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!
Now that you mention it Moon, it's true that wolf's poem strangely reminds me of shutter island...That movie was real feed for mindfuck, it was incredible. As for the overall quality of the sunmissions this week, I'm very surprised by how well everyone did with such a simple theme as shock...thruth be told I'm clueless as of what to do. I think I'll ponder that at work today.
They gave me ink, sheets and a feather To create life out of thin air Cooped in my prayer capsule, I wonder Whom shall create my flair
Closure, yet measureless spaces They galore here; of both I need Eye of eyes; omnipercipient races The void surges as a gleaming bleed
For a page is thought before it is written A conception to take place upon blank So fare thee well upon those lines given; Expanding traits in an infinite prank
Drawn on a canvas of many dreams Reality may be a ticking clock And as appaling as it seams We live, die and rot in a shock As ideas upon a mind As the universe now blind
That was very fun to make. I hope you guys can get something out of it...There're some Nietzschean references, but nothing plagiated of course ^^.
Please note that the Seams is a typing mistake. Alt, would you be so kind as to replace it by seems on the judging post, I don't want to spam the thread ^^. Thanks!
Parsat isn't doing a rhymed poem? Satan called, he says he needs more coal. Still, I'm not giving up my beloved meter. This is blank verse. In writing this I tried to incorporate many different meanings of shocks, and I didn't think this message was fit for rhyme.
Shocks of Hair
My fingers ran through the raven locks, The raven locks that cascaded softly Across her face--the pair of almond eyes And innocently flushed cheeks--and down A length just long enough to hide her breasts. When I ran my fingers through her hair, I did with fingers parted like a comb And delicately, without a rush, Broke all the light resistance in that hair, The locks within the locks that could be picked With fingers made to press piano keys.
And when she kissed me, her hands went into A shock of dense hair from my mother's side-- Not dry or oily, rough or soft or silken. She grasped as one would grasp a tiny mouse, With fingers comfortingly curled to make A safe and warm enticing home, a lure: Her hands were often cold, you see, and she Became the one to seek heat from a source Whose lifeblood was not electricity.
But Samson was not strong at all, he fell And bowed with face hung to a woman loved. His shorn locks fell, and all his oaths and strength Dissolved and left him powerless in shame.
My love, did I betray the secret of your heart? That all the promises and loving strength Nurtured by the works of Passion's hands Were killed maliciously by wetted steel? When basic treatment finished were you shocked To find that I was not the man you knew to love? The faults of Eve and Samson both combined So that a girl was now a woman new; But Adam did not sin, and to his shock, His paradise was still forever lost.
After lurking around this thread for a while, I thought I'd make my own contribution.
Perhaps he waited, a bit too long, Placing last touches to his last love song. Impeccable, his rhyme, his meter With a grin of delight, he could almost see her- Within the words, the phrases, the imagery The metaphor, the allegory, the simile On foot to took off, toward her last known location His heart pounding, expressing utmost elation At last, her quaint apartment he reached Sweeping through the doors, he bounded, he leaped Her face of ghostly pallor, she laid on her bed Unmoving, still, her young life had fled Footsteps creaked up stairs, the house dimly lighted Slowing down his pace, her room door!, he sighted A giddy expression set upon his face, He entered, carrying the song in his hands
Rather than making an obvious shock, I tapered the poem off at the end and left more to the imagination. Also, I incorporated an additional shock by changing the rhythmical pattern at the poem's conclusion.
