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
The Serpent's Drop
Mark me a King,
For I own the skies.
And my leathery wings,
Will sound of terror
And flap in the winds
Of your burning castles.
The clouds are my sheath,
and rain down the ashes of many.
A flicker of slight movement,
Or a glimpse dash in your sight.
The razor claws of thy minions,
Will hold on fearsomely,
Bring you high in my domain,
And release.
Mountains seem short,
But rise high in seconds,
One with the clouds,
Then one with the ground,
Never to awake.
We have 6 entries, I believe. It's passably judgeable, but I'd like some more entries. I will extend the deadline until this Friday, October 8.
The Ogre
An ogre, poised to eat his prey...
He did. And it tasted good.
So he ate it fast as he could.
The son of Poseidon did what he pleased,
and for it he'll suffer, for he has no means
To slay Ulysses and eat all his...greens?
"more wine!" he calls, gay as can be,
But a poke in the eye he gets, TEEHEE!
This poem, unlike others, reflects not on me,
Because i wrote it fast, for i had to pee.
AHAHAHAH!!! FAKE POEM BOY IS BACK!!! (O.O)
We have 6 entries, I believe. It's passably judgeable, but I'd like some more entries. I will extend the deadline until this Friday, October 8.
Today is the day! (hopefully)
Not exactly record turnout, but I did enjoy reading the submitted poems. Since there weren't very many poems, and in appreciation of those of you who did submit, I'm here to mention each of you guys and give each of you a good critique before moving on with the judging.
wolf1991
The Myth of Love
Come all ye who hath looked upon greatness
And see that the truth of love is naught
But an never ending series of unyielding compromise.
Wherein that which is strong, is but riddled
With holes that doth break upon the waves of commitment.
You all stand amazed by such profound thoughts
Such as love. Dearest of fools you be, for what is great
About the suffering of men who hath given themself
Whole heartedly to some sordid affair in which
Their beating breast lies bare and broken.
Wherein all that speak of freedom, shall find
The slovers noose shortly 'round thy neck.
And they call this love. 'Tis but slavery dear fools.
You know naught of what you hath wrought in the peril
Of such profound and misguided trust in another.
To submit, they claim, is but the noble act in itself.
To submit, I claim, is to lie broken and bleeding
Upon the side of the road. While those who hath found
What all those seek pass on by. Nary a word to be said
To those who suffer so miserably at the behest of others.
Love. Oh how we misguided ourselves into thinking it,
Of all things, was the noble purpose by which we live.
Fear this purpose no more. For I have come to free you
From such dellusions such as love. Dear fools who hearken
At my door unceasing. Love is the lie that all men tell.
Do not live within love.
Do not give heed to love.
Do not accept love.
Love is the god of our new religion.
Love is the religion of man.
Love is naught but a lie.
This poem relies a lot on force of image and directness of diction, which I thought really gave it a strong, unfettered feel. The lack of metered or rhymed verse was essential to this feel, because it acts as a physical separation from all traditionalism. That said, I think that you should not have used "doth," "hath," or such archaisms in the first stanza; they weren't really used correctly in the first place, and they distracted from the overall rebellious feel of the piece. Do I believe in the theme of the poem? No, I don't. However, the way that it presented itself came in a way that I greatly admire and appreciate. Well done.
goumas13
To the cosmos came strife,
The Alps were moved,
The great Ocean
Rose and thundered,
Helios trembled.
The immortal Gods gathered
On golden thrones,
Gravely ruminated,
How nemesis should be fended.
Flaming ire
Flung among the foes
In fright they vanished
Gilded
A great simplicity of form makes this poem a neat summary of the struggles of every mythology. The Gods usurp the positions of the old, and in between their new job as rulers they live in constant fear of becoming overthrown themselves. That use of the last word, "gilded," was the word that really sold it for me, where the Gods cease to be real even though they become "gilded" into a physical reality. I need to caution you, though, not to overuse punctuation in your poetry. The "comma at the end of every line" rule is not a good one; follow your traditional grammar rules unless you have a good reason not to.
Oradnal
Mythology is about strange creatures
With great big teeth and horns
Dragons that breath fire
And banshees that always moan
Gods that rain down thunder
And treat humans with scorn
Luckily the most of this
Happened before we were born
I like the tongue-in-cheek view of the poem, but it really could have been a lot better if you had ran away with it. A good meter and rhyme scheme would have really made this a great one. Despite the shortcomings, those last two lines were pretty funny.
Zaork
A wise scholar sits at his table
Brow furrowed in concentration
Scattered scrolls of timeless fables
Creased from years of vocation
The wizened man fears for his life
A victim of growing old
Terror felt at forgotten strife
Unknown how his story unfolds
Brilliance etches across his face
Carving a smirk in the air
A heartened stirring starts to take place
Unsheathing his quill without care
Parchment turns spotted with freckles of ink
Hieroglyphs mark a time
Imagination creates the link
Transforming him into sublime
Stories of magic and wit are described
Springing forth with a bounty of thoughts
Tales feigning beginnings imbibed
A legacy more than the naught
A flourish of creation marks an end
To an incredible, uncredible being
A marvelous chronicle quickly penned
Unchaining distress and freeing
A cover bound thought rests on a rock
Chosen to provoke agreement
The first martyr proclaims with a shock
Forcefully lies are vehement
The rhymes are excellent, but the meter, I think, was a little touchy. The semblance of ballad meter was there, but I do wish some of the rough edges there were smoothed out. Be careful too, not to make your words forced for the sake of rhyme. Sometimes the wording felt a bit awkward, especially when it came to what I call the "repositional phrase trap." As a big positive, though, I think you best portrayed the scope of mythology and the toil it takes to preserve it, whether through the scroll or through the martyr's blood. These are universal qualities of mythology in that the forces taken to preserve them become more dominant than those that seek to destroy them.
wajor59
Oh, if only we revered nature as the Cherokee,
Hunters offering Little Deer, individually;
His permission requested by prayers uttered duly.
All life has a spirit is respected most sincerely;
Generations pass a warning of painful mystery,
Dancing and chanting with antlers ceremoniously.
Hunters without supplication suffer ignorantly;
Rheumatism supplants favor, key to this story,
Expected outcome by killing indiscriminately.
Little Deer is eager to share his generosity;
The payment is simple, first asking intelligently,
'Tis shameful when a few choose greed over integrity.
How wonderfully complete equal trust builds harmony;
Requires punishment which many avoid needlessly,
Bonds born between man and animal forms mythology.
An interesting mythological base you chose. The message is there, but I thought the delivery needed some work. Rhymes with "-y" endings are very difficult to do because they can really swell up each line. If you had gone with a much more simple form to match the simple theme, it would have been tremendously more effective.
PureTrouble
The Serpent's Drop
Mark me a King,
For I own the skies.
And my leathery wings,
Will sound of terror
And flap in the winds
Of your burning castles.
The clouds are my sheath,
and rain down the ashes of many.
A flicker of slight movement,
Or a glimpse dash in your sight.
The razor claws of thy minions,
Will hold on fearsomely,
Bring you high in my domain,
And release.
Mountains seem short,
But rise high in seconds,
One with the clouds,
Then one with the ground,
Never to awake.
The majesty of a dragon is there, but on closer inspection it has seen better days. There are a number of little tics and unpolished points that I think prevented the poem from taking full effect. There are some great lines here towards the beginning (I especially liked "And my leathery wings/Will sound of terror/And flap in the winds/Of your burning castles), but the ending kind of tapers off into an attempt at grand formality. I'm not sure how "thy" worked in this poem; my suspicion is that it was used incorrectly, but it was error enough to throw off the reader for a moment before the end.
So, now that I've talked at length about each of you guys' poems, judging is here. Who will the victor be?
*drumroll*
After a hard deliberation, I have to say that it is Goumas13! He really did demonstrate a poem that was unique in form but timeless and universal in message, the exact points that give mythology its power. This was definitely a difficult decision, and I did reread each poem many times before coming to the decision. Goumas13, please contact a mod for your merit.
There's a warm breeze blowing down here in beautiful Southern California, and although it feels warm as summer, it smells like autumn. For this, the next theme will be Wind. Deadline is Saturday, October 23.
Today the gentle autumn breeze
Carries with it a cursed disease
As golden leaves fall to the ground
An epidemic soon surrounds
Today the wind brings icy drafts
Silencing all the childrens' laughs
The winds awake a sleeping beast
Doctor visits will soon increase
Today the winds bring fall's descent
They spread winter through its ascent
Winter brings a deadly illness
Calling forth the darkest stillness
Coughing, sneezing, and lying in bed
Headaches and migraines wrack their heads
Not one child attends school today
This is what wind has brought their way
Today the winds are ill-aligned
To disease, humans have resigned
The children wearing layers of clothes
'Else they get the dread runny nose
"Do not go out!" the mothers warn
"There is to be a big snowstorm!"
I wish I'd done as I was told
Too late, I've caught the common cold
Hah, a nice twist ending thar huh? xP
Anyway, yeah. I just got a pretty good rhythm and rhyme, a good idea, and tossed in a teaspoon of humor and foreshadowing.
Anyone fall for it?
Ground Zero
It's hard to say,
The LZ strays far.
Do I have minutes,
Or withering seconds?
The smoke plumes high,
And curls out at peak.
-- It's all fire though.
You can almost laugh,
"What's a sinister mushroom?"
But I know the wind
Will take me away.
It's surmountable force,
Will engrave my shadow to the street,
A silent scream.
-- Life will go on.
Finis meus veniat a vento flamma
Hypermnestra -
Today the gentle autumn breeze
Carries with it a cursed disease
As golden leaves fall to the ground
An epidemic soon surrounds
Today the wind brings icy drafts
Silencing all the childrens' laughs
The winds awake a sleeping beast
Doctor visits will soon increase
Today the winds bring fall's descent
They spread winter through its ascent
Winter brings a deadly illness
Calling forth the darkest stillness
Coughing, sneezing, and lying in bed
Headaches and migraines wrack their heads
Not one child attends school today
This is what wind has brought their way
Today the winds are ill-aligned
To disease, humans have resigned
The children wearing layers of clothes
'Else they get the dread runny nose
"Do not go out!" the mothers warn
"There is to be a big snowstorm!"
I wish I'd done as I was told
Too late, I've caught the common cold
Hah, a nice twist ending thar huh? xP
Anyway, yeah. I just got a pretty good rhythm and rhyme, a good idea, and tossed in a teaspoon of humor and foreshadowing.
Anyone fall for it?
I'm not gonna lie I liked it a lot and you did well with the rhyming, everything flowed nicely, all of syllables of 8! (Except line 2! :P) Good job!
(Except line 2! :P)
No, line 2(from stanza 1, I'm assuming?) had 2 syllables. All of the lines did.
Carries with it a cursed disease
Ca-ries-with-it-a-curst-dis-ease.
1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8
Or at least that's how I pronounce it. You probably enunciate your "ed", and that's how you got the extra syllable.
Or at least that's how I pronounce it. You probably enunciate your "ed", and that's how you got the extra syllable.
Am guilty as charged.
rough edges there were smoothed out
It does sound like a bit of a hackjob. I'll do better I promise!
prepositional phrase trap
Could you please elaborate on this?
Congratulations Goumas. Good luck on the next round everyone.
my submission.
I am the mountain,the solid rock, the earth;
I am impenetrable, a fortress; a god,
I am blank, unemotional,my will implacable.
no sight nor touch nor memory;I am alone.
then it came; no, she came,
she was stirring,beauty, emotion, happinessfreedomexcitement and disturbing all at once!
She was an idea, a message that rushed right through me,
The idea that,life was possible that i, beast of solitude could could have something i dared not think about,
that i could fulfill my life with one clichéd word:love.
am now peaceful as i lay dying, the lover long dead; knowing i soon follow, staring at the long part between birth and death
I impart to you,dear human:contentment is the greatest thing to achieve.
the sections of the poem don't flow but that's for the effect of the character.
here's some for fun!
An Efan fell out a plane,
his life going down the drain,
he took a look down,
saw the whole town,
and found himself in pain.
An efan once went splat,
scaring a poor rat,
the rat flew high,
afraid it might die,
and flew into the arms of a cat.
Thread is locked!