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NeoGAF's Poetry Corner - #117: "Resist!"

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FelixOrion

Poet Centuriate
NeoGAF's Poetry Corner - #117: "Resist!"


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Enjoy some music: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cwBdKC4EwSs

Theme: "Resist!"

"The resistance that you fight physically in the gym and the resistance that you fight in life can only build a strong character." - Arnold Schwarzenegger

"I assess the power of a will by how much resistance, pain, torture it endures and knows how to turn to its advantage."- Friedrich Nietzsche

"Courage is resistance to fear, mastery of fear, not absence of fear." - Mark Twain

"When it comes to chocolate, resistance is futile." - Regina Brett

"This, to me, is the ultimately heroic trait of ordinary people; they say no to the tyrant and they calmly take the consequences of this resistance." - Philip K. Dick

Optional Secondary Objective: "Blues Poem"

Kevin Young said:
One of the most popular forms of American poetry, the blues poem stems from the African American oral tradition and the musical tradition of the blues. A blues poem typically takes on themes such as struggle, despair, and sex. It often (but not necessarily) follows a form, in which a statement is made in the first line, a variation is given in the second line, and an ironic alternative is declared in the third line.

African-American writer Ralph Ellison said that although the blues are often about struggle and depression, they are also full of determination to overcome difficulty “through sheer toughness of spirit.” This resilience in the face of hardship is one of the hallmarks of the blues poem.

Some of the great blues poets include Sterling A. Brown, James Weldon Johnson, and Langston Hughes. The title poem of Hughes’ first book, The Weary Blues, is also an excellent example of a blues poem. It begins:

“Droning a drowsy syncopated tune,
Rocking back and forth to a mellow croon,
I heard a Negro play.​
Down on Lenox Avenue the other night
By the pale dull pallor of an old gas light​
He did a lazy sway..."​

Another example is Brown’s poem “Riverbank Blues," which begins:

“A man git his feet set in a sticky mudbank,
A man git dis yellow water in his blood,
No need for hopin’, no need for doin’,
Muddy streams keep him fixed for good.”​

---

Submission Deadline:

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Voting Deadline:

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* FAQ
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HORRORSHØW

Member
man, you haven't gaffed until you've been banned
--
gratz felix. love the secondary. will try to crank something out but working on my fiction now so might be time constrained.
 

vdlow

Member
Between enlightening and blinding

Desperately trying to jump
Holding on to yourself
--not enough

Dragging you down
They are powerful and strong
--I can't carry on

Your mind was bright
Filled with dreams and hope
--but I've lost control

You fell in disgrace
But inside you lies change
--it's becoming numb

I'm reaching for you
Give me your hand
--there's no hope

Just trust me
Better days lies ahead
--there's no way out

See? The sun is already rising
Let him be the light that leads your life
--it's blinding me

It's showing you the way
Come with me, follow the stars
--raise the white flag, I surrender

Hear me... one last time...
Please...
--
 

HORRORSHØW

Member
Punctuation Marks

her smile possessed me like an apostrophe
s, that diacritical mark of her heart luring me
to this emotional catastrophe

when she said "no..."
bruising me with an ellipsis,
three dots fading into an inconsequential
menagerie of what-ifs and why-nots;
the omission of her thoughts

the em dash of her pauses–
halting me in my steps
full stop
.

if love is a crooked thing
then it is a question mark asking
"how shall i endure?"
at the butt-end of this sad soiree
 

RP912

Banned
In my lonesome room
gloomy summer rain becomes a loom
to craft my doom within a miserable year
I fumbled the ball that the team provided me
a losing team, a broken dream, and a quick scheme
to become something different from a depiction
lustful intentions ruining my marriage
and I didn't get my toes wet
death whispering in my ear
but I haven't made clear of what was said
in my head I'm a fluke
An one hit memoir without a conclusion
minus two stars for my ability to be sane
drain from every tribulation
pills with no water, a hanger without a reaction
a knife without an audience
maybe I need to quit and hope that I can fast forward
.................to now
 

Draper

Member
Purging himself of emotion forthright
Would there truly be disparity from now?
The life not lived or perhaps transposed

Dreams of dissipation in unbound directions
Pieces aflutter, limitless, weightless
No being, no definitive

He remains an anchor in the depths
Trudging only slightly to and from
The current, void of real impact
The piercing, scattered, rays far from reach

He's there but not, where did he go?
Can I find him?
And if I do, perhaps he can be me once more


Sorry guys- I have no real poetic talent or complete understanding of the art for that matter. I'm at a low point in my life and just wanted to give it a shot.
 
He was used to the wind -
the way it bent unseen the small trees
and flowers of the yard,
Blue Orchids his mother planted when he was a boy.

She knew every inch of that land,
tilled and mowed, planted and turned,
until her hands could no longer be distinguished from the earth.

And yet this was new, the malaise.
He'd read about it once in a book in high school,
and didn't understand when he arrived
home and watched her work.

And now her yard was his, wild,
the chance to be familiar lost with every passing winter.
She knew the seasons, rest and reborn, her garden once familiar to her
as his unknown.

The wind slithered through the unkept inheritance,
and he picked up her spade.
 

FelixOrion

Poet Centuriate
The Sun Exploded Again, Painting the Sky Above Our Heads

I change won't happen
I won't let it
Won't let that shit
happen to me again

It's not worth the effort
Nor anguish
To find another like you
and step up for Round 2

But this shit is like a drug
like chain hauling me back
from the inky depths
of the ignored bayou

As much I want
Everything to keep myself from going back
to that spot
And change my life again
 

HORRORSHØW

Member
oh man. i thought this passed awhile ago. the deadline was extra long then.
--
1. nrvalleytime--i really liked this one. the passing of time, of nature's reclamation, and life's cyclical dispositions presented through the window of the various stages of a garden. perhaps more importantly how love can tame the wild. sounds corny and cliche when i say it but it's well-written in the poem.

2. vdlow
3. neoctn
 

FelixOrion

Poet Centuriate
Results!

  1. NeoCTN 9 (2)
  2. Grimløck 8 (2)
  3. nrvalleytime 5 (1)
  4. vdlow 5
  5. FelixOrion 2

NeoCTN won but forgot to vote so Grimløck wins, the next thread is thine!
 

Dai Kaiju

Member
Grimløck;174501747 said:
Punctuation Marks

her smile possessed me like an apostrophe
s, that diacritical mark of her heart luring me
to this emotional catastrophe

when she said "no..."
bruising me with an ellipsis,
three dots fading into an inconsequential
menagerie of what-ifs and why-nots;
the omission of her thoughts

the em dash of her pauses–
halting me in my steps
full stop
.

if love is a crooked thing
then it is a question mark asking
"how shall i endure?"
at the butt-end of this sad soiree

I know the contest is over but this one inspired me. I don't normally write poetry so I apologize in advance if my format is off.

red flags

She thought I was like her
But what does she know?
To hurt and to hate
And give a good blow

She built an army
That I couldnt see
Its cryptic arrows
Amusing to me

Passed away presidents
Wasted in vain
For a cause so petty
A sick twisted game

Kept me too stupid
Could not play along
Too convoluted
For me to catch on
Hurt me too much
I no longer feel pain
Humiliated as such
I know longer feel shame
She sees me a shell
But I am a rock
Tells others I'm crazy
But she shouldn't talk

Bound by a rope
So fragile, so new
So precious to me
To her, he's just glue

Her newest playtoy
can't see the red flags
Too late for him now
His child she has

He is a soldier
Young and naive
Why should I warn him?
He'll never believe

The game's almost over
But how will it end?
With her in a cell
Or with my loved ones dead?

Those close to me
She wishes them harm
Those close to her
She carves in her arm

So many pictures
I shouldnt have seen
A glimpse into madness
I'll never unsee.
 
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