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Weekly Poetry Contest (111) Voting

Poll closed Apr 8, 2010.
  1. My Bridge ~ Evelyanin

    1 vote(s)
    14.3%
  2. At the very least, it'll keep them busy ~ Lauren

    1 vote(s)
    14.3%
  3. The Never-Bridge ~ Marshall41

    2 vote(s)
    28.6%
  4. Everwhere ~ lavendershy

    3 vote(s)
    42.9%
  5. Can I Come Across ~ nwain

    0 vote(s)
    0.0%
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  1. Banzai
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    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Contributor

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    Weekly Poetry Contest (110) Voting - A Bridge

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Apr 5, 2010.

    Weekly
    Poetry Contest
    One Hundred and Ten
    Voting




    Some very good entries this week :)

    This week's theme was (courtesy of wishyoucould): A Bridge

    Voting will end on Thursday 8th April 2010.

    Voting for yourself is entirely at your own discretion. I'm frankly sick of discussion on the matter, so any in here will be deleted. If you want to vote for yourself, go for it, but I personally wouldn't do that unless I genuinely believed mine was the best.


    The winning poem will be stickied for a week in the poetry contest.



    Oh, and if I catch anyone cheating, their entry will be removed from the contest and you will be unable to enter a poem into the contest for a month. Sorry to be such an ogre about this, I don't want to be, but rules are rules and are in place for valid reasons. If you can not follow the rules, you face the consequences.

    Best of luck to all entrants, and happy voting.


    Banzai
     
  2. Banzai
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    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Contributor

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    My Bridge
    By Evelyanin


    On rainy days with sunny skies
    I head towards the bridge.
    Almost right behind my house,
    It stretches out from the mountain ridge.

    Up and over our little town,
    Nestled in the valley below.
    It reaches to the other side
    Where the wild cranberries grow.

    I climb up using the ribbons,
    For it is fairly steep and wide.
    And if I feel particularly brave,
    I slide down on the other side.

    I’m the only one who ever uses it.
    It’s nice and quiet up here.
    The view over town is fantastic,
    And the air is fresh and clear.

    So today I stood on top the bridge
    Of colours red, green, and blue.
    Of the brightest yellow every known,
    And orange and magenta too.

    Soon I knew that someone had seen me,
    Standing here at the very top.
    The high school science teacher,
    Looked up and came to a stop.

    He stared at me directly
    Then twisted his head to the side.
    “The bridge you are standing on
    Is not really there.” He cried.

    “It’s just an illusion from the sun,
    And the rain drops in the air.
    What may look like a solid bow,
    It’s just light! I swear!”

    The colourful bridge disappeared
    From under my very feet.
    I realized the truth he spoke,
    As I plummeted towards the street.

    My back just hurts a little bit
    As the medics give their assistance,
    Yet I wonder if opinion controls
    The matter of something’s existence.
     
  3. Banzai
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    At the very least, it'll keep them busy
    By Lauren


    I awoke at 3:07 this morning,
    my walls vibrating
    with the late-breaking news
    from my elderly neighbor’s TV.

    The nightdark was thin
    and I knew without listening
    by the smell and the dancing light,
    so at the desk before my one bedroom window

    I conceded to sleepily perch,
    perchance to record
    some novel impression
    of the scene in the bay below.

    My billboard-obstructed window
    offered up a stingy glimpse
    of the orange water illuminating
    our peninsula town’s one bridge.

    In my sleepdrunk stupor a score of clichés
    licked lazily up at my pen,
    tired little musings about blazes and bridges,
    and the two in combination.

    But I soggily smothered them,
    the dragging drum of the pulse
    in my ear competing to be heard
    over the FOX News next door

    and titillated neighbors,
    clumped together outside
    watching the engines arrive,
    anxiously anticipating

    the possibility of a day off work -
    or at least
    a good story
    for the breakroom.

    As my walls finally stilled,
    I abandoned pen for pillow,
    leaving the town to enjoy
    their distraction,

    leaving them to attend to
    the front-page features,
    the breaking updates and suspect speculation,
    to the later-this-morning cubicle conversation.

    Leaving them to attend to the generation
    of that staticky chatter
    still buzzing in my head.
     
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    The Never-Bridge
    By Marshall41


    This bridge was built with firm but gentle hands,
    And day by day did our ever-bridge withstand,
    Till winter’s curse ruin’d all her blessed land,
    And took from me Ella’s once barren hand.
     
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    Everwhere
    By lavendershy


    it's in their eyes, you know, the ship
    by rainbow-fancies manned
    the key, the path, the lightning-door
    the bridge to Everland

    and one by one they wander in
    as promised long before
    and only they can know the way
    the bridge to Evershore

    their feet are bare, their eyes are bright,
    they don't think to be proud
    that they can find in a shadow's blink
    the bridge to Evercloud

    we knew it, once, and though we laugh
    we'd give our all to find
    the only way, the child's way
    the bridge to Evermind.
     
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    Can I Come Across
    By nwain


    There is a bridge
    between you and me
    and I could come
    to you.

    But this chasm
    creates the need for the bridge
    and it is
    a long way down, should I fall.

    Gazing down at
    the depths,
    I lose my breath
    and my courage.

    I hear you beckon.
    You prompt me to take
    that
    first step,
    you tell me to look only into your eyes
    which shine so
    far across the distance.

    But what I really want is your hand to grab me, pull me across in one brief second.
    I don’t want to slowly, teetering walk this bridge.
    I don’t want
    this journey.
    I am too afraid.

    And I know the valley below is my mind.
    A barren, endless, valley.
    Thorn bushes, jutted cliffs and desert.

    and this space of land I sit on now,
    far less glorious and beautiful than yours.
    Your space of land too, is vast, but is endless paradise.

    And I know too,
    that your hands are already
    here.
    That
    they are the bridge.
    That they
    are that big.

    But it’s still
    the stepping,
    it’s still
    the action.
    And I am woozy.

    So I close my eyes.
    I sit and wait until the situation changes.
    Maybe when I open them,
    I will be across.

    Your arms are love,
    are sacrifice,
    are strong and ready to withstand all weight.

    Had I only courage,
    You’d be the strength.

    The air is still, it waits for my decision.
    It holds its breath
    as I gasp for mine.

    And then I run.
    Keeping my eyes forward
    my body in a race against time.

    I don’t dare
    look down.

    I stay the course,
    and run much longer than the bridge is.

    When at last I slow,
    and my heart beat slows,
    I realize I ran much further than I needed.

    So now I turn.
    surveying what I’m surpassed.

    The bridge now does not look so long,
    the valley not so deep.

    And your side is stunning.
    I don’t know what took me so long to come.
     
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