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, what an amazing contest! I have to say that this theme has attracted the best poems I've ever judged. You guys have to make this so darn hard for me...
There were quite a few interpretations on the meaning of what it's like to be numb to something. Some of you interpreted the numbness of shock, when things happen so suddenly that you can't feel it. Some of you interpreted as numbness to the world from disillusionment. Some of you even took it literally and associated it with the tingles of sensuality. And that's perfectly fine. My goal is to challenge your mind and hopefully evoke different interpretations, while at the same time expressing these with the right words, the right meter, the right tone. We shall start with our runner-ups, before moving to the Platinum Merit Winner. I have sought to identify the type of numbness seen in each spotlighted poem with my own personal analysis.
Wood: Pixie214--Awkward Numbness
I see your touch against my skin,
but the feeling is pained and distant.
You say you're happy and start to grin,
but your mouth looks fanged and mid-rant.
I see you beam with eyes glittering,
but it turns to that silent disappointment face.
My feelings are numb; cast away from this thing,
Your house has turned to a hovelly place.
This shiny feeling is dull and my push is a pull,
touch has abandoned me and left me numb.
My half empty cup is far from full,
but laying here numb it all seems too dumb.
A very awkward, seemingly unpolished poem, and that's what gives this poem its charm. It doesn't come off as bombastically pathic as other entries, and to me it feels more like the words of someone disillusioned: They try to evoke their unfeeling and simultaneous frustration, but fail to give it life. It almost feels like a certain, inevitable insanity will result from the lack of feeling.
Bronze: Thyll--Unsaved Numbness
Falling into Boredom and Routine
Years pass like the grass
on the field that will always last
Never burn, never fall
Into the hell that tortures all
The numbness which pains me so
There is no answer which I could know
That could save me from this
And so I lie in this abyss
The indifference plagues my heart
Woe is just a part
Of mediocrity
I fear I shall never be free.
Please, save me from this routine
The sickness; so very obscene
No longer, can I stand
The illness I don't understand
The numbness which pains me so
There is no answer which I could know
That could save me from this
And so I die in this abyss
This numbness is extremely self-conscious of its own suffering state and its inability to be rescued from this hell, this illness of mediocrity. Nevertheless it almost seems to cling to life with the last vestiges of hope before they are, one by one, totally extinguished. A few metrical tweaks could be done, but the rhyme is very polished. Well done.
Iron: Moabarmorgamer--Denying Numbness
Numb Immortality
What have I done?
What have I become?
I want to try and run
But to this illness, I succumb
And in the end it matters not
I feel my soul begin to rot
For I can't feel
So, what is real?
I want to feel
But I am numb
I want to scream
But my lips are dumb
My life is coming apart
At the seams
My sleep haunted by darkened dreams
My ruined heart, my ruined soul
But I cannot feel the breaking cold
Breaking down, the final seal
A pact on my grave
As I begin to rant and rave
I miss the touch, a faint allure
Pain, joy, time, I would still endure
And I wish I hadn't come to this
Dreaming of the things I miss
Numb is immortality
I am blind
So how can I see?
Away from the bustle of regular life
But I still feel misery and strife
A cavernous hole within
It's eating me up inside
I cannot hear the din
I cannot heal my mind
Tearing me limb from limb
I can't feel the pain
I stand on the rim
But still, nothing remains
I cannot feel the pass of time
But what I'm doing is not a crime
I wish it was, I wish it was
But nothing anyone says or does
Can free me from the curse
Or is it a gift?
As my wounded self, I nurse
I ponder at this growing rift
A fiery burning
My endless yearning
That I could feel the pain
But it's just so surreal
And so it shall remain
Am I cruel and evil?
Or am I willed and strong?
I've been here since medieval
But somehow it didn't feel long
I wish I could feel something
But it's so hard to tell
It's been so long since nothing
But I'm still going to hell
A gift of immortality
A curse, mayhap, could it be?
For so long, feel is what I've sought
But for so long, I have found but naught
Laughing, loving, screaming, crying
Watching others slowly dying
And I wish, somehow
That I could feel
That I'd never made that accursed deal
But here is here, and now is now
My life is worthless anymore
But it can never end
I wish I could open the door
Your strength, could you lend?
I cannot bear the weight of this
Watching the others' elating bliss
Which is the final one?
Who has lost and who has won?
Please, give me a sign
To open my mind
And let me go across the line
I've waited for so long
I've tried to be so strong
But I really wish that I was dead
Or is it all just in my head
The freedom to die
The freedom to live
But which is the curse
And which is the gift
This poem is much less certain than the one preceding it. There's an undercurrent of denial as we go in through the speech, mixed in with an acute sense of failure and personal disgust as it moves from describing their physical torment into the turmoil of the speaker's mind. The last lines are the most provocative, almost indicating a possible acceptance of their own state. Shocking and alarming.
Silver: Wistress--Disillusioned Numbness
Without Reason
I go through motions
without feeling
Another morning
without reason
I seek a meaning
with no actions
I slip through days
with no reaction
I ask the questions
with no answers
I sneak through weeks
without progression
I go through motions
without feeling
Another year
with no reason
The banal repetition of negatives makes this poem as dull and yet as powerful as the speaker intends. It's an excellent example of the plain poem that makes itself known. Indeed, this numbness makes its oblivion the most known: If both feeling and reason are rejected, what is there to turn to?
Gold: Reton8--Indifferent Numbness
Lively Apathy
Lying down I stand.
The sky above,
Or below?
Is tinted gray,
Or blue?
I sing or mumble,
With notes that are flat,
or sharp?
Songs that pull me together,
or apart?
When I speak I am silent.
My words are brilliant,
or dull?
They leave me full,
or hollow?
Deep in thought I am vacant,
With ideas that are ingenious,
or meaningless?
I am sure,
I am sure?
From a superficial reading, it may seem that the speaker of this poem is indecisively numb. That's what I thought in my first reading. But from a closer look, it becomes apparent that the numbness is of a different flavor. It's one of laziness, of pure apathy, not even desiring or making an effort to make sure of anything. It's uncertain whether this is the cause or the effect, but whatever it is it leads to a terrifying fate. The vacillating can never enjoy life.
Platinum (Merit Winner): thisisnotanalt--Enigmatic Numbness
To study a simple condition
The state of your being
doomed to painless perdition
observing, but not seeing
Taking, going, gone, replacing
Deleting, undoing, backspacing
scratching at the orihalcum casing
at the thought of lack of thoughts
paradoxical, haunting, painted in red
An equation, one variable too many
You read lips, but can't believe the unsaid
strikes like the dropping of a pin. A penny.
Just a one-cent piece
nothing more, nothing less
a quarter for it to cease
but the ATM's broken, no access
there's nothing to lie, nothing to confess
nothing but a bleeding abscess
nothing but burning, freezing numbness
Simply amazing. A tantalizing rhyme and decidedly unorthodox meter mix together to create a mysterious speaker. We don't know their motives, or what caused them to become who they are, but their message remains chilling all the same. The speaker's mixed metaphors only add to the confused nature and the insanity of their numbness. So congratulations, you are the merit winner for this week. Please contact a moderator for your merit.
Now on October 3, the harvest moon (the roundest full moon of the year) will appear. All throughout Asia, which historically followed a lunar calendar, this event is a holiday. In Ancient China renowned poets would compose some of the greatest poems under the light of the moon while very drunk. In Japan, poets would compose haikus and tankas while floating aboard boats, admiring the moon on high and its reflection. This week's theme will be the moon. I will post some translations of ancient Chinese poetry later to perhaps stimulate some ideas. In the meanwhile, the deadline for submissions will be on October 5, 2009. I hope to read great things from you.
Ahahargh! I can never even get mentioned!
Grr...
Agh, I can't let it get to me... I'll just... *Sigh* Try... harder...
The Moon, huh? I love the moon... controlling the tides, floating just out of reach in the sky...
I'm writing this in 5 minutes so don't bother. It's not actually my entry.
The moon to me,
The moon at night,
Is all I see,
It stirs a fright.
With a mind,
I think of evil,
Within I grind,
In myself, roars upheaval.
The plows of field,
The scythes of man,
Are all sealed,
As we can.
3000 posts at midnight on a thread for poetry about the moon. (Central time)
Coincidence?
every night
i experience plight
as the moon shows light
on my pitiful life.
Congrats thisisnotanalt! Great poem!
The banal repetition of negatives makes this poem as dull and yet as powerful as the speaker intends. It's an excellent example of the plain poem that makes itself known. Indeed, this numbness makes its oblivion the most known: If both feeling and reason are rejected, what is there to turn to?
Whew! I'm glad you got exactly what I was going for. I really thought most people would read it and think it was quite trite, which it is in a way, and meant to be. Thanks Parsat.
Yay!
I got mentioned!
Alright, I'll try to make a moon one.
Must...try...harder.
Chin up manta. You won the Adjective Contest, didn't you? =)
Congrats alt. Somehow I get the feeling you and Nicho win every other round. XP
Yay! I was mentioned! I don't think I've been mentioned in this contest before.
I don't think I'll enter this time. The Moon doesn't really seem like a themem I can get into.
Why must all my poems turn out morbid?
I'm not sure yet if this is my official one.
I'm not going to win with this, that's for sure. I'll submit it, though.
The beautiful moon
Our mother, our friend
Like a stormy monsoon
But this one won't end
As it gleams within the sky
Controlling our fate
A sin in our eyes
Bring us love, not hate
The seasons, the tides
The moon watches our
Puny, pitiful lives
Walking close, seeing far
But still we stand alone
The moon guards our flesh, our bone
But our blood still spills
And it's a bitter clash of wills
Why must it leave us all
Just to die, just to fall
The moon's silvery grace
Upon our unworthy face
And we can never stop asking why
Why must we cry
Why must we die
The moon is our mother
There is never another
So why does she leave us
To rot alone, in the dust
A beautiful, silvery gleam
Within the sky
Our mother, that is
But it's naught but a dream
Within the stars, with a sigh
So what is this?
The moon
Our friend
Our rival
Or our end
Ends too soon
The guardian moon
Seeing us
Leaving us
Killing us
I won! Yay.
Thanks for the compliments, wistress and Parsat.
Anyway, Imma enter this round, most likely. The Moon is an enticing subject for me, to be honest.
Also, October 3rd is 2 days after my birthday
Chin up manta. You won the Adjective Contest, didn't you? =)
For no merit. =.=
Mmm, ahh... I'll definitely enter this one (even though I won't get mentioned D. Just... not now. I'm preoccupied.
Here's my official entry FOR NOW. I may write a better on later.
Holy Moon
Holy Moon,
I glance at you.
It the sky, glowing bright,
I see you, and never lose sight.
Holy Moon,
I summon you.
Rain death upon the world,
With that fire once twirled.
Holy Moon,
I see you.
Made of rock,
Up like the clock.
Holy Moon,
I pray to you.
Bring me crops,
That never stop.
Holy Moon,
I sing to you.
A song of fate,
That fills my plate.
Holy Moon,
I will see you soon.
When the days goes,
You rise a white rose.
Goodbye Holy Moon,
I will see you soon.
Like it?
Thread is locked!