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Through the Alphabet—The Letter “J”
Poetry Contest Description
Use all the words in the list below , in a poem
Next up, the letter "J” ! Same rules as the other alphabet comps:
One poem per poet
Any style, length
Use all the words in the list in your poem
Two weeks to complete
Winner is decided by public vote
Here's your list of words:
June
Justify
Javelin
Johannesburg
Judge
Jetty
Jovial
Jar
Joke
Jealous
One poem per poet
Any style, length
Use all the words in the list in your poem
Two weeks to complete
Winner is decided by public vote
Here's your list of words:
June
Justify
Javelin
Johannesburg
Judge
Jetty
Jovial
Jar
Joke
Jealous
Blood Lust, Looting, and Reminiscing
On a fine day in June,
Somewhere around noon,
Out on the jetty,
Before me, the sea, so pretty.
Standing before the ocean,
Hearing the song of the siren,
'Bout to board my ship,
And leave on my trip,
To stow away my loot,
And rise the body count to boot!
I need not fight much,
But after erecting an army of eunuchs,
A blood lust, has my sword,
And my word,
Will justify,
My blood reign,
And the opulence of pain.
Sailing to Johannesburg,
Snuck in with the help of pirates from Somali,
In exchange for a small sum of the vast booty.
Some real friends I have made umong those pirates,
Jovial jokes about blood, pain, and coin, after the blitz.
And on the way home,
In my captain's quarters a jar from Rome,
With the aroma of spices,
Given to me during a meeting of business.
I was the judge of a javelin throwing competition,
The jar was a gift from a contestant,
Who wished to leave her life constant,
And be free,
A pirate like me,
But could never leave her life,
A bit jealous, but knew It would cause too much strife.
A friend I considered her,
This whole trip has been a blur,
Reminiscing of old memories,
And forgetting to make new memories,
Now, out on the sea,
The place I am meant to be,
Leaving those I love behind,
'Cause I am inclined,
To travel, kill, pillage, and leave terror and destruction in my wake,
Every step, an earthquake!
Now pillaging and terrorizing the inhabitants,
Of a port town with my recalcitrants,
And adding to my list of achievements.
On a fine day in June,
Somewhere around noon,
Out on the jetty,
Before me, the sea, so pretty.
Somewhere around noon,
Out on the jetty,
Before me, the sea, so pretty.
Standing before the ocean,
Hearing the song of the siren,
'Bout to board my ship,
And leave on my trip,
To stow away my loot,
And rise the body count to boot!
I need not fight much,
But after erecting an army of eunuchs,
A blood lust, has my sword,
And my word,
Will justify,
My blood reign,
And the opulence of pain.
Sailing to Johannesburg,
Snuck in with the help of pirates from Somali,
In exchange for a small sum of the vast booty.
Some real friends I have made umong those pirates,
Jovial jokes about blood, pain, and coin, after the blitz.
And on the way home,
In my captain's quarters a jar from Rome,
With the aroma of spices,
Given to me during a meeting of business.
I was the judge of a javelin throwing competition,
The jar was a gift from a contestant,
Who wished to leave her life constant,
And be free,
A pirate like me,
But could never leave her life,
A bit jealous, but knew It would cause too much strife.
A friend I considered her,
This whole trip has been a blur,
Reminiscing of old memories,
And forgetting to make new memories,
Now, out on the sea,
The place I am meant to be,
Leaving those I love behind,
'Cause I am inclined,
To travel, kill, pillage, and leave terror and destruction in my wake,
Every step, an earthquake!
Now pillaging and terrorizing the inhabitants,
Of a port town with my recalcitrants,
And adding to my list of achievements.
On a fine day in June,
Somewhere around noon,
Out on the jetty,
Before me, the sea, so pretty.
Written by Orc_Pirate_68
(Sabrina Kirk-Caldwell)
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Juxtapose
Johannesburg its dirty slums, shacks where open sewers run
Put on the pot, dance around the fires skirt
Folk songs, beating feet upon the dirt
Heat of June the spirit of Mandella and promises undone
Pass the jar of bootleg hooch, a measure, test the proof
A circumstance that millions to endure
While zuma had little hope to offer
corruption rife fills Swiss bank coffers
The ship of hope in freedoms shambles
The state handcuff and the manacle the freed
To the jetty it it still tied and shackled
A javelin spear pierced the springboks leaps
No jovial outcome, bring me now the witchdoctors bones
You may think I joke, the voodoo doll to stick with pins
For power corrupts so absolute
When it comes from the poorest roots
Jealous rage, the blood and warpaint
Rise as one and justify no restraint
Chant with just one voice
Judge and march for freedoms hardest choice
Put on the pot, dance around the fires skirt
Folk songs, beating feet upon the dirt
Heat of June the spirit of Mandella and promises undone
Pass the jar of bootleg hooch, a measure, test the proof
A circumstance that millions to endure
While zuma had little hope to offer
corruption rife fills Swiss bank coffers
The ship of hope in freedoms shambles
The state handcuff and the manacle the freed
To the jetty it it still tied and shackled
A javelin spear pierced the springboks leaps
No jovial outcome, bring me now the witchdoctors bones
You may think I joke, the voodoo doll to stick with pins
For power corrupts so absolute
When it comes from the poorest roots
Jealous rage, the blood and warpaint
Rise as one and justify no restraint
Chant with just one voice
Judge and march for freedoms hardest choice
Written by slipalong
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JUNE SWOON (FOOL’S GOLD EDITION)
When May turns into June
In the place of gold
(Our trip to old
Johannesburg)
You won’t be jealous
Of the tune
Some ladies sing here
You’ll judge less
In your jovial dress
Out on the jetty where
It’s hard to be petty
I’ll make a joke
About my javelin poke
That you’ll keep in a jar
To justify
Your silliness
When life gets
Too serious
You’ll let it out
Hardy har har
See I can laugh!
You’ll swoon
In early June
In the place of gold
(Our trip to old
Johannesburg)
You won’t be jealous
Of the tune
Some ladies sing here
You’ll judge less
In your jovial dress
Out on the jetty where
It’s hard to be petty
I’ll make a joke
About my javelin poke
That you’ll keep in a jar
To justify
Your silliness
When life gets
Too serious
You’ll let it out
Hardy har har
See I can laugh!
You’ll swoon
In early June
Written by SatInUGal
(Kumar)
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JO’BURG HISTORY
With gold discovered in June 1884
on Vogelstruisfontein farm
Johannesburg was founded there two years later
to cope with the Witwatersrand gold-rush in-rush.
The otherwise jovial camaraderie of the early years
suffered as jealous prospectors moved in
starting a spate of turf wars. It was no joke.
No longer could you have a quiet jar of ale
in the Drum & Javelin pub.
It was a lawless place, one of the excuses for
introducing apartheid in 1948, so of course
every judge (white, male) upheld it to justify
the segregation on grounds of ‘economy’ as well.
And as for Jo’burg’s famous jetty; well, there is none -
the city lies over 300 miles from the sea.
With gold discovered in June 1884
on Vogelstruisfontein farm
Johannesburg was founded there two years later
to cope with the Witwatersrand gold-rush in-rush.
The otherwise jovial camaraderie of the early years
suffered as jealous prospectors moved in
starting a spate of turf wars. It was no joke.
No longer could you have a quiet jar of ale
in the Drum & Javelin pub.
It was a lawless place, one of the excuses for
introducing apartheid in 1948, so of course
every judge (white, male) upheld it to justify
the segregation on grounds of ‘economy’ as well.
And as for Jo’burg’s famous jetty; well, there is none -
the city lies over 300 miles from the sea.
jovial pleasures
june roses
justify my thirst for
jovial pleasures
that cleave the heart
as the javelin cuts the air.
nonetheless, not so intoxicate
that i cannot approximate
whether dreaming on a jetty
in the tanzanian serengeti
can arrive me in
johannesburg;
or judge for myself
whether dialectal hamburgers
are the idiolectal harbingers
of every jealous rage
that plagues the human stage,
portent of every tired joke
on which the nerves soon choke
and jar
the pregnant page…
© Copyright 2019 May 18
justify my thirst for
jovial pleasures
that cleave the heart
as the javelin cuts the air.
nonetheless, not so intoxicate
that i cannot approximate
whether dreaming on a jetty
in the tanzanian serengeti
can arrive me in
johannesburg;
or judge for myself
whether dialectal hamburgers
are the idiolectal harbingers
of every jealous rage
that plagues the human stage,
portent of every tired joke
on which the nerves soon choke
and jar
the pregnant page…
© Copyright 2019 May 18
Written by cabcool
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Reflections in the Sand
(Venice Beach, CA)
I don’t think I’ve ever been the jealous type,
Then again, growing up I was the butt of the joke,
I got some attention, so I understand the hype,
But I’ve been the kind to hide behind the smoke.
Maybe it’s my dual personality that’s hexed,
Born in June I’ve been given the sign of Gemini,
Jovial one minute, dejected or angry the next,
I’ve detached at critical moments unable to justify.
Sometimes it feels like I can put my feelings in ajar,
Then throw it like a rock or a javelin into the water,
But then the tides slowly bring them back and so far,
I think to myself, in a way I’ve become like my father.
I sit on the sand watching the boats sail beyond the jetty,
Wishing to escape to places like Johannesburg or Molokai,
I judge myself for the mistakes I made but I’m not ready,
Because I think it’s my autism that doesn’t let me cry.
(Venice Beach, CA)
I don’t think I’ve ever been the jealous type,
Then again, growing up I was the butt of the joke,
I got some attention, so I understand the hype,
But I’ve been the kind to hide behind the smoke.
Maybe it’s my dual personality that’s hexed,
Born in June I’ve been given the sign of Gemini,
Jovial one minute, dejected or angry the next,
I’ve detached at critical moments unable to justify.
Sometimes it feels like I can put my feelings in ajar,
Then throw it like a rock or a javelin into the water,
But then the tides slowly bring them back and so far,
I think to myself, in a way I’ve become like my father.
I sit on the sand watching the boats sail beyond the jetty,
Wishing to escape to places like Johannesburg or Molokai,
I judge myself for the mistakes I made but I’m not ready,
Because I think it’s my autism that doesn’t let me cry.
Gone Fishing🐟
It’s June, & winter in Johannesburg,
but how to justify thinking of that.
Why not Cape Town at Table Mountain;
why South Africa at all?
I’m on the other side of the world,
wearing cutoffs over my 2-piece
and peering through Raybans—
Defiant, looking straight into Summer
‘cross the Pacific’s blinding shimmer
as I stand on a weathered jetty,
a jar of live bait at my feet.
A fishing pole in my right hand
gripped tight in its fist
like a javelin
that I’m getting read to throw.
And I bet if it was, and I did,
I might be able to judge
at this distance
a passing fin of big game,
and BAG it, no joke!
What a jovial frame of mind
that puts me in.
Boy I can just see it now—
News headlines
throughout all the townships,
celebrating in the streets of Jo’burg!
It’s summer here.
Boy, they’d be jealous of me!
Written by Jade-Pandora
(jade tiger)
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My gosh, thank you, those who voted... for the win on the letter “J”! A favorite letter of mine, hmmm, I wonder why? Also, well done, Orc_Pirate_68 as runner-up!
And my thanks to our host MadameLavender for coming up with this series of competitions, back when it was just the letter “A”!
Jadey🐾
And my thanks to our host MadameLavender for coming up with this series of competitions, back when it was just the letter “A”!
Jadey🐾
