Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → Periodic Poetry Contest - Theme: Touch of Truth (Page 390, due Jan. 28)
3868 | 3761523 |
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3868 | 3761523 |
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).
The Jaguar is King of the Jungle
It smells, those muddy boots.
It can hear the rain patter against the bridges of their hats.
It trails behind them in the villages they loot.
It can see them hiding with the eyes of a cat.
The smell of death brought it here.
And the screams of the victim's made it shiver with anxiety.
The men with the guns are now the ones who fear,
The outcast of this jungle society.
They try to run,
But the jungle is no place for them.
It is all in fun,
Until there is no one left.
The puddles of water now hold blood,
And an old man whose eyes are keen
Sees a black figure covered in mud,
Run away from the scene.
"The Jaguar is King" he says.
deep dark black all around me
suffocating my mind and spirit
pressure on my chest building
trapped for all eternity
razor blades clicking together in the distance
moving forth
the world is vile and forgotten
when it ends true happyness will come
I hate this thing, this horrible chase.
I love it, the run, it is so much fun.
The end, the thing I fear, something I must face,
It's my job, my urge; it must be done.
Why me, there are many more, better than me,
He runs and he squirms letting me close in.
I run and I twist, each step sets me free,
If he falls or falters I'll close in with a grin.
My hunter is evil and doesn't pause to think,
My prey is mine he's within my grasp.
I think I've reached the end, I'm on the brink,
I'll beat him and slay him with a mighty rasp.
_____________________________________________________________
T'is my best effort... I hope you like it.
My first entry in a while
The...Hunter?
It opened it's eyes then searched for prey.
When it was so hungry it even stumbled.
It's eyes narrowed as it poised to slay.
As the starving beast was waiting its patience crumbled.
The prey didn't stop grazing as the hunter pounced.
but the hunter was to starved to think fast enough.
It was to late when it realized it was being trapped.
The hunter struggled to stop but the path was to rough.
It slipped through the ground it saw a black dove.
Pain shot through its chest, middle and thighs.
The hunter saw the furless ones gather above,
as it realized it was the hunted, and closed it's eyes...
A poem about a starving wild cat that fell into a humans trap.
"Targets"
We are the humans
We are the hunters
There the animals
There the targets
Silence all around
Darkness clouding your vision
But you don't need to see
You lie in wait
For that inevitable 'Crunch'
You hear it, turn and shoot
All in one smooth motion
You smile as the bullet
Shoots through the air
And connects with its target
With a 'Thump'
Music to your ears.
The 'target' is all it is
Not a living being
You can't think of it like that
The target is not real
The target is fun
Hunters hunt for the pride
For the power, For the fun
They see there 'target' and shoot
Don't think. Or you might see
What you are actually doing.
========================
I don't really like it but its been a long time sense I have entered a poem so I thought now would be a good time.
There the animals
There the targets
They see there 'target' and shoot
I am a cat
creeping through the grass.
along comes a guy
and shoots me in the ass.
Yeah i pwn.
What was that again?
Gah, everyones is so much better than mine! I dont stand a chance!
Stoopid enjabment...
Stoopid 'early-shakespear'...
...
Light the candle,
Feel the flame,
A humble warrior,
Perhaps gone insane.
I soft gust of wind,
A bush slightly annoyed,
He lunges to the right,
A bit paranoid.
The moon is a smile,
He thinks it's a frown,
Slowly unwinding,
He looks around.
And off in the distance,
The sounds of the beast,
For days he was hungry,
But tonight, He shall feast.
Other than my songs, this is my first real poem, so bear with me.
Umm thanks for your corrections choazmachine, I'm not big on grammar or spelling. And I believe the theme is The Hunter OR The Hunted. I think that means you can choose which one your poem is about or make it about both. I simple chose to make it just about hunters. As for it sounding like a shooting range, that was not my intention. I wrote it quick just so that I could actually enter this week. I am quiet sure I could have made it better.
I'm pretty sure you could've made it better too :P
Anyways here is mine.
Bewildering Beast
Here I am,
Come on, claws at the ready,
Teeth clean? Oh boy this
is going to be great!
There it is. Come back here you
rambunctious rodent! I'm going to
Pounce! On you! Mmm... I'm tasting
your tainted, flavorful flesh!
Wait. I hear something. Could it be?
Another marvelous meal, knocking at my door,
Tapping on my feet?
What's that weird clicking noise? I hear
a CRACK.
Unghhh. That hurt. A human. What's that
metal mechanism in his hand? Ungh, my paw
felt my neck! Oh my, my blood is rushing down
like the Mississippi River, tainting my orange fur.
And something metal
in my punished neck.
Now I think, who is the hunter?
I'm
about to --
...
And silence was heard in the fields, until the cycle could reset once again.
Just something I did quick, hope you like it :P
Ungh, my paw
felt my neck!
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