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 breadth of a second, The width of a hair, The wink of a moment, The step of a stair,
The slightest of pushes, Pushes you to be worst, The slightest of pauses, Pauses your chance to be first,
Winning or losing, The glory of gold, Winning is best, Or so I am told,
Winning means money, Fame, Fortune and Cheer, While losing means sorrow, Breakdowns and tears,
I've never been a winner, Striving to win, I've never been lost, Not knowing where to begin,
Losing, for me, Is a chance to stop, Losing, for me, Isn't that far of a drop,
For if you don't win, We all know that you'll lose, And that, people say, Is not what they would choose.
I'd like to feel strong, Even while being told I am weak, Arriving dead last, But not at all meek,
So let the winners win, Running alone, and most strong, And let the losers stay behind, Tired out, but not wrong,
Who says we have to win? I may be a bit late, But I say losing, and losing is great.
When I first started to read this poem I was thinking it would be about how we should all strive to win. However, I enjoyed that you turned losing into something positive. How you make the winners seem isolated way up front, and yet, all the losers at the back seem to have each other's back somehow. The poem is fairly simple, but it has a fairly steady rhyme scheme and a nice even flow. As for critism please check your flow, near the end, the last few stanzas broke away from the gentle flow of the majority of the poem. While it is nothing too critical it is nice if the flow remained. Also, please watch the rhyme scheme, again you don't break it up badly, but it still gets broken. Nice work.
2nd Place: Kingjac
Battle Victor
The battle horn cries. See them clash together. One mans sword through another mans leather. He falls to the ground,Without another sound.
They are the winners,They are the best. They are the champions,They are Victors. But does it really matter,all those victories. Why must they fight,a fight that isn't theirs.
Short and to the point. The message is one of tragic heroic stands, and how those of noble means often find some ignoble end. What I enjoyed the most about this poem was the clear and to the point imagery. You bring something of a larger scale, what I assume is a battle, to a more personal level, with a clash between two individual enemies. I suggest that you clean up the way your future poems flow. The second stanza is something I found jarring because it was too repetitive. To avoid this perhaps look into using a variety of diction.
1st and Merit Winner: Waluigi
Sweet Victory
The buzzer blasts it shrill sound, but to us, that sound is sweet. Arms are thrown up in the air Our victory's complete.
Chosen by all to fall short, considered to have no chance, we fought on, defied them all.
Now, my friends, we celebrate. For winning the game, defying the odds, our upset complete; Could victory taste sweeter?
Congratulations. This poem is another one that is simple and to the point. I enjoyed how you told the story of an underdog team in such a brief span of words. The flow is nice, and despite it being broken in the second stanza I found it to work. To me the second stanza was an interlude, a moment as if time had stopped and the vitors looked back on what was expected to happen. And then, you move right into the thrid stanza as if that moment didn't exist. Very well done indeed.
The next theme is: Tales of The Fallen
Deadline: April 5, 2011
**A note to those who enter: Do not be daunted by some of the themes I choose. I wish to test the creativity of the community. Some of the future themes will be interesting indeed. Enjoy and good luck.
He who had slayed the most foul beast Sits alone and wonders why He who had defended the people he loved dearly Is banished for a grave mistake
Why must they be cruel? Why do they shun us when we saved them? Did we not earn their honor, their respect, their trust? We perform godlike deeds, but must we be perfect?
The hero who sits alone mourns for the old days When he was an innocent child, with no set destiny Before he gained this "fame" That is treated like a commodity
The hero who is banished, never to see his family again, Wonders when they will forgive him For his sins against God For his addictions that broke loose like a lion in a zoo
Both ponder, alone, but not forgotten Suddenly, but surely, both look to the heavens And realize that it was all worth it Because they had done good
I'll admit this theme was inspired by my latest literary obsession: The Malazan Book of the Fallen by Steven Erikson. As such, I'll be posting my own unofficial entry.
Here is a tale Of a fallen hero. Thrown from his home, Family and friends He lays, crumpled on the ground. The corner of a forgotten dead end. He goes through his memories of his False fame and glory. The people that took the blame So he could be a hero in his own story. He caught the bad guys, Convicted evil doers. No one questioned the evidence. No one thought to look At what was inside Of our Hero's little black book. The lives of the 'evil' Were honestly innocent But they were played As our Hero's instrument. They took the fall, So he could appear good. Who would think to question What no one else would? Our Hero had a boy A good natured son Who would've thought He would be the one? To uncover the truths About his father. What was he thinking? Why did he bother? He saw the black book And read of the lives That were held inside. The boy went to the papers, And our Hero's fame reached it's end. No one adored him, Now that they knew what he did. The boy rose to the occasion As the first Hero fell. He would not lie so that people would praise him, He only promised this story to retell. ______
Not a great way to make my way back into my old home, but I tried to do something new...
A field, filled with the fallen, Nameless soldiers from unknown wars, Awakened by the Master's calling, Once again they march, They take their orders and ask for nothing more, Just like they had done before.
The innocent die by their hands, They have no pity or remorse, They spread death across the lands, A merciless, unstoppable force, Unaware of why they strive, Just like when they were alive.
And when the Master has succeeded, Then their fates are sealed, For when they're no longer needed, They're left lifeless on a field, Nameless soldiers, now cast aside, Just like the last time they died.
