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Member
(06-17-2010, 12:16 AM)
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The Official NeoGAF General Poetry Thread #5: A view from Afar or from Within
#1
The Official NeoGAF General Poetry Thread #5
Theme: A view from Afar or from Within Interpret this theme however you like. Whether it is just the inspirational starting point for your poem or entirely consistent to the theme is up to you. Optional Secondary Objective: Clerihew I'll add more information later, in the post below, but its one of the more funnier/interesting forms of poetry. :) Poetry thread Rules version 1.1: 1. E3/worldcup/ OT being closed down this week has meant that we have just over a week to get your entries in this time round instead of the normal two week period. 2. This thread is not merely for winning or losing, but for critiquing and improving your own craft. 3. This poetry thread 'contest' will end on a Friday, and voting will last until Sunday at midnight. You cannot win unless you vote. Although you don't have to submit a piece to vote. 4. The winner must then provide the next challenge theme for the following normal two week period. 5. There are no word count limits, make it as long or as short as you want. Yes, even haikus are fine. 6. Optional secondary objectives are not mandatory, you can include them or not. 7. Further addition to rule six. You can also try the secondary objective as a secondary piece. Just make sure you label it as such. (This may work as an added incentive to try the secondary objective, as people might vote for either of your pieces). 8. Vote for your favourite poems. 9. Voters should award first, second and third places to their favourite three poems. First place is allocated three points. Second place is allocated two points. And third place is allocated one point. Don't vote for the same author twice. 10. In the event of a tie, the tally will be counted again with first place being allocated three and half points. If it isn't resolved then, it will be up to the OP (most likely the previous winner) to decide. 11. Winner gets a round of applause and will have the records stating it as such. Deadline: Friday, June 25th, 2010 at 11:59pm, Pacific. Voting will then begin. You should get your votes in by: Sunday, June 27th, 2010 at 11:59pm, Pacific. Good luck everyone. ___________________________________ Final Entries list Dresden: Cristiano Ronaldo Dresden: They call it the vuvuzela Cyan: George Washington Cyan: Ashes1396 Hey Monkey: Cyan Hobbes ZephyrFate: ZephyrFate Cyan: Adrian Brody goldlion054: The girl at the grocery store Melchiah: Beneath the flesh Dresden: Alfarif Alfarif: Uncanny Alfarif: The Balloon Plumbob: The Witches Wade South Dartastic: Within - "Fear" Bootaaay: Delirium Tremens Bootaaay: Poor Gary Coleman Ankitt: sightsee kid ness: The Market Dresden: Said the Monkey to the Monk AnkitT: The circlejerk hey_monkey: Just One Ashes1396: und sex? (and sex?) Non-eligible entries: Ashes1396: Untitled the seller’s boy (fair warning: unabridged 1800 word poem) ___________________________________ THE RESULTS 1. Bootaaay: Poor Gary Coleman: ****12- after tie breaker- 14 pts 2. kid ness: The Market:* 12- after tie breaker - 12.5 pts 3. hey_monkey: Just One: *5 3. Bootaaay: Delirium Tremens:* 5 3. Dresden: Said the Monkey to the Monk: 5 The rest of the results: 4. goldlion054: The girl at the grocery store: *4 5. Plumbob: The Witches Wade South:4 6. Melchiah: Beneath the flesh: *3 7. AnkitT: The circlejerk:2 8. Alfarif: Uncanny: 1 Dresden: Cristiano Ronaldo Dresden: They call it the vuvuzela Cyan: George Washington Cyan: Ashes1396 Hey Monkey: Cyan Hobbes ZephyrFate: ZephyrFate Cyan: Adrian Brody Dresden: Alfarif Alfarif: The Balloon Dartastic: Within - "Fear" Ankitt: sightsee Ashes1396: und sex? (and sex?) * No. of first places. Bootaaay: Poor Gary Coleman wins for having the most first places Congratulations Bootaaay on your first win. ___________________________________
Last edited by Ashes1396; 06-28-2010 at 10:39 AM.
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Member
(06-17-2010, 12:17 AM)
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#2
Secondary Objective: Try your hand at writing a Clerihew
From wiki: What is a clerihew: A clerihew is a whimsical, four-line biographical poem invented by Edmund Clerihew Bentley. The lines are comically irregular in length, and the rhymes, often contrived, are structured AABB. One of his best known is this (1905): Sir Christopher Wren Went to dine with some men He said, "If anyone calls, Say I'm designing Saint Paul's." A clerihew has the following properties:
Clerihews are not satirical or abusive, but they target famous individuals and reposition them in an absurd or commonplace setting, often giving them an over-simplified and slightly garbled description (similar to the schoolboy style of 1066 and All That). The unbalanced and unpolished poetic meter and line length parody the limerick, and the clerihew form also parodies the eulogy. Source. If that feels daunting or tedius, here's a lighter approach on how to write a Clerihew: " How to write a Clerihew You're going to love learning how to write clerihews. Why? Because clerihews are funny poems you write about specific people. That means when you learn to write a clerihew, you can instantly write funny poems about your parents, your teacher, your favorite movie star, your best friend, your pet, or anyone else you can think of. Clerihews have just a few simple rules:
That's it! You don't have to worry about counting syllables or words, and you don't even have to worry about the rhythm of the poem. example 1: Our art teacher, Mr. Shaw, Really knows how to draw. But his awful paintings Have caused many faintings. example: 2 The enemy of Harry Potter Was a scheming plotter. I can't tell you what he's called; I'd be ashamed To name "he who must not be named." So you see, clerihews are short, easy to write and can be about any person or character, real or not. They can be about people you know, people you don't know, or even about animals, cartoon characters, rock groups, or anyone else you can think of. " Source
Last edited by Ashes1396; 06-17-2010 at 01:15 AM.
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FABULOUSLY
DIXI QUID QUID BEAR BEAR (06-21-2010, 04:30 AM)
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#6
Don't know if I'm doing it right... >.> who knows. Fun stuff and great secondary objective, though.
Cristiano Ronaldo loves Frodo although he prefers him dressed like a pink dodo. Effeminacy is no concern to him, and his friends all call him Kim. They call it the vuvuzela, not exactly shaped like an umbrella. They toot it hard and they toot it long, 'though the sound they make is like bees in a bong. |
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Member
(06-22-2010, 02:16 PM)
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#15
Originally Posted by Cyan:
Funny because it's true. Though I'm missing my Jacky White avatars.... |
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Member
(06-23-2010, 08:50 AM)
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#17
Beneath the flesh
Beneath the layers of grey hanging skin There is nothing And in nothing is the essence In the vacant souls In the dormant its presence is bound Within the faceless The dark hovers therein The shadow twitching, oscillating Breathing through the mouths of the living The malice Through the eyes it sees Through the fingers it feels Through the wounds it is freed To walk among the faceless |
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FABULOUSLY
DIXI QUID QUID BEAR BEAR (06-23-2010, 08:52 AM)
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#18
Originally Posted by Alfarif:
is about to rip his book of poetry for they remind him of the commie tree. |
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This picture? uhh I can explain really!
(06-24-2010, 02:50 AM)
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#21
I plan on doing the secondary as another entry. This is for the topic, itself.
Uncanny Solid, unmovable Irregular, immaculate Perfection. Ting, ting, ting, ting. Flawless, but a piece Powdered grit And clouded air. Ting, ting, ting, ting. Shape and form Perfection no longer Resemblance uncanny. Ting, ting, ting, ting. Ah, there she is. |
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This picture? uhh I can explain really!
(06-24-2010, 02:55 AM)
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#22
Originally Posted by Dresden:
The Balloon Dresden Oh, where's your balloon been It pops and shatters, teases, and suddenly disappears To be replaced by anime avatars that bring me to tears. :lol Oh god that is horrible. Eh, screw it, that's my second entry. |
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Member
(06-24-2010, 04:23 AM)
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#23
The Witches Wade South
As we hold hands and hum as we press nearer As eyes slip shut to hold in humble tears I spy a homely girl who clasps a chain-bound cross, Who stays afloat awhile, to stay and blow her final bubbles, A calm salute to crowded shores. Oh how I wish her feet were tied to bags of sand! That I may bite and tear the rags that hold me. That I could taste the ugly taste of land To spit away the tokens that do claim me. How courtly sinking bodies are, How dignified the fever’s heat... Oh God! Where have they gone? Why have they not emerged, at last? Are they the angels now, Whose fair feet float through weed and sand? Or are they drowning still, their life teased out By dark regrets, O the ugly circumstance Of a shore that will not have them. 6-24: added a title and tweaked a bit
Last edited by Plumbob; 06-25-2010 at 05:28 AM.
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Member
(06-24-2010, 07:11 AM)
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#24
Originally Posted by Alfarif:
help! or should that be 'whelp' :) |
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Member
(06-24-2010, 07:58 AM)
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#26
Within - "Fear"
One day I think I’ll understand what it means to give up and let myself tumble down a waterfall of emotion bruising and breaking my bones, leading me towards an end goal desire but for now I must stay flacid I will not succumb so easily i won’t let you eat my heart from the depths of the ocean I’m not pure. I’m scared. ...and because i'm quite pissed at some douchebag right now... Afar, sorta within - "Testosterone" I’m glad we took your land and burned your huts and raped your women I’m glad we “civilized” you and transmitted diseases that ravaged your cultures and made you bitter for generations to come And because of you, I am bitter now. Yet you are bitter and angry for no reason. Don’t take it out on me. you cannot blame past generations. fuck you.
Last edited by Dartastic; 06-24-2010 at 03:55 PM.
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Member
(06-24-2010, 12:53 PM)
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#27
Here are Bootaaay's entries:
Main objective; Delirium Tremens I’ve got the shakes again, hands moving of their own will. Spare some change, kind sir? So that I might drink my fill. Or kick me to the gutter once more to lay amongst the swill. But if I had just one more glass, a drop I would not spill. The fuel my mind craves, lifes one remaining thrill. That warm, liquid amber glow more seductive, than any pill. Secondary objective; Poor Gary Coleman died recently, he fell and hit his head. St. Peter met him at the pearly gates, and this is what he said; "Time to weigh your sins, dear Gary, your virtue shall be in no doubt" To whit squat Gary replied, "Saint Peter...whatchu talkin' 'bout?" |
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Member
(06-24-2010, 02:48 PM)
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Sightsee
#31
Whether from afar or within, a view is a view
sew together the threads to fabricate what you knew the morning dew eludes your senses and condenses the commencement of it eludes your strongest defenses but whence it begins to coarse through there is no recourse Schemes, memes and dreams of become dope fiends seem like a scene created by the diamond beam gleams so pick up the shovels and befuddled dig up the dirt it's just a point of view for what it's worth, my good sir no reason for the heathens to breed heathen, unless there's some light treason The recluse views things differently, maybe you call it obtuse but douse the flames as the DOW crashes and to rubble stocks reduce but that's beside the view point so far from it that it may be trapped within the bin filled with bright ideas only sins as we sit in the court of the crimson king so sing your lullabies to where it applies and view it as preemptive when the court arrives The senses can be fooled, vices can be retooled and funds spooled so as to create the new school where your eyes are pulled over with wool the black sheep died so that you would feel less racist and that's the whole gist the bump of the fist and goes on the list telling destiny you have a tryst with prescribed with rose-tinted 3D glasses with free passes to the burning classes of masses ___________________________________________________________________________ I might try my hand at the clerihew soon.
Last edited by AnkitT; 06-24-2010 at 03:00 PM.
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This picture? uhh I can explain really!
(06-25-2010, 01:53 AM)
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#32
Originally Posted by Ashes1396:
I should have a banning come up sometime soon. :lol |
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Member
(06-25-2010, 02:12 AM)
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#33
The Market
a crowded market buzzes the brick walls are bare and the togas drag behind a pinpoint cat's stare she can pass through corridors of infinite supply of fruits and supplies making use of a feline body making use of her time transactions exacted currency exchanged while the cat slips back and takes all their things what will a cat do with a hand held fan? can she settle a home on an acre of land? finally residing on top of a ledge she is balanced and she stays looking for something to see and then, she looks down right at me tell me cat, what do your open eyes suggest? |
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FABULOUSLY
DIXI QUID QUID BEAR BEAR (06-25-2010, 04:11 AM)
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#35
Originally Posted by Alfarif:
Anyways, my entry: Said the Monkey to the Monk, Your vague abstractions and your pretty words fail to satisfy me. Appeasement is no longer an option. Heed me well, feed me bananas that your God has denied me. |
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Member
(06-25-2010, 08:58 PM)
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#40
Some of you might have been wondering: Hang on, I've entered a couple of clerihews, what's going to happen to my poor work. I put so much time and effort....
 Alright Everyone. THIS is YOUR OP speaking. Stay Calm! Everything is going to be okay! *For one night only* I'm a gonna call a votable entry amnesty. Cause everybody is entering multiple times and this is the only way I can think of allowing the entries to count. Emergency Rule ammendment. 1. The amnesty is only on Clerihews! And that's it. You are allowed unlimited clerihew entries.* Please remember when voting you cannot vote for the same author twice. Again, just incase you missed the small picture above:  Ok, move along. Nothing more to see here. *Subject to fair use policy. Don't go mental on this 'secondary' objective. :D This is meant to be for people who have multiple entries already. cheers. Good luck every one. I'll put this in the op.
Last edited by Ashes1396; 06-25-2010 at 09:02 PM.
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This picture? uhh I can explain really!
(06-26-2010, 02:37 AM)
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#42
Originally Posted by AnkitT:
Oh god... this made me bust out laughing at work. Thanks for that.
Originally Posted by Dresden:
Last edited by Alfarif; 06-26-2010 at 02:53 AM.
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Member
(06-26-2010, 06:22 AM)
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#43
I don't really get your voting changes?
My first-objective entry: Just One You said you were not like them these shuffling scarecrows, stiff with dirt and hung about with bags. You stored pride in your vertebrae, kept your beard shaved bare and held onto things—lighters, railings, walls—so no one could see your hands shake. You said, the first time, just one, but one becomes two and three drinks in your eyes fade away, going soft and loose. You carried your own bags that first day, through the warped and water-stained door, into that empty space with the too-bright bedspread bursting with flowers, and I thought: maybe this time, things will be different. You said: you don't understand, and when I looked at the life you have chosen, loose tobacco and the swaying stink of three dollar whiskey, I knew you were right. |
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Member
(06-26-2010, 07:01 AM)
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#46
und sex?
Sex is brutally honest, and yet it spawns the red light district, Die Porno ist das Opium des Volkes, Caveat emptor *line 3: The porn (industry) is the opiate of the masses Literal: The opium of the people is the porn Non eligible entry: Comment: I lost a bit of my work this week, but I did come across some that I'd been looking for a long time. This is something I wrote ages ago. I was reminded of it, when we were talking about the longest poems ( starts from post 51). This is the longest poem I have ever written. Completely unabridged here. How many people will even make it to the end? :lol Fun fact, did a quick math, and I think, I spent more time writing the 21 word poem above then I did writing this 1800 word poem. I might be off, but it's certainly close enough. edit: I just read a bit of it myself, I don't think this is the final draft of the poem. Or well, it doen't matter anyway. Remember you don't have to read this poem to vote. This poem is ineligible for voting. Untitled the seller’s boy Who remembers walking down memory lane, As picturesque as it might seem Very suitable for a painting or a film Like that old Havana tree Leafless with a sense of its breeze Amongst the branches reading Something that reminds me of poetry Who remembers walking down the memory lane, As something worth regretting And all that you learn from love That it’s a symbol Rather like peace Out of its place In juxtaposition I remember walking down memory lane An orphan as I may be As often as I care to believe Running down to meet my mother After school, at home time You can tell the teachers good bye And they reply With honesty and sincerity That you have a lovely day Knowing fully well that the days nearly over Who cares to believe in memory lane As children we care not to keep memories As we run and play Knowing how to walk and talk Never forgetting names and places Like the park with the lake The swans, geese and ducks The dog with three legs The grandpa playing chess And you can tell he’s awake Even though he looks asleep Because you just do As you feed them bread All of the animals in the park Even the statues caste in stone Like the gates All majestic Who cares to relive the past He was three and she was four All sweet and sour Like the pudding on the stove Made by a sister that cannot cook As hard as she might wish Constantly wishing that she might die Yet stays up late To read her book Not sleeping till all the pages have sunk right down To shed a tear when things are brown To illuminate the dark light That she says she sees As much sense as that makes to me It is compelling to find out That she sees the night during the day Leads me to wonder Leads me to stray To wonder whether she sleeps at night Or whether that’s like day Because the moon Shines and sways By the window To us it is beautiful But what ever we like She opposes Happiness and fun Despair and glum As simple as that That factor worked out She climbs to the rooftop To get a better view of the ground But as we all know Common sense must prevail And the best view of the ground Is surly concrete bound To forget such things are what memories are for A contrast in contradiction Explaining what cannot be explained Not withholding the simple care That that little boy is still with us So do not even dare To gossip Such travesty To make idle Things that are precious To some an all Like the bone and marrow May mean science to us But hers saved mine and thine So with such things in mind We wine and dine That our sisters died in vain To save the heart and save the brain To accomplish nothing And become routine I remember the arms we had That helped us along Grateful for the exchanges Of clothes and cake Of food that was properly baked Mixed with nothing but honesty And humble pie, with a hint of mint sauce And we walked in fields of gold I was five and you were six I, a mother’s son, Like never before Gazing now at the night sky In my eyes a death spurned once more No hope but of kindness Understanding the matter Of the trip You had wires into your bones And now you needed me I was obsolete and I was wise I learnt from my sister To stay in one place Because you might not like you But others did I learnt from mother Who said you always grew faster then I did To appreciate life Whatever it may be It is nothing more then a piece of cake A piece of clothe, a piece of coin A piece of love, a piece of sharing Empathy and ever enduring And I sat on a cook’s grave Crying like I do Remembering the orchards Of apple trees and leaves The apple I have in my hand When I ran and fell Then got up and became brave And found you wiping your tears As I came in Hiding something from me Instead of telling me straight That father died during the war Because someone told him to go That someone sat on a bench far away In London perhaps And told me father to go murder People, for the better of all And when he refused to kill the people The people killed him I was nine and you were ten In bed by eight And hoping and stirring in my heart That everyone could care less Like I did deep down But in hospital You fought hard and white coats did you proud A miracle in the snow We could run perhaps Once again Across the farmyard In the midst of spring A new year Hardly daunting I wasn’t sad And I don’t know why people around me died I was never bad I was a good child Everyone said so And I thought so to As I helped you out of your wheelchair And pushed you on the swing And the wind in your hair And you wished you could run I said nothing But I thought instead That you were running All you had to do was close your eyes And feel the wind Don’t patronize the power of imagination See the fields falling under the skin See the blood seeping through See why mother says not go into the field with no shoes on And watch in dismay As you open your eyes That all is not well I gave my marrow and I gave my blood But as the tree falls down Late summer the next year You are still in your wheel chair God is cruel sometimes If you believe in him I believe in him Because you do Although I can’t see why God would listen to you With your hands clasped together When he avoids looking at the state of your legs I remember coming back from college, Deciding not to go to university I can’t live up to the hype And going into the kitchen With you crying And she wasn’t even your mother She was nothing but your nurse She was mine And she left me And she left me for good Not to go shopping Not to go on holiday Not even to runaway But to the worst place you can imagine But as the tears grew, breaking through rough terrain Building with pleasure that no one wants I thanked her For not killing her self for me For not dying for someone else For not being extreme or different For not being idle gossip For dying because she was sick Because I was coming to tell you That I would stay at home Not study and play But I can’t do that I remember thinking exactly that I would live up to the hype I thought as I went outdoors to cry some place else Reaching for my new tree, so far away across the field Breathing in deep, because that helps you see I picked up the pace, because the tears were coming quickly They were fast and thick I begun running to find solitude For peace, love and deprivation I began running for love in the hope that at least you wouldn’t leave I didn’t stop at the heart felt tree, it wasn’t the same The words on the tree were never-fading, there was a lesson to be learnt from that There was a lesson to be learnt from everything From the stars above guiding me insane From the oranges falling down From the cages that wraps the animals at the zoo I ran tired now for no particular reason For no particular reason at all Why do people walk down memory lane When so much of it is worth regretting For everything there is something opposing it It can’t exist without the other Up and down, above and below You and me As I returned nearly forty years later An invalid as you are Were still unmarried You said nothing to my newly shaved face But you touched my face You made nothing of my cologne Yet you took in a whiff of my skin You heard little noise about me And here you stood up, not sitting on me fathers handmade chariot Recollecting the times when you were in a wheel chair A miracle of your time Surviving everything that was thrown in your wake And as it happened I came at exactly the right time Like clockwork you might say I went down the corridor to the cupboard labelled memoirs And spoke about it to a poet, who approached me on the street For no apparent reason Asking about my life Offering me tea in return And so I spoke Throwing the gauntlet down Challenging God And the words spoke blue and white A common favourite I was to live like a beggar Through my own choice That much was true There are opposites And death is pretty much a deathly opposite To the greatest miracle of all Life itself And to ponder it in dismay was a waste of it And to waste it away like I did was cardinal sin And to live in hope was not wrong And God does not come into that equation It is ours and ours alone And now we step outside And relive those days again As old fools we might be Not able to run anymore Past the stump of old Past the fields that were of barley now Past the second tree in full bloom In the summers eve Reaching for a new tree A third chapter in our life This was by another tree By a lake A little girl sat on its branches We never approached her She was from the neighbouring town As delicate as a leaf I remember that night When death was not a case for regret or upsetting one self When you died of old age You always grew faster then me And the last few things you said changed me Into a new man The words being “I asked god, I prayed to god Even if it’s the last thing I ever do please return to me what I have lost Return me the seller’s boy, And now I’m upset with him Because it really is the last few days of my life I can feel it in my bones The bones with your blood The body with your sister’s bones The body looked after by your mother The chair I sat in for half a century made by your father And the mind, the one incomplete without you She said as we made our way across the man made lake Turning poetry into narrative, narrative into motion In the boat made by the father, of the sellers boy The last thing he ever did, before going away And like that the night passed, Death passed me another ironic and unwanted gift Two deaths instead of one I had tortured my self on too many nights To pass this one On a boat made for two And now much later the poet speaks in my tongue In the shape of a memory And who cares to go down memory lane If not theirs The answer lies under the shade of the third tree Hoping when drawing their last breath Not arguing for once, on this issue anyway That god exists And hoping by all means That at least their memory lives on. fin
Last edited by Ashes1396; 06-26-2010 at 08:24 AM.
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Member
(06-26-2010, 07:26 AM)
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#48
The entries this week
Dresden: Cristiano Ronaldo Dresden: They call it the vuvuzela Cyan: George Washington Cyan: Ashes1396 Hey Monkey: Cyan Hobbes ZephyrFate: ZephyrFate Cyan: Adrian Brody goldlion054: The girl at the grocery store Melchiah: Beneath the flesh Dresden: Alfarif Alfarif: Uncanny Alfarif: The Balloon Plumbob: The Witches Wade South Dartastic: Within - "Fear" Bootaaay: Delirium Tremens Bootaaay: Poor Gary Coleman Ankitt: sightsee kid ness: The Market Dresden: Said the Monkey to the Monk AnkitT: The circlejerk hey_monkey: Just One Ashes1396: und sex? (and sex?) Voting reminder: * Vote for your favourite poems. * Voters should award first, second and third places to their favourite three poems. First place is allocated three points. Second place is allocated two points. And third place is allocated one point. *Don't vote for the same author twice. *You must vote to win. *You don't have to enter a poem to vote. You should get your votes in by: Sunday, June 27th, 2010 at 11:59pm, Pacific. Non-eligible entries: Ashes1396: Untitled the seller’s boy (fair warning: unabridged 1800 word poem)
Last edited by Ashes1396; 06-26-2010 at 08:04 AM.
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