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Weekly Poetry Contest (154) Voting

Poll closed Jun 25, 2011.
  1. Coricancha (Cuzco, Peru) ~ jo spumoni

    1 vote(s)
    8.3%
  2. Cityscape ~ pet.

    2 vote(s)
    16.7%
  3. If "if" were a place ~ Kontrast

    1 vote(s)
    8.3%
  4. All the Faces ~ CarteBlanche

    0 vote(s)
    0.0%
  5. Empty places ~ The Spartan

    7 vote(s)
    58.3%
  6. '42 ~ Adi

    1 vote(s)
    8.3%
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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 (154) Voting - Places

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Jun 22, 2011.

    Weekly
    Poetry Contest
    One Hundred and Fifty Four
    Voting


    Let's get voting!

    And this week's theme was: Places

    Voting will end on Saturday, 25th June 2011.

    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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    Coricancha (Cuzco, Peru)
    By jo spumoni


    Inca gold and gleaming stone
    And mummies
    Propped up by living women
    Wait within in the house of gods

    Black bearded men with faces
    White as Andean snow and
    Speaking in strange tongues
    Are at the gates of gods

    The priestess cries, "You shall not pass!"
    And, through protests in a garbled tongue, she calls
    "Remove your shoes when you enter
    Houses of the gods!"

    With the same hands
    That slay children and fire guns
    Conquistadors remove their shoes
    And take the gold of gods

    With guns and swords the barefooted Spaniards
    Could not take
    Holiness
    From a house of gods
     
  3. Banzai
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    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Contributor

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    Cityscape
    By pet.


    The meadow's full of calm and grace
    and light that shifts as branches sway,
    but this is not that wondrous place.

    Among the grass there is no trace
    of that grim colour grey;
    the meadow's full of calm and grace.

    It is a perfect place to waste
    all the hours and minutes of the day
    but this is not that wondrous place.

    Sunlight's spun like floating lace
    it glows and glimmers, every ray;
    the meadow's full of calm and grace.

    A beauty time can not erase
    there even death would run and play,
    but this is not that wondrous place.

    The meadow fills another space.
    Here there's dust, and cold decay.

    The meadow's full of calm and grace
    but this is not that wondrous place.
     
  4. Banzai
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    If "if" were a place
    By Kontrast


    the "and"s would be frogs
    adding long winded thoughts
    as wind whistled in contemplation

    the "but"s would be birds' chirps
    interjecting with groundless words
    as leaves waved for attention

    the "not possible"s would be flies
    buzzing in circular un-ending flight
    as the rocks refused to give ground

    and we would watch the very earth
    as it rolled and changed with every word
    perhaps its better if the "if" place

    never existed
     
  5. Banzai
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    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Contributor

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    All the Faces
    By CarteBlanche


    The Italian sits with withered hands together.
    Wine is on the table, sun-warmed in its glass,
    And all the while, his strength is sapped,
    But nothing can defeat joy forever!

    The Brazilian strides in the waves, on the shore.
    His muscles ache from the work of the day,
    The waves wash the filth on his hands away,
    But not the driving dream he keeps striving for.

    The Liberian sleeps under the inky firmament,
    She was born with the last sunlight.
    Her little hand is balled-up tight;
    Love is the only thing that's permanent.

    Across the earth, in all its places,
    Love and happiness come and go,
    Eventually known to all the faces.
     
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    Empty places
    By The Spartan


    Places at the dinner table,
    Filled with empty plates.
    And empty seats in cinemas,
    Filled with absent dates.

    That constant aching hum -
    Of loves fought for but not won,
    Of hands sought for but not met,
    And words spoken (but not yet).

    Reservations never occupied,
    In the cafe of the heart.
    And all the lies we ever lied,
    That we thought were so damn smart.
     
  7. Banzai
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    '42
    By Adi


    It would be uncouth
    For me to be anywhere but with '42
    Nestled with an inconspicuous banner
    Screaming finery and tastefulness
    '42 does not roil
    '42 does not toil
    It is an efficacy of the buttered churn
    And clandestine gleam, that seeps in over hard top
    And rests with kings crown over glassy brow
    '42 pops it's cork
    Delivering babies like a stork
    And giggles to hard-won heart
    It is a box-town remedy
    A clairvoyant aurora borealis for tongue
    And lets loose mind like caged pigeon
    Oh how it sings with the sonority of 41
    42 mermaids!
    Clamoring for fiesty bubble and burnt belly
    Oh how it runs, like an arched metropolis,
    Like a stock ticker, drawing all eyes
    and leaving tidbits and speckles of sanity
    Bravo to the brick wall champion
    Who lighter than leafed paper
    Is stronger than studded arrow
    And is the hole in my wounded soul
     
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