Competition Ends 1st October 2019 9:39pm
Page:

The Love Song of T. Stearns Eliot

JohnnyBlaze
JohnnyBlaze
Dangerous Mind
United States
13awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 1364

Poetry Contest

The Classic Corner: T.S. Eliot tribute

Co-Hosts - Ahavati & JohnnyBlaze  

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

Thomas Stearns Eliot ( 26 September 1888 – 4 January 1965 ), aside from being one of the Twentieth Century's major poets, was also an essayist, publisher, playwright, and literary and social critic. 

Beginning in the late 1940s, Eliot received almost every accolade the West had to offer a poet. Several universities, including his alma mater, bestowed honorary doctorates. In 1948 he received England’s most exclusive and prestigious civilian prize, the Order of Merit, and, in the same year, the Nobel Prize in Literature.

The Waste Land by Eliot published in 1922 is widely regarded as one of the most important poems of the 20th century and a central work of modernist poetry. Among its famous phrases is April is the cruellest month.

Guidelines 

Write up to 2 New Poems honoring Eliot 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 Eliot. 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. Add the Theme #TSEliot ( already created by the Webmiss ) and link to your poem here. Do NOT copy paste your poem to the competition.   

6. In your poem's notes, provide links and or titles to the poem by Eliot that inspired yours. Without these, we have no way of determining if you were truly inspired by Eliot or simply swapped fresh words into his existing poetry ( which is a form of plagiarism ).

Comp will be judged by Ahavati & JohnnyBlaze.

You have one month; best of luck to all entrants!


ReggiePoet
ReggiePoet
Reggie
Fire of Insight
16awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 13th May 2018
Forum Posts: 201

Not On Purpose

A famous line, writ long before my time.
He’d be banned from Twitter, or worse
If he dared to post such verse
In public, in the shallow culture of our own time.

      “Do I dare disturb the universe?”

Let us go then, you and I,
And make our escape from this world on-line
Back to a world inhabited by human-kind
Unafraid to say what we like.
No bits on a screen spewing words crass and mean.
Parchment will do.

Let us go then, you and I,
To a world fit for flesh and bone
Where reality means we may suffer alone
But free of the FaceBookInc
And the GoogleCentralHeadQuarters.
But you won’t dare go with me, will you?

I am alone.

I see suburbia. I drive through to work.
It is all illusion, I think as I smirk. Sadly.
The perfect lawns are empty,
But for geese fouling their perfection.
Husbands and wives, daughters and sons
Have abandoned a world that was so costly won.

A new reality I must face,
Gladly embraced by the rest of my race—
Monitored intermediation via a tiny screen
Has become the real world.
Absurd!
I fear I am too old to inhabit this world.

Do I dare disturb the universe?

Not on purpose.



Written by ReggiePoet (Reggie)
Go To Page  

JohnnyBlaze
JohnnyBlaze
Dangerous Mind
United States
13awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 1364

Due to growing desire among the participants  ( whom already have a say in which poets are featured ) for more opportunity to express themselves, we are now allowing a maximum of 2 entries.  

JohnnyBlaze
JohnnyBlaze
Dangerous Mind
United States
13awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 1364

Out Dated

  
Her laughter is as contagious as viral videos or memes, outrageously inflected with all manner of isms hysterical. Though never having witnessed a moose hiccupping amidst a fit of inverted sneezes, this might be the closest thing. And judging by the snorts, it appears her sense of propiety effortlessly aborts, but I'm guessing only those with low self esteem would throttle their own throated screams out of concern for what conservatives think. This gal must be their worst nightmare come true in spaghetti strapped evening attire. I wouldn't be surprised if either of those C cups flopped out onto the table as if a wet otter pup determined to sun itself on a rock. Such an awkward wardrobe malfunction fashionably early for the dates I'm accustomed to would be a welcomed sight. Almost forty years is a long time to finally be blessed with companionship this delightful. I feel alive. The dry spell seems to finally be over, particularly underneath the napkin conveniently draped across my lap.
 
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
   
#TSEliot  
   
 
Written by JohnnyBlaze
Go To Page  


Non-entry

Ahavati
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
73awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 3034

We apologize for the hashtag mixup! #T.S.Eliot theme has been created now, so you may edit and tag your submissions. Thank you.

Jade-Pandora
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
153awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 4613

Years after Missouri crossed the Pond

( after T.S.Eliot )
  
 
I spoke in Londonderry overtones,  
Dripping pedigree from my facial bones.  
Impeccably my tailor did the pins,  
He knew where to hide away a man’s sins.  
   
By then of middle age one couldn’t tell  
Where jowling had begun or where it fell.  
Seemed like a love affair with nip and tuck,  
And never once by needle was I stuck.  
   
For here I declare this testimony:  
His diligence of Semite art on me.  
The youth I once held upright years ago,  
I bow allegiance to each stitch he sewed.  
   
No matter if or how he worshiped God,  
It didn’t bother me if it be odd.  
Not Atlas on his shoulders bore the Earth,  
But padded shoulders of my tailor’s worth.      
     
       
 
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Go To Page  

slipalong
slipalong
Thought Provoker
United Kingdom
7awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 250

The fag packet # T S Eliot

In each we saw that touch of suave
Entertain, to proffer oh so smart
A classless act  
James Dean with a cap and a look supreme  
Not the butt but and idiols artifact
That king size slipped from its magazine  
A content shared  
That smile of intentions undeclared  
 Tap the burned disregards  
 The fingers singed and stained  
 That's lifes ashtray
Mingled in the smoke of dreams and hopes
Written by slipalong
Go To Page  

nomoth
nomoth
Twisted Dreamer
3awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 24th Mar 2019
Forum Posts: 64

the capes, the drawls, the runs through the door.

(for The Love Song of T. Stearns Eliot competition)  
      
smell the lamb before it breaks,        
before it is sold by the butcher,        
before he pins up his notaries        
  of meat available.        
his slimy hands back-slapping slap of chop sliding        
  and the baying tongue will        
lick his grime back into the fleece; its ashtray        
of ( forgotten things)        
       
- the bottom of a lane mist.        
- beneath the cushions of a velvet armchair.        
- the impetuous run through the door.        
- all these dusted-custard postcards of a beach-shoreline,        
       
       
...of the heavy blue saucer of the Atlantic        
up on the claps of pebbles and sea-weed drawling        
slipping back into the waves,        
       
their capes keep covering then withdrawing,        
like old camera film that needs re-rolling,        
slow-motion view -  stems from the colibri - the stippling        
 on its last frame…        
       
   like salt-fresh wind bits stinging the eye, chips the chips        
the fortunes in their landing no longer deserving        
because the current, its cold deep worth fearing        
its anger smashing the sea of the body        
on rocks then back together reforming        
  as the sea        
  as a rescued father returning.        
       
#TSEliot
Written by nomoth
Go To Page  

PoetsRevenge
PoetsRevenge
Dangerous Mind
United States
10awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 30th June 2016
Forum Posts: 213

O Light Invisible (Light Within)

In lapping waves did light recede,
as light within my mind so grieved.
O, light that took no form or mien,
yet rushed along to softly fade;
to shrink as slowly did the day.
 
A child looked up into the night
and felt as if he was that bright;
within his heart his soul took flight,
high above an innocence
deeply felt, deeply found:
How I was that child once,
unafraid, unbound.
 
How, removed from  
perception, direction,
I was a ray of light in reflection;
a light unfettered, unknowing of domain
gone far afield and free to reign
O'er the small and in the proud,
beaming wide and singing loud:
 
A light to the ones who hide among crowds
shone into corners to illuminate the Night.
 
(We scurry about under this glare
as ones who, hopeful only dare).
 
                   .....
Written by PoetsRevenge
Go To Page  

imogeequeen
imogeequeen
Twisted Dreamer
United States
  profile   poems   message
Joined 7th Apr 2019
Forum Posts: 14

Uncle EniGMA

My Uncle Warren was a rabbit hole of a man
Full of seep dark secrets of which were unspoken
Questions about him gleaned no family answers
Eighty two he died alone in a rundown plantation mansion
Out of curiosity I went to the funeral: No one else was there
Well apart from the old priest and a grave digger bent over his spade
I couldn't help but notice the grave diggers dirty craggy grin
And the old priest smelling of bathtub gin
Pulpit pronouncements, life style denouncements
Prayers for the dead's unlikely salvation
The grave digger's grin turned to sniggering
There's something wrong is what I was figuring
At the rickety mansion like an unkept hairstyle
Four servants on the stoop were here to greet me
All of them happy and wanting to meet me
Not allowed to go to visit the dead
But only because all four were black
In the parlor we had home made lemonade and stories,
Remembrances, tributes and stories of "Mr Warren"
"He done never beat us even when plates were broke"
A kind man never mean or cruel, slow to anger
"We was faithful to Mr Warren, until the lord took him"
The will read by a dusty old lawyer wearing spectacles
He had left me the house and one hundred thousand
Nothing to his faithful old servants, they accepted with grace
Against this white southern lawyer's advice
I signed all of it over to the faithful four
It was not what my uncle would have wanted
But it should have been Uncle Warren's last wish


#TSElliot

Poem: Aunt Helen by T. S. Eliot
Written by imogeequeen
Go To Page  

Heaven_sent_Kathy
Heaven_sent_Kathy
Thought Provoker
United States
9awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Nov 2017
Forum Posts: 145

Observations

( after T.S. Eliot )


A literary man of books,
I’d taken her as a lover.
Then yesterday I felt it time
To break it off for another.

The tables of my plan, on me
Have turned the way that she is done.
To moving on, ideal and pure;
I cannot change, or sully her.

Her bare feet trip lightly across
The balcony in early morn’,
Where no sun’s heated flush had yet
Graced patio of Venus’ breath.

To this reflection, heart and soul,
In spite of everything I weave,
She in her diaphanous glow
When my intent had been to leave.

Aroused in pagan celebrate
For having know of her like this.
Not having slept through any part
Of what was my defeated night.

I am a slave to memories
With a girl with sun in her hair.
A shadow matching every step,
To forget I was ever there.

Written by Heaven_sent_Kathy
Go To Page  

Page:
Go to: