When Dark Doves Fly
JohnnyBlaze
Forum Posts: 5573
Tyrant of Words
23
Joined 20th Mar 2015Forum Posts: 5573
Poetry Contest Description
The Classic Corner: Federico García Lorca Tribute
Co-Hosts - Ahavati & JohnnyBlaze
Part XVI in an ongoing series introducing serious writers of DUP to the most well-known poets, both classical and modern.
Federico del Sagrado Corazón de Jesús García Lorca, known as Federico García Lorca [ 5 June 1898 – 19 August 1936 ] was a Spanish poet, playwright, and theatre director.
Lorca achieved international recognition as an emblematic member of the Generation of '27, a group consisting of mostly poets who introduced the tenets of European movements ( such as symbolism, futurism, and surrealism ) into Spanish literature.
Lorca published numerous volumes of poetry during his career, beginning with Impresiones y paisajes (1918). His lyrical work often incorporates elements of Spanish folklore, Andalusian flamenco and Gypsy culture, and cante jondos, or deep songs, while exploring themes of romantic love and tragedy.
With the publication of his poetry collection Romancero Gitano, or Gypsy Ballads (1928), Lorca received significant critical and popular attention, and the following year traveled to New York City, where he found a connection between Spanish deep songs and the African American spirituals he heard in Harlem.
When he returned to Spain he co-founded La Barraca, a traveling theater company that performed both Spanish classics and Lorca’s original plays. Despite the threat of a growing fascist movement in his country, Lorca refused to hide his leftist political views, or his homosexuality, while continuing his ascent as a writer.
Executed by Nationalist forces at the beginning of the Spanish Civil War, his body has never been found.
Guidelines
Write a new poem honoring Lorca inspired by any one or more of his 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 Lorca. The more we feel you "capturing his 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 ( Extreme Content Warning ).
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 #FedericoGarcíaLorca and link to your poem here. Do NOT copy paste your poem to the competition. The point is to eventually direct visitors searching for Lorca to your poem via the hashtag we hope will eventually be implemented by the Webmiss.
6. In your poem's notes, provide links to the poem by Lorca that inspired yours. Without these, we have no way of determining if you were truly inspired by Lorca or simply swapped fresh words into his existing poetry.
Comp will be judged by Ahavati & JohnnyBlaze.
You have one month; best of luck to all entrants!
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Forum Posts: 5134
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
154
Joined 9th Nov 2015 Forum Posts: 5134
The Gypsy Moon
( after Federico Garcia Lorca )
The cream of the gypsy moon
on this night of green, rising
to its apex as a deeper blush
of a blood orange that children
cannot eat, to leave it intact
lest the old gypsies mourn.
Two lovers walking white horses
on the lake’s shore, are grieved
to not sit astride, to admire
the bath of reflected silver
on each other’s face from the path the moon has taken.
That their love is not welcomed
by the stillborn water, isolated
and fading into the green night
while she bleeds in silence,
unable to hide in veiled mists
on her veranda of high birth.
The cream of the gypsy moon
on this night of green, rising
to its apex as a deeper blush
of a blood orange that children
cannot eat, to leave it intact
lest the old gypsies mourn.
Two lovers walking white horses
on the lake’s shore, are grieved
to not sit astride, to admire
the bath of reflected silver
on each other’s face from the path the moon has taken.
That their love is not welcomed
by the stillborn water, isolated
and fading into the green night
while she bleeds in silence,
unable to hide in veiled mists
on her veranda of high birth.
Written by Jade-Pandora
(jade tiger)
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JohnnyBlaze
Forum Posts: 5573
Tyrant of Words
23
Joined 20th Mar 2015Forum Posts: 5573
[ CC ] Of The Naked Girl
barely leaning lazily---
her bare backside against
a poplar tree occupied
by birds counting two -
loving doves, I believe
by the sound of coo;
I spied the lady, nude
raptured in reverie --- she
being no one in particular
spoke to me without words
I, being of mind to (re)create
captured with precision that gal
going about this exhibitionist swoon
minus hard wood at her soft behind
or those little feathered friends in love
or moon and sun likewise perched above
skied high up until noon
because I could;
that's what I oft have done
and continue to do
Thus, during my visit begun
as an audience of one
I drew, preferring to draw
what I see as it was when I saw
with my very own eyes
without thinking, nor did I think
she would mind being drawn
And there on the lawn sketched in
leaves browned and grass greened
was another lass, naked, leaned
ass against another poplar tree
preoccupied by another pair of doves
continually shrinking
And without a shadow of doubt
I knew each was the other
going about in their swoon
being no one in particular
raptured in reverie up until noon
speaking softly to a moon
barely yet slowly blinking
captured oftly by the sun
unthinking
her bare backside against
a poplar tree occupied
by birds counting two -
loving doves, I believe
by the sound of coo;
I spied the lady, nude
raptured in reverie --- she
being no one in particular
spoke to me without words
I, being of mind to (re)create
captured with precision that gal
going about this exhibitionist swoon
minus hard wood at her soft behind
or those little feathered friends in love
or moon and sun likewise perched above
skied high up until noon
because I could;
that's what I oft have done
and continue to do
Thus, during my visit begun
as an audience of one
I drew, preferring to draw
what I see as it was when I saw
with my very own eyes
without thinking, nor did I think
she would mind being drawn
And there on the lawn sketched in
leaves browned and grass greened
was another lass, naked, leaned
ass against another poplar tree
preoccupied by another pair of doves
continually shrinking
And without a shadow of doubt
I knew each was the other
going about in their swoon
being no one in particular
raptured in reverie up until noon
speaking softly to a moon
barely yet slowly blinking
captured oftly by the sun
unthinking
Written by JohnnyBlaze
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Non-entry
Ahavati
Forum Posts: 14574
Tyrant of Words
116
Joined 11th Apr 2015Forum Posts: 14574
Singularity ( after Federico García Lorca )
Many things shall be said
once I'm deceased—
maybe what I actually wish:
one hundred year-old elms
grow blueprints in dust and ash—
boney ringlets annually; listen
then understand.
Damaged grass bleeds
green leaf volatiles, golden
copper across dry air—
a distress signal:
self-preservation, SOS
against inflicted injury.
Death breeds Truth
despite how unwelcome its fingernail
picks your secret’s lock,
hidden down the chimney’s throat.
Accept his burgundy content
staining plush carpet—
wine-glassed communion:
body, blood
offering Genesis of birth.
Every existing thing alters to live—
marinates slowly inside change.
Everyone gestates hungry until dead,
though not from hunger itself;
but, for Life instead.
See? Nothing was about me personally;
I am no singularity.
~
#FedericoGarcíaLorca
once I'm deceased—
maybe what I actually wish:
one hundred year-old elms
grow blueprints in dust and ash—
boney ringlets annually; listen
then understand.
Damaged grass bleeds
green leaf volatiles, golden
copper across dry air—
a distress signal:
self-preservation, SOS
against inflicted injury.
Death breeds Truth
despite how unwelcome its fingernail
picks your secret’s lock,
hidden down the chimney’s throat.
Accept his burgundy content
staining plush carpet—
wine-glassed communion:
body, blood
offering Genesis of birth.
Every existing thing alters to live—
marinates slowly inside change.
Everyone gestates hungry until dead,
though not from hunger itself;
but, for Life instead.
See? Nothing was about me personally;
I am no singularity.
~
#FedericoGarcíaLorca
Written by Ahavati
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non-entry
snugglebuck
Forum Posts: 1873
Dangerous Mind
77
Joined 3rd Feb 2014Forum Posts: 1873
When Silence Speaks
Silence speaks volumes
With words unheard
Silence begets silence
For all becomes hushed
As every ear strains to hear
Silence's every word
#FedericoGarcíaLorca
With words unheard
Silence begets silence
For all becomes hushed
As every ear strains to hear
Silence's every word
#FedericoGarcíaLorca
Written by snugglebuck
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Heaven_sent_Kathy
Forum Posts: 177
Thought Provoker
9
Joined 1st Nov 2017 Forum Posts: 177
A Solitary Rose
( after Federico Garcia Lorca )
A dark seraph, and a black horse,
riding the one without a broken wing.
My heart is an orange,
drawn and quartered in sections,
succulent and ready for midnight
to take in my breath of desire
before I succumb to the scarred
sunken pits in the garden
that death haunts, that knows
the way is far beyond Córdoba.
But not for me, like a songbird
who sings of my pain,
not of the love I have to give it.
#FedericoGarciaLorca
A dark seraph, and a black horse,
riding the one without a broken wing.
My heart is an orange,
drawn and quartered in sections,
succulent and ready for midnight
to take in my breath of desire
before I succumb to the scarred
sunken pits in the garden
that death haunts, that knows
the way is far beyond Córdoba.
But not for me, like a songbird
who sings of my pain,
not of the love I have to give it.
#FedericoGarciaLorca
Written by Heaven_sent_Kathy
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PoetsRevenge
Forum Posts: 729
Dangerous Mind
28
Joined 30th June 2016Forum Posts: 729
Gaela Of The Remembrance Of Love (Orchard Of Remembrance)
The heavy fruit lay
against bare branches,
All night long,
quinces of pain growing
Like difficult dreams
crowding each other.
White lillies of chalk
hide from the dogs
Who stalk their poisons
in dreams of remembrance
In my secret orchard,
windswept in Night's greenery.
Like tulips in January
I sleep in frost's hibernation.
As a tremor I am kept
by pains of a bleeding rose.
Sometimes the night is a wall
that prevents me from knowing darkness,
Sometimes my eyes are but winds
through Death's orchard of remembrance.
.....
#FedericoGarciaLorca
against bare branches,
All night long,
quinces of pain growing
Like difficult dreams
crowding each other.
White lillies of chalk
hide from the dogs
Who stalk their poisons
in dreams of remembrance
In my secret orchard,
windswept in Night's greenery.
Like tulips in January
I sleep in frost's hibernation.
As a tremor I am kept
by pains of a bleeding rose.
Sometimes the night is a wall
that prevents me from knowing darkness,
Sometimes my eyes are but winds
through Death's orchard of remembrance.
.....
#FedericoGarciaLorca
Written by PoetsRevenge
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Anonymous
Magnetron
Forum Posts: 433
Fire of Insight
6
Joined 20th July 2014Forum Posts: 433
[ CC ] Of My Lovely Dark Dove
Incomplete, always downloading
downloading futures throated
with the thick, streaming sap
secreted by this laurelle branched
Universe of Possibilities---
that foreboding Virgin Territory;
unpenetrated, lubricated space
between legs of Mother Cosmos
suns and moons are destined to end
in continued collision course with;
Where Time and When Space bend
over in submission, commencing
Comprehension's asteriod belting;
Awareness's anal cabal in-itiation
jacking into Mainframe backdoors
hacked, hacked until Access Granted
releases silhouetted white birds
from a bourgening flock of
Unrealized Identities --- their glorious
wholesome exponential potential
shattering the glass ceiling of Humanity
in a sky darkly
And of the dark doves
as they fly, from my Jupiter outpost
I wave as she goes by, seemingly
nothing more than a nude girl
with starry eyes, a constellation prize
straddling Europa's continued whirl
while grasping firm handholds of
Ganymede's beautiful, erected
terrain in his Natural State
For Ex-Machina is Ava and she is
more than human, less than android
in the darkly sky stationed above;
my lovely dark dove in anticipation
incapable of prolonging the arousal
always downloading, downloading
Life
for Ex-Machina ( Ava ) ❤
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poets/Ex-Machina/
#FedericoGarciaLorca
Written by Magnetron
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Non-entry
slipalong
Forum Posts: 825
Dangerous Mind
41
Joined 1st Jan 2018Forum Posts: 825
Flamenco #Frederico Garcia Lorca
Castanets, pulsing blood and coursing
Regina for the veins
Stabs a rhythm
Passion of ivory carved outlines
Deaths arrogance the haughtiness caresses
Cuban heels, hearts stamped crashendo
Puppetiers we danced
To winds that strummed
Plectrum on the strings of fate
Rat-ta-ta long fingers that gesticulate
Bare the beast of inuendo
Flames that lick from our flamenco
That we will kiss in love and hate
Regina for the veins
Stabs a rhythm
Passion of ivory carved outlines
Deaths arrogance the haughtiness caresses
Cuban heels, hearts stamped crashendo
Puppetiers we danced
To winds that strummed
Plectrum on the strings of fate
Rat-ta-ta long fingers that gesticulate
Bare the beast of inuendo
Flames that lick from our flamenco
That we will kiss in love and hate
Written by slipalong
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PoetsRevenge
Forum Posts: 729
Dangerous Mind
28
Joined 30th June 2016Forum Posts: 729
Adam (Tree Of Life)
Tree of wine in
passion's early glare,
not forthcoming of dawn,
engorges fevered veins.
The coolness waits
among seedless worries,
in sorrow's early light,
beam of the Moon's flight.
Adam, dreaming,
sees a child aloft
piercing the apple of his cheek
where the woman groans.
She, in morning's blood
soaks the sweet clay
under the tree of life,
burning in the mists of day.
.....
#FedericoGarciaLorca
(a non-entry)
passion's early glare,
not forthcoming of dawn,
engorges fevered veins.
The coolness waits
among seedless worries,
in sorrow's early light,
beam of the Moon's flight.
Adam, dreaming,
sees a child aloft
piercing the apple of his cheek
where the woman groans.
She, in morning's blood
soaks the sweet clay
under the tree of life,
burning in the mists of day.
.....
#FedericoGarciaLorca
(a non-entry)
Written by PoetsRevenge
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JohnnyBlaze
Forum Posts: 5573
Tyrant of Words
23
Joined 20th Mar 2015Forum Posts: 5573
Just a heads up, Folks.
Ahavati and I are now advertising the Classic Corner comps directly on our website
http://PoeticMedics.com
with the intent of announcing the winners, linking to the winning entries and promoting future comps in the hopes of expanding your readership.
Individual pages for each comp will added soon similar to our NaPoWriMo 2019 page:
http://PoeticMedics.com/napowrimo_2019_poems.html
Ahavati and I are now advertising the Classic Corner comps directly on our website
http://PoeticMedics.com
with the intent of announcing the winners, linking to the winning entries and promoting future comps in the hopes of expanding your readership.
Individual pages for each comp will added soon similar to our NaPoWriMo 2019 page:
http://PoeticMedics.com/napowrimo_2019_poems.html
Ahavati
Forum Posts: 14574
Tyrant of Words
116
Joined 11th Apr 2015Forum Posts: 14574
Attencion: Firstly, we now have a Classic Corner Discussion Thread:
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/speakeasy/read/10855/#448901
Secondly, we're putting the final touches on the Classic Corner edition of our website. Each comp will look like the screenshot above. The icons will link back to your winning poems. If ANY previous CC winner, or current competitor, does not wish to be on featured, please message us immediately.
You can view the site updates here: http://poeticmedics.com/index.html
We've only added winners to Gibran and Addonizio as examples for you to view. We will be adding the rest this week. It is our hope that this will give you more exposure as a writer and drive fresh members to the site. Many of our NaPoWriMo participants experienced double and triple views on their featured NaPo Poems.
While your poetry will not be featured on our alternative social platforms - the link to our classic comps will.
A huge heads up to Johnny for working so hard to have this completed by June ( or, should I say tolerating my design preferences alterations ).
MaryWalker
Forum Posts: 225
Fire of Insight
3
Joined 20th Mar 2015Forum Posts: 225
[ CC ] My Lovely Dark Doves
Hark, my lovely dark doves
I wish to park my head
against your feather
pillowed breasts
and rest comfortably
between sun and moon
listening to heartbeats of yours
causing mine to swoon;
I could not love
anyone more
On all fours, in beggary
exposed, I am poor
faced with mortality
What's a soul to do?
Make this my grave
I say to all of you
watching over me
Let the sun be your
throats I am swallowed by
Let the moon be your
tails I am buried into whole
Feather pillowed breasts
be where I'm laid to rest
Make this the grave
for my soul so poor
my lovely dark doves
Anyone more
I will never love
Written by MaryWalker
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Non entry
PsycoticMastermind
Forum Posts: 209
Thought Provoker
2
Joined 20th Mar 2015Forum Posts: 209
[ CC ] Deja vu Rendezvous
Not likely partridge or finch
perhaps roller pigeon
definitely a Starling in stakeout
perched on laurel branch
in a public park peering
through a pair of binoculars
at man camped on bench
twilght hour grown dim -
Look!
at what she's done to him!
It's almost criminal
Going out on limb
myself, I'd say,
It's subliminal
Spray on the Luminol -
more than meets the eye
going on in this poem
regarding consonance
and as for the assonance -
that's no coincidence either
Silent as a lamb
on the lam far from home
I am the sun
You, the moon
crepuscular, creeping up
from behind throughout June
See how they run in the dark?
How they dance in the sky?
Keeping distance above
far from one another;
in love, a seemingly
forbidden romance
Now, fly, fly, fly
away, little Starling
I promise we'll meet again
soon
and not by chance;
then and only then
I shall kiss you on the lips
during a dark dove day;
our very own private eclipse
We'll dine on vintage saps
during late nightcaps suckled
from that laurel tree's cleavage
you and I both know is just a
metaphor
Underneath its leavage
we'll meet again
same as before
in
deja vu rendezvous
#FedericoGarciaLorca
Written by PsycoticMastermind
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Non entry