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!
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I totally remembered that.....Not. I'll never get a job as a cuckoo clock.
The audience members sit noisily down
In the worn, tired seats of the high school in town
Creak, go the chairs, as they strain with the weight
Of the Christmas spirit of "Go clean your plate!"
Behind the drawn curtain the actors all sit
Muttering about how it's "all stupid ****."
They've worked long to do this, but you wouldn't know
There aren't costumes, props, or make-up in this show.
A pause, then the curtains pull back to reveal
The cast of the show, then they start their spiel
The play wears on long, and everyone's numb
By the time of the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come
They couldn't budget a real ghost, so they have a sheet
By this point, even the actors are beat
The heads of the audience droop down on their chests
Each cast member shoots glances away to the next
Then Scrooge grabs the only mic they could afford
And he brandishes it as though holding a sword
"What's the point?" he cries out, "of Christmas tradition?"
Silence; but the audience begins to listen
"What's the point of the trees, or the gingerbread house?
Or the plays, or the lights, or the caroling out?
They're all pointless, that's it, and don't say that they're not
In celebration of Christmas, I think you forgot.
It's not about presents, it's not about plays.
Look around you, this is a new kind of day
It's about new hope, not wasting your time
Not wasting your money, or their hearts, or mine!
Christmas spirit cannot be remembered
Any more than you can celebrate December
You celebrate the spirit of giving, and joy
But forget to do anything but go buy some toys
Look around you, we're all poor as dirt.
I'm being honest, even though the truth hurts.
So **** Christmas spirit, and **** this play too.
I'm saying it harshly, to get through to you.
That Christmas spirit doesn't matter at all
Any more than "Labor Day spirit" in Fall
Don't bother yourself with these songs or these plays
At this point, you're all getting carried away.
Call me Scrooge, but I don't think that it's fair
For you to think "Christmas spirit!" when you're just sucking air
This play is so worthless, you should all just go home
-Try to remember not to cry all alone-
If you had real Christmas spirit, then maybe you could see
That kindness and compassion don't need a holiday
If you're being kind just for Christmas, then quit
If you make a resolution, then try to keep it
As soon as break is over, no one cares anymore
Yes, put the stockings away, the lights you can ignore
They distract you to what Christmas is really worth:
That's nothing, by the way, so step away from the hearth
This time, keep the Christmas spirit the whole year round
Then Christmas can be worthless, yes, throw it to the ground
Christmas spirit isn't acting nice one week of the year
Just because it's Christmas, no, now listen here
If you want to be a Santa Claus, forget the stupid suit
Just go out there and buy a gift for the hobo drinking soup
Or the orphan, or the kitten, or-you must get the gist-
But do it to be nice, not because it's Christmas."
There was stunned silence in the audience below
As Christmas spirit died out, as their faces ceased to glow
They booed Scrooge off the stage, some threw chairs up at the set
What a lovely play, do you feel it's Christmas yet?
Haha, this poem is awful. I don't even know what message I was trying to get across anymore, I just really hate A Christmas Carol. It's been done way too many times.
Do you have a title for that?
No...uh...why, do I need a title?
Nah, but one can glimpse quite a lot from a title. No kidding.
Nah, but one can glimpse quite a lot from a title. No kidding.
I know, but I don't like them.
Deadline reached no more entries unless a reason has been given by late submitters.
A Yuletide Tale
Tis a season of joy
A time of happiness
Bah Humbug!
A waste of time I say!
The request of charity
To help the poor they say.
Tis none of my business.
Beggars wasting my time.
A face upon the door
Clanking chains, Marleyâs here
I must be seeing things,
Old wives tales.
An apparition dances
Something impossible,
Yet hauntingly familiar,
A warning is issued.
In the first hour,
The Past comes forth
A ghastly figure, a child
In the skin of an old man
A visit to childhood
Memories long forgotten,
A frozen heart is thawed,
In the face of a child
Waking up, as if from a dream
Again the first hour strikes,
The present is now
A jocund giant,
Wielding a torch,
Attired in naught but,
A mantle of green,
And a crown of holly.
A town appears,
Houses black as the night,
Decorated in white snow,
Off to the house Cratchit
A family at dinner,
An clad in iron child swings in,
Tis a miserable fate,
But he is as happy as can be.
Again I wake,
But tis to face a horror,
Spreading misery in its wake
The future has come back.
Talk of a death unknown,
A man mocked by all
Glancing upon the gravestone,
Alas! Tis my own.
A new dawn,
No time to squander
Dashing of through the snow,
A turkey to Cratchit must go!
Now to find a charity
For good deeds must be done,
At last to the house of a nephew dear,
For a most delicious Christmas dinner.
And there you have it. I wrote this in word, so pardon any blemishes that may appear.
A Yuletide Tale
Tis a season of joy
A time of happiness
Bah Humbug!
A waste of time I say!
The request of charity
To help the poor they say.
Tis none of my business.
Beggars wasting my time.
A face upon the door
Clanking chains, Marley is here
I must be seeing things,
Old wives tales.
An apparition dances
Something impossible,
Yet hauntingly familiar,
A warning is issued.
In the first hour,
The Past comes forth
A ghastly figure, a child
In the skin of an old man
A visit to childhood
Memories long forgotten,
A frozen heart is thawed,
In the face of a child
Waking up, as if from a dream
Again the first hour strikes,
The present is now
A jocund giant,
Wielding a torch,
Attired in naught but,
A mantle of green,
And a crown of holly.
A town appears,
Houses black as the night,
Decorated in white snow,
Off to the house Cratchit
A family at dinner,
An clad in iron child swings in,
Tis a miserable fate,
But he is as happy as can be.
Again I wake,
But tis to face a horror,
Spreading misery in its wake
The future has come back.
Talk of a death unknown,
A man mocked by all
Glancing upon the gravestone,
Alas! Tis my own.
A new dawn,
No time to squander
Dashing of through the snow,
A turkey to Cratchit must go!
Now to find a charity
For good deeds must be done,
At last to the house of a nephew dear,
For a most delicious Christmas dinner.
This should be better.
Deadline reached no more entries unless a reason has been given by late submitters.
Since the title references page 339 and the theme was finalized there on the 8th, the real deadline should be the 18th.
Since the title references page 339 and the theme was finalized there on the 8th, the real deadline should be the 18th.
Seeing Wolf didn't want to change his stance on the theme, and that people had already started posting before that, deadlines have to be closed ytd. Sorry.
Hopefully judging will be done tomorrow. I don't feel like thinking which one of you guys has the best poem now with a massive headache. Sorry
Whoops I missed an error, in the fifth stanza, sixth line, it should be, "a child clad in iron", not "an clad in iron child".
Kyouzou, nice poem, but I don't think it will be judged, as you were 2 days late for submission time
Thread is locked!