I ask if they are real. they say they are brothers; one writes and the other puts out fires with teeth, eats up everything that everyone else makes.
they are both freckled. they say their mother had red hair but theirs is black.
i tell them that they are kissed by angels, that their wings used to cover me when i slept, that i could hear their voices echo out of me when i was first waking,
honest and curled in prayer under my blankets, tiny bodied and eight years old,
that when the earth quaked their hands could help steady it, that the foundations of their ashen bones would bring us closer to something like euphoria, that they could speak in tongues if they wanted, start fires with the sounds that they made, cross their hands and pray to the universe
i. it’s a sharp staccato that dances softly spinning words into colors that don’t quite aline in ¾ time to spin away on upbeats, unfinished.
ii. a melodic line only hears itself
iii. brass wasn’t made for small fingers and delicate sounds muted to a duller roar than drum beats striking lightning
iv. counter melody rests in the crevices left between baseline and treble line dancing just off beat to chase percussion and whistling bells for second place in a race predetermined by score.
v. you cannot strike a major chord in dissonance but in assonance
***Under the Responsibility of S.P.E.W.*** (Sadistic Perplexion of Everyone's Wits)
Medieval Lit! Come here to find out who Chaucer plagiarized and translated - and why and how it worked in the late 1300s.
The results for round 2 are now in and we had a couple of disqualifications, but the vast majority of you got your poems in and none of them were late and that makes you awesome before we even see the results!
This really was a hard round to judge and I am so grateful for Karzkin and Via's help because I couldn't make these hard decisions on my own! Some of the styles of poetry we're comparing are very different and that can be hard to equate into a score, especially when the quality across the board is so high!
Without further ado, I give you the winners of each round in bold:
Those last two were the closest matches this round with less than a point between the winners each time! This really is a challenge which requires consistently strong poetry and some of those who soared through the first round found themselves struggling somewhat more in the second and vice versa!
ROUND 2.B
Now I'm not going to update the visuals yet because will still have part B of round 2 and that's where I need our three runners up (@Karzkin@Aley@PenguinAttack) to submit a poem by the 17th April which must not have been written before the 14th April. Results and next pairings will be announced on the 21st by 10:00pm GMT.
The shallow tide sweeps in above the rocks, protective gullies of lakes, like new-found land, swaddling the quiet fry. In the day, they flash like glitter invisible for ninety percent of the time, aside from that one moment, when you wonder if it is shattered glass.
They warm in the salty water on the old cricked rocks, tucked in a cubby where nothing can reach them, and nothing tries. They are safe from their mortality, until the tide starts to wean, creeping away,
the slow don't notice the door becoming the ceiling, with cracks like pressed fingers cupping them, draining. The fry bake in their mortal sun, drowning in air, and food for lazy crabs like gum on their feet.
Yes, the internet in this hotel is tragically slow.
Spoiler
To watch you walk across the room is to witness the birth of civilisation. Your footsteps are flint striking iron pyrite, showers of iridescent sparks breathing life into everything they touch.
You are formed in contingent spaces; your death will not be stolen from you in a fiery blast, it is an appointment kept for you in a private room. We are young; we know how to die but not how to last.
You have god in your sights, blazing white crosses in your eyes, incandescent into the afterlife, and the life after that.
Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
There were just three poets in this round, but all are great and renowned masters of the written word and they came to do battle most fiercely. The mistress Aley struck the first blow and then the lady PenguinAttack asked if they couldn't be civil about this and helped Sir Karzkin into the ring. Mistress Aley was having none of that though and struck about her with portrayal, narrative and emotion to fell the other two brave warriors.
light pours through open things like windows and doors and sometimes when we are still and quiet and breathing at the same pace as other things breathing, light approaches us like a fawn, trembles & passes through the fleshy nets of our palms, presses its wet nose at the base of our throat.
^ @Rydia- I'm going to try to get it in on time, in which case, you can ignore this. There's a possibility though that I won't be able to get it in until 2hours past the deadline time. I think in previous madness contests, there were late penalties?
That's alright @Audy, thanks for the heads up! There will be a small penalty if the entry is late but we'll still accept the entry so long as it's within a few hours of the deadline.
For judging reference, the penalty will be minus 0.5 points for each hour it is late by, up to a maximum of 3 points for six hours. Any later than that and we will most likely not accept the entry.
i. it’s a sharp staccato that dances softly spinning words into colors that don’t quite aline in ¾ time to spin away on upbeats, unfinished.
ii. a melodic line only hears itself
iii. brass wasn’t made for small fingers and delicate sounds muted to a duller roar than drum beats striking lightning
iv. counter melody rests in the crevices left between baseline and treble line dancing just off beat to chase percussion and whistling bells for second place in a race predetermined by score.
v. you cannot strike a major chord in dissonance but in assonance
***Under the Responsibility of S.P.E.W.*** (Sadistic Perplexion of Everyone's Wits)
Medieval Lit! Come here to find out who Chaucer plagiarized and translated - and why and how it worked in the late 1300s.
)
