Poetry competition CLOSED 10th December 2012 4:05pm
WINNER
misscellany (-------------)
misscellany (-------------)
RUNNERS-UP:
Magdalena
and MaggieG
Cure for navel-gazing
Poetry Contest Description
All right, let's shake things up.
My favorite definition of depression is "too much introspection." So, let's go out there and see what's happening in other lives, and see if we can get the darkness fan club cheered up a bit (let's stop those old thoughts going round and round).
Tell me about a crazy, brilliant incident. I don't care if it's some story you heard in a pub, recycled and third-hand. If it struck a chord, I want to hear about it. Not fiction, reality is more than enough.
It has to be about other people, not about your own life (avoiding self is the exercise here). I want to hear what made you see beyond yourself, a slice of life elsewhere – a small detail, or a large revelation, no matter which.
One example: http://blackthoughts-jb.blogspot.gr/2009/08/new-girl.html (I found this blog, hilarious)
presented in a poem:
The New Girl
The bakers were making flans
feverishly, chased by
growing orders and
lazy managers.
The new girl bounded in
and took a strawberry,
flouting the regulations
on her first day.
She balanced the fruit
on her head, sang
to herself and
boxed some cookies.
The others froze, watching her
as she twirled, and
danced her way to lunch,
the strawberry still hers.
New poems, please.
Two entries per poet.
No other rules.
Tell me about a crazy, brilliant incident. I don't care if it's some story you heard in a pub, recycled and third-hand. If it struck a chord, I want to hear about it. Not fiction, reality is more than enough.
It has to be about other people, not about your own life (avoiding self is the exercise here). I want to hear what made you see beyond yourself, a slice of life elsewhere – a small detail, or a large revelation, no matter which.
One example: http://blackthoughts-jb.blogspot.gr/2009/08/new-girl.html (I found this blog, hilarious)
presented in a poem:
The New Girl
The bakers were making flans
feverishly, chased by
growing orders and
lazy managers.
The new girl bounded in
and took a strawberry,
flouting the regulations
on her first day.
She balanced the fruit
on her head, sang
to herself and
boxed some cookies.
The others froze, watching her
as she twirled, and
danced her way to lunch,
the strawberry still hers.
New poems, please.
Two entries per poet.
No other rules.
Is this the kind of thing you mean Atakti? It is a true story, only I was one of the fun girls on the dance floor in real life.
Miss Snooty
Out one night in a bar
quietly observing
~as I do~
Watching the dance floor
sober becoming gradually drunk
fun girls and the rather snooty girl
looking down her nose at them
Both girls quite intoxicated
well aware of Miss snooty
They took it up a level
started doing sensual dancing
up and down the wall
Miss snooty was a tall very thin blonde
could have passed as a bookend
very wooden with no give
couldn't tolerate the girls any longer
she walked off the dance floor
with her nose in the air
She should have been looking where she was going
Before she knew it
she went ass first into the waste paper basket
literally folded in half and was stuck there
Of course the girls couldn't help but laugh
as two guys were trying to pull her out
I smiled
knocked my drink back
then went to the bar for another
ready for the rest of the show
Miss Snooty
Out one night in a bar
quietly observing
~as I do~
Watching the dance floor
sober becoming gradually drunk
fun girls and the rather snooty girl
looking down her nose at them
Both girls quite intoxicated
well aware of Miss snooty
They took it up a level
started doing sensual dancing
up and down the wall
Miss snooty was a tall very thin blonde
could have passed as a bookend
very wooden with no give
couldn't tolerate the girls any longer
she walked off the dance floor
with her nose in the air
She should have been looking where she was going
Before she knew it
she went ass first into the waste paper basket
literally folded in half and was stuck there
Of course the girls couldn't help but laugh
as two guys were trying to pull her out
I smiled
knocked my drink back
then went to the bar for another
ready for the rest of the show
Thanks for being first, Magdalena.
OK.. I'll give it to you - just!
My concern with it being a personal story is that the poet becomes introspective and/or starts describing their own feelings, but since you dodged that bullet, OK.
Point for everyone - I'll be happier with facts and actions, and less concerned with feelings. Don't tell me so-and-so is angry or happy, show me with their words and actions.
Wooot, who's next?
OK.. I'll give it to you - just!
My concern with it being a personal story is that the poet becomes introspective and/or starts describing their own feelings, but since you dodged that bullet, OK.
Point for everyone - I'll be happier with facts and actions, and less concerned with feelings. Don't tell me so-and-so is angry or happy, show me with their words and actions.
Wooot, who's next?
Atakti said:Thanks for being first, Magdalena.
OK.. I'll give it to you - just!
My concern with it being a personal story is that the poet becomes introspective and/or starts describing their own feelings, but since you dodged that bullet, OK.
Point for everyone - I'll be happier with facts and actions, and less concerned with feelings. Don't tell me so-and-so is angry or happy, show me with their words and actions.
Wooot, who's next?
Okay. If I can think of something about someone else I will write it. I removed the "happily" and "not amused" words.
OK.. I'll give it to you - just!
My concern with it being a personal story is that the poet becomes introspective and/or starts describing their own feelings, but since you dodged that bullet, OK.
Point for everyone - I'll be happier with facts and actions, and less concerned with feelings. Don't tell me so-and-so is angry or happy, show me with their words and actions.
Wooot, who's next?
Okay. If I can think of something about someone else I will write it. I removed the "happily" and "not amused" words.
Anonymous
“The Spawning of Irresponsibility and High Bean Prices”
http://www.jenspends.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/heinz-baked-beans.jpg
I was on lunch break the other day,
sitting out on the sidewalk bench,
enjoying my Baby Ruth and
ice cold Coke (I gave up smoking),
when I saw the crash incident coming.
Josh, the cart boy,
was strolling
up the parking lot,
pushing a
wheeled-serpentine,
eight-deep,
steel-caged,
centipede-chain,
had his groove on,
was whistling Dixie.
I loved watching these
guys do their thing,
it was amazing,
spinning carts on a dime,
such awesome tricks,
making good time.
BJQ, the Blond-Jag-Queen,
driving the red sports car,
was so oblivious, was checking
out her reflection on glass.
She drove right through the STOP sign,
ran smack dab into the
middle of the cart chain,
knocked the boy flat on his ass.
He almost got run over
by a passing motorist.
The lady jumped out in a flash,
fuming furious with such expletives
she had a pretty big mouth, started
reading the young man the riot act.
Screaming, she insisted he was all wrong,
asked,“What the hell are doing pushing carts?!”
He was shaking, scared shit-less,
the bystanders were curious, but
went about their business
as if nothing had happened.
Within minutes, corporate was
inspecting the accident scene,
black-tied stiffs
gathered the intelligence.
There was lots of head-nodding
going on with the blond and
some serious dirty looks
being sent back towards
the scraped-up employee.
None of it made sense to me,
I heard them say to the lady,
“Just, send us the bill,
we’ll get your bumper fixed
like brand new,everything
will be okay, Miss!”
Wow, that was incredible,
it was her fault!
Later, I heard
the boy had gotten fired.
Shame, he was a great kid,
always had a smile and
wore his uniform with pride.
I felt sad inside for him.
But, the best lesson for me
was finding out the reason
why beans aren’t so cheap,
they’ve got damages to pay.
http://www.jenspends.com/wp-content/uploads/2011/04/heinz-baked-beans.jpg
I was on lunch break the other day,
sitting out on the sidewalk bench,
enjoying my Baby Ruth and
ice cold Coke (I gave up smoking),
when I saw the crash incident coming.
Josh, the cart boy,
was strolling
up the parking lot,
pushing a
wheeled-serpentine,
eight-deep,
steel-caged,
centipede-chain,
had his groove on,
was whistling Dixie.
I loved watching these
guys do their thing,
it was amazing,
spinning carts on a dime,
such awesome tricks,
making good time.
BJQ, the Blond-Jag-Queen,
driving the red sports car,
was so oblivious, was checking
out her reflection on glass.
She drove right through the STOP sign,
ran smack dab into the
middle of the cart chain,
knocked the boy flat on his ass.
He almost got run over
by a passing motorist.
The lady jumped out in a flash,
fuming furious with such expletives
she had a pretty big mouth, started
reading the young man the riot act.
Screaming, she insisted he was all wrong,
asked,“What the hell are doing pushing carts?!”
He was shaking, scared shit-less,
the bystanders were curious, but
went about their business
as if nothing had happened.
Within minutes, corporate was
inspecting the accident scene,
black-tied stiffs
gathered the intelligence.
There was lots of head-nodding
going on with the blond and
some serious dirty looks
being sent back towards
the scraped-up employee.
None of it made sense to me,
I heard them say to the lady,
“Just, send us the bill,
we’ll get your bumper fixed
like brand new,everything
will be okay, Miss!”
Wow, that was incredible,
it was her fault!
Later, I heard
the boy had gotten fired.
Shame, he was a great kid,
always had a smile and
wore his uniform with pride.
I felt sad inside for him.
But, the best lesson for me
was finding out the reason
why beans aren’t so cheap,
they’ve got damages to pay.
he was what exclamation marks were invented for.
ANTHONY! ANTHONY!
but he was running
little powerhouse legs
he had no memory of falling at all.
he had a smile that had nothing behind it
but was a rare smile pure
and he believed with no fear
his digger would be waiting
when he returned
his mam would be there safe and sane
the sun in his world.
ANTHONY! ANTHONY!
but he was running
little powerhouse legs
he had no memory of falling at all.
he had a smile that had nothing behind it
but was a rare smile pure
and he believed with no fear
his digger would be waiting
when he returned
his mam would be there safe and sane
the sun in his world.
On Any Given American Day -
As our flippancy turns
on a dime, heads are tossed.
Pairs of coined opinions, impaired
with monochrome sentencing are read.
A small new African-American ?
The fresh morality spin for a human being
these days. Because we are all aware
that being Irish,French,or German
need not be identified.
( wink~wink )
Well anyway, I digress
( or do I ? )
This child, toddling into two
was shot, buried in slick
wrappings of filmy garbage.
His final point rests
under the magnolia trees
of a Louisiana playground.
How much animation might that get
as we watch children
on the other side of the world
wonder among the rubble
of fathers who seem to think
( maybe that's giving them too much credit )
setting up war zones
in their Bank yards
of hospitals and schools
might earn them some interest
with the Oppressed accountants?
Let me get cold for a minute
be the wicked witch
as I work out the equation
in my head, of how much more
oppressed can you get than dead?
( Yeah.. I am back to the baby
in the Bayou Folks. Keep up! )
His father got no text message
from some so called bad guy
telling him to take his Bambi
safe to the woods. He brought
that bright baby's life to silence
and bought the ending line
that child support
is just a woman's sales tactic
for grabbing him by the balls.
( Now there is a discussion
on American Greed ! )
But I am sure the argument
of oppression can be illustrated
here as well. "Ahhhh The black guy
can't afford the check because
he's been beaten down by the Man !"
Okay, I'll buy that moral to the story.
But it still don't sum up
Why take it out on your kid ?
( Yeah, The coin just got flipped again
Are you still engrossed in this movie ? )
While the popular stand
on heads of a Jiminy Cricket pose
shaking a finger in other's nose
I am sniffing at something worse
than piles of political donkey shit.
It is the smell of a real monster
fleshed out in more than technicolor.
It is the odor of un-washed
fourteen year olds never seen
on that silver screen,who can blow you
in a New York back alley minute
for a cheeseburger.
( and she can blow more
than smoke up your ass folks ! )
Flavored words, and pretty pictures
don't seem to cut it
when you're hungry.
It is the infected apple
of girls, and boys
who've had tons of sexual fun
too many drugs, too many toys.
Just too damn much period.
And that ain't even the half of it
on any given American day.
How could this happen
in Disneyland, you say ?
Don't look to me for answers.
I'm not Walt, I don't pretend
to have'em.
Watch closely, this narration of good guy
disgust for that lead in tale, and such
peddling like Pinocchio's fair
"who's right and who's wrong"
taxing my G rated patience
as if collectors outside the temple
of Tinkerbell's castle.
I read the dailies again today
of children everywhere
dying in some horror movie ways
while no one took the time to care.
Ja Shawn (He ain't just any child)
wasn't on there.
Nor Lily, still doing her share
her two bits for human relations
behind some nasty ass bus station.
Hell ! According to what I have read
all American children get tucked in with
"When you wish upon a star."
While like money from a wallet
we get sucked into too much, too far.
Oh yeah... They certainly are
safe, and snug in their beds every night.
As our flippancy turns
on a dime, heads are tossed.
Pairs of coined opinions, impaired
with monochrome sentencing are read.
A small new African-American ?
The fresh morality spin for a human being
these days. Because we are all aware
that being Irish,French,or German
need not be identified.
( wink~wink )
Well anyway, I digress
( or do I ? )
This child, toddling into two
was shot, buried in slick
wrappings of filmy garbage.
His final point rests
under the magnolia trees
of a Louisiana playground.
How much animation might that get
as we watch children
on the other side of the world
wonder among the rubble
of fathers who seem to think
( maybe that's giving them too much credit )
setting up war zones
in their Bank yards
of hospitals and schools
might earn them some interest
with the Oppressed accountants?
Let me get cold for a minute
be the wicked witch
as I work out the equation
in my head, of how much more
oppressed can you get than dead?
( Yeah.. I am back to the baby
in the Bayou Folks. Keep up! )
His father got no text message
from some so called bad guy
telling him to take his Bambi
safe to the woods. He brought
that bright baby's life to silence
and bought the ending line
that child support
is just a woman's sales tactic
for grabbing him by the balls.
( Now there is a discussion
on American Greed ! )
But I am sure the argument
of oppression can be illustrated
here as well. "Ahhhh The black guy
can't afford the check because
he's been beaten down by the Man !"
Okay, I'll buy that moral to the story.
But it still don't sum up
Why take it out on your kid ?
( Yeah, The coin just got flipped again
Are you still engrossed in this movie ? )
While the popular stand
on heads of a Jiminy Cricket pose
shaking a finger in other's nose
I am sniffing at something worse
than piles of political donkey shit.
It is the smell of a real monster
fleshed out in more than technicolor.
It is the odor of un-washed
fourteen year olds never seen
on that silver screen,who can blow you
in a New York back alley minute
for a cheeseburger.
( and she can blow more
than smoke up your ass folks ! )
Flavored words, and pretty pictures
don't seem to cut it
when you're hungry.
It is the infected apple
of girls, and boys
who've had tons of sexual fun
too many drugs, too many toys.
Just too damn much period.
And that ain't even the half of it
on any given American day.
How could this happen
in Disneyland, you say ?
Don't look to me for answers.
I'm not Walt, I don't pretend
to have'em.
Watch closely, this narration of good guy
disgust for that lead in tale, and such
peddling like Pinocchio's fair
"who's right and who's wrong"
taxing my G rated patience
as if collectors outside the temple
of Tinkerbell's castle.
I read the dailies again today
of children everywhere
dying in some horror movie ways
while no one took the time to care.
Ja Shawn (He ain't just any child)
wasn't on there.
Nor Lily, still doing her share
her two bits for human relations
behind some nasty ass bus station.
Hell ! According to what I have read
all American children get tucked in with
"When you wish upon a star."
While like money from a wallet
we get sucked into too much, too far.
Oh yeah... They certainly are
safe, and snug in their beds every night.
sitting on a bench, watching them
alone in a public place
her legs over his
his arm around her
their hands laced together
eyes seeing only each other
a quick kiss
soft words unheard by watchers
another quick kiss
she smiles
her head nods
and another quick kiss
more whispered words
a near silent giggle
she turns into him
a much longer kiss
pull tighter together
then apart
hands still clasped
he stands
pulls her up, to him
another kiss
stroll down the path
so close together
they seemed joined into one
http://media-files.gather.com/images/d283/d451/d747/d224/d96/f3/full.jpg
~ O ~
La Grand Dame from the old city; a story told to teach
Her sonny saints were gone; but this one was within her reach
The salt pepper of her hair were locks combed with care
Luxurious her motif; along with a cougar’s stare
She said...come on now cutie, c’mon and play us fair
Just for this occasion I haven’t underwear
She spoke those words to pounce
To bounce around his head
To let him know she wasn’t slow
And that she wasn’t dead
Those the kind of words that echo while giving rise to sex
He assessed the mood, her attitude…
composing what came next
So he lit his Dutch, thanked her much, then
loosened up his tie
He gave to her a little smile with
a claim she had caught his eye
As he touched her cheek, whispered “freak”
she seemed a bit surprised
He told her, Ma, you the sexy one
we’d bet you have many guys
He then fingered her for folly
then she reached inside her purse
Then he toked, choked, flicking ash
while humming a pointless verse
He knew there'd be justice in
just the way she smiled
Knowing age doesn’t make a difference
if you compensate with style
A brilliant touch of flavor; it rested upon her gums
She savored what was added between her heaving buns
With a deep-seated discipline he acted out the scene
To all things classic...his modern's such a fiend
See the door was left ajar for the voyeurs to get their view
Paparazzi love the mingling…the old and a brand that's new
He didn't at all feel cheap; her expense didn't go to waste
Yet if he was to be a number
so too the cost to taste
~O~
..
photo: movie/sunset boulevard
