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 Things That Go Bump in the Night: I would place two separate nominations here- Estel for writing something intense and desperate, Cenere for writing something introspective and despairing. Or should I say, eeeeeeeemo :P
Haiku Corner: Let us compare lynoth's effort, a slightly overwritten (for a haiku) but neat 5-7-5, with, say, kingryan's effort, a rather funny joke that nonetheless commits syllabic travesty by chopping "conscious" into THREE syllables! My god man, what have you done!?
Poems that I'm not sure what to say about: Uhh, _kolak_ and jediboy277...that which is "oetry" is a wide umbrella indeed. But I must ask. Would you call those poems? They go quite far and beyond what I say "whut" to :P
p.s. Gantic, you totally stole my idea for what to write about moths :P When I was living on campus, in the Autumn months the moths would fly into my room through the open window and die on my windowsill.
But one day I opened my lunchbox that I had forgotten about for two weeks to discover moth larvae, alive and wriggling, amidst their nest. I was dumbfounded.
Yay, I won. You had good timing to choose this topic (Consciousness) Strop. The same day I had been talking with my history teacher about Descartes' old saying: "I doubt, therefore I think, therefore I am." For some reason we talked for most of the class period about what this could mean, and my poem pretty much summed it up.
You can't trust your senses, because there's always a possibility of some outside force interfering with them. (Think the Matrix in a way)
You can't trust Descartes himself, because he was the one thinking of this, not yourself.
The only thing that you can hope for is reality, which will always be there, whether we can see the truth or not.
This time I actually used a somewhat constant meter, not throughout the whole poem, but stanza by stanza. And of course I go though my weird rhyme schemes, abba, cddc etc.
There's a joke related to Descartes' quote where a philosophy professor's test was simply to prove that a chair in the room existed in the smallest number of words. The winner was: "What chair?"
Darkness, darkness this never-ending night Yet in the distance I sense some light Yes, yes I see it now, this vibrant yellow glow But it is such a wonder that I don't think I know Come closer, closer; what is this? This feeling I get, this must be bliss Yet blocked and pushed away I seem to get From this warmth-sputtering spigot Why do you resent me? I deserve you so For forever it seems I have flown Now come to me; heavenly light For now I seek to end my flight So now on you I turn my back For you have greatly *-THWACK-*
*-THWACK-* This OBVIOUSLY means he was cut off by getting hit with a fly swatter. . .
