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The Armor Games website will be down for maintenance on Monday 10/7/2024
starting at 10:00 AM Pacific time. We apologize for the inconvenience.
3868 | 3765601 |
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).
GUYS! HOLD ON!
One judging, this is all, until we can get confirmation from Moat. He's in charge, end of story.
Even former judges.
new year really sucks
happy new year idiots
it will be your last
I dont want to write a long poem. haikus are good enough.
Is someone going after Moat?
EnterOrion has called on Moabarmorgamer. It has been two days now. Give it another day, and if Moabarmorgamer doesn't show up, I will judge the contest.
EnterOrion
I will judge the contest.
For the sake of moving things along in this contest, I will judge this competition. Moabarmorgamer will remain our judge when he returns, but I understand that the general consensus is that we want to see this contest judged and moving on.
We'll do a traditional bronze-silver-gold for this new year. As customary I've given my feedback and thoughts about each essay, as well as fixing any spelling mistakes that I catch.
Bronze--And Now On This Episode of COPS...: Crab65
Last year was a year that I'll always regret
A year that I know I will never forget
But hope is not lost, and I shall not yet fear
As today I begin the near-perfect new year
Shake the bubbly bottle of sparkling champagne
Let your old sins take a ride on the midnight train
And remember that, while you dance on the ceiling
That everyone else in the world has this feeling
It's now three in the morning, but we are not tired
A sense of insomnia we have acquired
An old neighbor yells out at the top of his voice
"Hey you confounded kids, shut off that blaring noise!"
Do we listen? Of course not! We're all adults here
He is just an old man, what do we have to fear?
But we are mistaken; we have misjudged old pops
That crazy old man went and called the cops!
Hurry, everyone out! Before you get detained
It may be new year, but those cops won't refrain!
You gotta get out without making a sound
Or those crazy policemen will take run us all down
A new year in jail doesn't sound nice to me
On the first day of new year I want to be free
So I guess if you find this a new practice here
Think again, because this starts off every year!
The streamers lie tangled on the ground,
amongst discarded carcasses from which they erupted.
Like rusted hulls the bottles lay empty,
Crumbled cake on the floor its consuming interrupted.
The fairy lights flicker down from the walls,
As non-sequentially their warm glow fade to grey.
Having come to the end the stereo is silent,
Why is there no rejoicing for New Years Day?
Down the road lays a mangled mess of metal,
The bright red paint black from greedy flames.
A few stand around and gaze at the wreck,
Faces construing a pain absent of names.
Further along sits a man on the curb,
Like blood from the wounds, stream the tears down his face.
The guilt like a flood washes over him,
Knowing what he has done, having ended their race.
In the hospital a boy lays dying,
The blood from his head staunched poorly by the cloth.
His mothers tears from outside are heard,
As his father contemplates acting upon his wrath.
Hearing the words which spell out the end,
The man leaves his wife to grieve for their loss.
He gets in his car and drives to the wreck,
As he rests against the wheel, from around his neck glints a cross.
Looking at the man who sits on that curb,
The father is consumed by anger and pain which clouds all.
He storms towards him with the intent of hurt,
His fist clenched tightly, planned to be used to maul.
But then he stops.
As his angered gaze meets one of guilt.
And in that moment of sincerity his anger is washed away.
Embracing the man who caused his sons blood to be spilt.
The New Year has come
All sorrows have passed away
Now our slate is clean
To start adventures
To complete previous ones
Maybe find true love
To explore our souls
Work up the courage that we
could never before
Try making new friends,
Spending time with the people
That you care about
And maybe try to
Smile at the people you hate
even when you're mad
Because you never
know what your actions could do
to that one person
I apologize for missing this; I had been busy with a few things in real life.
Thank you Parsat, for taking care of the contest.
And dang, this thing is slower than the growth of the Himalayas nowadays, isn't it?
Do you actually get merits for winning these?
If so, I'm joining all the time.
Sorry for double posting! I needed lots of time to come up with a poem. Sorry it's kinda short.
Heroes can be big or small,
large or tall,
Even if they fall.
Heroes are something to look up to,
Making you want to help two.
Anybody can make a difference,
They just need to stand up for what is right,
Even if they need to fight,
Heroes, villains
No one thanks them
Saving, killing
No one needs them
In the worlds scene
of lust and crime
Heroes will clean
the dust and grime
and put away
our many villains
that have caused way
too many killings
but who will hear?
who will thank them?
not anyone here
we just dont need them
The world would be
a better place
if the world could see
the difference heroes make
Any deed you name
can be heroic
you do them everyday
you may just not know it
Oh! I see some awesome entries!
Can't wait to see what entries turn up!
Using context clues and some knowledge of war, you should be able to figure who this is.
Rolling thunder sweeps across the land,
Blood and guts shall fill the sand.
The desert fox may be elusive,
Sending troops who will cease to live.
The tanks are moving, firing quick,
The slaughter looming shall make you sick.
Advancing flanks through Alamein,
The slaughter of thousands drive you insane.
Reversing the tactics, send the blitz,
Hitting hard, they must be blown to bits.
Advancing the desert, killing all,
Breaking through, we shatter their wall.
Victory ours, the fox is gone,
All thoughts of the enemy now foregone.
Though victory is ours, it is short lived,
Onto more killing that we relive.
Hopefully that works.
Kacboy: This contest has always had a merit prize, with the only limitation being that you can not win consecutive merits (when you win a week's contest, you can't win the next week's merit, you have to wait until the week after). You can always submit your poetry though, winner or not.
@ Orion:
Using context clues and some knowledge of war, you should be able to figure who this is.
Do you actually get merits for winning these?
If so, I'm joining all the time.
Thread is locked!