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When Dark Doves Fly

Tyrant of Words
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Poetry Contest

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.


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 tiger
Tyrant of Words
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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.
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
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Tyrant of Words
United States
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[ Classic Corner ] 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      

Written by JohnnyBlaze
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Tyrant of Words
United States
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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.  
Written by Ahavati
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Dangerous Mind
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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
Written by snugglebuck
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Thought Provoker
United States
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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.
Written by Heaven_sent_Kathy
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Dangerous Mind
United States
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Forum Posts: 394

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.  

Written by PoetsRevenge
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Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
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Forum Posts: 361

lambs ears

(When Dark Doves Fly competition)  

wrested from a flight
I whispered back, each stem’s name
that had fermented in her perfume.  
a collapse of my head  
upon her nape of morning mist,  
where blood had flowered  
anabatic musks; guiding me  
under a nettled raiment.  
…and I shoplifted, scruffed this moment  
and placed it into the crosshairs

 my on/off switch  
as her flushed spine, unzipped  
with heavens weight crumbling.  
caryatid; from whom each cracked pore  
poured red dusted sand  
leaking through much  too clumsy fingers  
in learned helplessness.  
I lost her to a finer mosaic.  
Written by nomoth
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Fire of Insight
United States
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[ The Muse(s) ] [ Classic Corner ] 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    
for Ex-Machina ( Ava )  ❤  
Written by Magnetron
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Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
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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
Written by slipalong
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Dangerous Mind
United States
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Forum Posts: 394

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.
(a non-entry)
Written by PoetsRevenge
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Tyrant of Words
United States
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Just a heads up, Folks.

Ahavati and I are now advertising the Classic Corner comps directly on our website


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:


Tyrant of Words
United States
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Forum Posts: 9000

Attencion: Firstly, we now have a Classic Corner Discussion Thread:


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 ).  

Fire of Insight
United States
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[ Classic Corner ] 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

Thought Provoker
United States
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[ The Muse(s) ] [ Classic Corner ] 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 -  
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  
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  
Underneath its leavage  
we'll meet again  
same as before  
deja vu rendezvous  
Written by PsycoticMastermind
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Non entry

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