Ok guys, sorry for the wait. I've been kinda busy for the past couple days and this is the first chance I've had to sit down and judge. First off, I'd like to say that I've seen some of the best entries ever in this contest. All of you did a great job, and it was very hard picking a winner. In the end, it came down to a couple of users for the final prize. I was very impressed with the submissions of Estel, Cenere, Parsat, and Gantic. All of your submissions were quite amazing and funny to read. In the end, I am going to have to award the prize to Parsat, for "A Limerick Ballad to our Princess." It was funny, sounded great, and portrayed Zoph's awesomeness. Congrats!
I once knew a good lass, a Dane,
She was smart, and made use of her brain,
So they gave her a mop
Like Tuna and Strop
On AG, Zophia's the name.
First she tried out her shiny padlock
On a spammy thread filled with dumb crock
That new lock she snapped
All discussion was capped
It was time now to deal with the sock.
The sock was quite boisterous and rude
While he roamed, much mayhem ensued,
Came Zoph with the hammer,
Threw him into the slammer,
That sock was royally screwed.
It was time for the gift of the merit
What user would be first to share it?
She found a nice comment
And left them a present
Could be you, if you take time to prepare it.
Zophia, she sets us a-dazzle
Helps us when we're up in a frazzle
But one thing I inquire
Between Princess and Squire,
What's the difference 'twixt furries and mazzelh?
Now for the honorable mentions. I'd like to give a big congrats to these users for submitting great poems, and I'm sorry that you didn't win it. Great job to all of you!
Estel, for "Ode to Zoph"
Zophia, Zophia, come hither,
the time has come for you.
To accept moderator duties,
deleting spam from Sonny 2.
Born among the furries,
in la la land.
Drawing cute little creatures,
only done by hand.
Of course Zophia cheats,
and uses photoshop.
Adding blurry effects,
oh no, she needs to crop!
So now she's called the n00b,
among her mod friends.
She hides her rage inside,
behind her convex lense.
Ode to you, dear Zoph,
I expect good from you.
Fighting the lowly spammers,
so without further adieu.....
Cenere, for "It's Hard to be a Moderator"
It's hard to be a moderator
Don't you think
Having people conversating
Before you blink
A thousand comments
just for you
People having problems
Now what do you do
Being stressed
sleeping late
Should have guessed
it is fate
like that time
you know when
You were more than a friend
All alone at day
Wathcing the hours go by
Contact rejected
No one calling but I
But what you wished for
became the Truth
I just hope
You have nothing to lose...
And Gantic, for "Is It Right If You Don't Enter?"
Is it right if You don't enter
In this Night on this December,
If it's Your Name the People hear?
If in this Game of jestly cheer?
Is it right if You don't enter?
In this Fight You are the Center.
If it is You who's known as Yazz?
If it is true You's not a Spazz?
Is it right if You don't enter?
Is denying us Your Splendour?
If in this Time You're Queen of Arts?
If in this Rhyme You're seen in Parts?
Is it right if You don't enter?
In this Light You are the Center.
Is Mazzelhness to shy away?
Does razzle-less define her Way?
In this Night on this December,
Is it right if You don't enter?
Is this to be, You newest Mod?
If it is She, the Mazzelh God?
Now lastly, our weekly fail award. It's going to go to ManUtd4Life094. EPIC FAIL >:O
Zophia farted.
But besides stopping, she ate more beans to end what she started.
The world cried from the stink.
But Zophia just yelled "My farts are pink!"
The smell rose,
From Connecticut to New Mexico.
People were dying,
But Zophia yellled "Oh, stop your crying"
And with that, she farted once more,
and killed more people with a stink that could fry smores.
She yelled with delight, it felt oh so good!
But then the people came up with a plan and they stood-
up to her, they screamed
"Here, have more beans!"
And Zophia ate and ate, and farted and farted,
until nothing was left of her, except a retarded-
brain.
Now, this week's theme. It seems to me that we have had a lot of "funny" themes over the past week, and that's all well and good. I enjoy a laugh as much as the rest of you. I do think, however, that it about time that we focus on something a little more serious. This is why I have decided to make the theme for the next contest...
SESTINAS!
For those of you that do not know, a sestina is a special type of poem. It works something like this...
It has 6 lines in each stanza, and 6 stanzas total, plus a three tercet (end piece). The last words in each line follows a patten from stanza to stanza. The words can be in any order in the first stanza, but in the second the last word is first, the first is second, the second to last is third, the second is fourth, the third to last is fifth, and the third is last. In each stanza, you apply this pattern to the last words in the lines of the previous stanza. The words in the tercet can be in any order. For any of you that don't understand, here's an example:
Vampire Sestina, by Neil Gaiman
I wait here at the boundaries of dream,
all shadow-wrapped. The dark air tastes of night,
so cold and crisp, and I wait for my love.
The moon has bleached the color from her stone.
Sheâll come, and then weâll stalk this pretty world
alive to darkness and the tang of blood.
It is a lonely game, the quest for blood,
but still, a bodyâs got the right to dream
and Iâd not give it up for all the world.
The moon has leeched the darkness from the night.
I stand in shadows, staring at her stone:
Undead, my loverâ¦O, undead my love?
I dreamt you while and slept today and love
meant more to me than life-meant more than blood.
The sunlight sought me, deep beneath my stone,
more dead than any corpse but still a-dream
until I woke as vapor into night
and sunset forced me out into the world.
For many centuries Iâve walked the world
dispensing something that resembled love-
a stolen kiss, then back into the night
contented by the life and by the blood.
And come the morning I was just a dream,
cold body chilling underneath a stone.
Sometimes my lovers rise to walk the nightâ¦
Sometimes they lie, cold corpse beneath a stone,
and never know the joys of bed and blood,
of walking through the shadows of the world;
instead they rot to maggots. O my love
they whispered you had risen, in my dream.
Iâve waited by your stone for half the night
but you wonât leave your dream to hunt for blood.
Good night, my love. I offered you the world.Sestinas can be very tricky poems to write, so I am going to give you two weeks to write them. Bonus points for managing to make one rhyme. Good luck, and have fun!
