Topic ID: 4216
|
View previous topic :: View next topic |
| Author |
Message |
Matt Bellamy
Tech Monkey Master of the Forum


Age: 20 Joined: 08 Dec 2004 Posts: 1905 Reviews: 303 Country: England 300 Points
|
Posted: Sun Aug 14, 2005 6:11 pm Post subject: Poetry contest |
|
|
Submit a poem, any topic, any length, the choice is yours. Winner gets 500 points, 50 points each for two runners up. Ends on 14th September so I expect a lot of entries  |
_________________ Matt.
http://purplezephyr.wordpress.com |
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
JesseJames
Junior Writer

Age: 18 Joined: 15 Aug 2005 Posts: 21 Reviews: 9
300 Points
|
Posted: Mon Aug 15, 2005 8:05 am Post subject: |
|
|
Your gonna get stacks of entries!
Good idea of yours to make the comp really open minded!
I'm not the best at poetry but I'll try one out later.
Well,
um... Later! |
|
|
| Back to top |
|
JesseJames
Junior Writer

Age: 18 Joined: 15 Aug 2005 Posts: 21 Reviews: 9
300 Points
|
Posted: Tue Aug 16, 2005 1:42 am Post subject: The Steward and the Cow |
|
|
The time is bright
Above the light
I see the sun
I get into a run
I'm at the house of the Steward
His first name is Jack his last name is Leward
He's a mean man
He owns a huge clan
One day I had a cow
The Steward wondered how
He wand to buy it
I nearly had a fit
He gave me a million
It should have been a billion
I said my final goodbye to the cow
He had to go now
" hope I see you again soon mate
As long as it's not on my plate" |
|
|
| Back to top |
|
slytherinseeker
Junior Writer

Age: 29 Joined: 07 Aug 2005 Posts: 28 Reviews: 7
300 Points
|
Posted: Tue Aug 16, 2005 1:55 am Post subject: |
|
|
Hey Matt! How are you???
There once was a spaceship captain named Ted.
And also a spaceship captain named Ed.
Ted had a speedy, tidy neat ship.
He had a chair. He had a bed.
He had switches to flip.
He had a food replicator
And a 2 way communicator.
That was all that he carried.
That was all that he brought.
Said Ted,
"A ship ought to be tidy and taught!"
Ed's ship had all those things too.
And a few things more. Well,
Rather more then a few.
He had bolts. He had screws.
He had glop. He had ooze.
He had snails. He had eels.
He had bananas. They had peels.
He had papers. He had books.
He had niches. He had nooks.
He had raisins. And bread.
He had tofu, had Ed.
He had a copilot/wife
(Edwina, her name)
And all of their life
The mess was the same.
They had penguins. And squirrels.
Little boys. Little girls.
Wolf spiders and flies,
Hang gliders and ties.
They had Wook-Took-a-Zookers
And Aquarium Glookers.
'Cause Ted liked to travel with less,
But Eds like to travel with mess!
Said Ted,
"You are silly, Ed.
All that stuff bogs you down.
You're being a slob.
You're being a clown!"
Ted was right, too.
The stuff bogged down Ed's ship,
Kind of like glue.
It slowed down Ed too,
'Cause all the stuff
Was hard to wade through.
But one day by a fluke,
They dropped the bomb
And the Earth was nuked.
No one left. No one home.
Ted and Ed were on their own.
Because when they came back from Procoyon,
To their surprise, their world was gone!
With no more fuel they were stuck there--
Cause Ed's tanks were filled with junk,
And Ted's were filled with air.
Several days later their heaters broke.
Ed's family wore coats and burned papers.
The biomass kept his spaceship warm.
But Ted got chilly and got the vapors.
Several weeks later their bolts got loose.
Ed tightened his up and fixed 'em with glues.
Ted's bolts just kept getting looser and looser
Because he didn't bring wrenches and didn't brings gluesers.
Several months later their food replicators broke.
Ed's family ate their raisins and bread.
And they grew veggies in dirt.
But Ted got hungry instead.
A couple days later their oxygenators blew.
Ed's family and penguins breathed the air
From the plants that they grew.
And Ted?
Ted's dead!
Moral: Complexity is good. |
|
|
| Back to top |
|
nickelpickle
Speaker of the Forum

 Gender:  Age: 18 Joined: 18 Dec 2004 Posts: 600 Reviews: 162 Country: In my only little world 300 Points
|
Posted: Fri Aug 26, 2005 3:07 am Post subject: |
|
|
This is one I touched up with crits from the members of this site...
She floats from place to place,
Living on the streets,
With no purpose left in life.
And although she is there in body,
She is not in mind or soul.
Her life was ruined
By people she thought were her friends.
There is no place to run,
No place to hide.
Sorrow always catches up to her.
Her eyes, once full of life,
Are empty of all emotion.
She is just another broken soul. |
_________________ "There's a light at each end of this tunnel,
You shout 'cause you're just as far in as you'll ever be out
And these mistakes you've made, you'll just make them again
If you only try turning around." |
|
| Back to top |
|
Areida
The Warrior Princess Ari Epic Novelist

 Gender:  Age: 19 Joined: 14 Feb 2005 Posts: 4825 Reviews: 698 Country: no, not really. I don't have a hick accent or anything. 300 Points
|
Posted: Fri Aug 26, 2005 3:11 am Post subject: |
|
|
I'm not a poet at all... but...
Ah... what the heck.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Diana”
Visions of pink Care Bears called “Rainbow”
And movie scenes in black and white
Flicker across my mind before they
Collide with combat boots
And camouflage paint smeared across your cheeks
Clinging to a cell phone while simultaneously typing frantically
My eyes are glued to a glowing blue screen
The only connection with a best friend so far away
Names I can’t remember
Of people that I’ve never met
Mix and mingle and confuse themselves in my mind
Until I’ve forgotten every last one
But they’re still people you care about--passionately
Like you do everything else
Your room is still a burst of stars and burgundy
Purple pillows and cream-colored walls
It’s full of you
But now overflowing with muted sorrow
At being left behind:
Like me
Smiling faces ignore me as they beam their happy smiles
Hanging off your walls
Sitting on your dresser
Mocking me with silent laughter
Motion and ~light~ and color stuck for all time
In the same place
There’s a calendar on my wall
Marked only by dashes of red
Too long
Too much time until November
I bury my face into a Tigger
Its face worn from so many years of kisses and tears
And I let down my guard
Finally allowing myself to miss my sister,
Stolen away to her new and exciting life all too soon |
_________________ Got YWS?
"Most of us have far more courage than we ever dreamed we possessed."
- Dale Carnegie
Last edited by Areida on Sun Aug 28, 2005 4:24 am; edited 1 time in total |
|
| Back to top |
|
Sam
axis of evil, BRB Epic Novelist

 Gender:  Age: 15 Joined: 12 Dec 2004 Posts: 4908 Reviews: 1251 Country: 'mreeka 311 Points
|
Posted: Fri Aug 26, 2005 3:12 am Post subject: |
|
|
I wrote this ages ago...but I like it muchly so let's use it again, shall we?
Mad Scientist
those infernal pink lines that surround your eyes
and cut across your forehead look
no offense
kind of strange like the deep cuts and marks
from chemical burns on your rough hands
that have never known the comforting touch
of a girl's palms underneath the table during
homeroom. I know
what they do to you, i seriously do, so don't
pretend no one else sees.
I know that their snide remarks hurt more than
the bite of raw acid on bare hands. |
_________________ You can build a throne with bayonets, but you can't sit on it for very long.
- Boris Yeltsin |
|
| Back to top |
|
marching_gurl89
your unoffical liberal talking history book Master of the Forum

 Gender:  Age: 19 Joined: 31 Dec 2004 Posts: 1067 Reviews: 38 Country: i think i'm supposed to be somewhere.well if i cant remember it can't be that important 300 Points
|
Posted: Fri Aug 26, 2005 1:43 pm Post subject: |
|
|
This one is untitled.
The mother cries for her babies
Hurt by cruelties
of a cold world.
The moon cries for mother earth
who has been packed up, vacum sealed,
shipped off somewhere.
The hobo cries for the business man
Confined to crunching numbers in cubicles
Sealing them off from the world
never seeing its beauty.
But the business man condemns the free spirit as a bum.
The poets cry for suburbia
Living in their fake realm of happiness
Behind their white picket fences
Who only accept conformity to the jones' standards
And are never free.
The world weeps for us
Always stuck between the tracks and never free.
Zombies slowly creeping through
Just copys of each other,
brainwashed by the media.
But we never cry for anything but ourselves. |
_________________ ~*~Peace, Love, and Protesters~*~
I'm not off beat!I'm marching to the beat of my own drum
I rock my socks
Hippielicious the bold new flavor from caroline
JFK BLOWN AWAY WHAT ELSE DO I HAVE TO SAY!!!!!!! |
|
| Back to top |
|
Ryan
Junior Writer
 Gender:  Age: 18 Joined: 26 Jul 2005 Posts: 45 Reviews: 11 Country: South Australia 300 Points
|
Posted: Sun Aug 28, 2005 2:09 am Post subject: |
|
|
Christ slytherinseeker!
Alright everybody lets get PROFESSIONAL.
A note to the readers- deeply sorry for any words you may not know!
A POEM
Walking one afternoon along the Strand,
My wondering eyes did suddenly expand
Upon a pretty leash of Country Lasses.
'Heavens! my dear beauteous Angels, how d'ye do?
Upon my soul I'm monstrous glad to see ye.'—
'Swinge! Peter, we are glad to meet with you;
We're just to London come: well pray how be ye?
'We're just a going, while 'tis dark.
Lord! come, for once be so polite,
And condescend to be our Spark.'—
'With all my heart, my Angels.'—On we walk'd,
And much of London, much of Cornwall, talk'd.
Now did I hug myself to think
How much that glorious Structure would surprise;
How much from its awful Grandeur they would shrink
With open mouths and marv'ling eyes
As near to Ludgate-Hill we drew,
Saint Paul's just opeing on our view;
Behold, my lovely Strangers, one and all,
Gave, all at once, a diabolical Squawl;
As if they had been tumbled on the stones,
And some confounded cart had crush'd their bones.
After well frightening people with their cries,
And sticking to a Ribbon-shop their eyes,
They all rush'd in, with sounds enough to stun,
And, clattering all together, thus begun:
'Swinge! here are Colours then, to please;
Delightful things, I vow to Heaven:
Why, not to see such things as these,
We never should have been forgiven.
'Here, here, are clever things: good Lord!
And, Sister, here, upon my word;
Here, here, look; here are beauties to delight:
Why, how a body's heels might dance
Along from Launceston to Penzance,
Before that one might meet with such a sight!'—
'Come, Ladies, 'twill be dark,' cried I, 'I fear:
Pray let us view St Paul's, it is so near.'—
'Lord! Peter,' cried the Girls, 'don't mind Saint Paul;
Sure you're a most incurious soul:
Why, we can see the Church another day;
Don't be afraid; Saint Paul's can't run away.'
Reader,
If e'er thy bosom felt a thought sublime,
Drop tears of pity with the Man of Rhyme. |
|
|
| Back to top |
|
Nai
The Dark Grey-ish/Light Black Maybe Ranger! Master of the Forum

 Gender:  Age: 20 Joined: 19 Jan 2005 Posts: 1997 Reviews: 42 Country: The red, white, and blue bruise on planet Earth 300 Points
|
Posted: Sun Aug 28, 2005 3:27 am Post subject: |
|
|
TARA!!
WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU??
I need my poetry partner.. ::makes sad puppy face::
And good poem by the way, Mistress Areida  |
_________________ It ain't no joke when a mama's handkerchief is soaked
With her tears
because her baby's life has been revoked
The bond is broke up so choke up and focus on the close up
Mr. Wizard can't perform no godlike hocus-pocus |
|
| Back to top |
|
Boni_Bee
An old fashioned girl Novelist

 Gender:  Age: 19 Joined: 10 Aug 2005 Posts: 493 Reviews: 262 Country: Australia 300 Points
|
Posted: Sun Aug 28, 2005 3:48 am Post subject: |
|
|
Life is a wind-tossed wave that rushes for the shore,
time rushes by, and we try to grab more.
Moments passing, gently whisking by,
like soft, hasty clouds in a blue summer sky.
Little things bother us, then they are gone and something else replaces them,
but we don’t mourn.
Chances taken, others lost, sighs are heaved,
but then, who’s the boss?
Songs stick in our heads for a while,
teasing and taunting, trying to beguile. |
|
|
| Back to top |
|
Areida
The Warrior Princess Ari Epic Novelist

 Gender:  Age: 19 Joined: 14 Feb 2005 Posts: 4825 Reviews: 698 Country: no, not really. I don't have a hick accent or anything. 300 Points
|
Posted: Sun Aug 28, 2005 4:23 am Post subject: |
|
|
Why thanks, Nai. I know that I'm no poet, but the offer of all those points was too strong..
By the way, Matt, I've edited my original post because I changed some stuff in the poem, just so you know. Thanks kindly.  |
_________________ Got YWS?
"Most of us have far more courage than we ever dreamed we possessed."
- Dale Carnegie |
|
| Back to top |
|
hekategirl
An Angel with an Edge Master of the Forum

 Gender:  Age: 14 Joined: 03 Feb 2005 Posts: 1453 Reviews: 323 Country: An Alleyway North of Sanity 300 Points
|
Posted: Wed Aug 31, 2005 7:13 pm Post subject: |
|
|
Heres mine:
Enjoy today
Persue tomorrow
Cherish yesterday
Grinning everyday behind your back, watching your soft ears turn bright pink,
someone once compared you to a lump of red clay.
Was it me?
I don't remember.
Listen to the cringe of pebbles as we walk down the concrete, Sean,
watch the rain splatter on our rose-rimmed hats,
Where were we going anyway?
Does it really matter now?
You can remember what Han Solo said in Episode 5 but what I told you last week
you can't seem to recapture
skip, Sean, skip to the beat of a broken drum
use those legs for something useful.
I can't understand.
I can't compute!
I can't stand here and wait for life to unwind,
Sean.
sometime I wish you could just say what you wanted to say
I wish I could do what my fantasies portrayed
sometime
I'll find yesterday.
And do what we missed.
Do what we couldn't say.
Sometime, Sean, I'll finally say I love you.
Leave the past behind you
Ah...someday I will |
_________________ ***Honorary 11-Year-Old***
Heh-COT-ee-GUR-el
Got YWS? |
|
| Back to top |
|
Darkmoon158
Senior Writer

 Gender:  Age: 16 Joined: 21 Mar 2005 Posts: 179 Reviews: 38 Country: On the dark side of the moon 300 Points
|
Posted: Wed Aug 31, 2005 10:51 pm Post subject: |
|
|
Mine as well join the fun..
Pain
If I slit these wrists would I feel pain?
If not then why?
These cuts are just openings in which the good fly out,
And I am filled with and sadness and emptiness
Crimson tears I cry when I think his name,
When I walk outside of my cave of coldness,
All I see is images of him,
Am I but a mere shell of my former self?
Living off my distance from others,
And relying on lies to get by,
I weep but for now these tears mean nothing. |
_________________ For now I will let the blood drip from my fingers... |
|
| Back to top |
|
|
|
scintillation
Junior Writer

 Gender:  Age: 16 Joined: 29 Jul 2005 Posts: 35 Reviews: 7 Country: lost in the world of creativity... 300 Points
|
Posted: Sun Sep 04, 2005 9:06 pm Post subject: |
|
|
Might as well give it a go...
---------------------------
I was flicking through an old book
the other day and came across
a postcard.
Just a simple postcard.
But withered and old,
Yellow, tea-stained
and dirty.
But under the remnant of years,
even decades,
lay a painting.
Not a real one, a print;
but still a painting.
Oil on canvas
121.9 x 90.2cm
Anonymous,
it was.
Painted by an inspired man,
unturned by fame,
painting to enjoy
and to upturn the corners
of a mouth.
And it did that. |
_________________ -Nothing, like something, can happen anywhere. |
|
| Back to top |
|
|