Competition Ends 28th March 2019 7:19pm
Page:

A Door in the Hive

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
60awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 2002

Poetry Contest

The Classic Corner: Denise Levertov Tribute

Co-Host - JohnnyBlaze ( also the amazing artist who rendered Levertov's portrait )

Part XII in an ongoing series introducing serious writers of DUP to the most well-known poets, both classical and modern.

Priscilla Denise Levertov (24 October 1923 – 20 December 1997) was an American poet who wrote and published 24 books of poetry. Among her many awards and honours, she received the Shelley Memorial Award, the Robert Frost Medal, the Lenore Marshall Prize, the Lannan Award, a Catherine Luck Memorial Grant, a grant from the National Institute of Arts and Letters, and a Guggenheim Fellowship.

Born in England, Levertov began writing at a young age, sharing some of her poems with T.S. Eliot when she was 12 years old. Levertov published her first poetry collection, The Double Image, in England in 1940. Seventeen years later, she had her American collection, Here and Now, released. In the 1960s, Levertov was active in the anti-war movement in the United States. Additionally, she worked as a poetry editor for "The Nation" in the '60s and for "Mother Jones" in the '70s.

Guidelines

Write a new poem honoring Levertov inspired by any of her poems. We feel listing particular poems may be constricting, and want you to follow the inspiration wherever it leads.

Do your best to make us feel as though we are reading poems by Levertov. The more we feel you "capturing her essence" in "your own words" , the higher you will score. This will involve choice of wording, delivery, subject material, formatting, target audience - a wide range of factors.

The Rules

1. One entry per DUP persona.

2. No erotica; this is open to all ages and can't be viewed with an ECW.

3. No exact word limit; however, attempt to keep it no more than 250 - 300.

4. Any form is acceptable ( but studying the poet is advised ).

5. Hashtag your poem #DeniseLevertov and link to your poem here. Do NOT copy paste your poem to the competition. The point is to eventually direct visitors searching for Levertov to your poem via the hashtag we hope will eventually be implemented by the Webmiss.

6. In your poem's notes, provide a link to the poem(s) by Levertov that inspired yours.

Comp will be judged by a panel including myself. You have one month; best of luck to all entrants.

poet
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
133awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 4221

Being Observed In Lesser Than

   
The daily routine of others    
never seems the way for her    
   
when traffic mills in gridlocked streets    
with lines of yellow at a standstill,    
   
where a pedestrian believes    
she’ll make better time,    
until the subway entrance    
   
which disgorges commuters    
up and out into the light of day.    
   
Some racing for buses that slow    
as people break from off the curb    
and push frantically between,    
   
to dodge and sprint    
to the other side of the street.    
   
In the midst of it all, distancing,    
she forfeits subway catacombs    
   
where the males of arctic bears snarl,    
her vision’s flight from their grind  
   
at a glance, reflects an invitation    
she is not entirely unconscious of.    
   
But still, she blindly proceeds    
from the discourse she still finds    
urban more than primitive.    
   
The seams of her nylons run    
afoul,    
The structure of her foundation    
garment infuriates,    
   
and the high heels of her shoes    
become acts against nature.    
   
She’s being observed in lesser than    
her suit of woolen armor.    
   
Even less than the satin half slip    
giving up the ghost in mid-swoon.    
   
And it too, like she, slides inches    
as if to wave a white flag    
of imperfect contrition,    
   
But instead, becomes the unfurling    
of a matador’s cape in the ring,    
which has her think, in conclusion  
   
of everything symbolic    
a ring represents to a woman:    
   
the chase, the capture,    
the bond, bondage and divorce.    
   
And the men watching,    
being only what they are,    
   
snort and score their hooves    
across the hard ground,    
holding back their rage    
   
until they huddle, when, to crash    
the confines, to bellow their intent.    
   
And a cabbie, with his    
hastily embarking customer,    
resets the meter, to make their way    
   
through Central Park, headed for    
the Museum of Natural History,    
   
where displays of taxidermy,          
and bones, will grow eyes for her.    
   
   
   
   
   
#DeniseLevertov    
  
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Go To Page  


poet
JohnnyBlaze
Dangerous Mind
United States
6awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 1019

Alone In The Creek Bed

  
 
Having toiled another morning sun away
with hoes in blistering hands today
weeding rigid rows of prose within
fields planted by other writers
   
we break in shade of poet trees  
   
stanzing knee deep in delighted sighs  
feeling the warm rush between thighs  
giddily drinking from brook babblings;
impromptu conversation stumbled upon;
   
being our roughly drafted    
naked selves splashing  
and laughing it up  
alone in the creek bed;  
   
this wonderful oasis
written just for us  
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
#DeniseLevertov  
   
 
Written by JohnnyBlaze
Go To Page  


Non-entry entry.

poet
ReggiePoet
Reggie
Thought Provoker
9awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 13th May 2018
Forum Posts: 141

Where are They?


 
                     Legions of old
                        once assembled
                        fervent voices spoke as one
 
Where are they?

                        Once hand-in-hand
                        Strangers, bothers and sisters
                        Wanting it, wanting to be there
 
Where are they?

                        Old
                        Age muting devotion
                        Comfort muffled rage
 
Where are they?
 
                        Progeny
                        Two generations, more
                        Coddled by false justice
                        Symbolism over substance
                        Justice warrior avatars
 
 
                        Where have they gone?
 
 
 


#DeniseLevertov
Written by ReggiePoet (Reggie)
Go To Page  

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
60awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 2002

Modes of Being ( after Denise Levertov )

March wipes            
its muddy boots.    
Spring advances:    
basilicas of tulip, forget me nots, blue—   
the color of black birds.    
   
The park bench facing east of an empty sun—    
tangerine skirt, blouse akimbo    
amid purple limbs.    
   
  Near the Northern Triangle    
  a migrant woman is raped    
  by an indigenous guide    
  as her child sleeps.
   
   
The park yawns    
its saffron teeth emerge;    
a nocturnal atmosphere awakens—       
its stridulatory organs rub in unison    
against ultrasonic mammals    
sustained in flight, their elongated fingers    
stretching membranes opalescent.    
What a joy to witness silhouettes
become their own darkness!    
   
  Near the Southern border    
  a father's back is bleeding    
  prideless, broken—    
  pleading for his missing son.
     
     
Feet muddy    
we transpire from shadows    
directional depth of night. . .    
  Perhaps turning east    
knowing fire will alight    
ignite our kindling of bones    
complacent in knowledge;    
  what do we do, beyond    
  knowing means, beyond    
  scaffolded heights    
  of barbed fences and walls.    
Holly bushes puncture our veins    
draw blood in remembrance    
an alternative to wishes—     
if we had enough    
to grant relief of suffering.    
   
Cherry trees bloom pink;    
"lumps of snow are melting    
in tulip-cups".    
   
  Near the southern border, in    
  kennels made in America,    
  children are molested—    
  their tiny mouths gagged    
  while outside, their parents beg.    
  It is happening today, now    
  March two-thousand nineteen    
  no different than January,    
  nineteen seventy-four, near    
  Saigon—when I was innocent    
  in jr high school.
   
   
What Liberty, beyond scales    
of blindness, doth tip her flame    
into the balance of humanity    
  to reach regardless    
  the heart-wing of lung    
  to breathe, scream    
  through lack of sight    
  where deaf see more    
  than ever a cry heard by us;    
  our tongues transform—    
  become deadly weapons    
  of defense, shedding    
  not one ounce of their blood—    
  nor a drop of our own.                    
~                        
Written by Ahavati
Go To Page  

poet
ImperfectedStone
P M Banks
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
23awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Oct 2010
Forum Posts: 1007

Tale to Tell

Glass bottle in the earth,    
hidden as rats in the compost bin -
left when glass bottles were commonplace,  
when the deeds were written -  
when a Lady knew her power and laid her plans.  
   
Earnestly, I turn it as it catches flecks of light  
and makes mystery of them    
across the shaded soil -  
where wild garlic and anemone,  
daphne and winter clematis are tipping  
over, almost -  
unnoticed -  
and I see these colours set ablaze  
in their final hours with a turn of glass,    
   
upon it's jagged edges,  
at it's mouth,    
small spikes of light, sprung  
from something unwanted, insignificant -  
timeless  
of a period one cannot find nor travel within, only appreciate, only wonder,  
and I carry it in, with the head of an early crocus  
to sit in the kitchen -  
as a familiar friend.  
   
#DeniseLevertov
Written by ImperfectedStone (P M Banks)
Go To Page  

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
60awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 2002

Life at War ( after Denise Levertov )

To compensate for my father’s  
muted choice, I turned to poetry—  
backpacks of word folded    
precisely as parachutes.    
 
Bullets from a magazine  
shell-shocked my faculties—    
ricocheted off the metal floor    
of a downed chopper in ‘Nam.    
  
Levertov referenced Rilke—    
formless lumps he carried about;    
the irony, or not    
referencing her raw dough:    
  
pebbles that plague memory    
decades after the same war:    
Rilke’s bitterness, Levertov’s weight    
both buried mines in my jungled-gut—    
  
no closer to percipience    
than decoding my father’s silence.      
~    
 
#DeniseLevertov
Written by Ahavati
Go To Page  

poet
Heaven_sent_Kathy
Twisted Dreamer
United States
7awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Nov 2017
Forum Posts: 49

To The Best Of My Faith

From the strength of my conviction
Or is seen as my seclusion,
When you reckon self-restriction,
Yet I suffer no delusion.

Let it show by peerage recessed,
Gaveled quietly in judgment.
May it free-fall in their obsess,
Worn as glory on my raiment.

If conclusion renders payment,
Let my declaration follow;
In my truth holds no betrayment,
Nor my love of God be hollow.

As I kneel beside the waters,
Shows my face of vindication.
In my trust I shall not falter,
As the living Lord’s creation.




#DeniseLevertov
Written by Heaven_sent_Kathy
Go To Page  

poet
snugglebuck
Dangerous Mind
United States
61awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Feb 2014
Forum Posts: 1557

Frogs

Near a lake shore I took a walk 🚶
When suddenly something green
Jumped up, leapt into the water
And with a splash, swam off
The sight brought back memories
Of my childhood when I and my friends
Were enchanted by polliwogs
As they turned from tadpoles
Into charming emerald frogs
We'd catch them just to feel
Their cold slippery skin
Then we'd squeal when they'd slip
From our grasp escaping in the grass
 
Every year that passes
There are fewer amphibian
Toads, salamanders and frogs
To capture a child's attention
I pray they never disappear
For future generations
 
#DeniseLevertov
Written by snugglebuck
Go To Page  


poet
PoetsRevenge
Fire of Insight
United States
5awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 30th June 2016
Forum Posts: 61

The Quest (The Edge Of A Dream)

He hung on the edge of a dream,
         wanting to go further,
to ponder, plunder it's depths.

It resisted him, but not for lack of desire,
for it needed him to keep longing.

He scaled a cliff to get here,
he left all convention behind.

The dream wanted his attention,
it pined to reveal itself,
          but it hungered for nothing else
          other than that.

His pursuit was all that mattered in the end.
His reasons were mere rocks
           tumbling under his feet.

                     .....

        #DeniseLevertov
Written by PoetsRevenge
Go To Page  

poet
PoetsRevenge
Fire of Insight
United States
5awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 30th June 2016
Forum Posts: 61

(The) Web

A string vibrates,
a thousand hairs raise  
  on the flat plain of reception.
 
To run free on a mind with great abandon
     a contrition traces it's steps
         linking it's contrivances
     making dark seem light.
 
Spun sugar, spiderlike and
     unwoven at great speed;
  a neural acceleration,
     a locus unwinding.
 
All praise this intricacy
     tied to my elation,
        palpating my senses.
All praise this flytrap
     forming forevers traceability.
 
Sweet hubris of winds failure
     to waver anchored vacillations of thought.
 
A mind of merging composed
        of tripwires,
   multiplicities of replication,
        complicities of conscience.  
 
To not be encrypted
     here in your web of entrapment
         forever linked to your domain.
 
                     .....
  
 
         #DeniseLevertov
 
       (a non-entry)
Written by PoetsRevenge
Go To Page  

poet
JohnnyBlaze
Dangerous Mind
United States
6awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 1019

Posteriority

 

I thought life was over
but then another had begun
when my back was turned

I was certain I left the Past behind
but there was still plenty ahead
shrewdly disguised as Future

I believed I was done
making a complete jackass of myself
but realized I wasn't ass-whole material

I was sure I was beyond making excuses
but ... but ... but .....








#DeniseLevertov


Written by JohnnyBlaze
Go To Page  


Non-entry entry

poet
slipalong
Thought Provoker
United Kingdom
4awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 158

Rock pool # Denise Lavertov

The beach its pebbles hard beneath
for childhood dreams we bear the pain upon our feet
and shout with glee and wave the net upon the stick

Try and stride between the rocks
youth its balance is the stuff of fun
that learning curve is easier for some

To mix with academic greats
the pools of knowledge that they share
a prodogy to find a foothold with the words of sage

To carve that niche upon the typeset face
the hemit crab it shell so weak
inhabts and finds a home that is unique
 
That rock pool, refilled with each new tide
its life, a small aquarium within it hides
apparent sillness camoflaged upon the shaded sand

The creation forming waves that wand
reflections of the clouds, the sun, the moon
the bubble breaks and  throws its rings

 Talent just to spread,  each corner flung
to reach into our hearts and resonate
man and nature the symbiosis to create

To look and see what lies beneath
and always constantly refresh the drying kelp
all clarity, were that belief within yourself
Written by slipalong
Go To Page  

Page:
Go to: