelling, pulling all the parts into a cohesive union, and format. So, here the four winning poems are, and why I picked them:

The Finely Woven Rug, by Stairdweller – at first I almost passed this one up, because the initial eight lines felt kind of peculiar to me. Then I read the author’s note, and it provided some very good insight into the poem. The symbolism. The mind of the writer. It allowed me to see the poem in an entirely different light and, beyond acknowledging the technical achievement of the poem – which was never in question – I saw it as a meaningful view on relationships and a person. I was able to connect the dots.

Raw Ale, by Valkyrie – this one was just a joy to read. It reminded me of some of the poems found in Tolkien’s The Hobbit or Lord of the Rings trilogy. Jovial, quick, full of fun and action. It has a fanciful ring to it, and excellent flow. Even my awkward brain didn’t get tripped up going from one line to the next. If there were a few flaws, after reading it two times, I didn’t notice any. I was too caught up in levity.

Electricity, by Black-Pentagram – trip. That is the best word to describe this poem. I had to read it three times before I knew what was going on, but it only took the first verse to get me hooked. The pop culture references alone make it a prize, but binding them all up in some sort of bizarre apocalyptic ultra-modern view of … madness. It’s all the things I love about scifi. :)

The House on the Hill, by Sonata – lord knows I didn’t want to include a poem by Sonata, but I tried to tell myself he didn’t write it, and that helped soothe my pain. Just kidding, I don’t care who wrote it – this is a good poem! It is curt, and harsh, but the imagery is incredibly effective at conveying the sense of a girl who is bound to a place that she doesn’t necessarily love. In a way, I can feel for the girl. With the back of my hand telling her to stop being so conformist and live a little. Still, amber needles. Yikes!
conditio sine qua non

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Aerissa on Wed Aug 26, 2009 6:26 pm

Times have changed.....





In a crowd of lonely people,

Walking through the lonely streets,

I think of what the world once was,

And what it's come to be.

People used to take the time,

To spare a smile and hello.

Now such times are just a lie,

Everyone is simply go go go.

You used to know your neighbor's name,

He could even become a close friend.

Now he's just another face,

In this sea that never ends.

Once upon a time,

maybe not so long ago,

the worst that we could do

was pierce a heart with an arrow and bow.

But the times they keep on changing,

bringing violence and chaos into our midst.

With just the push of a button,

we can turn thousands into bits.

Don't tell me you can't see,

No one can be so blind,

so next time you pass a stranger on the street,

keep this in mind.

One simple smile,

Can brighten up a day.

Take the time to slow it down,

Think of what's been thrown away.



A poem by Aerissa....


(This is mine. Is there anything else I need to include?)
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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Tetrino on Wed Aug 26, 2009 10:16 pm

Round One

I wake up and it’s another day,
Doomed to another turn in this game,
Some roll the dice, some draw the cards,
Move the pieces or you won’t get far.

Climb up those ladders, watch out for snakes,
If you’re not careful you’ll be stuck in checkmate,
The neverending struggle, the eternal quest,
To overcome adversity and save the princess.

Place your bets in the game of roulette,
Watch as the ball revolves around the track,
Keep a straight face or get lost in transition,
To get past the game, you have to play the player.

Psychology, deception, the weapons of choice,
Guns and swords make little more than noise,
But a chainsaw will take you places,
In the face of danger, remember to strafe!

Through the multiple paths and mazes abound,
Whether by perseverance or glitches that are found,
The story will always end with
Game over, insert coin?


I'll let you guys analyze the poem for yourselves, I can't be arsed to explain it. :D
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<Donny> Wow, who's this new Azrican fag?
<Alucroas> He's the man who typo'd African

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Script on Thu Aug 27, 2009 8:36 am

A Name

A name. So simple yet so much.
How many meanings can you find in mine?
Did our parents name us for the meaning, or the sound?
Does the meaning of my name make me that meaning?

Am I a fire? Am I courageous?
A name says I am, a name dictates me.
I am not these things, does that make me inadequate?
I do not think so. For what is a name to judge me?

A name is a label, a sound, a word.
I am not a name.
I am more than that.

I am a being. My own self, I will find my own meaning.
Or,
My meaning will find me.


Though Oft I walk Amongst the Flowers (corny love poem ftw)

Though oft I walk amongst the flowers
Their blossoms red and blue,
The roses, tulips, and the lilies
Their joyous buds abloom,
Though oft I walk amongst the flowers
Their blossoms red and blue,
Not once have my eyes gazed upon
A flower as to you

Though oft I gaze upon fine art
Its worth greater than jewels
Their vibrant colours and subtle shades
To which men sell their souls
Though oft I gaze upon fine art
Its worth greater than jewels
Any who choose the finest works
Over you are simply fools

Though oft I look upon the stars
Their light high in the skies,
Their simple beauty gazing down
Eternally it shines,
Though oft I look upon the stars
Their light high in the skies,
Their light is nought when put against,
The radiance in your eyes

Though oft I walk on field of war
The enemies I slew
Their haunting cries as life slipped away
Haunting me anew
Though oft I walk on field of war
The enemies I slew
All the hurt and pain I caused,
I caused to protect you
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(03:04:15) Lialore says: I wanted to be the poo.

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby pantalimon on Thu Aug 27, 2009 8:56 am

Why do you

Why do you tire of weeping;
when all that's left to feel is shame?
Why do you listen to music;
when all the songs just sound the same?
Why do you start with old;
when you will end up with newfangled?
Why do you tie yourself all up in knots;
when you know you can't be untangled?

The characters of your story all fend well,
untill they die in the end.
The heros and soldiers and horses and dogs;
all have wounds that will never mend.
Why do you do this and torment them so;
when it's back to the beginning and so god dang slow.
Why do you watch as they're ripped limb from limb;
when your friends point at you and say "It was him!"

But what you care about is not the toy soldiers;
shredded and beyond one more use.
What you care about is the punishment you're getting;
and when out of your shackles to break loose.
Your mind is focused on one thing and one only;
you're more important than them.
So if you're not going to pick up the pieces;
Why do they call you their friend?

((The scheme does involve some rhyming; placed oddly on purpose and some of them are only partials. This is, in fact, not an accident))
Too bad love is just a game.
But, I've had too much fun playing to quit now.
Maybe I'm addicted.
I don't think I care.
My tokens are all across the board...
And I'm winning.
>The Loveless Victor<

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby BlackBlizzard on Thu Aug 27, 2009 9:36 am

One to Leave, One to Return A Poem on Slavery

They marched us
one by one
onto the ship.
Children crying
fear spreading like
wildfire.
The violent actions,
the torture.
Then came the
sickening
stench of
blood,
sweat,
urine,
and death,
bellowing out.
This unbelievable
brutality
they inflicted.
Those men
forced women aside,
mistreated them,
violated them.
This is beyond
scary, on the brink of
a sad, and painful
nightmare.
They beat us,
beat us to the
extreme.
Beaten to the point
of breaking our
souls.
our minds.
Like horses.
This is wrong,
horribly wrong.
Inequality
spreading quickly through
the minds of
the resisters.
A child screamed,
feeling the
whip peel away
at his skin.
Sinking down to the
bone.
Falling dead,
to the ground.
His body roughly
kicked into the water
sinking into the
black abyss.
A child, a child.
A man
vomited.
The smell of
death, pain, and rot
wafted
throughout the
ship.
Our minds
worked franticly
connecting how
unfair things were.
That stab of
the horrific truth,
racked our minds,
our bodies and,
our souls.
Knowing
we may never
know freedom.
Never know
life
without pain,
without discrimination,
without oppression.
These are
crucial times,
we are in.
Freedom!
A life without
pain and suffering.
Without racism.
We are headed
toward the
light.
To our Future.
The man of wisdom is never of two minds;
the man of benevolence never worries;
the man of courage is never afraid.
Confucius

Thoughts read unspoken, forever in doubt
Pieces of memories fall to the ground
I know what I didn't have so, I won't let this go
'Cause it's true, I am nothing without you
Sum 41 With Me

If all my friends were to jump off a bridge, I wouldn't follow.
I'd be at the bottom to catch them when they fall.
Unknown

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Nyxeth on Thu Aug 27, 2009 12:35 pm

Aquarius

Aquarius;
The tempest soul,
wrought upon,
by time and wave,
by sand and stone,
by the hourglass and the storm which makes it turn.

Aquarius;
Lord of the sea,
the spirit of all who dwell beneath,
friend to all sea folk,
yet friend to none.

Surrounded by many,
yet always alone.

Swirling vortexes,
his despair,
Crashing waves,
his hate,
The lost at sea,
his longing,
forever alone.

Aquarius.





The personification of seas and the oceans. Style? no clue, whilst I write poetry I have little grasp nor understanding of the methods, styles and forms of it. ^_^

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Inside_The_Thunder on Thu Aug 27, 2009 12:44 pm

Fantasies of a Forgotten Childhood: A Year

Civilisation distanced
In this wild, uncharted land,
Where we play-fight in the forest
That we know and understand,
Where the rivers on the mountains
Hold a message of summer days,
Where the wind sings songs of freedom
That will never fade away,
Our happiness is beauty
In the rocks upon the earth,
Where our laughter fills the ocean
As we play amongst the surf,
Where we row across the lake
While the sun sets from on high,
And the moon looks down with silver
That will be there till she dies.

And in the glory days of autumn
We chase leaves of bronze and gold,
Where the lightning traces cracks
Across the night sky in the cold,
Where the dancing trail of mist
Wander through the night unheard,
Where the rain beats on the moorland
And the wolf howls in the furze,
While the axe rings of the branches
As we build our nightly fire,
Where we collect the fruits of the forest
For this summer’s funeral pyre,
Where the winter king is coming
To be crowned with ice and snow,
Where the animals of summer
Leave to burrow down below.

Where the frost shines in the meadows
Sparkling pearl drops in the light,
Where our footfalls crunch beneath us
To the younger ones’ delight,
Where we race the winds that scatter
Distant clouds across the sky,
Where the memories of winter
We will never leave behind,
As the blizzard’s grip enfolds us
Where the jewels drift from the sky,
Where we dance amongst the snowstorm
Covering the land in white,
Where the lake is gilded silver
Below fragmented sheets of ice,
Where the blanket drawn around us
Is the horizon of our lives.

Until the first alluring flower
Peeks its head into the light,
Where the radiance of colour
Is a captivating sight,
Where the wind is gently quietened
To a warming southern breeze,
Where the air’s alive with springtime
And the buzzing of the bees,
The sunshine warms our backs
Where we run amongst the grass,
Where the young are full of living
And our bodies strong and fast,
Where we fall amongst the bracken
Looking to the cloudless blue,
Such a carefree joyful childhood,
I just wish I had one too…



I wrote this for all the days we've wasted watching TV in the middle of some city. It is sort of my own world inside my head, an alternative reality and the setting for several of my stories.

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Stairdweller on Thu Aug 27, 2009 4:48 pm

The Finely Woven Rug - by The Stairdweller

There is a rug, composed of silken strands -
Whose woven cords make pale the rainbow's hue!
More fierce than gems, her threads of Sapphire blue -
To me she is the sun on darkened lands!
She's woven on a loom too fine for man -
More bright than stars, the threads that run her through!
The thought of her to me is clung like glue -
Through all my life, her shining lustre spans!
Yet she remains, reposed upon the floor
A home to mud, and cold discarded shoes.
As desolate, unloved as windswept moor,
Her splendour’s naught, to base and sightless fools.
A rug, though of the finest quality,
Remains a rug, for all eternity.

About rhyme/rhythm - This is a Petrarchan sonnet, and as such is written in iambic pentameter. as per the Petrarchan (or Italian) convention, there is an eight line octet, with the rhyming structure abbaabba, followed by the six-line sextet, which can have a variable rhyme structure. Mine has a cdcdee structure. I chose to end my poem with a couplet to allow the final lines to stand out from the rest of the poem. Though they are an integral part of the poem, they can also stand alone to carry much of the poem's meaning. I wanted them to stick out in a reader's memory.

About the organization/metaphors - in a Petrarchan sonnet, there is typically a shift in focus between the octet and sextet. Often there will be one way of looking at a subject in the first half, and a second way in the sextet. In my sonnet, I chose to describe the "rug" as the speaker sees her in the octet, and then as the speaker believes that others see her in the second part. As I am sure you have guessed, the "rug" is a metaphor for a person. This person is radiant to the speaker, but is largely overlooked by others, perhaps because of her passive behaviour.

"Guided Tour" -
There is a rug, composed of silken strands/Whose woven cords make pale the rainbow's hue! in the first two lines, I wanted to bring up a vivid picture of a particularly colourful rug. With the phrase "silken strands" I wanted to bring the sense of touch into the poem, to make the reader imagine the strands of the rug flowing smoothly through his fingers. I chose the word "composed" because of its connotations of dignity and grace, and because it rhymes with "reposed" which I use later in the poem. I chose -an* and -oo for my principle rhyming sounds because there is a strong contrast between them, and I thought it would give the impression of two warring opinions sounding off against each other. -oo is a very smooth, flowing sound, where as -ands is a short, clipped sound. The -oo lines are generally about the appearance of the rug, while the -an* lines are about the rug’s effect on the speaker.
More fierce than gems, her threads of Sapphire blue - This is a quiet reference to pre-Renaissance English love sonnets, in which women were always described as blonde-haired and blue-eyes, regardless of their actual colouration. The person this poem is written about does not, in fact, have blue eyes. I chose the word fierce to bring to mind the fiery, sparking quality of a fine gem. The visual image is meant to represent the subject's personality.
[i]To me she is the sun on darkened lands!
You know, on a cloudy day, when everything is grey and gloomy, but in the distance you see a slice of sunlight falling down on the land, and it is so bright and beautiful in comparison to everything around it? That's what I wanted to bring to mind. Furthermore, I wanted to imply that the person that this poem is written for is the sun, while the speaker is the darkened lands. Just being around the "rug" makes the speaker feel like a better person.
She's woven on a loom too fine for man - I put this line in to reinforce that the "rug" is a person and not an object. She was created by the divine, not by any person.
More bright than stars, the threads that run her through!
The thought of her to me is clung like glue -
Through all my life, her shining lustre spans!
These are more lines to reinforce the image of a thing that is shining or glowing with its splendor. I also wanted to imply that the person has always been there for the speaker, like a family member or a long term friend rather than a flash-in-the-pan romantic interest.
Yet she remains, reposed upon the floor You'll notice that this line is rhythmically similar to the first line of the poem, and that there is a rhyming word in the middle of each line. This was to set this up as a sort of direct opposite to the first half of the poem. The rug is seen by others in an exactly opposite way than the speaker sees her.
A home to mud, and cold discarded shoes./As desolate, unloved as windswept moor, I wanted these images to be a direct contrast to the images in the first part of the poem. I tried not only to use images that were pallid in comparison, but words that were as well. The images are weaker here, I hope in much the same way that a person would have more trouble picturing and remembering a simple doormat than a brilliant tapestry.
Her splendour’s naught, to base and sightless fools. This was a direct stab at the people who consider the "rug" worthless and unimportant. It implies that the inability to see the rug for what she is is their fault, not the rug's fault.
A rug, though of the finest quality,
Remains a rug, for all eternity.
The final couplet is meant to sum up the rest of the poem. But more importantly, it is actually a warning to the "rug." I wrote this poem for a very good friend who I felt was not getting the respect from her so-called-friends that she deserved. This was a warning that as long as she remained in company with these particular people, they would never see her for the wonderful person she was, but only as something they could step on whenever it suited them. That’s another reason why it is a couplet - this is the only pair of lines that are spoken directly from the speaker to the rug. Thus, they are separate from the “soliloquy” that is the rest of the poem.

And... that is it. I hope you enjoyed it.

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Deadly920 on Thu Aug 27, 2009 4:58 pm

[Why did I choose this piece? To add humour onto the effects of these dramatic and descriptive poems, of course!]
X-ray Vision

My brother Roger didn't believe me when I said I had x-ray vision. For days we were debating the matter until he finally said he could see straight through my arguement. He'd always been a bit of a hypocrite.

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby ViceVersus on Thu Aug 27, 2009 6:16 pm

Not Like This.



I turned sixteen that day—the elusive age of freedom.

We met up; grins and well wishes were exchanged.

It was my special day, but the clouds still pouted, drizzled, spat.

The cover broke and sunlight shafted later, but

Not before I sunk into a foul mood.

Heaven grumbled from the west, and so did I.



Joe suggested we move things to the beach

To kill off the day in style.

So, flinging Frisbees, the boys got to tackle each other

Crash-landing in sprays of sand.

We girls observed from the swings, amused.

The pier was somehow inviting

With its harsh stone, bits lost to the lake.

We picked our way out there carefully.

Pretty red lighthouse! Pretty blue waves…

I settled in for a glorious sunset. But—

“It’s a long drive back.” Zach shattered that,

“And I’ve gotta drop Nate and Jessine off…”

Curse the circumstance that named him

One of few who could drive; give rides!

A revered god in most 10th grade circles, but to me

Just the icing on my wobbling, souring cake.

Heaven frowned as twilight neared, and so did I.



Joe figured we may as well head out too—that was when

The lady fell headlong with just the most

Sickening crack, pitiful thud, a weak moan.

Clear-cut onto the crude and crumbling pier.

Zach and the others were halfway to the lot

When she started to convulse, eyes rolled back…

I tore after them, shouting.

No further panic took us; we were calm even in that hour.

Amy and Joe kept her still while seconds slipped past.

The ambulance lights whirled—revolting reds and blues—

I saw the west afire in all its majesty, fleeting light—

So there was the sunset, after all…

Brilliant, just a lonely beacon.

Sinking calmly into impending darkness.

Oh, already, sixteen felt so old.

Heaven cried at the moment…but I stood with hooded eyes.





This is a story of what transpired on my 16th birthday. :/ Took me a while to write about it. I'm not sure what to say about the rhythm or anything else.

About the rhyming--or lack thereof--I'm not much of a poetry writer. This was penned for a school assignment. Rather than rhyming verse, this poem relies on image and concrete detail.
Last edited by ViceVersus on Mon Aug 31, 2009 3:12 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Lunar Eclipse on Thu Aug 27, 2009 6:49 pm

Jack the Ripper

A Londonian path stained red,
as witnesses filled with a dread.
A bone-chilling sight,
from one terrible night...
Poor Mary Ann was found dead.


Normally a limerick (which is the poem I chose to write; a five-line poem with lines rhyming by the pattern AABBA) is supposed to be witty and/or humorous but I wanted to see what sort of effect I might get if I used it for a much more grim theme. Mary Ann's full name is Mary Ann Nichols, also known as 'Polly'; one of the victims of murder generally agreed to have been done in by the serial killer Jack the Ripper.

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Ilayra on Fri Aug 28, 2009 1:17 am

Heaven or Hell?
What shall it be?
A Lifetime of choices,
Made leisurely.
May affect ones fate,
For Eternity...



Just something I wrote while in deep thought,not one of my best,but asks a good question. I think the meaning is more important than the style or how it was wrote in this case. It is just a short brief rhyme,that gets straight to the point.
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You do not have to see to believe,only believe and the truth will be revealed.

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Forensic_Anthro on Fri Aug 28, 2009 4:55 am

(Like Alvaron, I have little grasp or understanding of the methods of poetry, I just like to write rhyme-ie things...)

A Battle Rages Here

Among windswept trees with roots torn up.
Sap like blood coating the trunk.
A mighty battle rages on.
From dawn until dusk and on and on.
Branches broken and sap spilled.
Who shall be the hero still?
The dawn of light or the twilight dark.
Who shall triumph over all the bark?

(and my favorite...)

The Black Parade

Death and decay triumph over all.
Life and love lying so.
Limp and pale they join the parade.
Of death and dark.
The black parade.
Celebration calls down the streets.
A new member of our humble troupe.
We parade down the dark streets.
Wearing black gowns and dark sheets.
Smiles erupt as friends say.
“Have a good death today."
noot noot

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Forensic_Anthro
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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby intoxicatedsmiLes on Fri Aug 28, 2009 5:08 am

I don't.
I don't know why
Time's a little slow
When I'm together with you
I guess it's time to let go.

I don't get why
Food taste a little bad
When I eat with you
I think it's time to be a little sad.

I don't remember why
My song sounds out of tune
When I'm singing with you
I realise it's time to say goodbye soon.

I really don't.
Just explain love to me.

Note: This is an un-rhymed sonnet. The words doesn't rhyme but it follows the structure of a sonnet 4-4-4-2. I know that sonnets all around the world are rhymed and may follow an iambic pentameter, but not this particular "sonnet".
____________________________________________
Untitled
What about the promises we made?
You'll leave just like that?
No explanation, no letters,
Nothing.

Nothing is all I've left of you.
Can I ask a question?
Wind, did you bring my cries to his ears?
Weeping.

Weeping at night.
Teardrops falling as they wish.
I hoped I've never met you.
But I'll never fall in love.

Love is like a song your soulmate sings,
Only you can understand.

_______________________________
I can never understand your song.

Note: The last part is cut off because I want it to be another un-rhymed sonnet, but that line just popped out of nowhere. However, the bolded lines are not originally by me. I copied it from an author and incorporated into my poem. I wonder if that will disqualify me for this competition?
____________________________________________
Sometimes
Sometimes,
I wish for a heart
That never bleeds,
That never cries,
That never ever stops beating,
Even if I die.

Sometimes,
I wish to pick up the broken pieces of my heart
Fix them together
And super-glue them forever
I’ll never ever let them break apart.

Sometimes,
I wish to not feel anything,
So that I’ll never feel,
The overwhelming
Urge to cry.

Sometimes,
I wish to be young forever,
So that I’ll never cry
And never break my heart.

Note: This would be free-form poetry, written quite a few months back.
__________________________________________
I'm really sorry for entering three poems at one go, I hope you don't mind. By the way, the two sonnets are posted on my blog, so both were written by me, not ripped off some poor person's blog. Thanks. (:

All information in this post are copyright to their original owners.
Please seek permission before republishing any parts of it.
©intoxicatedsmiLes
My roleplays! Ehh. I created them myself. So I'm proud of them.

best-friends-harry-potter-roleplay-spots-available-t25469.html (Harry Potter - Inactive)
cherub-canon-and-ocs-t31917.html (CHERUB)

Everyone's joining. Why not you? And I know you really really want to join. Spots running out fast.

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby .:LoveisBlind:. on Fri Aug 28, 2009 8:45 am

Simple People


I see that one
That one saw me
We don't Converse
For we have no Speech
The words
of those who speak
whom others call Humans
are driving
my family and I
to become
Simple People
For I was not born
a speaker
Nor was I born
A Human.


(Okay Not my best work but it's something I came up with when I was watching MTV)

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Vexar on Fri Aug 28, 2009 2:54 pm

First off, thanks Circ for sparking something up here in the Writing forum!

Doom, the new alternative. (Interpret how you wish.)

Oh lovely cell, wont you multiply into millions and be gone.
Oh lovely millions, wont you become one.
Oh dear one, won't you be two?
Oh dear two, multiple into many.
Oh wondrous many, wont you become millions and make one undone.
Oh wondrous millions, wont you become divided, and separate from my one.
Oh separated millions, wont you make more?
Oh separated millions, wont you make hate.
Oh young ones, wont you make war.
Oh young ones, wont you destroy.
Oh destroyed ones, wont you find many.
Oh destroyed ones, wont you find few.
Oh small few, will you not stay together?
Oh small few, will you not become one.
Oh my one, wont you break down for many.
Oh my one, wont you share your cell.
Oh small cell, will you not make many.
Oh small cell, what have you done?

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Vexar
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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby SinTakai on Sat Aug 29, 2009 9:57 am

My Death



Your image still burns a hole through my head,
Just like your bullet that shot me dead.
Those evil eyes, that vicious sneer,
Told me that you didn't want me here.
How could I explain to one such as you,
The pain and hurt you've put me through.
The tears I cry on sleepless nights,
The blood I shed for needless fights.
The fear that consumes me, body and soul,
And the love that shakes me down to my core.
Because of that love, I keep coming back,
Into your arms, and into your trap.
Just like before, and the times before that,
You push me away and my mind goes of track.
Can I take anymore? Sometimes I wonder,
I wonder if my love is only a blunder.
If maybe I wasn't supposed to exist,
And you only serve to remind me of this.
With your gun to my head, on my knees I sit,
Ready to kill myself, though you beat me to it.
I feel the tears well, but I won't let me cry,
Not as I sit here and look you in the eye.
I pray that you'll see the love that could be,
I pray that you might still somehow want me.
But your evil look stays firmly in place,
The trigger is squeezed and it is too late.
The bullet tears through this thick skull of mine,
But there's no pain as if flies through the other side.
As if from I distance, I see my own body,
It falls to the ground, all beaten and bloody.
My tears they now slip down my pale ghostly face,
While you, my sweet love, stand rooted in place.
Not even so much as a 'What have I done?',
While behind you sets the evening sun.
As the darkness falls, so does my heart,
To know that your hate me has torn me apart.

This poem was made by myself for a very dear friend of mine, after she got dumped. She explained to me how she felt that very moment and I put those feelings she felt in these lines, it attempts to describe the feeling of being dead, emotionally, without having the one you truly loved beside you and just watching from far away how he has someone else, which slowly kills you on the inside.

(This poem can also be found on my deviantART hyuga13avenger.deviantart.com )
Last edited by SinTakai on Tue Sep 01, 2009 4:07 am, edited 1 time in total.

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Sky Harper on Sat Aug 29, 2009 2:28 pm

The Melody of a Siren's Song

Beneath the dark and stormy sea,
There lies something long and vast.
And what, you ask, this object be?
An old ship with a broken mast.

And from the sea comes the great mast,
At the same time every year.
So when the waves start to crash,
You know that time is near.

And when the whole boat starts to rise,
You can always hear,
The Sirens and their singing cries,
Of growing excitement and fear.

There’s not just one boat but three or four,
All with sails flying in the wind,
They’re looking for the largest shore,
So their treasures they can spend.

And once they’ve spent all their precious gold,
And told the landsmen all they know,
They carry all the loot they can hold,
And back down the ships must go.

So, if you see a boat disappear,
And you think you’re eyes are proving wrong,
Just listen carefully and you will hear,
The melody of the Siren’s song.

[[I don't quite know what form of poem this is. But the rhyming goes: ABABABAB etc.]]
Like Neopets, but want something better? Tell them 873 sent you! :}
[Psst! It's awesome!]

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Re: Poetry Competition

Tips: 0.00 INK Postby Catra22 on Sat Aug 29, 2009 4:54 pm

-Demon-

It howls, its prey will not take the bait. Blood eyes can be seen beyond my own. A monster hidden within the dark corners of my mind. What is this? Demon. Only word that comes to mind. Anger boils within. They hate me, hurt me. I cry. It wants release. I hold it at bay. No release for you today. It punishes me with memories of yesterday. It craves their blood, their pain, the sheer brutality of my bitter release. I reign in my anger and pain. I appear resigned; my tormentors walk away. I beat, claw, curse myself. What a horrible, rotten day. It chuckles. End it then. Here's your chance to take your pain away. Your sorrows will no longer have their say. No. Look! Look! See how the knife, it glistens? See how your flesh awaits its jagged stroke? Your blood is pulsing! I can't. I refuse my desire for an end. Child, why do you deny yourself your desires? Hell will take and break me. You are already broken. God does not want filth. God loves everyone despite their flaws. What about me?! Did He love me when He cast me into the fire?! You cannot sway me. So you believe yourself self-righteous? No. Then do not say such a lie. I can sway you like I can sway the tides. One tormentor returns and I am chipped down to sawdust with little defense. It purrs. It knows its time to play. With wicked callousness It chases off my tormentor. It beats me with hands no longer my own. I am trapped in a glass room. Did you feel that power?! Did you see how your words cut down your tormentor? Childish demon, how could you use me like that?! You horrible, horrible thing! It chuckles again. With time you will learn to accept my reign. We fight like wolves for supremacy. Prayer oh so sweet, escapes me. I pray that I shall be saved. I pray... and I pray.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
This poem is about someone who is having a struggle with his/her inner demon. In most of the ending of the sentences it has "a" sound. I am not quite sure of the kind of poem it is but I was inspired to write it after thinking about how I felt a few years ago.
"Work is hard. Distractions are plentiful. Time is short"

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