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
you think you can best me at the verse?!
Well, I can best you at using the 'Shift' key. Hahahaha! xD
I guess I should also say 'Welcome Back' to you Manta, if you're here to stay that is.
Blergh. I'll think of something. I always do, most of the time.
Do you believe in Magic?
Little children, imaginations soaring,
Glittery faery dust adorning
Their clothes and toys, in an invisible world;
One only seen by young boys and girls.
They run through the forest, hand in hand,
With not a foot set upon the land
The hidden treasure, theirs to find;
This is a magic of the purest kind.
To follow your thoughts with complete abandon,
To ride horses on shores where only land is.
These are the things we cannot do,
Imagination lost to us, to find magic anew.
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Poetry is fun!
And seeing the entries come in one by one is heart warming.
Well, I can best you at using the 'Shift' key. Hahahaha! xD
I guess I should also say 'Welcome Back' to you Manta, if you're here to stay that is.
Blergh. I'll think of something. I always do, most of the time.
shift keys are for the weak!
and i'll probably be here for a day or two, make a few posts, then promptly fade out. but hey, check it out, my challenge worked! don't doubt the powah, nicho!
Well, you tripled the number of potential poems, so I'll have to give you this one.
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.
Gasp 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 **** 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.
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.
** had to replace the starred out word
Good to see them rolling in, especially from users who I've never seen enter before!
You've never seen me enter before Nicho? Might want to look back on previous pages before I was judge then.
I was on hiatus when you were active, I was around at the same time that Parsat was flitting around here.
Wolf. -glares-
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 wasnât 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 werenât 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 donât 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 Iâll 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.
*grins* miss me? But don't fret I felt the need to pay a little bit of a tribute to the contest after I mismanaged it these past months. No fear I shall not enter often. Though right now I can see you gouging grooves into your desk with your finger nails simply because I entered.
Technically the deadline is tomorrow, 26th January, but oh, since I can't really judge, and for convenience, and in hope of more entries, the deadline will be extended to 31st January.
Nichodemus does epic poems have to follow a certain rythm or can you just make your own rythm up?
Poems can come in any structure you deem fit, we've never imposed a certain way of writing them and I dont intend to.
Thread is locked!