ForumsArt, Music, and WritingPeriodic Poetry Contest - Theme: Touch of Truth (Page 390, due Jan. 28)

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1,081 posts

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).


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!
  • 3,893 Replies
375 posts

I wrote a great one a while back that I just found, and I just wanted to make sure it would be OK if I wrote more about one specific "battle" than a journey. I figured yeah, but necromancer put all that emphasis on it and stuff.

21 posts

A British Marines Poem

It was the night before Christmas
He lived all alone
In a one bedroom house made of plaster and stone
I had come down the chimney with presents to give
And to see just who in this home did live

I looked all about a strange site did i
No tinsel no presents not even a tree
No stckings by the mantle just boots
filled with sand
On the wall hung pictures of far distand
With medals and badges awards of all
A sober thought came through my mind

For this house was different it was dark
and dreary
I found the home of a soldier once i
could see clearly
The soldier lay sleeping silent alone
Curled up on the floor in this one
bedroom home

The face was so gentle the room in
Not how i pictured a lone British soldier
Was this the hero of whom id just read
Curled up on a poncho
The floor for a bed

I realised the familys that i saw this night
Owed their lives to these soldiers who
were willing to fight
Soon around the world chuldren would
And grown ups would celebrate a bright
Christmas day

They all enjoy freedom each month of
the year
Because of the soldiers like the one
lying here
I couldnt help wonder how many alone
On a cold Christmans Eve in a land far
from home

The very thought brought a tear to my
I dropped to my knees and started to
The soldier awakened and i heard a
rough voice
''Santa dont cry this life is my choice
I fight for freedom i dont ask for more
My life is my God,My country,My

The soldier rolled over and drifted to
I couldnt control it I continued to weep

I kept watch for hours so silent and still
And we both sat shivered from the cold
nights chill
I didnt want to leve on that cold dark
The gaurdian of honour so willing to fight

Then the soldier rolled over with a voice
soft and pure
Whispered ''carry on Santa its Christmas
day all is secure''
One look at my watch and i knew he
was right
''Merry Christmas my friend and to all a
good night''

Thank you for reading. I would like to dedicate that poem to my beloved friend David Marsh. We always think of you.

1,081 posts

Sorry RoyalMarine, but one of the rules as stated on the first page is that you must write the poem. Posting this one as your own is plagiarism. I found it a few places, and the author was a Marine stationed in Okinawa, Japan. Here is where I got that information.

1,081 posts

I wrote a great one a while back that I just found, and I just wanted to make sure it would be OK if I wrote more about one specific "battle" than a journey. I figured yeah, but necromancer put all that emphasis on it and stuff.

You can submit any poem that tells an epic story, with yourself as the main character (this is fairly lenient, as well). As long as you write it *for* the contest (or severely revise an old poem) it should be fine.
21 posts

o sorry i apologise for that. It was my frind Davids favourite poem. I didnt know that before i thought it was just any good poem.again i apologise.

2,516 posts

Here's my entry, hope you like it!

The Courageous Serf

The king slept in his beautiful bed,
While I the serf, was dumped for dead.
The king ate feasts of fresh meat,
I dined on only ants, and moldy puffed wheat.
The king was carried wherever he wanted to go,
While I had miles to travel, or food I must forgo.
The king was draped in success and honour,
While I was forced to labour.

I decided, that's enough!
And decided it was time to get rough.
I ran all the way to my ugly home,
And picked up a rather large stone.
I started carving it into a sword,
With tool I could barely afford.

Month by month passed slowly,
I had not yet finished my lowly
Then one victorious day,
I finished my sword, and began to pray.

I plotted what I would do,
I would rampage the foul crew.
Rampage into the king's castle,
That might give him a huge hassle.

I walked for many miles and nights,
Precariously I walked, through the night.
Then one dangerous day, I arrived,
On the power of my stone sword, I thrived.

I attacked the first guard, he
was no match for my sword and me.
I pulled down the drawbridge,
and entered the castle, and saw many fridges!
I asked, what are those fridges for?
A knight replied, those are really doors.

I cackled, and ran through a door.
I found the king, staring at the floor.
I cried with laughter, and yelled at the king,
Why do you live in luxury, and I have to make string?

He shouted, Guards, take him away!
My stone sword, was no match for the knights at bay.
I fought a hard battle, defending my courage,
But I knew I had to run, I knew it would discourage.
They stabbed me in the chest, I must confess,
It was the hardest battle, I was in distress.

There I lie, on the cold stone floor,
I was dragged out, out to shore.
As I lay on the sand looking at the sky,
I died.

Thanks, hope you like it!

1,363 posts

Aw man! I have a REALLY good poem that I wrote in third grade but It's about a color, so I'm waiting until the theme for colors comes out.

305 posts

Hay does anyone know where you turn in the poems when you are done??

305 posts

shayneii that was amazing, you are a great writer....

305 posts

What is the price you pay?
To be the hero of the day?

You proudly walk down the street
Head held high for all to see.
You are the hero of the town
You are given glory and gifts.

But at what price.
You heart and mind forever scared
By the memories you now harbor.

Asleep you fall on a bed, worth for a king
But the comfort that it brings is long away.
As your mind brings you back to that fateful day.

The cold pricing your armor as you walk
Through the empty streets of a empty town.
A dark figure flyâs past, you dash to fallow
Your heart is racing at the excitement.

You draw your sword as he draws his.
The clang of steal echoes loudly in your ears.
The criminal now in your hands.

The voices around you, tell you to
Bring him to justice and in a moment
Of weakness you doâ¦

The cry or pain now burnt into you head.
Your pride now turning to shame.
The color of death now forever stains your mind.

You wake with a frightâ¦

A hero, a knight, and a savior they say
But nothing could be farther from the truth.

I hang my head in sorrow, tears falling
One by one youâre so called hero, crying.
But tears will not erase what I have done
the errors of a sinful son.

The price I paid for glory and fame.
Is to be for ever trapped in a
Prison of sorrow and pain.

By, Adrecka

Hope you like it, its a sorta different perspective on a hero....

11,836 posts

Sep 1, '08 at 4:36pm, DragonMistress wrote:

Not sure about the length restrictions on a post, I doubt there is one.

Ah, okay. I just hope I don't make it too long.
2,516 posts

[quote=adrecka_33]shayneii that was amazing, you are a great writer....[/quote]

Thanks, your poem was great also!

305 posts

Shayneii, How long did it take you to write it??

306 posts

The Hero Who Wasn't A Hero

A cry for help reached the man's ears,
And listened for something else to hear,
After a crumble and a crash and another wail,
Is where we shall begin this specific tale.
With not a second to lose, the man put on his suit,
Of silver and jade, as well as matching boots.
He coifed his hair, and he was set,
After spraying on some eau de toilette.
He dashed out the house, and took a sharp right,
And rushed to the people that were in fright.
He gazed up and saw the burning building,
And decided it was time to do his thing.
The man ran to the scene and announced his presence,
Wishing for applause, but noticed its absence.
The people did not clap, or shout, "Hooray!"
Because the firemen had already saved the day.
The so-called superhero felt sad, and decided to pout,
Because his time to be famous had run out.
He sulked along the streets, feeling quite blue,
And saw a boy, very much older than two,
Walk into a facility labeled, "Soup Kitchen."
The man stopped and smelled an aroma of chicken,
And, on a whim, decided to proceed,
And thought he could do a good deed.
Once inside, he saw the boy again,
Handing out meals to people aging from eighty-five to ten.
It then dawned on the man that you don't need any suits,
Perfect hair, nice cologne, or colorful boots,
To be a hero to people who are need.
The man learned to do good for others, and not for greed.

9,464 posts

Okay, I have absolutely no idea... This poem sort of just wrote itself, so I REALLY don't know if it's worth anything... No real rhythm, no rhymes... It just is.

Once again, returning home
Once again, my body wrecked
Let me tell you the tale, my dear
Of the Bridge of Peace that failed its purpose

There were two kingdoms, mighty as can be
On either side of a mighty canyon
And each were ruled by a mighty king
Each of their mights based on tyranny

The people of each of the lands
Were nothing to the Kings, but food
Food for the dragons the soldiers rode
Food for the war they kept ongoing

The great canyon between the kingdoms
Was were every body got thrown
Each slain dragon as well as its rider
And every pawn slain for the dragon

The war between them had continued
Through forty-seven generations
And now the Divines had had enough
So they called on me once again

I went to the world of the two kingdoms
I built bridge between the halves
Hoping the two people would rise together
Causing a riot, making the kingdoms fall

I was a fool, was I not, my dear?
Thinking the slaves could work together thus...
Instead the riders and guards gained a new battleground
And my beautiful bridge was painted crimson

I roared my anger to their world
Despite knowing the Divines would punish me
As you know, I may not interact directly
Only use the sky and ground to guide

I threw myself into the battle
Killing more than would have died
The kings were astonished, and so was the crowd
No such creature as me had been seen before

But slaying the armies and slaying the kings...
What good did this do?
Yes, the war was ended
Yes, the pawns were no longer mere fodder

But the red bridge, build to be a Bridge of Peace
Will forever be known in their land as the Bridge of Death
And no person dare cross it
None of the pawns will set foot on it

So neither of the kingdoms exists anymore
But for what good were they destroyed?
One fear was merely replaced by another
And I was tortured for my error

A century has passed since then, my dear
I return now from the chambers of pain
To find you gone, your life expired
Why did the Divines chose a fool to do their biding...

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