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!
AN: Feels weird not to have a regular meter or a rhyme. Nevertheless, I've tried to record the events of my dream in the sestina form, with as good as a flow as I can manage.
The field was barren, cold with war, Enshrouded by a chilly mist. The air was still, and still hung deep In land encased from trench to trench; And men prepared for that final call: The last sound until the end.
Ten minutes, they cried, from end to end, Til gallant troops climbed up to war. Not a sound, not even a natural call, Could penetrate at all the mist. The ground, uneased, trembled from trench To its very core, an abyss deep.
"Five minutes!" it echoed in foxholes deep, Reverberated, it seemed, with no end. Death waited lustfully by each trench With its allies, Hate and War; Its sickle shone despite the mist To slash and cleave on call.
One minute until the starting call One last chance to hide down deep. The soldiers shivered in the mist And fixed bayonets on rifles' end. For some, it was a start in war, And others, their final trench.
The countdown came upon the trench Until the attack and call; How short was life, and cruel was war And yet, was sleep so deep? The time then rushed to the end The whistles cried and fell silent in the mist.
Fire and steel flashed through the mist Blood spilled on field and trench. How bitter and quick was the end To answer heaven's call? Finally, the lull came, quick and deep To repeat, for that is war.
The war was done for that field of mist, But the trench, so deep! is forever cursed. The dead still call in pain that does not end.
I don't think sestinas were made for rhyme, unless you count Swinburne's scheme.
This one's a little flippant.
Anxiety
On all the suns and stars he hangs his tears And from the dreary moon he hides his fears. Living as if his voice upon deaf ears, In somber gray he paints his days by years And washes them away with all the beers He drank while giving others falser cheers.
He sulks and kicks the dirt midst joyous cheers And gathers one by one his worthless tears That could not mix with all his bitter beers Nor would help assuage uncertain fears All that he had accrued through all his years Never did fall upon indiff'rent ears
And she who heard him with her lonely ears Tried to fill his heart with warmth and cheers To undo all the pain throughout his years To kiss and brush away his salty tears To move his mind from all his baseless fears And with her love replace his bitter beers
Day by day came less pathetic beers And song would hang upon his joyous ears Remove the sorrows and start to move the fears As he skips and dances as he cheers The love that brushed and kissed away his tears And marries her for years and years and years
Together singing songs to fill the years Swept out the pain and sorrow. With his beers Down the drain together poured his tears Then came from happiness the newest ears And came from it the wails that brought them cheers Removed and banned the last of hopeless fears
But arose in him new uncertain fears As days turned into months turned into years But even though he kept with him his cheers He starts to drown himself in bitter beers And his cries pierce the pitiful of ears On all the suns and stars he hangs his tears
None could remove the fears shellacked in beers And by the years came indiff'rent ears As no cheers could remove his morbid tears
Good job. I don't think sestinas are made for rhyming though; it's really more of a free verse style in terms of rhyme and meter. It has to read smoothly, and it has to follow the format.
Oh, and I read the ones submitted so far, and liked them, but I have no idea what to say other than that. This structure is unfamiliar to me...
Alright, my attempt. If anyone ends up being confused after reading it, I can only say that I am too... But Crows have that effect... *glares at word that would be censored if I left out the . in it*
Bound to the spring
In a cold night with falling snow A night in silent darkness bound The winter sky took a hollow turn While under a tree did land a Crow It landed on the frozen ground And in the white it found an urn
It pondered; "Why sits here an urn? Under a tree in falling snow It looks as if glued to the ground By some un-Earthly meanings bound? I may be just a ghostly Crow What could this simple place make turn?
For something here implies a turn This all revolves around this urn And though I am merely a Crow Who found this urn in the cold snow I wonder if it's truly bound Or if a soul lost it on this ground"
The watching bird stood on the ground Looked at the storm, then did a turn If to this place the urn was bound What in this world would bound an urn? Feathers slowly tainted with snow An eery feeling hit the Crow
For what things are able to baffle a Crow? What things can make it hearken ground? It cannot be this cursed white snow It cannot be the dark sky's turn What could it be about this urn? To this dark place un-Earthly bound
"If it is to the Darkness bound It should not be feared by any Crow Perhaps I should just leave this urn On this cold place one the cold ground" And thus the black bird spread it wings and did a turn Flapping wings freed of the tainting snow
As the last snow fell on the abandoned urn And on the frozen ground d.amned by the Crow A soul was freed, before to that place bound
Now, this week's theme. It seems to me that we have had a lot of "funny" themes over the past week, and that's all well and good. I enjoy a laugh as much as the rest of you. I do think, however, that it about time that we focus on something a little more serious. This is why I have decided to make the theme for the next contest...
SESTINAS!
I know you didn't post a deadline, but this round started January 7th. . .
Hehe, not very much turnout for this round. Ah well, I don't think anybody else is going to submit, so here are the results (finally):
And the winner is...
Zophia!
In a cold night with falling snow A night in silent darkness bound The winter sky took a hollow turn While under a tree did land a Crow It landed on the frozen ground And in the white it found an urn
It pondered; "Why sits here an urn? Under a tree in falling snow It looks as if glued to the ground By some un-Earthly meanings bound? I may be just a ghostly Crow What could this simple place make turn?
For something here implies a turn This all revolves around this urn And though I am merely a Crow Who found this urn in the cold snow I wonder if it's truly bound Or if a soul lost it on this ground"
The watching bird stood on the ground Looked at the storm, then did a turn If to this place the urn was bound What in this world would bound an urn? Feathers slowly tainted with snow An eery feeling hit the Crow
For what things are able to baffle a Crow? What things can make it hearken ground? It cannot be this cursed white snow It cannot be the dark sky's turn What could it be about this urn? To this dark place un-Earthly bound
"If it is to the Darkness bound It should not be feared by any Crow Perhaps I should just leave this urn On this cold place one the cold ground" And thus the black bird spread it wings and did a turn Flapping wings freed of the tainting snow
As the last snow fell on the abandoned urn And on the frozen ground d.amned by the Crow A soul was freed, before to that place bound
And the fail award goes to...
KingRyan! Wait, he didn't submit this round. Nevermind -.-
The fail award goes to Gantic's first poem, mostly for the use of the word "stabile."
KingRyan! Wait, he didn't submit this round. Nevermind -.-
*Sigh*
Love Poems eh? Oh...no.......
They have to be written for the comp. right?
Here is one I wrote a couple of weeks ago:
As the gloomy colours of loneliness, are replaced by those of joy. I wander away into the wilderness, And leave behind me as a boy. I wander through the twilit times, Ever searching for those dreams. In the everlasting clime, I wonder what it all means. But when your heart is breaking, I will come to you. Even if the earth is shaking, My heart must stay true. When you joy is finally gone, I will bring the light. I will help you see the dawn, After that troublesome night.
None of them understand love like this We'll be together forever in bliss Not even death can hurt this thing we've got All those other couples can just rot
I'll get dinner for our guests I assure you, our food's the best Woh, we're legal people in here Nothing illegal anywhere near
Oh, dear, I love you I promise I've been true Life's nothing without this Give me one last sweet kiss
It's about a man who thinks he has a wife, but he doesn't, and the "guests" are doctors checking/cleaning his room in the asylum they work in.
Strange for a love poem, but once you've got an idea it's hard to stop.
Love. Spoken many ways and many times, With different feelings of different kinds. Some think it bitter, some think it warm; To be abandoned by the other, or to the other you adorn.
Love: An anxious enigma Love: Never misunderstood. Love: Can either feel evil or good
Love, acceptance, Love, rejection. I prefer the former though it might change with the section.
Hopefully, all sections of my life will be with her. Hopefully the only thing that changes in my life is that my love for her grows greater. I hope that when the time comes and I finally find her And place on her hand, a token, a reminder.
I promise no heart-melters (because I couldn't pull one out even though there is still have a lot of time, I'm satisfied with mine. We get three weeks!) Melty hearts are gooey gushy messes, but who would want it cleaned?
This is not a Stupid Shakespeare Sonnet: Shall I not speak to you as lovers may
Shall I not speak to you as lovers may? Or not compare you to a summer's day? Shall I not whisper love into your ear? Say how my heart would flutter when you near? Shall I not make you melt as choc'late may On the hottest of the hottest summer day? Shall you ever be my only waking thought? Or only be to me as dreams have wrought? Shall I know your eyes are nothing like the sun? Or the moon that shines when day is done? Shall I not speak to you as lovers may? Ascribe my words to poetry cliche? Or shall I tell you how I love you so In the truest words that you alone would know? How you would use your hair to hide your eyes And turn your head away your smile disguise How when you laugh you look about to cry? How each tear falls as I would wipe your eye? How I remember everyday with you Spent on all things we never liked to do, Yet I would still do again with you If ever that experience was new. Shall I not speak to you as lovers may? And not just on Saint Valentine's today?
