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  1. Banzai

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

    Mar 31, 2007
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    Reading, UK

    Weekly Poetry Contest (230) - The Roar of the Crowd

    Discussion in 'Monthly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Mar 12, 2013.

    Poetry Contest
    Two Hundred and Thirty

    Even after all of these years, our contests are the best writing resources around.

    The Rules
    • All entries must be on the set theme.
    • Only one entry per member.
    • No editing of entries once posted without my express permission (i.e. PM me and ask).
    • Poems must be titled
    • Entries must not have previously posted on the forums, and are not permitted to be posted for critique until AFTER the contest is completed.
    • Any violation of these rules will result in disqualification of entries, and possibly infraction.

    The entry stage will be open for six days, closing on Monday 18th March 2013.

    The voting stage will begin immediately and will be open for three days, ending on Thursday 21st March 2013.

    And this week's theme is: (courtesy of me) The Roar of the Crowd

    The next (231st) contest's theme will be (courtesy of SwampDog): Puddles and it will be opened on Monday 18th March 2013.

    Be imaginative, have fun, and get writing.


    PS: If you have any questions, please feel free to PM me. I don't bite (much).
  2. molark

    molark New Member

    Feb 9, 2013
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    Chicago, IL

    so a baby got killed, shot five times, chicago last night
    what you want me to do, how must i feel?
    are the black boys getting jobs, union school training
    apprentices in union schools? or is it the same,
    foisted red-lined communities where
    poverty stunts of gold hang around the neck
    silver bullet punts and gun rooroo;

    it say mississippi prejudice still reeks wanton,
    white schools private, public for blacks
    and education pre-school funds denied,
    what is this hanging for inside?

    will I get my money or am I going to die?
    It shows smell nasty
    It show ain’t too cool
    in their hands a black and silver, fragile rooroo

    pair of scissors for the little black boy
    to cut off the hair of the six-year-old girl
    'i don't like white' and it's all its fault
    the training adults do; so a baby got killed, shot
    five times, chicago last night. what for me
    to do? pick a sign up, march through
    colored neighborhoods where banks discount
    with interest high enough to hog feed
    the pen, strained people
    wired through perims American-kind?
    the poor whine, cut black boys from training,
    faked deficit decibel cut blaming
    gun rooroo, government justice too,
    shot five times after 12 that night and her
    ma shot in the leg last year? the culture of
    drugs unlike the wall street one, this one
    grills my ears, instilled into our wounds,
    old age shrill news, how we educate,
    accomplish, too, pass the moving gate
    no phantom room

    no, from the crowd that's mad, i stay far
    because they usually don't know what to be mad about
  3. SwampDog

    SwampDog Senior Member

    Mar 5, 2013
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    Back in Blighty
    The Pantomime

    Rehearsals are over
    the footlights so bright
    curtains a-twitching
    and now the spotlight
    The director assures us
    you'll enjoy and be proud
    of the smell of the greasepaint
    the roar of the crowd

    They'd love to be up here
    and treading the boards
    that fantasy bubble
    which brings great rewards
    of audiences stamping
    and shouting out loud
    Ah, the smell of the greasepaint
    the roar of the crowd

    That British tradition
    the great pantomime
    Parents and children
    Behind you! they chime
    Villains and goodies
    and Dames dressed so loud
    Ah, the smell of the greasepaint
    the roar of the crowd
  4. Darkkin

    Darkkin Reflection of a nobody Contributor

    Jun 21, 2012
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    Following the footprints in the sand...
    Roar of One

    Roar of One

    A deep breath drawn...
    A pulse, steady and strong.
    Now is the moment...
    The opening notes of the song.

    Eyes shut tight...
    A foot, the tempo, marking.
    Words, refrains...Imagination sparking.

    Fingers flying, bridges rising...
    Ebony and ivory, cast.
    A voice, quiet and low...
    An echo of days long past.

    Lessons learned, consequences forgotten...
    Bitter words fall away.
    Fingers flying, a soul unafraid of trying...
    Now is the time, no hiding from the day.

    That voice, quiet and low...
    Quivers and swells, confidence growing.
    These notes and words...
    A story worth knowing.

    Those eyes, shut tight...
    Slowly open wide.
    A shy, beckoning smile...
    A simple joy, she cannot hide.

    Ear to ear, a Cheshire Cat grin...
    Fingers flying fast and true.
    The song ringing out...
    A thrill, shimmering and new.

    Ebony and ivory cast...
    Octaves and cleft,
    Of the treble, of the bass...
    Of her fear there is nothing left.

    In her ears, amidst the closing notes...
    Of her spiraling song...nearly done.
    Rises a cheer...Reflected in the mirror.
    The roar of crowd...A crowd of one...
  5. Roxie

    Roxie Active Member

    Apr 1, 2007
    Likes Received:
    Aylmer, Canada

    All around
    Not a sound
    This complete
    Is deafening

    All around
    Not a sound
    This overwhelming
    Absence of noise
    Is so much worse to bear
    Than the roar of a crowd
  6. Michael Collins

    Michael Collins Senior Member

    Nov 9, 2012
    Likes Received:
    Rome, Italy.

    One-two, step
    Lights, camera, action
    on this set just pain,
    Step, dodge, hook
    head shot

    What my father wanted
    I am not
    As I hit the mat
    the roar of the crowd:
    nothing I regret.

    Count ten, credits.
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