Poetry competition CLOSED 27th May 2016 11:23pm
WINNER
Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Just a country boy...,
Poetry Contest Description
Write a poem inspired by Gillian Welch's Elvis Presley blues....about your childhood and what you left behind
Posted for Pris
Giver Man
Inspired by...
Gillian Welch lyrics Elvis Presley Blues
Was thinking that night about Elvis https://youtu.be/7FM8ui2ByUI
Day that he died, day that he died
I was thinking that night about Elvis
Day that he died, day that he died
Just a country boy that combed his hair
And put on a shirt his mother made and went on the air
And he shook it like a chorus girl
And he shook it like a Harlem Queen
He shook it like a midnight rambler, baby
Like you never seen, like you never seen, never seen
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
(My words)
I go to the well..its empty..its empty..
Im so thirsty..
So thirsty
I could just cry.
Dirt roads they jes seem endless baby..endless..
Suffer me
Ain another house for a mile.
Baby so lonesome i could die..
Skies above are open wide..wide
Like Dangerous thought
Consuming,
Looming
And use you to poor Whip or Wills haunted calls of time.
But sweet summer time brings lightnin bugs..fire flies time flies
Through lil gals rare giggles of freedom
And the river, he waves Hello..
You thought he was friendly then the rains came, rain poured
He roared and sucked you under his bridge
Right under that ridge where your house sat..
Home
The roar became your music, sweet music..
A woman in your skinny dip, he licked
And he knew
He pulled you back under, under
Whispers..i am so sorry Jennifer..
My love how you've grown...
When the water understands your secret, he keeps it
Never another dry well..
No thirsty
No alone.
Miles away, pass days by daze
You forget
That ol man, my ol man..
He groans..
As you fly high in a new world...
You shake what he owned.
Lover river..my sweet giver man...
Please forgive me..
You delivered me..
From my wretched dry home.
Written by calamitygin (Jennifer Michael McCurry)
As many writes as you please....
No rules...
Just be honest
Giver Man
Inspired by...
Gillian Welch lyrics Elvis Presley Blues
Was thinking that night about Elvis https://youtu.be/7FM8ui2ByUI
Day that he died, day that he died
I was thinking that night about Elvis
Day that he died, day that he died
Just a country boy that combed his hair
And put on a shirt his mother made and went on the air
And he shook it like a chorus girl
And he shook it like a Harlem Queen
He shook it like a midnight rambler, baby
Like you never seen, like you never seen, never seen
""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""""
(My words)
I go to the well..its empty..its empty..
Im so thirsty..
So thirsty
I could just cry.
Dirt roads they jes seem endless baby..endless..
Suffer me
Ain another house for a mile.
Baby so lonesome i could die..
Skies above are open wide..wide
Like Dangerous thought
Consuming,
Looming
And use you to poor Whip or Wills haunted calls of time.
But sweet summer time brings lightnin bugs..fire flies time flies
Through lil gals rare giggles of freedom
And the river, he waves Hello..
You thought he was friendly then the rains came, rain poured
He roared and sucked you under his bridge
Right under that ridge where your house sat..
Home
The roar became your music, sweet music..
A woman in your skinny dip, he licked
And he knew
He pulled you back under, under
Whispers..i am so sorry Jennifer..
My love how you've grown...
When the water understands your secret, he keeps it
Never another dry well..
No thirsty
No alone.
Miles away, pass days by daze
You forget
That ol man, my ol man..
He groans..
As you fly high in a new world...
You shake what he owned.
Lover river..my sweet giver man...
Please forgive me..
You delivered me..
From my wretched dry home.
Written by calamitygin (Jennifer Michael McCurry)
As many writes as you please....
No rules...
Just be honest
RAIN
I was rockin' in the swing that my dad made,
on the front of our porch, front of our porch,
Where I grew up with the son of a preacher
ever since I was born, since I was born.
I was too young to know all the right moves,
But I fell for him hard, fell for him hard.
And we walked the old tracks to the graveyard
where the moss-covered headstones were leanin'
like they wanted to roam, wanted to roam.
And we found us a place in between some
where the dry yellow leaves had piled so high.
I was rockin' in the swing that my dad made,
on the front of our porch, front of our porch,
Where I grew up with the son of a preacher
ever since I was born, since I was born.
And we laid side by side in the graveyard
With the way and the truth comin' to me.
And I curled my fingers round the buttons,
and I pulled them off, one by one,
making sounds like mandolin strings plucked.
And those buttons flew off just like June bugs,
And they caught the next train bound for Reno
On the rails that I rode danglin'my feet
Before the draft had taken him from me,
When the crops of the fields had all failed
And I started to rain, started to rain.
I was rockin' in the swing that my dad made,
on the front of our porch, front of our porch,
Where I grew up with the son of a preacher
ever since I was born, since I was born.
Copyright ©2016 Jade Pandora. All Rights Reserved
I was rockin' in the swing that my dad made,
on the front of our porch, front of our porch,
Where I grew up with the son of a preacher
ever since I was born, since I was born.
I was too young to know all the right moves,
But I fell for him hard, fell for him hard.
And we walked the old tracks to the graveyard
where the moss-covered headstones were leanin'
like they wanted to roam, wanted to roam.
And we found us a place in between some
where the dry yellow leaves had piled so high.
I was rockin' in the swing that my dad made,
on the front of our porch, front of our porch,
Where I grew up with the son of a preacher
ever since I was born, since I was born.
And we laid side by side in the graveyard
With the way and the truth comin' to me.
And I curled my fingers round the buttons,
and I pulled them off, one by one,
making sounds like mandolin strings plucked.
And those buttons flew off just like June bugs,
And they caught the next train bound for Reno
On the rails that I rode danglin'my feet
Before the draft had taken him from me,
When the crops of the fields had all failed
And I started to rain, started to rain.
I was rockin' in the swing that my dad made,
on the front of our porch, front of our porch,
Where I grew up with the son of a preacher
ever since I was born, since I was born.
Copyright ©2016 Jade Pandora. All Rights Reserved
Oh Dearest Jade...I feel home in your verse...
I love all of it...these are my favs...
And we walked the old tracks to the graveyard
where the moss-covered headstones were leanin'
like they wanted to roam, wanted to roam
And I curled my fingers round the buttons,
and I pulled them off, one by one,
making sounds like mandolin strings plucked.
Love the mandolin...and my god..buttons pulled off as it's sound..
A beautiful way to capture that...
Thank you Growling for this stunner piece...
U you caught home and change by force and grace so well....
I love all of it...these are my favs...
And we walked the old tracks to the graveyard
where the moss-covered headstones were leanin'
like they wanted to roam, wanted to roam
And I curled my fingers round the buttons,
and I pulled them off, one by one,
making sounds like mandolin strings plucked.
Love the mandolin...and my god..buttons pulled off as it's sound..
A beautiful way to capture that...
Thank you Growling for this stunner piece...
U you caught home and change by force and grace so well....
The Newly Planted Vegetable Garden
Asses in the air
I dive
Asses in the air
She jive
Asses in the air
we roll
Asses in the air
our soul
tumbling in the mud
we are five
our friendship, a blooming bud,
in the soil has come alive
She is mine
I am hers
we build a shrine
in our parents' dirt
Asses in the air
they hoe
Asses in the air
we grow
Asses in the air
I dive
Asses in the air
She jive
Asses in the air
we roll
Asses in the air
our soul
tumbling in the mud
we are five
our friendship, a blooming bud,
in the soil has come alive
She is mine
I am hers
we build a shrine
in our parents' dirt
Asses in the air
they hoe
Asses in the air
we grow
http://i1317.photobucket.com/albums/t623/curlycue23/countryboy.png
Please do not consider as entry for the competition, but only as a contribution.
COUNTRY BOY TOY
When I was country boy
Ma and Pa couldn’t afford
No fancy store bought toy
So for that Christmas
Ma did some stiches
And made me up britches
Pockets with holes cut through
So I had something I could use
And play with too.
Please do not consider as entry for the competition, but only as a contribution.
COUNTRY BOY TOY
When I was country boy
Ma and Pa couldn’t afford
No fancy store bought toy
So for that Christmas
Ma did some stiches
And made me up britches
Pockets with holes cut through
So I had something I could use
And play with too.
Artemios said:Dear Jen! I'll try to be back here! I'm confused between your comp and Lobo's comp "Lost boy".
The word "boy" is so inspiring itself! lol!! haha!
Big kiss!
Art
Yeah, I understand that effect...lol it does not have to have a "country" setting....I really hope to see you back love....kisses
The word "boy" is so inspiring itself! lol!! haha!
Big kiss!
Art
Yeah, I understand that effect...lol it does not have to have a "country" setting....I really hope to see you back love....kisses
snugglebuck said:http://i1317.photobucket.com/albums/t623/curlycue23/countryboy.png
Please do not consider as entry for the competition, but only as a contribution.
COUNTRY BOY TOY
When I was country boy
Ma and Pa couldn’t afford
No fancy store bought toy
So for that Christmas
Ma did some stiches
And made me up britches
Pockets with holes cut through
So I had something I could use
And play with too.
Lmao! Kim you are a riot...I love your sense of humor. Thank you for your contribution!
This was so much fun...
Please do not consider as entry for the competition, but only as a contribution.
COUNTRY BOY TOY
When I was country boy
Ma and Pa couldn’t afford
No fancy store bought toy
So for that Christmas
Ma did some stiches
And made me up britches
Pockets with holes cut through
So I had something I could use
And play with too.
Lmao! Kim you are a riot...I love your sense of humor. Thank you for your contribution!
This was so much fun...
Wednesday....
Doll what a fun, imaginative entry!
I love this Image of children being ornery and Rollin round in the mud....
It had a feel like your rears up looked like veggies that had been planted....and your parents hoed and helped you grow...
Nice. Love the metaphor...
And I loved the shrine....
Great entry....thank you!!
Doll what a fun, imaginative entry!
I love this Image of children being ornery and Rollin round in the mud....
It had a feel like your rears up looked like veggies that had been planted....and your parents hoed and helped you grow...
Nice. Love the metaphor...
And I loved the shrine....
Great entry....thank you!!
Too boy for all
The taxi driver was waiting outside of the school
he picked me and my sister up and driven us to my mother’s bar.
The coffee was ready and I run to the hairdresser's to leave it.
Her daughter, my first love, my first kiss, both eight years old,
she and I, a perfect cycle tie, two hands together, breeze like a dream.
My father always away in a work trip, Europe, Asia, around the sea,
my mother serving Johnnie Walker with ice, fresh oblivion drops,
grandmother, blonde hair, same food every day, a secret cigarette.
The cup of the coffee was hot, my little legs were thin
I fell on the street and I was smart to win three stiches on my hand palm.
Just cried a bit, an X-man did the thing, plastic muscles brought me the joy.
This day was going to change what I was calling “my life”
playing, kissing, dreaming of my new teeth after breaking them upon a tree.
Even if my willy was still covered with skin, the hairdresser’s girl
was turning me on when we were eating together ice-cream.
This night, after my stiches became part of my jerking off hand,
the telephone rung and the darkness woke up
my mother’s ear entered in fear, to hear that the bar caught fire.
This drunken man, in love with my mom, threw a bottle of alcohol
on the gas stove, winter is dangerous for Rum without coke.
All that was left was asses, burned memories, and a spider on my arm,
never saw again the hairdresser’s girl, the boy I was, the rip of mind.
I was too boy to be depressed, I was too boy to be in love,
I was too boy to go away, I was too boy to sing a song,
I was too boy to be alone, now I know I am not that boy at all.
My hair are almost grey, my beard and my smile are shouting gay
all these years, the flames of the bar are warming up my worries
all these years, the flames of the bar are bringing up the wind my choice
all these years, the flames of the bar are babying up my fall
but my willy hand will always remind me of the boy that once was for all.
The taxi driver was waiting outside of the school
he picked me and my sister up and driven us to my mother’s bar.
The coffee was ready and I run to the hairdresser's to leave it.
Her daughter, my first love, my first kiss, both eight years old,
she and I, a perfect cycle tie, two hands together, breeze like a dream.
My father always away in a work trip, Europe, Asia, around the sea,
my mother serving Johnnie Walker with ice, fresh oblivion drops,
grandmother, blonde hair, same food every day, a secret cigarette.
The cup of the coffee was hot, my little legs were thin
I fell on the street and I was smart to win three stiches on my hand palm.
Just cried a bit, an X-man did the thing, plastic muscles brought me the joy.
This day was going to change what I was calling “my life”
playing, kissing, dreaming of my new teeth after breaking them upon a tree.
Even if my willy was still covered with skin, the hairdresser’s girl
was turning me on when we were eating together ice-cream.
This night, after my stiches became part of my jerking off hand,
the telephone rung and the darkness woke up
my mother’s ear entered in fear, to hear that the bar caught fire.
This drunken man, in love with my mom, threw a bottle of alcohol
on the gas stove, winter is dangerous for Rum without coke.
All that was left was asses, burned memories, and a spider on my arm,
never saw again the hairdresser’s girl, the boy I was, the rip of mind.
I was too boy to be depressed, I was too boy to be in love,
I was too boy to go away, I was too boy to sing a song,
I was too boy to be alone, now I know I am not that boy at all.
My hair are almost grey, my beard and my smile are shouting gay
all these years, the flames of the bar are warming up my worries
all these years, the flames of the bar are bringing up the wind my choice
all these years, the flames of the bar are babying up my fall
but my willy hand will always remind me of the boy that once was for all.
Art...
Oh dollface
My Greek God...nice so nice...
Only prob...didnt quite feel it coming off the song....but that did not sway my pleasure
Reading this treasure....
Big ol smooch...thanks you sweet thang!
(just had the shsrpest deja vu)
Oh dollface
My Greek God...nice so nice...
Only prob...didnt quite feel it coming off the song....but that did not sway my pleasure
Reading this treasure....
Big ol smooch...thanks you sweet thang!
(just had the shsrpest deja vu)
I was startled when I came back from dinner to settle in, and saw this! Oh dearest Jennifer, how honored I feel from being able to take you there with my ink, and have it become possible through the amazing theme of this competition, with that gorgeous song to inspire me. Thank you so much!
And to Art, and to Wednesday, and even dear Kim, the atmosphere was stirred by everyone's write!
So until we all meet again,
with love,
Jadey
And to Art, and to Wednesday, and even dear Kim, the atmosphere was stirred by everyone's write!
So until we all meet again,
with love,
Jadey
