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
Our End
This is a question,
asked throught time,
unanswered remains,
that way should it stay.
Why do I say that?
Easy, that is,
everyone will be crazy,
doing what they would in life.
So, let's be wary,
ready for that day,
we shouldn't listen,
what most peaple say.
Some say it's in 2012,
others, after.
Some say other days,
Most say in the sun's death.
I don't have much of a chance.
The autumn world
marks the end of the summer
a dead world
the fall of the greens
the stretch of time
the bleak brown
even though the sun shines
we still wear frowns
through this dull world
we are not in fright
for the coming of the winter
means a new world of white
(the end of summer/autumn and the beginning of winter) i dont stand a chance do i?
The End, is the End?
The sky is white.
The clouds are gray.
The ground is black.
Why must we fight?
For I must say,
It's love we lack.
And the shades of gray that conceal my sight,
Leave no room for the true colors to play.
And, sir, that is a fact.
But it's this plight,
That gives to end what may,
Exist in another world being birthed today.
Sorry, I forgot to add something at the very end...
The End, is the End?
The sky is white.
The clouds are gray.
The ground is black.
Why must we fight?
For I must say,
It's love we lack.
And the shades of gray that conceal my sight,
Leave no room for the true colors to play.
And, sir, that is a fact.
But it's this plight,
That gives to end what may,
Exist in another world being birthed today. (And we'll leave it at that)
.... there we go!
Yes I have check page 170.I would make a link but I am writing this on my Wii.
OK people; the contest is closed.
I have decided not to critique the winning poems this round; however, if you would like to have my opinion on your poem, you may request it on my profile.
Now, without further ado, the winner and runners up.
Bronze Medal
This is a question,
asked throught time,
unanswered remains,
that way should it stay.
Why do I say that?
Easy, that is,
everyone will be crazy,
doing what they would in life.
So, let's be wary,
ready for that day,
we shouldn't listen,
what most peaple say.
Some say it's in 2012,
others, after.
Some say other days,
Most say in the sun's death.
by OperationNilo
Silver Medal
The sky is white.
The clouds are gray.
The ground is black.
Why must we fight?
For I must say,
It's love we lack.
And the shades of gray that conceal my sight,
Leave no room for the true colors to play.
And, sir, that is a fact.
But it's this plight,
That gives to end what may,
Exist in another world being birthed today. (And we'll leave it at that)
by Choazmachine
Gold Medal
The beginning of a fever
Grips my fragile mind
I can feel the edges
Of the crawling worms inside
I grasp at the strands of light
I shudder at the horrible fright
This growing thing scares me
And nothing can prepare me
My mind, my brain
Once more, again
I must, I must
It's so unjust
The common release
The source of peace
I cannot find
Within my mind
The light goes out
The smoke floats away
When I'm in the night
There's no such thing as day
by Thyll
Platinum Medal
The beginning of death is the end of life,
The end of strife,
The beginning of song.
The life we live reflects how we die,
Whether we die with a sigh,
Or a huge fireball.
"We live by the sword, we die by it,"
My favorite quote I will always spit,
But never out of place.
With the end comes suicide,
Or homicide,
Or a violent end waiting to see.
If we see no peace, we always see blood,
As it flows in in a large flash flood,
This is the blood of warfare.
We see it in movies,
But they are poor abilities,
In B rate, hollow and empty.
But we die on death's bed,
We've said all that's said,
And we sleep in peace, forever.
by TSL3_needed
Congratulations everybody. TSL, contact Carlie for your merit.
Moving on now.
The new theme is Thanksgiving; the new deadline is November 30.
Good luck folks.
O.K. here goes mine.
Thanksgiving To Me.
Thankful for family.
Holiday with the most food.
Already happy with each other.
Not selfish or single-minded
Kind to the each other.
Smelling the food.
Giving to others.
Inviting the warmth of family.
Very special holiday.
In taking the smells of food.
Never insulting each other.
Gravy on turkey.
My family is kin of wild so...
Thanksgiving.
This is more a song than a poem.
With a Hi! and a Hey!
We wake up in Thanksgiving one day,
and a High! Ho! Hey!
And a Dooby! Doop! this time of the year.
With a beat and a bop,
with no hurries,
we eat the stork,
eat without worries.
So with a:High! Ho! Hey!
and with the body in a stool,
we eat the turkey,
and the temperature's cool.
And a High! Ho! Hey!
for today's Thanksgiving day.
Both TSL and Thyll have requested I critique their poems; so here goes.
The beginning of death is the end of life,
The end of strife,
The beginning of song.
The life we live reflects how we die,
Whether we die with a sigh,
Or a huge fireball.
"We live by the sword, we die by it,"
My favorite quote I will always spit,
But never out of place.
With the end comes suicide,
Or homicide,
Or a violent end waiting to see.
If we see no peace, we always see blood,
As it flows in in a large flash flood,
This is the blood of warfare.
We see it in movies,
But they are poor abilities,
In B rate, hollow and empty.
But we die on death's bed,
We've said all that's said,
And we sleep in peace, forever.
by TSL3_needed
A good poem. I liked the rhyming and vocabulary; however, the rhythm and the short stanzas kind of threw it off. But what really earned it first place was its power...it doesn't matter how complex a poem is, if it doesn't make you think, then the poet hasn't done their job. And you did yours magnificently.
The beginning of a fever
Grips my fragile mind
I can feel the edges
Of the crawling worms inside
I grasp at the strands of light
I shudder at the horrible fright
This growing thing scares me
And nothing can prepare me
My mind, my brain
Once more, again
I must, I must
It's so unjust
The common release
The source of peace
I cannot find
Within my mind
The light goes out
The smoke floats away
When I'm in the night
There's no such thing as day
Good rhyming, like TSL, however, also like TSL, the rhythm was uneven and detracted from the poem. It did kind of remind me of how I used to write poems. However, I think some of the lines might be improved if you added them to another line, kind of like this;
I must, I must, it's so unjust
So that the feel of it is better; it seemed kind of stretched thin the way you had it.
I am surprised that all those people complaining about the theme not being thanksgiving the last 2 weeks aren't submitting anything.
That wasn't the complete poem. Here's the complete one:
Thanksgiving
With a Hi! and a Hey!
We wake up in Thanksgiving one day,
and a High! Ho! Hey!
And a Dooby! Doop! this time of the year.
With a beat and a bop,
with no hurries,
we eat the stork,
eat without worries.
So with a:High! Ho! Hey!
and with the body in a stool,
we eat the turkey,
and the temperature's cool.
And a High! Ho! Hey!
for today's Thanksgiving day.
You know it this day,
for the turkey,
and the stork,
and the knives, and the forks,
and with a Hi! and a Hey!
Today's thanksgiving day.
A child comes by,
asking questions of time,
saying how did that got started,
who made this celebration be celebrated,
and you would say,
with a Hi! and a Hey!
that long time ago was it made,
and that they were happy,
and the natives were helpfull,
as they helped the English,
the Dutch, and the British,
as they said,
with a Hi! and a Hey!
that they happily helped,
for they were happy,
as the bread was baked,
and you said,
"Child, this started a long time ago,
ehn no light or computer was used by men,
when the bread was baked by hand,
and the food was made from scratch,
and with a Hi! and a Hey!,
saying:
"Have a happy day!, with a Hi, and a hey!"
We're happy today!
Thread is locked!