Forums → Art, Music, and Writing → Periodic Poetry Contest - Theme: Touch of Truth (Page 390, due Jan. 28)
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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!
- 3,868 Replies
I'm new in this section of the community but I'll give it a try.
Tales of the fallen
Sword and shield in hand,
Walking to your death.
Marching through the land,
Taking a big, deep breath.
Side by side as brothers,
Brothers in arms.
Across the field are the others,
The others who mean you harm.
Looking across the field,
Knowing that you are outnumbered.
Clenching closely, your shield,
Thinking this is absurd.
Last words of encouragement,
You are ready for battle.
Putting on your helmet,
Listening to the distant cries of cattle.
Charging to the enemy,
Charging for the kill.
Taking your last breath,
The time has come,
For your painful, bloody death.
Lay of The Fallen
Look where this has brought you.
Dragged through the desert wastes
Of loves lost and broken dreams.
Gagging on the ghastly gruesome dust
Of all the bitter and jaded memories.
From times long dead.
Dragged onward as a chain of dogs.
Bound by bones and broken hearts.
Blood stains and crippled limbs.
This is what your wars have bought.
This is why the world cries in rage.
Most unrighteously.
They, the multitudes, know nothing.
Nothing of your heart wrenching climb
Through mounds of corpses in vain.
In hopes of finding that lone friend
Who gazes with a lone eye. Unknowing.
He does not see you.
And amid the shattered skull with bloody pulp
He gazes upon you with a terrible knowledge.
Not of your face, no, that is forgotten.
But of the fate that awaits you.
One day you shall march to his fate too.
Oh proud, silent soldier.
You move, fiddle strapped tightly to your back.
Naught but the handle has survived this,
The march into the dreaded Abyss.
But you march anyway, wide eyed stupid as you say.
And beside you are new faces. But they are the same.
All doomed to die.
With sword in hand you charge the spears.
The ranks of the unknown enemy you know too well.
That enemy is not real. It cannot exist.
No physical manifestation on this plane.
And sadly, tragically. They are all too real.
Oh brave, piteous fool.
And you follow your orders to the letter.
Praying to indifferent gods for mercy.
Even when you know mercy is forever denied
To the likes of you. The unknown soldier
Who is all too well known. This...cannot be denied.
Shelter him, dear fools.
You will await your time, and place to fall.
You will stand until they cut you a thousand ways.
Only then shall you fall. Only then shall you die
The long sought death of a haunted man.
Who has seen too many companions fall.
Too many hopeless deeds.
But even this stand is hopeless.
Even this stand is a meaningless thing.
But still you stand, poor fool.
Still you stand. and you shall fall.
Burning whatever bridge is left to you.
Heroic fool.
Here is the fall that they do not know.
The tale that will never be told.
For it has remained unwitnessed.
And it shall always be so.
For too many have fallen here
Dragged by the chains built on bones of dead men.
Memoria
(Remembrance)
With sadness, I remember.
The instruments they held
Prooved greater than the sword,
And brought light to the waste.
I remember.
They who lie hidden.
Sheltered in the muck of
Our world. Uncut diamonds
In the ruff; Forgotten.
I remember.
Those who once walked our halls.
They who inspired, and were admired.
Those countless, creative minds.
Those who were, and are, my friends.
I remember:
He, who in sadness and despair,
Continually touched my soul
And spurred me on to never
Settle for less, but to reach
Upwards, with 'Excelsior!' ever
On my lips.
I remember:
He who still dwells among us.
A shadow of what he was,
But still great in his own right.
He who guided my hands,
Like a potter on a wheel,
Shaping, and making for the better.
I remember:
The Maiden across the water.
Kind words spewing forth
Like so many waterfalls.
Who in my doubt and malignancy
Picked me up and kindness spread.
Renewing me from my flames.
I remember:
Those countless hordes,
From places I cannot name.
Who only came, leaving
Minute traces of their visits.
But traces they were, placing me
Where I am today.
I remember!
With these recollections
Flowing through me;
Quik-Silver in my veins.
I am inspired again.
I remember!
Ever Higher! I will go.
Never, will I cease.
Never, will I abait.
Never, will I yield.
For it is only their reward.
Fitting, for their service to us all.
Requiescat in Pace;
In Memoriam.
The Tale of the Hunter
He lays stiff and sound;
Fallen to the evil ways.
No heartbeat, no blinks;
He is hone, gone forever.
In his glazed eyes his tale
Etched in vivid horror lingers,
Grasping, crying, for help:
Siting under the shade of a willow,
Crafting arrows, polishing a grand bow.
Prized knife shaping pitiful wood
Into slender, lethal killers.
Dusk sets in, sun dies out;
the Forest becomes silent
Except for the melodious chirps
Of the crickets, singing their song.
There is an eerie shift in the brush.
A dark figure leaps into the night,
Then cold iron meets warm flesh.
Agonizing in pain, crying woeful yelps;
His soul drifts away, the look of pain
Stained into his eyes; forever to retell
The Hunters mournful tale.
Submissions are now CLOSED! Judging will happen between now and Friday.
I would like to thank everyone for their submission and I am happy to see more than four. I hope this keeps up.
I'll be submitting an entry once the alleged judging has happened.
I'll be submitting an entry once the alleged judging has happened
>.> I'll have it posted by tonight, heaven forfend I run a day late.
Third Place: SupaLegit
The Tale of the Hunter
He lays stiff and sound;
Fallen to the evil ways.
No heartbeat, no blinks;
He is hone, gone forever.
In his glazed eyes his tale
Etched in vivid horror lingers,
Grasping, crying, for help:
Siting under the shade of a willow,
Crafting arrows, polishing a grand bow.
Prized knife shaping pitiful wood
Into slender, lethal killers.
Dusk sets in, sun dies out;
the Forest becomes silent
Except for the melodious chirps
Of the crickets, singing their song.
There is an eerie shift in the brush.
A dark figure leaps into the night,
Then cold iron meets warm flesh.
Agonizing in pain, crying woeful yelps;
His soul drifts away, the look of pain
Stained into his eyes; forever to retell
The Hunters mournful tale.
My first piece of advice is to please double check your typos. Aside from that the theme is this poem was well displayed and developed throughout the entire poem as it told it's tale. I was interested in how the tale started at the end yet unfolds in a linear fashion. I advise that you stick to a certain rhythm. Alternating stanza lengths is fine so long as it is consistent. Also, diction could have been somewhat crisper.
Second Place: Maverick4
Memoria
(Remembrance)
With sadness, I remember.
The instruments they held
Prooved greater than the sword,
And brought light to the waste.
I remember.
They who lie hidden.
Sheltered in the muck of
Our world. Uncut diamonds
In the ruff; Forgotten.
I remember.
Those who once walked our halls.
They who inspired, and were admired.
Those countless, creative minds.
Those who were, and are, my friends.
I remember:
He, who in sadness and despair,
Continually touched my soul
And spurred me on to never
Settle for less, but to reach
Upwards, with 'Excelsior!' ever
On my lips.
I remember:
He who still dwells among us.
A shadow of what he was,
But still great in his own right.
He who guided my hands,
Like a potter on a wheel,
Shaping, and making for the better.
I remember:
The Maiden across the water.
Kind words spewing forth
Like so many waterfalls.
Who in my doubt and malignancy
Picked me up and kindness spread.
Renewing me from my flames.
I remember:
Those countless hordes,
From places I cannot name.
Who only came, leaving
Minute traces of their visits.
But traces they were, placing me
Where I am today.
I remember!
With these recollections
Flowing through me;
Quik-Silver in my veins.
I am inspired again.
I remember!
Ever Higher! I will go.
Never, will I cease.
Never, will I abait.
Never, will I yield.
For it is only their reward.
Fitting, for their service to us all.
Requiescat in Pace;
In Memoriam.
Definately a top contender, and a very well written piece. This poem reminds me of something of an Epic, though much shorter. I enjoyed the development of the poem and how you mixed the Latin in at the end. It was a lovely conclusion to something heartbreakingly tragic. The last full stanza came off as awkward as you repeated words that all meant the same thing. I understand what you were trying to do, but it just seemed off to me, it broke the flow of the poem in a rather jarring way. Well done.
First Place: MoonFairy
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.
And our winner. MoonFairy. Congratulations. I felt MoonFairy displayed the best use of the theme, and wrote the piece that was most reflective. It truly envisions the Anti Hero in all its glory. How a "hero" is so easily undone by their own flaws and wayward thoughts. The poem is written almost as a minstrel and the flow is crisp and clear. Truly a delight to read, and well deserving of the Merit.
The next theme is: Rise from the ashes
Deadline is April 19, 2011
Do not fear the night
For you are no longer weak
You are a soldier
Rise from the ashes
Drift into oblivion
Let your soul escape
Begin life anew
You can't ignore destiny
But you can bend it
Destroy obstacles
You don't need them anymore
You are a free soul
Waft into thin air
Let the breeze carry you off
Into the dark night
Push aside your fears
Burn the flag that marks your grave
Rise from the ashes
Little Wooden House
Try to remember,
The little wooden house,
Where the old man lived.
Try to remember,
How the house was burnt to crisp,
While he slept the time away.
Try to remember,
How he hurried to the door,
fumbling with the keys.
Try to remember,
His daring escape,
Dancing with death.
Come and see the ashes,
Can you help build it up?
Help us rise it from the ashes,
For his wifes sake.
>.> I'll have it posted by tonight, heaven forfend I run a day late.
Sorry if I sounded demanding, I was just trying to let you know I'll be submitting, I wasn't rushing you. By the way, each stanza follows 7,8,8,10 syllables.
Burning Revenge
Seamlessly, effortlessly
They crush and wallow in the dust
Taking no care or slight notice
In their non serendipitous campaign
The heart bleeds and dies inside
And smoke sieges the lungs and throat
Eyes watch behind walls of water
Knuckles white, fingers tense, they itch and yearn
The time will come soon enough
You will wear his armor and name
Blood will rise and bodies will fall
How can they even start to stop you now
You have risen from nothing
Taken the task set forth from fire
Quenched the mind with tackless revenge
And stopped swimming in the sea of ashes
Alright, a theme that I feel I could actually write something for!
Darkness, blackness
a once great city now lies
in ruins. Once grand buildings
now lie in ashes, the streets
now littered with rubble.
the people tha're left
all broken and battered
see the destruction.
The thought of revenge now
enters their minds,
vengeance will be theirs.
The pitchforks are lifted
the torches ablaze
the mob is assembled
their time is now
up from the ashes they rise
to get their revenge.
Just to avoid any confusion, tha're is a combination of "that are". I only used it to use only one syllable for those two words.
Hope you like it, my first entry!
Clinging to his rusty dagger,
while mounting his steed,
with torn leather clothing,
and a limp from others greed.
When a memory came to mind,
the time he fell to ones knees,
as he witnessed something horrible,
and heard many, many screams.
He rode down the gruesome path,
filled with rubbish and gore,
he killed a thief in action,
and wanted to kill more.
He put his horse to a stop,
in-front of his warm home,
walked in to puzzled strangers,
the place was a brand new zone.
He asked what happened to his family,
and the pointed to many graves,
they were gone, the people he loved,
now it was time to be brave.
Leaving in a rush with tears streaming down his cheek,
he rode and rode his horse all day,
he found out where his foe was,
at a near by bay.
As he neared the bay,
he thought what the thief had,
nothing but some riches,
and nothing to be glad.
The time has come,
to rise up from the ashes,
give his foe a limp,
and give their face some gashes.
Oh, gosh, this one is going to be long. I do like free verse, though.
Who could have known?
Where a forest once stood,
Where the green had stretched,
Yawning, breathing.
Where the leaves had once
shuddered in unison, is now
Scorched to the cracked earth,
Broken like toothpicks
Casually flung into the fire.
Who could have known?
Where the kingly oak
Once stood,
Too proud to be bent,
Where his noble subjects
Of the grass and fern,
Once bowed in reverence
To the wind,
Is now empty but for
His abandoned throne.
Who could have known?
Not the fawn,
Fleeing from the flames,
Not the hawk,
Screeching to its nest.
The solemn wolf
Sits and howls;
All is lost.
Time passes,
And the wasteland is bare.
But something remains.
Under the lost,
Under the broken,
Under the ragged throne.
A tiny fragment
Of an empire once grand
Lies still and silent,
The hope of kings curled up
As it sleeps.
And the sunlight will shine,
And the rain will pour.
And as the ground swells,
The seeds of the great
Will rise from the ashes.
Well, this one took a while to make, I hope everyone loves it
Made it very detailed, and hid a deep meaning into it, as well as a surfaced idea, that I think most can grasp.
Cajoled Warrior
Rise from the ashes,
Your Time is now!
You were once extremely feared,
Now I give you your second chance:
Show no mercy; bash their skulls!
Their hellish end is surely near;
Your sword will be their last dalliance,
For they are all pitiful, worthless culls!
Avenge thyself, and leave none standing!
Just think of what they did to you:
Your limp, cold body is a branding,
A horrific reminder of what they do!
Oh, yes, don't forget the last of their wrath!
Remember the fire, remember the scorching pain?
Well, it lingers in my mind as a long, long path.
Let's walk along it, and they shall meet their bane!
You were once extremely feared,
And now you shall be so once again;
Bloodstained sword swinging menacingly!
On your arms, their dark, warm blood is smeared.
For violence and death is like your cocaine;
You demand it from them, threateningly!
Striking fear into the eyes of all who oppose!
Do it for us, do it for your tattered soul.
On their heaving chest, your wrath is superimposed;
A reminder of the punishments of acting from cajole!
The valley is filled of bloody, dead structures!
The gory goal we sought is almost completed,
So very close, but then you make a blunder;
Forgot to finish one off; an arrow succeeded!
You fall to your knees, shrieking in agony.
Your heart desperately beats out of control,
The world around you slowly begins to blur!
Mind races out of control; there goes your sanity.
I'm sorry my hero, but I do not keep my paroles;
I serve myself and none else, don't even deter!
Fall into the ashes,
Your time is now!
It does show my large vocabulary so for you to understand....
Dalliance: interaction
Culls: curs
Branding: in this case modification of the body
Superimposed: placed over
Cajole: persuasion into doing; persuaded/tricked
Blunder: [sometimes silly/stupid]mistake
Parole: in this case promise
Deter: action of trying to prevent
Thread is locked!