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!
The marvel of senses, Fulfilling, thrilling pieces, Compelling emotions, The wonders of magic.
An appealing short piece, that doesn't limit what magic is, in a world where pop-culture permeates the definition of magic. I would have liked it if you separated smell and taste though, since they each are important areas you can explore.
Second Place: Tacky
If Shooting Stars Still Worked
I wish that top hats still held magic, And that making coins disappear Still was a mysterious force unknown. I wish I still believed in dragons, As I waited to ride one far from here, Flying over cliffs with jagged stones. I even wish I still had my toy wand, Collapsing with a twist of my hand, As I, the magician, made it vanish from sight, Arguing that it wasnt at all a trick of the light.
I remember reading my countless books, Filled up with so many mystical lands, As I walled myself up in my guarded room. Though I knew the stories weren't real, I pretended I held the spells in my hand, To rescue Ron or Roran from the jaws of doom. When magic turned to science I don't remember, But I grew older and smarter with each November, Until magic disappeared fully from my daily life, Leaving me without a shield to face sorrow and strife.
Maybe someday I'll find magic again, And with a simple spell of sorts I can go back to when unicorns roamed free, And when I could journey to far Hogwarts To avoid cleaning my book-filled room.
I loved the sentimental nostalgia here, who hasn't wished for a chance to turn back the clock to a world that was so much more innocent, limitless and....magical? I liked to various references to different aspects of magic, though I felt that it dragged on towards the end and made it a little ungainly.
First Place: Wolf
The Illusionist
Ethereal glimmers upon the smoke filled stage. No sleight of hand this. No parlor trick. Ghosts of loved ones raised to look upon you. Strange faces glance upon the unseen realm From which they've came.
Gasps and shrieks, all for naught do they cry, "Tell us! Tell us! What lies beyond your grave?" These pale shades know not. They do not speak to you. And...faded so swift. Like so much smoke upon the stage That clouds the eyes of those present. Beyon the veil A slight tug of the lips, upwards into a smile. All clouded by the smoke, and ethereal dreams.
He stands, bows, and walks away. And as his head raises there is a glimmer Just around his neck, a small pendant of sorts. Inlaid with a darkened gem, a diamond of deep Deep violet. Like the heart of some demon beast. Yet that too is swallowed within the veil. And the curtain closes. The crowd left shrieking..."Tell us!"
Behind the curtain he smiles. Hidden by smoke and rich embroided cloth. Naught but the darkness surrounds him. A turn of the head, to listen, to gauge! And his smile broadens, "Tell us!" No trick worth its weight in gold is revealed. A mock bow behind these closeted veils. Cloth and smoke. Flickering flames out beyond. He tucks the pendant to his chest. And listens... To screams.
I like the eerie, almost timeless feel of the poem, that the Illusionist isn't really a conjurer of cheap tricks, but one who has archaic powers. The description was priceless, especially stanza on the pendant, it creates an atmosphere of suspense and mystery, which I felt was the best amongst all the poems to capture the idea of Magic. Magical.
Again, my most sincere apologies for the late judging, but life has been taking a deeper hold. Yeah, I know I've been quite active on the other Forums, but I just didn't have the heart to really judge anything for a while. Sorry again.
Splendid work for all once again!
The next theme will be decided shortly, perhaps within a day or so. And Wolf, go grab your merit, if you ever come online during one of your infrequent sojourns on AG.
