Competition Ends 1st December 2020 5:57pm

She Walks in Beauty

Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 3736

Poetry Contest

The Classic Corner : Lord Byron tribute

Co-Hosts - Ahavati & JohnnyBlaze  

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

Lord Byron  ( born George Gordon Byron, 22 January 1788 – 19 April 1824 ) was a leading figure of the Romantic movement and is regarded as one of the greatest British poets. Among his best-known works are the lengthy narrative poems Don Juan and Childe Harold's Pilgrimage.

He travelled extensively across Europe, especially in Italy, where he lived for seven years in the cities of Venice, Ravenna, and Pisa. During his stay in Italy he frequently visited his friend and fellow poet Percy Bysshe Shelley ( husband of Mary Shelley, the author of Frankenstein ).

Later in his abbreviated life, Byron joined the Greek War of Independence fighting the Ottoman Empire. He died in 1824 at the age of 36 from a fever contracted after the First and Second Siege of Missolonghi.

Byron first experienced inexplicable intense feelings at age eight for his distant cousin, Mary Duff. Within the next few years, he had received sexual advances from and had sexual encounters with adults of both genders.

There is an entire section in Wikipedia under his name dedicated to "Relationships and scandals". Needless to say, he was a passionate young man involved in numerous affairs with both sexes, some even regarded as incestuous. Though his life, similar to his attention span, was short - it was a soap opera that produced some of the world's most highly regarded love poetry.

For more about Lord Byron, visit


- Write a new Poem honoring Byron inspired by only one of his poems.

- While you are allowed a maximum of 2 entries, only the best of your entries is considered viable for the trophy.

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

What is the "essence" we are looking for? It will be a combination of the poet's personality, emotional investment, and message delivered in the inspiration poem you chose.

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 @

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.   

4. Any form is acceptable ( but studying the poet is advised ). While we accept Spoken Word and Visual Poems, please include a text version in your submissions.   

5. You MUST tag your entries with the theme #LordByron. If the theme is currently not available, be sure to add it before the competition expires.

6. In your poem's Author Notes box, provide the title of and a direct link to the one poem by Byron that inspired yours. Failure to not include this information will automatically disqualify your entry.  Without such, we have no way of determining if you were truly inspired by Byron or simply swapped fresh words into his existing poetry ( which is a form of plagiarism ). This is a requirement regardless if you include a copy of the inspiration poem along with your entry or borrow its title.

7. You may edit your entry up until the moment the competition closes and is locked for judging. In fact, we highly encourage you take a few minutes to review your entry to ensure that it is error free in terms of spelling, grammar, and punctuation, and adheres to these guidelines.

Comp will be judged by Ahavati & JohnnyBlaze. As in the past and in the event there is a tie, we will call in third ( and possibly fourth ) judge.

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

Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 8th July 2019
Forum Posts: 311

The Destruction of the Sea-People

A mighty kingdom o’er mountains north  
Tales of its treasure spread widely forth  
Yet coveting bounty from the land below  
Mysterious riches for those in the know

A humble village nestled next to the sea  
Ruled by none but their own humility    
Possessing a prize world-over renown’d  
Honored in secret where secrets abound  
Begrudging the people their loyalty  
The Ruler consumed by his royalty  
Nefarious planning far into each night  
Blinded by greed ever-eager to fight  
Peaceful villagers fell swiftly as expected  
Slaughter’d innocence mercy neglected  
Assumption assured a reward most grand!  
Pompous parade across bloodied land  
Soldiers searched Death’s ghosted halls  
Finding war’s profit behind crumbled walls  
Expecting to uncover vast precious gold  
Payment for greedy souls they’d just sold  
Discov’ring instead a plain wooden box  
Containing a single scroll and no locks  
Retrieving it gingerly from its silk bed  
“Love One Another” was all that it said  
Written by LunaGreyhawk
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Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 3736

The Byronic Man

It just so happen'd by tender age five  
fingertips uncover'd growing passion  
finding more of himself to be alive;  

ladies' undergarments were now in fashion  
causing childhood'd wonderments to thrive  
( thoughts only adults tend to imagine )  
Catalogue'd, art tastefully flashbulb'd bright  
Seeing was believing, deceiving mind  
into notions that women creature'd night  
casting spells upon men become resigned  
to capture beauty with slavish delight  
---fondling every curve front, side, behind ...  
perhaps with pencil n paper likewise  
Many years after, slow to realize  
bust'led lace'd figures were but a diguise;  
for in each boy there shys a girl who lies  
awake until the late hours under skies  
starry, wishing to be stilled art, fully  
Ironic, thinks the Man, Byronic  
He shuts his eyes, tired  
Awake, hers open  
She sighs  
Written by JohnnyBlaze
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Tyrant of Words
United States
92awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 8243

A Man of Simple Dreams

( After Lord Byron )  
To wake of morning, half-light crowning—
spitting flash through arthritic trees;
a spindly flame, waxing stronger  
exposing ivory skin of frosted field.
An aroma, roasted kernel twists
  as cats, entwined amid feet;
timorous stems of shadow retreat
   across leaf-strewn concrete.  
To hear the yodel of migrating loon
  depart winter-tide for passion
disrupts me not, despite their omen;
  armed guards of snow, capturing    
the garden, sparing no green survivor
 save evergreens, their boughs adorned—
pearls before swine; Venus Fly-
 trapped, awaiting inevitable thaw. . .  
aftertastes of solitude, escaping  
 ivory towers o're time's terra firma—
until such, I shall in patience remain  
 a man of simple dreams.  
For J-with love
Written by Ahavati
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Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
16awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 4th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 968

Breath Of Beauty

being attractive
is as natural as breath
for she is beauty
Written by AspergerPoet56
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Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
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Joined 1st Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 459

The bridge soon to be crossed

As near the lake, I cast a stone
and stand and watch it bounce  
 duck's and drakes, squawk in overtones  
skimming, its short flight pronounced  
settled, leave the self so all alone  
short term, that came all unannounced  
as life, will have its ups and downs  
each ripple ebbing, slowly drown.  

In mourning, standing on the bridge  
hear the water trickle past  
 be with it, its dark seeing images  
who threw the die? that you were cast  
 stolen time, that we were pledged  
my soul flies, sombre, at half mast  
fair maiden, taken so, and carried off  
in death so cold, as snow so soft.  
 So waxed and whitened, loving paled away  
carved angels weep, so insincere  
 stand I, beside a clod so freshly laid  
the roses broken stem, rising sap so disappeared,  
recall all joy, before decay  
each vernal day, the never year  
wilting early, as the headstones tilt  
the ground below my feet, it feels no guilt.  
As youth's champagne,  bubbles rising in the glass  
empty, the tall flute of my lament  
 lying now in circumstances caveat  
empty dregs, my life of that ferment  
rising as a ghosts in ethereal contact  
clay hold the emptiness, and not repent  
our joy would ever multiply  
now empathy, it's mask, my eventide.  
 Shadows of our spirit's so divorced  
holding grief, a vacuous diamond ring  
death dealt a final intercourse  
the heat of love and its being  
as the hearse, drawn by the horse  
the dead march, echo's hovering  
till we meet again, in a last kiss  
 the heart, in truth, never could dismiss.
Written by slipalong
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Dangerous Mind
United States
16awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 22nd July 2019
Forum Posts: 11

Alas, before you I stand alone


Alas, before you I stand alone,
Amidst no one else to adore;
There is no friend where I am blown,
This lonely abyss, and tuneless shore.

I’ve come to accept myself, aged and sore.
Within the looking glass I appeal once again;
Not by much, but little more
To become yet anew or, perhaps to begin.

Thus resigned to the world, I raise the curtain
Harnessed and trussed attached to my yoke.
What I’ll ne’er share, is with the devil I’d bargain{d};
Simultaneously smiling as I seethe and choke.

Written by Honoria
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