Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → Periodic Poetry Contest - Theme: Touch of Truth (Page 390, due Jan. 28)
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First, I will post the overall rules, and then I will post the specifics about this week.
Original rules, as stated by Ubertuna:
It must fit the week's theme.
It must be submitted by the deadline.
It cannot have inappropriate language in it.
It cannot be stolen (if you plagiarize, we will find you).
Also:
The poem must be created for this contest
A user cannot win two weeks in a row (though everyone is welcome to submit every week!)
Only one submission per user will be accepted
As we all know, the winner will recieve a merit, and their poem will be featured on the _Poetry_ page.
OK, on to this week's topic...Again, we are having a style instead of a theme. Also, this week we are having TWO WEEKS to do it, instead of the usual one. Why? Because this will be an EPIC poem. Or, rather, a parody of an epic poem. Generally, epic poetry is very long, and tells the serious story of a heroic figure. Well, this week, the epic figure is YOU! Write a long poem (I'll leave the definition of 'long' up to you, but give it a good go) about the heroic story of you! It can be silly, serious, whatever... just have fun with it. You have two weeks, so have a great time!
- 3,868 Replies
Wow. . . That's sad. I never question any judge. . . . : (
To repeat Krizaz's' question, who's going to judge? Or is there going to be a group of judges? (Suggestion)
Adrecka told Wistress before that if she couldn't continue judging to tell her. Still pending a reply from Adrecka.
@Qwerty: That wasn't made for the poetry contest, so it can't e entered.
@Wistress: Dammmit, you were a good judge. Hope you get better soon.
@Qwerty: That wasn't made for the poetry contest, so it can't e entered.
Wistress said that it was alright, though perhaps modifications would make it less a 'direct-carbon-copy'.
I would like to thank everyone for there benevolent remarks. It means a lot to me.
Please keep messaging Carlie, Adrecka, or maybe even Cenere in order to see who will be judging, I feel bad for pulling out at the last minute, but it takes some serious time to judge, which I don't have the health for now. Who ever wants to judge, please post a message to carlie and adrecka to let them know. If adrecka does not return to judging, my vote goes to Parsat. BTW - if you post the messages, please post only one, and wait patiently for a reply, thanks. See you all around!
If no one objects, I will release my judging results tomorrow.
Poetry, huh? Mayhaps I shouldst enter and see where it takes me...
Hmm Parsat, will you be a temporary judge for this round, or a permanent one for the next few rounds?
I'm not volunteering, but if you are in dire need for someone to judge I can do it....
Only as like the last resort...I was hoping to start entering again...
Sorry about my absence as well. But moving on, Parast asked to be the judge from now on. Not temporary (I believe...) I gave him my permission (Not that he really needs it And as long as you all don't care and the moderators don't care I think he is going to be our knew judge. But let him tell you the real facts.
And wistress thank you for judging you where a great judge.
Ps. I can always judge if necessary, I don't mind. But if someone else really wants to then I think they should try there hand at it like Parast. He could always be Impeached jk. Still just know I am available just leave a comment on my profile.
I'd also be happy to be a substitute judge in an emergency. Not volunteering or anything, though.
I'm glad to have this chance to guest judge this week's contest. I've been a long admirer of the poetry here; there's definitely a lot of talent here.
For those unaccustomed to my style of criticism, I am rather direct in pointing out areas that weren't so good and that needed work, because that's part of a balanced review. It's rare to find something perfect. Many of these are from a technical standpoint, that is: meter, rhyme, flow, punctuation, and physical things that contribute to the meaning. It was Ezra Pound who said that poetry must be practiced like an instrument, and I'd concur. If you have any questions about your poem after the judging, don't hesitate to ask me on my Comments board, and I shall be sure to give you a more in-depth critique.
Now before we get started, I'd like to talk briefly about this theme, which plays heavily into my judging and interpretation. What is "finding oneself"? It is not, as some poets this week thought, merely a conception of ourselves by ourselves or others. It's much deeper than that. It delves past the surface of our own self-conceptions into how we reconcile them with our likes, dislikes, emotions, personality, and the world around us. It's a question that's not easy to solve for anyone, and consequently it's a common theme in many poems that we love and revere.
First off, let's introduce our Wood, Iron, and Silver winners, before introducing the merit-winning Gold winner.
Wood: Best Literal Interpretation of the Theme--shayneii
Where am I?
I can't seem to find out.
Dingy, dark, dirty, grungy,
No comforting hope of home.
The giant grab of God,
Grappling me, and putting me here.
Secluded alone, dark corner.
Walls tainted with blood,
Red fills my eyes, makes me scream!
I can't see? My eyes are?
Blindfolded.
Mmm... potato. Wake up! A
burlap sack is clinging to my face.
I can't move. Paralyzed by my own fear.
Wait! My hands are free as a criminal on parole!
Reach into my jacket. Feeling the frigid touch of metal.
Loaded? Good. Now shoot!
Crack! Uugnhhh... a man groaned and I heard a
sound like a sack of potatoes hitting the ground.
Rip of this burlap-ish blindfold.
I see red again! What have I done?
Slipping on the red and yellow blood covered linoleum.
I run? What else would I do? I hear sirens!
I ditch my shoes, and walk into McDonald's. Egg McMuffin
please?
What have I done?
I can't bear to ask myself...
Who am I? And what am I doing?
Egg McMuffin, McDonalds, and a not-so-stellar parole-related simile aside, the stream of consciousness and unresolved questions delivered a very tense, macabre vision. Short stanzas and choppiness provided by the punctuation greatly aided the delivery. My interpretation was that this finding was not internal, it was a literal attempt to find oneself on the outside in an inhospitable world. I'm not sure it was the original intention of the theme, but there's no rule to thinking outside of the box now, is there? (Except when it comes to Egg McMuffins. :P)
Iron: Deliberations of Madness--Nichodemus
I Look But I See Nothing
I look into the bathroom mirror,
But all I hear is the shrill laughter.
Disembodied voices follow me,
Everything I do they will see.
The feeling of being watched,
Causes my soul to be dislodged.
I fret over every grain of sand,
In this unending wasteland.
The lake's surface has only bright lights,
I don't see myself in sight.
I was never here, I was never there,
And you question where where where.
I don't me and I may never will,
The curtains fall and all is still.
I'm just another person in the crowd,
But my name none can say out loud.
I see things I should never do,
When time blurred and distrust grew.
Those words scratch on my walls,
They burn my eyes as they scrawl.
I'm lost in the wilderness I've created,
My breathe all gone and abated.
I'm trying to feel my way through,
Through the gaps my soul flew.
I seek the comforting heat and flames,
But I get the frigid stares and blames.
This is the last time I'll trust,
Empty promises and words that rust.
Flesh and bone but I feel ethereal,
No friends at my pauper's funeral.
Unremembered and forgotten inside,
Never really born, never really died.
Time to stop this bottling up,
Pour my remnants in a paper cup.
Too long have I tried to hold the dam,
An emotional wreck is what I am.
Cause I struggle with the uneasiness,
In a state of painful wretchedness.
I will not mention these secrets,
Lest they morph to bitter regrets.
I used to have this protection,
But not now I've veered off direction.
I scream my throat dripping raw,
Till it burns and aches my jaw.
Tender ribs hide the palpitating,
By God give me some explaining.
I blanch at the barely-hidden callousness,
The dripping water swirls the gloominess.
I'm a refuge in my own body,
I've created all my sorry follies.
I cannot see my face in the reflection,
It's all a God **** fabrication.
I tried to sew up the broken stitches,
Yet I was drinking with the witches.
I lead a complex double life,
And it presented me only with strife.
I cannot find myself amidst the space,
I've been down and I've lost the race.
I've peeled away all the masks,
But still I endlessly moan and ask.
I'm a peculiar stranger to all,
I'm trapped between the call and fall.
Even they have abandoned me,
And from myself I turn and flee.
These wounds spread the cancer,
I truly badly need a final answer.
Nothing has always been an excuse,
I've always been denied and refused.
Long have I been running and escaping,
Always on the road, always searching.
I'd break down before my hair's grey,
I'd scream but my shadow has none to say.
I'm still surprised I didn't fall to my knees,
In this solid prison of make believe.
Or perhaps it's a room of the real,
And it's not a case of self-derail.
Slipping out of the back door,
My eyes burn a hole in the floor.
I'm on a futile never ending quest,
Finding me is merely Satan's Test.
I have not a face but a marble slate,
Perhaps it was meant to be my fate.
I've looked so hard but its still zero,
Tried, but I failed playing the hero.
I have no known identity,
I have lost all plausible history.
I'm lost in this wide sordid paradise,
Nothing I do seems to suffice.
I still cannot see my face,
I still cannot find my self,
I still cannot make out the features,
I still cannot see the reflection,
I am the nameless one.
Upon reading this work I received the same feeling I did when I read T.S. Eliot's "The Hollow Men," a feeling of being lost without truly finding oneself. Although it may seem like the antithesis of the theme, it truly is possible to totally lose oneself instead of finding it. For a poem that strikes so deeply, there is little direct, blatant reference at attempts to find oneself. The focus lies instead upon the failures to do so, but at the same time there's not a sense that finding oneself is a futile endeavor. The outcome of failing to do so or to botch it up is so terrible that it convinces the reader to look past the illusions in our lives.
Now, the message is well and good, but I found on several readings that there were improvements to be had technically. The rhymes were very solid, but the meter was the thing that undermined the poem. I could think of a dozen different meters that could have augmented the poem so much, whether vacillating and unsure or eerily continuous like a mantra or babblings of a madman. Awkward pauses and phonetics made it feel some parts were incomplete and could have used more polish, preventing it from reaching the Gold spot.
Silver: Reminiscing--Pixie214
I'm lost, lying in my despair,
Am I alone? Is this feeling so rare?
The people around, towering above,
they push and struggle and give me a shove.
I feel faceless in the mirror,
No reflection in the flowing river.
I have my possesions and a golden crown,
I throw it in the river and watch myself drown.
I see me sitting in my comfortable chair,
I was always here, happy, no reason to stare.
In my opinion the most technically able poem. The rhyme is comfortable, and the fact that the first two lines and the last two lines share the same rhyme really helped to augment the poem's message. The tone is like a flashback, almost nostalgic or wise, but at the same time comforting. However, I thought that the symbolism in this poem didn't really contribute to the tone. For a poem with an intimate, personal tone, the symbolism was rather aloof; as a result, it didn't feel as personal as it could have been. An excellent poem nonetheless.
Gold: Pierced Unto the Root--Merciless Mercenary
As life starts to fall apart
we all find ourselves back at the start
trying to retrace our steps
trying to remember what what we all forget
We gave it up so easily with compromise
slowly letting go was easier than sacrifice
the most important thing we own
for a measly price it was sold
It's easier to write collectively
to avoid the truth or so it seems
to have the luxury of being naive
rather than to face my own reality
So now I'm here back at the start
looking at the girl who thinks she's smart
this is probably the smartest thing I'll ever do
remember myself and never forget till my days are through.
To me, this was the poem that most addressed the prompt. It's a very simple scheme, but I like the feel; it's like the key to the whole problem is actually not far off. Once we break through the ice of our identities, the water underneath is crystal clear, allowing us to discern who we really are. That said, I do think that there were several rough spots: metrical problems, inconsistent rhyme, but the message dominated every line of this poem. Therefore, I'm pleased to declare Merciless_Mercenary this week's poetry contest winner! Please contact Carlie to receive your merit.
Now for next week's theme. As humans, we rarely notice things until something goes wrong. When someone's doing their job, we take it for granted until they leave and someone else botches it up. We only truly notice and heed anger and hate when they burst into blatant violence. If we do not look closely at love, we can only detect eros, or erotic, passionate love. This week's theme will deal with the opposite brand of love from eros, the kind that we don't notice until we're deprived of it. The Greeks called it storge, but we call it affection.
Submissions will close on August 15, 2009, at 11:59 AG time. Judging will be submitted at most three days after that day. I don't want to make the wait too long.
I just noticed later how counterintuitive my date was. It should be August 16 at 12:00 AG time.
Nice Parsat, its good to have different judges because each of them have there own unique style. I think its more of a blessing then a curse to change judges often. So are you the permanent judge Parsat, I mean I assume so but assuming things can get one in difficult situations so I rather have blunt facts.
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