Poetry competition CLOSED 1st February 2021 6:34pm
WINNER
PoetsRevenge
PoetsRevenge
RUNNER-UP:
eswaller
Page:
Classic Corner Championship: Female Division
Poetry Contest Description
Queen of the Classics, 2020
Co-hosted by Ahavati & JohnnyBlaze
Welcome to our second annual Classic Corner Champion Female Division challenge, of which the winner will be crowned our 2020 Queen of the Classics and will be awarded a specially designed trophy as well as be featured across our website and social network accounts with links back to your DU profile.
Firstly, while any DU member may enter ( as long as they adhere by the guidelines ), only participants of the Classic Corner Comps qualify to receive any award. If your name is on the lists below, you qualify!
Female qualifyers:
Imperfected_Stone
Jade-Pandora
eswaller
mel44
PoetsRevenge
nightbirdblue
jemac
Amorous_tryst
summultima
yelluw_always
Rachelleundrgrd
Black-kwacha
sophie_ericson
DevlinDLC
imogeequeen
MysticalRose
delanee
PandoraUnleashed
classybird
EdibleWords
calamityofgin
TCLilly
DaisyGrace
Eerie
Honoria
LunaGreyhawk
buddhakitty
LilDragonFly
Poems4me
Valeriyabeyond
Male qualifyers:
Vandel_Viaclovsky
Hepcat61
Josh
Blackwolf
Oshinome
KGERICD
ReggiePoet
Taurus385
Slipalong
AdamW
Switchblade
runaway-mindtrain
wallyroo92
snugglebuck
gothicsurrealism
SatinUGal
NewBeginnings
blinkers55
JusTim_
nomoth
highlyfunctional
badmalthus
Commentonly
rabbitquest
AspbergerPoet56
BobbyJames
case28
russel_snow
javalini
Sex_on_the_Joe
anvinvil
Tallen
Secondly, wait ... why the two lists above?
We want you to feel comfortable participating in the comp of your choice. If you are on either list, but identify with being a female, then this is your comp.
If you identify with being male, then only submit entries to the Male Division comp posted by JohnnyBlaze here:
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/competitions/read/11707/#511859
Thirdly, you are allowed to submit a maximum of 2 entries emulating any of the classic/modern poets that have been featured during the year 2020 ( make certain they've been featured! ).
We will judge which is the best of your two entries to ensure that three individuals have an opportunity to qualify for the Crown and placements.
Fourthly, what does it mean to emulate? We want YOU to make everyone believe your poem was written by one of these poets. Write as though you were that poet!
Lastly. . .
The Rules
1. Two entries per DUP persona allowed. Keep this thread clean of everything but entries until after the awards announcement is made. Comment on entries directly to the member's page if you feel moved to. Post any questions or concerns about the comp in the Classic Corner Discussion thread @
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/speakeasy/read/10855/
2. No extreme erotica*; this is open to all ages and can't be viewed with an ECW ( Extreme Content Warning ). * Extreme Erotica would be considered visual imagery which would depict any type of sexual activity as well as the direct naming of body parts, i.e. - nipples, pussy, cock, et al.
3. No exact word limit; however, attempt to keep it no more than 250 - 300 ( UNLESS the inspirational poem is longer ).
4. Any form is acceptable ( but studying the poet is advised ). This includes visual and spoken word pieces.
5. You must select the name of your chosen poet/s in your themes. All previous Classic Corner poets have themes created, and thus your entries will be added to those pages.
6. In your Author's note, provide the poem title ( even if the title of your poem is the same as the inspirational poems ) as well as a link to the poem ( not website ) by your chosen poet that inspired yours. Without this, we have no way of determining if you were truly inspired by the poet, or simply swapped fresh words into her existing poetry and form, which could be considered plagiarism.
7. You may edit your entry up until the moment the competition closes and is locked for judging. Then it's out of our hands; please don't message with corrections once the comp has closed.
Comp will be judged by Ahavati & JohnnyBlaze.
You have one month; best of luck to all entrants!
If you have any questions, please post them to the Classic Corner Discussion thread in the Speakeasy forum:
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/speakeasy/read/10855/
The New Faces (Old To New)
From old to new did mankind pass,
shedding all the woes gone past;
longing for what they once knew,
breaking down what lay askew.
In setting fire to yesterday's ills
and hoping fate will fortune spill;
we give our lives new meaning, yet
spare ourselves from all regret.
But what did we, in sanity renew --
our fate not lost: how we so grew;
leading ever towards a place
would not today recall its face.
And in that face a ghostly air
to trick the watch; in time repair
our dusty footsteps where we'll find
the shadows of all we left behind.
....
(a non-entry)
shedding all the woes gone past;
longing for what they once knew,
breaking down what lay askew.
In setting fire to yesterday's ills
and hoping fate will fortune spill;
we give our lives new meaning, yet
spare ourselves from all regret.
But what did we, in sanity renew --
our fate not lost: how we so grew;
leading ever towards a place
would not today recall its face.
And in that face a ghostly air
to trick the watch; in time repair
our dusty footsteps where we'll find
the shadows of all we left behind.
....
(a non-entry)
Written by PoetsRevenge
Go To Page
I Look At The World (The Higher Road)
I seek to find
the higher road;
in country wide I roam.
But where to find
without bein' blind
a better way to go,
O, a better way to go!
When all around
our dreams lie bound
by fences and corrals;
on paths we walk
comrades who talk
of freer times than now,
O, of freer times than now!
I cannot see
nor feel their pull,
oppressed though they
in joy are masked --
all our wills defy this still:
the better road we lack,
O, the better road we lack!
.....
(a support non-entry)
the higher road;
in country wide I roam.
But where to find
without bein' blind
a better way to go,
O, a better way to go!
When all around
our dreams lie bound
by fences and corrals;
on paths we walk
comrades who talk
of freer times than now,
O, of freer times than now!
I cannot see
nor feel their pull,
oppressed though they
in joy are masked --
all our wills defy this still:
the better road we lack,
O, the better road we lack!
.....
(a support non-entry)
Written by PoetsRevenge
Go To Page
The Gorgeous Dream
'If you must know anything,
know that you were born
because no one else was coming'
- Ocean Vuong
¡
Flutterwings:
you know you always escape a day
we never made -- but how
I would find you in every crushing second
I wanted to die
there, looking up at your dire ascent from
these clouds billowing above where I lie;
Stay.
¡
I never caught you still but blurry;
lines faded against the backdrop sky,
your flashing glance enrobing my horror
of imagining you blown aloft
after gently unfolding -- love
can be that way.
¡
I'm too immature to fly
like you, rapid fire, the bullet-
laden sky is what I shrink from.
Sky falling; pale-honey, oozing.
I cannot reach you, of that
I can be sure; thin air consumes me --
how is it that you are immune to greatest
heights and folly and every glimpse of
Heaven which illumimates a real hell.
How can every storm which propels
you away be your salvation?
¡
I wonder, shall I become the next genesis
of this or a tempest which lifts
the gorgeous dream of us only to jettison it away?
Your wing-smack is silent, but my throat
cannot be.
Love in flight can be that way.
I hear it blowing up -- my inner demolition:
I try to fly.
¡
Why, every time you can't hear me,
in the grasses you breed and brood
in a dense cocoon I can't permeate
under a sun I wanted to become
so I could read you:
each color-speck a word; unintelligible,
flapping in repetition, garbled.
I didn't want to learn this way, I wanted
to unlearn your language --
I wanted to say, lets just run
away: sky caving in
on a cataclysm of our destiny,
our outcome
where we become the plans
we lay, prepare for
indubitably.
¡
One day, a friend and I, we ran
so hard our clothes fell off --
I forgot who came first when I wanted
to wear yours.
I forgot who, between us was more
beautiful; that I never was, but you
were.
How can a person in constant motion
and recession from view not be?
¡
I see it becoming a speck
of who I was yesterday:
today, I am more like you
but in flight, not still;
yellow-wings framed in black,
streetcorner walker, flier,
flower with no name.
Unless the name is promise, I won't
try to translate it.
¡
I won't give it my own name, that way
it will burn to nothing as it
withers and fades --
it will be what we, alone remember,
nothing else, and it will eat
its own words like a moth eats
its cocoon so it can fly to free
itself.
I behold the terror of freedom
and forget why love must endure this
to approach itself.
An event horizon: letting go.
.....
know that you were born
because no one else was coming'
- Ocean Vuong
¡
Flutterwings:
you know you always escape a day
we never made -- but how
I would find you in every crushing second
I wanted to die
there, looking up at your dire ascent from
these clouds billowing above where I lie;
Stay.
¡
I never caught you still but blurry;
lines faded against the backdrop sky,
your flashing glance enrobing my horror
of imagining you blown aloft
after gently unfolding -- love
can be that way.
¡
I'm too immature to fly
like you, rapid fire, the bullet-
laden sky is what I shrink from.
Sky falling; pale-honey, oozing.
I cannot reach you, of that
I can be sure; thin air consumes me --
how is it that you are immune to greatest
heights and folly and every glimpse of
Heaven which illumimates a real hell.
How can every storm which propels
you away be your salvation?
¡
I wonder, shall I become the next genesis
of this or a tempest which lifts
the gorgeous dream of us only to jettison it away?
Your wing-smack is silent, but my throat
cannot be.
Love in flight can be that way.
I hear it blowing up -- my inner demolition:
I try to fly.
¡
Why, every time you can't hear me,
in the grasses you breed and brood
in a dense cocoon I can't permeate
under a sun I wanted to become
so I could read you:
each color-speck a word; unintelligible,
flapping in repetition, garbled.
I didn't want to learn this way, I wanted
to unlearn your language --
I wanted to say, lets just run
away: sky caving in
on a cataclysm of our destiny,
our outcome
where we become the plans
we lay, prepare for
indubitably.
¡
One day, a friend and I, we ran
so hard our clothes fell off --
I forgot who came first when I wanted
to wear yours.
I forgot who, between us was more
beautiful; that I never was, but you
were.
How can a person in constant motion
and recession from view not be?
¡
I see it becoming a speck
of who I was yesterday:
today, I am more like you
but in flight, not still;
yellow-wings framed in black,
streetcorner walker, flier,
flower with no name.
Unless the name is promise, I won't
try to translate it.
¡
I won't give it my own name, that way
it will burn to nothing as it
withers and fades --
it will be what we, alone remember,
nothing else, and it will eat
its own words like a moth eats
its cocoon so it can fly to free
itself.
I behold the terror of freedom
and forget why love must endure this
to approach itself.
An event horizon: letting go.
.....
Written by PoetsRevenge
Go To Page
The Lost Books
The news announced the sinking ship;
water pushing its metal hull
off a gangplank of the straight
until it crumbled as crystal over rock
Planes spotted flotsam and jetsam
—pinched debris riding a caterpillar
of watery waves inching across the sea—
its waterlogged bite engorged
from strewn pages as leaves
sinking into a survivorless
translucency
Below, a commandeered army
—a delegation of new ghosts
manifesting posthumously
because sometimes Poseidon reads
while sitting peacefully at his desk—
allowing bullet and bomb to rest
Maybe this is why I fear dark water;
the unknown can appear a monster
—a Kraken, released upon humanity
for polluting harmony
We deserve it, so I maintain distance
from cruise lines and large bodies
concealing a congress of secrets—
because I know what's waiting
My father told me once
The ocean, he said, is like Vietnam
—it never releases its dead
once asunder
He'd seen too much. . .
rivers swallowing blood
— their deltas ceaseless
in supply and demand
There's nowhere to hide
he added, bodies become bait
Ah, but words,
he said, words are safe
—having survived centuries
of conflict and death. . .
and most knew the other's
last ones, to be delivered to family
should they be recaptured by dust
It is true, [y]ou will always remember
what you were doing
when it hurts the most;
but, what's worse
is not being able to forget
~
water pushing its metal hull
off a gangplank of the straight
until it crumbled as crystal over rock
Planes spotted flotsam and jetsam
—pinched debris riding a caterpillar
of watery waves inching across the sea—
its waterlogged bite engorged
from strewn pages as leaves
sinking into a survivorless
translucency
Below, a commandeered army
—a delegation of new ghosts
manifesting posthumously
because sometimes Poseidon reads
while sitting peacefully at his desk—
allowing bullet and bomb to rest
Maybe this is why I fear dark water;
the unknown can appear a monster
—a Kraken, released upon humanity
for polluting harmony
We deserve it, so I maintain distance
from cruise lines and large bodies
concealing a congress of secrets—
because I know what's waiting
My father told me once
The ocean, he said, is like Vietnam
—it never releases its dead
once asunder
He'd seen too much. . .
rivers swallowing blood
— their deltas ceaseless
in supply and demand
There's nowhere to hide
he added, bodies become bait
Ah, but words,
he said, words are safe
—having survived centuries
of conflict and death. . .
and most knew the other's
last ones, to be delivered to family
should they be recaptured by dust
It is true, [y]ou will always remember
what you were doing
when it hurts the most;
but, what's worse
is not being able to forget
~
Written by Ahavati
(Tams)
Go To Page
non-entry entry
There Goes My Heart
Pitter patter
goes my heart
every time I see you.
Take what belongs
to you - the heart
moving with
every breath
and word spoken
So eloquently.
All I yearned for
was simplicity
and easiness.
The heart never
loses its shape
nor its color
as it never stops
its birdlike or drum
like consistency.
It never stops its
path to freedom.
goes my heart
every time I see you.
Take what belongs
to you - the heart
moving with
every breath
and word spoken
So eloquently.
All I yearned for
was simplicity
and easiness.
The heart never
loses its shape
nor its color
as it never stops
its birdlike or drum
like consistency.
It never stops its
path to freedom.
Written by eswaller
Go To Page
Motherhood (Borderline)
'I mean to live'
- Ai Ogawa
Under a burning sun
hot as the sand we walk on;
his doe-eyes red,
dry lips thirsty,
we escaped. I knew it
had to be, and his father:
I sliced him down the middle
before we left -- a perfect parting
of his powder-white innards
slipping from their secret bag
and scattering where I left him.
Now we walk the low terrain
instead of running
along a high mountaintop ridge,
looking down.
He looks down at us now,
blue nascent ruler
whose bags I carry,
filling me inside. I know
he can always see me --
a vulture can fly anywhere.
The metal edge dividing us
won't cut through his scales
where he reaches across
my borders superseding all
confining limits.
My eyes close.
I see the razors on round wires:
the new god cutting into my arms
in long slashes; A prayer.
Its better this way, I think, the boy
will be rescued --
I am a stone around his neck
I am his thirst.
His oasis is beyond the snake trails
where snakes emerge.
I dreamed of an elaborate
mansion made of the hills,
many peopled,
adorned in all the colors
our natural dyes could create:
fringy caftans flowed around
smiling mothers;
hair in braids, eyes squinting at me --
who is she, one of us?
She must die with us to be made
tribeswoman. She must run
through our rocks as rivers
pouring red courage.
It was a mirage.
I hear a snake rustling --
he flits and hisses, or is it she;
it burrows, tunneling for cover.
We don't get a tunnel, we get
hunger; we are empty even when full
as a snake after it swallows
a meal. White hunger.
Unable to be found.
In the dark I found out why:
I want to live, but can't.
.....
- Ai Ogawa
Under a burning sun
hot as the sand we walk on;
his doe-eyes red,
dry lips thirsty,
we escaped. I knew it
had to be, and his father:
I sliced him down the middle
before we left -- a perfect parting
of his powder-white innards
slipping from their secret bag
and scattering where I left him.
Now we walk the low terrain
instead of running
along a high mountaintop ridge,
looking down.
He looks down at us now,
blue nascent ruler
whose bags I carry,
filling me inside. I know
he can always see me --
a vulture can fly anywhere.
The metal edge dividing us
won't cut through his scales
where he reaches across
my borders superseding all
confining limits.
My eyes close.
I see the razors on round wires:
the new god cutting into my arms
in long slashes; A prayer.
Its better this way, I think, the boy
will be rescued --
I am a stone around his neck
I am his thirst.
His oasis is beyond the snake trails
where snakes emerge.
I dreamed of an elaborate
mansion made of the hills,
many peopled,
adorned in all the colors
our natural dyes could create:
fringy caftans flowed around
smiling mothers;
hair in braids, eyes squinting at me --
who is she, one of us?
She must die with us to be made
tribeswoman. She must run
through our rocks as rivers
pouring red courage.
It was a mirage.
I hear a snake rustling --
he flits and hisses, or is it she;
it burrows, tunneling for cover.
We don't get a tunnel, we get
hunger; we are empty even when full
as a snake after it swallows
a meal. White hunger.
Unable to be found.
In the dark I found out why:
I want to live, but can't.
.....
Written by PoetsRevenge
Go To Page
Anonymous
CCComp Peeps, the clock is a tock ticking. Less than 24 hours remains! And if you've already entered, be sure to double check your entry(s) for errors and to make sure everything adheres to the guidelines.
A huge THANK YOU! to those who paid tribute to the poets featured in our Classic Corner challenges these past 12 months.
Call it emulation, we seek the essence of the classic author in the entrant's own style - not just replacing words of existing poems, but writing as though they WERE those writers!
Our Classic Corner Champions, as we like to refer to them, work HARD, and it shows in their writing. They study and deliver fresh, inspired poetry. We recognize that effort and award accordingly, judging other factors on a scale of 1-5 including but not limited to spelling, grammar, punctuation, form, and content. The most important question we ask ourselves is this: did we feel like we were reading a classic poet?
All that being said, congratulations to the following winners of the Second Annual Classic Corner Championship Female Division.
Queen and First Place: The Gorgeous Dream by PoetsRevenge
It was excrutiating choosing between the above and Motherhood—both were so personally relatable to me. Vuong's work speaks to me through my father and motherhood, well. . .at any rate, both pieces were amazing entries, PR. We appreciate your dedication and commitment to the CCC, but most of all, to the featured poets. You truly give your heart to study and emulation, and it shows.
Congratulations on retaining your current rule as Queen of the Classics!
Queen's Court & Second Place: There Goes My Heart by eswaller
Elena it was so good to see you in this comp. You have carved your own unique style and voice throughout the years I have watched you grow as a poet here on DU. I loved how you personified the human heart, in that it always beats toward freedom. It never gives up regardless of our human circumstance.
Congratulations on placing second! We hope to see you back again.
Congratulations to everyone for quality entries; thank you again for honoring the classics. We hope to see you in next year's Classic Corner Champion challenges beginning June 1st, 2021 where we honor W.H. Auden and Margaret Atwood!
And don't forget - registration for NaPoWrimo 2021 begins March 1st!
I'm really honored to retain the crest of Queen of the Classics, I do feel for all poets and I wanted to put my heart as far into my poems as the famous poets have, and emulate them at the same time. Elena's poem really sums up that heartfelt honesty in emulating Rita Dove, she was one of my surprise favorites, congrats, Elena, you described the heart so well. I'm so glad there is such a great interest shared here, I appreciate all the competition and critiques, an amazing learning experience it's been reading all of them this past year. I do feel like the poetry world is a kind of family, maybe that's an idealism, but it's one that teaches and accepts with no judgement or boundaries. I hope, in the coming year, as poets we can continue to enlighten and entertain a troubled world with hope in our own words, be them frank or symbolic, both light and dark, and always honest. I really look forward to resuming the Classic Corner comps in a couple months, and I hope to see everyone there 
I want to thank Johnny and Ahavati for their dedication as hosts and amazing attention to detail throughout your inventive Classic comps series. It means alot to have the little details noticed and reflected upon, and corrected at times. I also want to thank the Mistress for supporting this project and setting up the theme pages for our continued contribution and use. It means alot and is so helpful to have that support and encouragement continually, I can't fully explain it, but:
“What can be explained is not poetry.”
— William Butler Yeats
I want to thank Johnny and Ahavati for their dedication as hosts and amazing attention to detail throughout your inventive Classic comps series. It means alot to have the little details noticed and reflected upon, and corrected at times. I also want to thank the Mistress for supporting this project and setting up the theme pages for our continued contribution and use. It means alot and is so helpful to have that support and encouragement continually, I can't fully explain it, but:
“What can be explained is not poetry.”
— William Butler Yeats
I am honored that my piece was chosen at runner up/2nd palace. I echo PoetsRevenge‘s above comments. These competitions have helped me grow and learn as I go along. I have been finding my own voice and style of writing. I have never heard of half of these poets (besides Langston Hughes and Lord Byron). I really appreciate Johnny and Ahavati so much. Onto the next one. Thank you!
Anonymous
There were so many great female classic poets this year to choose from: Brooks, Ai, Dove . . .
PR and Elena, you both did your choices great justice, and thank you for making the CCComps successful with inspired entries as always.
PR and Elena, you both did your choices great justice, and thank you for making the CCComps successful with inspired entries as always.
It's our pleasure, PoetsRevenge & Elena. As long as there is one member as dedicated and committed to improving your poetry as you guys, we will continue with these classics.
ONTO NAPO! 🏆📝
Less than one month before registration!
ONTO NAPO! 🏆📝
Less than one month before registration!
