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.
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.
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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).
Really? Has everyone forgotten about this?
It seems like no one shall judge.
I would, but I know too many of teh peeps. :/
Well, it seems that my test didn't turn out as well as I wanted. It took three days after my assigned deadline for people to notice that a judging was needed.
I just want to ask you guys: What do you guys suggest to attract some fresh blood around here?
I just want to ask you guys: What do you guys suggest to attract some fresh blood around here?
Well, it seems that my test didn't turn out as well as I wanted. It took three days after my assigned deadline for people to notice that a judging was needed.
I just want to ask you guys: What do you guys suggest to attract some fresh blood around here?
I just want to ask you guys: What do you guys suggest to attract some fresh blood around here?
Perhaps if the title wasn't so honest about how long each round lasts, it may also attract more people. Right now it infers a lack of judge activity.
It turns out that the turnout wasn't quite as bad as I imagined...it was 7 entries, which is actually our general average. As for the quality, well, this time the entries were basically all from the Poet Corps, so it was a great pleasure to read your poems. Apologies for the delay in judging, and I will take your criticisms to heart. So let's get started. Since we didn't have that many entries, I'll be reviewing each of your poems.
Gantic
Cast downward from the peak
In a twirling flight,
The mountain snow blows in the wind:
Dandruff on your head.
Wind
A churning rhythm.
The child plays with his toy.
A surprise long disappeared as the room leaps in delight.
The forcefully grinning facade exits, he withdraws.
Painted face of the jack bounces back and forth like a demonic survivor.
Bitter faces search in expectation of a response, any response.
There must be a fault in the system proclaims a moving wall.
Concerned for their sanity, the innocent bursts into life. Relief as they gather once more.
Act two.
The lid closes as a churning rhythm numbs.
Winds of Change
Change has come again
It has drifted in like a well known lover.
Though I am no lover of change.
It floats over to me
It caresses my face with false reassurance.
And I know they're all lies.
The winds of changes are blowing
And they're taking me away, from all I know
And all I wish to hold dear.
In this typhoon of diversity
I am the lowly sailor madly clinging to his sloop.
Hoping only to ride out this storm.
Wind's Artistic Nature
Many a ship has been tossed about with sudden gales.
These angry tempests that appear, as if, from nowhere.
Causing fear in the bravest hearts.
Reducing them to mere machines,
Like automatons, devoid of emotion
They concentrate every effort to keeping the ship afloat.
When the tempest reaches shore it's as if some half-crazed artist
Has lost control.
Ripping the once beautiful tall dunes in jagged chunks and
Haphazardly flinging the sand to obscure destinations.
With violence the tempest causes the roads to disappear and
Inland waterways to be choked with the very sand that was
Stolen from the beach.
Centuries old trees, once majestic, gracefully draping the roadways.
With huge canopies of naturally air conditioned shade.
Are now reduced to gnarled and ugly stumps.
Perverse, grotesque in form were killed instantly by the salty sea.
Decades old homes built too close to the shoreline are obliterated.
Leaving behind, in the tempests wake,
A grim reminder of nature's uncompromising force.
"To the victor belong the spoils" by William L. Marcy,
Comes to mind.
As if the tempest has some hidden agenda?
To reclaim the sand for its own design and
Paint a different
Masterpiece.
Fujin's Charge
At the dawn of time, all was naught but a great cloud
As These separated the heavens and earth were born
Earth was a great muddy ocean and 'neath heaven it cowed
Between the two a sprout came up, devoid of thorn
Soon the sprout grew great and strong
And its flower gave birth to the First God
This god was wont to be alone for long
It looked upon the world, and simply gave a nod
The god caused Izanagi and his wife to appear
The first God made them to finish his creation
Upon the bridge of heaven, a rainbow, they cast a spear
It was thrust deep into the heart of the ocean
When Izanagi withdrew the spear, the water curdled
It fell as stones and gave birth to the islands of Nippon
Izanagi longed to see these islands with life enkindled
He took his wife and made their home upon the maiden
All this time the lands were bathed in opaque fog
That served as barrier 'twixt the Earth and Heavens
So Fujin was called upon to drive away the smog
He rushed to Earth in response to his holy beckons
He unsealed his bag and loosed the winds upon the world
They whipped and swirled and danced across the land
Driving forth the mist and filling the Gate 'tween the worlds
His task was done, the winds were loosed
Fujin sang and pranced as the zephyrs moved to his command
And finally Sun's sweet light kissed creation
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
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
You and your punnery, Gantic...:P What are you supposed to call a week and a half anyway? Three-quarters-fortnight? :P Heck, just amend the title to "10-Day" then.
Being that we're doing Novembeard, are we going to be doing Decembeard and Manuary as well? Lol.
If you want a rhymed epic, do so; if you want a free-verse epic, do so; but whatever you do, go all out with it.
Thread is locked!