Poetry competition CLOSED 17th November 2014 11:14am
WINNER
Pishashee
Pishashee
RUNNERS-UP:
JohnFeddeler
and sammy4444
Lost gem ... WTF!?!
Anonymous
Words we say in science
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/183918-the-things-we-say-in-scilence/
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/183918-the-things-we-say-in-scilence/
Ice
Party streamers, like over cooked spaghetti
hang despondently from the bar optics.
A half empty bottle of champagne
sports a cheap looking pink paper party hat.
Five cardboard party horns, like cylindrical pyramids
Stand erect, their dampened mouthpieces
pointing towards heaven. They remain
upright despite movement from the current swell
There’s a silver tray of half moon sliced fruit.
They sit like a new deck of cards, fanned out
Evenly. The odd one missing.
Condensation surrounds the ice bucket
like a ballerina’s tu-tu.
Inside the bucket just an ocean of water.
There is no ice, cubes or pieces,
like the water that surrounds us
A child’s teddy sits on the bar
holding a gaily coloured drinking straw.
A half full glass is expecting rain
carrying a Chinese brolly
with a lime handle.
An abandoned cocktail weeps
Into its lemon slice
I hear faint strings.
There’s an eerie echo
Of “Nearer my God to thee”
It appears Teddy is off duty.
I pour myself two fingers of
Wild Turkey Bourbon
and wait for the arrival of the Ice
Party streamers, like over cooked spaghetti
hang despondently from the bar optics.
A half empty bottle of champagne
sports a cheap looking pink paper party hat.
Five cardboard party horns, like cylindrical pyramids
Stand erect, their dampened mouthpieces
pointing towards heaven. They remain
upright despite movement from the current swell
There’s a silver tray of half moon sliced fruit.
They sit like a new deck of cards, fanned out
Evenly. The odd one missing.
Condensation surrounds the ice bucket
like a ballerina’s tu-tu.
Inside the bucket just an ocean of water.
There is no ice, cubes or pieces,
like the water that surrounds us
A child’s teddy sits on the bar
holding a gaily coloured drinking straw.
A half full glass is expecting rain
carrying a Chinese brolly
with a lime handle.
An abandoned cocktail weeps
Into its lemon slice
I hear faint strings.
There’s an eerie echo
Of “Nearer my God to thee”
It appears Teddy is off duty.
I pour myself two fingers of
Wild Turkey Bourbon
and wait for the arrival of the Ice
The Expression
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/140872-the-expression/
I will do this if I can,
Even though it will remain
Never, will I be greater than any Man.
But in my exalted feminine,
I am sick of being left behind to cry
And to ask why this was done
To me; the lesser of the beast,
And to the millions alike
Again, and again, and again.
But regardless of those simplistic fears of destinies,
I will continue to cycle on and to stupefy the oddity,
And through the duality of man, I will swim within
All these emotions and revered adversities.
And I will understand life as it is,
As it always will be, and as it always has been.
And the question Why remains open
As this is my virtue
Yet I will change my ways my friend.
And I will do it as my will and remembrance embrace me.
I will do it for the love of the children, and thus humanity
I will do this if I can.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/140872-the-expression/
I will do this if I can,
Even though it will remain
Never, will I be greater than any Man.
But in my exalted feminine,
I am sick of being left behind to cry
And to ask why this was done
To me; the lesser of the beast,
And to the millions alike
Again, and again, and again.
But regardless of those simplistic fears of destinies,
I will continue to cycle on and to stupefy the oddity,
And through the duality of man, I will swim within
All these emotions and revered adversities.
And I will understand life as it is,
As it always will be, and as it always has been.
And the question Why remains open
As this is my virtue
Yet I will change my ways my friend.
And I will do it as my will and remembrance embrace me.
I will do it for the love of the children, and thus humanity
I will do this if I can.
Childhood Hero
I remember the old cracked fake leather armchair
you would recline in at the end of the day
next to the itchy green pull-out couch
where I would lay in amazement at the sound of trains
passing by in the distance in the middle of the night.
There was always a Readers Digest condensed book
split open at the spine, well worn,
sitting on the end table by the lamp
we used as a nightlight.
I remember your teeth soaking in a cup by the sink,
and laughing as grandma told us in warning
to take care of ours or they would fall out too.
I remember the comb you bought me as a present
that I cherished until I lost it out the window
as we returned home down a dark road
after an evening of fishing.
As I got a little older, you got a lot older
and the destiny of mortality slowly took your body functions.
Your pride stayed strong as I grew into my broad shoulders
that heredity passed down your family tree.
During a confusing summer I was with you in the night
when you were no longer able to speak.
I helped your sweet wife change your wet clothes,
and was too scared to laugh,
not that I ever wanted to.
My childhood hero reduced to the perils of decay
as grandma slowly succumbed to the woes of depression
and after you were gone dementia took my childhood from her
retiring as the symbol of peace and love that she always was
when I sat on your knee and you bounced me
like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco,
your laughter matching mine,
so small but pure
in almost forgotten moments of innocence,
now dwindling half memories
behind curtains of bittersweet tears.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/183940-childhood-hero/
I remember the old cracked fake leather armchair
you would recline in at the end of the day
next to the itchy green pull-out couch
where I would lay in amazement at the sound of trains
passing by in the distance in the middle of the night.
There was always a Readers Digest condensed book
split open at the spine, well worn,
sitting on the end table by the lamp
we used as a nightlight.
I remember your teeth soaking in a cup by the sink,
and laughing as grandma told us in warning
to take care of ours or they would fall out too.
I remember the comb you bought me as a present
that I cherished until I lost it out the window
as we returned home down a dark road
after an evening of fishing.
As I got a little older, you got a lot older
and the destiny of mortality slowly took your body functions.
Your pride stayed strong as I grew into my broad shoulders
that heredity passed down your family tree.
During a confusing summer I was with you in the night
when you were no longer able to speak.
I helped your sweet wife change your wet clothes,
and was too scared to laugh,
not that I ever wanted to.
My childhood hero reduced to the perils of decay
as grandma slowly succumbed to the woes of depression
and after you were gone dementia took my childhood from her
retiring as the symbol of peace and love that she always was
when I sat on your knee and you bounced me
like a cowboy riding a bucking bronco,
your laughter matching mine,
so small but pure
in almost forgotten moments of innocence,
now dwindling half memories
behind curtains of bittersweet tears.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/183940-childhood-hero/
This is sleeplessness
This is sleeplessness.
His brain shouting in the dark as his insides tossed and turned,
filling with swirling energy that wanted to burst from his chest
and run as far away as it possibly could.
“Oh please rescue me from drowning in my own anxiety,”
his 3 in the morning plea began.
He was sinking in an ocean of over-thinking explosions,
synapses working so quickly he could
almost see the sparks when his eyes closed.
“Count your breathing.
3. 2. 1…
All alone and no future in sight.
10. 9. 8.
She never even really loved you.
6. 5. 4….
Why are you so bad at life?!?
7….”
He ran out of numbers.
Numbness washes in on the edges but offers little hope or solace.
Each second ticks into a thousand
as his life wastes away against a background of arid desert,
his naked bones bleached white and crumbling into dust.
His seed never spread and his ideas forever locked away in an empty skull
propped comically against a large cactus
like a novelty plastic cow skull in an elementary school play.
“Sweet dreams loser, in your giant empty bed.
With your mediocre sheets you bought on sale on the internet.”
The plastic make-shift shot glass stares him down with a judgmental leer
from the bedside table slash filing cabinet he got for free
from a sister making room for better things.
The unsettled feeling left from the nightmare that woke him
still hovered in the corners of his darkened room.
When had he stopped reaching for the next hand hold of life
and consigned to dangle from this frayed rope
of mediocrity and forced contentment?
When had he finally realized he was still all alone?
A monster under the bed would at least be company.
It would be better than his closet full of skeletons
that only visited on holidays and the occasional weekend.
It would be better than friends that always had
more important things to invest their time on than a steadily souring friendship.
Like milk left on the counter but never consumed,
curdling from neglect.
He needed better friends and a new book.
He needed to sleep.
3 AM had already turned to 430
and his alarm was patiently waiting for the final hour to slip away.
The swirling energy finally condensed against the surface of his mind
like a deep warm sigh.
His eyelids gave in to gravity for a last chance lap of unfulfilling slumber.
“Sweet dreams loser.”
Indeed.
This is sleeplessness.
His brain shouting in the dark as his insides tossed and turned,
filling with swirling energy that wanted to burst from his chest
and run as far away as it possibly could.
“Oh please rescue me from drowning in my own anxiety,”
his 3 in the morning plea began.
He was sinking in an ocean of over-thinking explosions,
synapses working so quickly he could
almost see the sparks when his eyes closed.
“Count your breathing.
3. 2. 1…
All alone and no future in sight.
10. 9. 8.
She never even really loved you.
6. 5. 4….
Why are you so bad at life?!?
7….”
He ran out of numbers.
Numbness washes in on the edges but offers little hope or solace.
Each second ticks into a thousand
as his life wastes away against a background of arid desert,
his naked bones bleached white and crumbling into dust.
His seed never spread and his ideas forever locked away in an empty skull
propped comically against a large cactus
like a novelty plastic cow skull in an elementary school play.
“Sweet dreams loser, in your giant empty bed.
With your mediocre sheets you bought on sale on the internet.”
The plastic make-shift shot glass stares him down with a judgmental leer
from the bedside table slash filing cabinet he got for free
from a sister making room for better things.
The unsettled feeling left from the nightmare that woke him
still hovered in the corners of his darkened room.
When had he stopped reaching for the next hand hold of life
and consigned to dangle from this frayed rope
of mediocrity and forced contentment?
When had he finally realized he was still all alone?
A monster under the bed would at least be company.
It would be better than his closet full of skeletons
that only visited on holidays and the occasional weekend.
It would be better than friends that always had
more important things to invest their time on than a steadily souring friendship.
Like milk left on the counter but never consumed,
curdling from neglect.
He needed better friends and a new book.
He needed to sleep.
3 AM had already turned to 430
and his alarm was patiently waiting for the final hour to slip away.
The swirling energy finally condensed against the surface of his mind
like a deep warm sigh.
His eyelids gave in to gravity for a last chance lap of unfulfilling slumber.
“Sweet dreams loser.”
Indeed.
Judging ... LOST GEM ~ WTF!?!
I reached out to over a dozen DUPers to take part in the judging of the work here. As there are a variety of voices and styles represented - I wanted the same of the judges. My primary contacts were those who are listed as "Top Critiquers" on the site hoping their time spent on DUP would give them a fair and balanced overview of the work presented.
With that said - aggregate scores for this competition are as follows:
I. Pishabee ~ 24.8
II. Sammy4444 ~ 17.0
III. JohnFeddeler ~ 16.0
The outstanding judges ... Harpalycus ~ JazzManor ~ Gabriel ~ Vee
Judges were only asked to comment on their first choice but many went above that - Many thanks on behalf of the writers.
The judges scores and comments - IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER ...
David Macleod Ice 9
sammy4444 Childhood Hero 8
Pishashee The Expression 7.5
JohnFeddeler Gypsy Mirror 7.5
Atakti Krill & Sea Gods 7
Ice.
This at first seems but a nicely observed descriptive piece with effective similes and metaphors and with a well controlled but natural rhythm, but, in terms of its content, rather mundane and shallow. The beauty of the poem lies in its clever oblique reference that leads to the sudden realisation that the writer is Andrews in the smoking room of the Titanic and ones perspective is immediately and radically shifted. The subtle hints and resonances found earlier in the poem suddenly come into focus. To me, whether intended or not, it becomes even more powerful, a metaphor for a ragnarok like ending, set against the background of the sad detritus of a party, with the beautifully controlled final line ‘wait for the arrival of the ice.’ A clever, subtle and ultimately surprisingly moving poem.
-------------------------------------
1. sammy4444 ..This is sleeplessness 9.8
Before I read this piece which is his #2 entry, i read his prior work titled, Childhood Hero which I absolutely loved. I thought who is this guy, he's amazing with the way he tells a story with rich details. Taking caution not to bore the reader and captivating enough (even though they are long pieces) to keep the reader guessing how it'll all end.
I was totally blown away by his natural way of delivery, like a tour of the compartments of his brain, with each step you'd think you're getting there but then he conveys more, revealing deeper to the point where we think we could be him.
And, thats how i felt when i read 'This is sleeplessness', the confusion of the mind, the fragmented thoughts, the frustration, the self pity, the controlled anger, the disappointment in himself desperately trying to get some shut eye to get a moment where he could put his brain to rest.
great inner thoughts in the following lines:
//A monster under the bed would at least be company.
It would be better than his closet full of skeletons
that only visited on holidays and the occasional weekend. //
I looked for grammar, tenses, typos and punctuation, non jumped out even with the two reads i went over, the only problem if one would call it a problem; it's actually a prose. Since the sentences are long and detailed, using conjunctions, clearly indicating that it's a prose. To transform it into style of poetry it would need editing, but as is, as prose, it's absolutely fantastic.
2. Pishashee..The Expression 9.3
This was my no. 1 pick before i read Sammy's work. She most definitely knows the art of writing. The way to manipulate words and the imagery with rhythm and sounds in short concise way, does not take much to figure out, she's a pro.
The controlled tone and the voice of conviction are the backbone of this poem. Despite the fact that there's discontentment, the delivery is of humility and that's what makes it so attractive. To show that it's not about 'do or die' type of thing, but rather, 'i will do my best, because i'm not perfect, and neither are you.' and that's the message that the poem conveys and she does it with brilliance.
No spelling, grammatical, or punctuation errors. Even though in this modern age the rules are relaxed on capitalizing the first letter of each line, it does not take anything away from the poem.
3. alon aLion..SARCOPHAGUS CALLS 8.7
The depth in this poem is just astounding, it can be interpreted in so many ways under the umbrella of social predicament issues.
the following lines are the gem of the poem:
//abandon provides
a lifetime's balance
of mind and body //
how we all need and seek balance, comfort but to obtain those necessary elements in life first we must give up vices, but then vices are the flavors of life. Otherwise, life becomes monotonous.
The last line with salmon die, makes one think how that is associated with the rest of the poem, what is the metaphor in there.
It just means, how swimming against the tides, to get where we need to be, fighting obstacles, defying logic can be life or death.
He's absolutely fantastic with the way he presented this abstract work, which i love, the way a poem makes me think or makes me want to dig for some research, giving me satisfaction that the poet didnt shortchange me with my time invested reading his poetry. Mr. Alion is one fine writer!
He could've used some punctuation but since he chose to line his lines in a short format, punctuation becomes unnecessary. Couple of words could've used a second look, one used a possessive from which was incorrect, another word needed an apostrophe. One other word, used the wrong tense.
4. Alexander Case ..Premature Obituary 8.5
It's a beautiful and a sad piece. There is so much pain, shame, vulnerability, regret and lifetime of memories which weigh heavily on him. Hoping for his child to see that he was not perfect but he tried his best with all he could, with all he knew. It had a strong start and just as strong and powerful ending which to me as a reader i look for, anytime i read a poem and he certainly has done a good job not only showing his vulnerability but also showing that how his actions have caused pain around him.
I want to pick favorite lines, but they are all heartbreakingly beautiful.
He has used the word 'knew' to end the first 3 stanzas, as purposeful repetition and then he didn't in the rest of the stanzas, that's the shortfall with this type of structure, there are certain things that jump out which may not have been obvious as he was writing.
Stanza three, contains the wrong tenses.
Also, the punctuation was a bit of disarray or lack of and it has to do (again) with the structure he's used, like they're a long string of thoughts and he is trying to format them into perfectly aligned lines. Putting more emphasis aesthetically.
I know that at that time he primarily used this type of format, but i believe the structure does not do justice to the poem to elevate as it should.
To compliment and highlight certain lines to bring focus, with stop/pause/think manipulation of breaking the lines and also the right punctuation.
5. Miss Chi..Haiku vi 8.3
She submitted two pieces and at first i was drawn to the other one with the nightingales, till i took a closer look at this one, the detail of how the last word became the first for the next line, painting such an exquisite image in just three short lines of haiku, needless to say she's the mistress of this format and anything she touches turns into a masterpiece.
The color blue is normally associated with sadness but not in this case, there's an element of calm serenity, as if belonging to a place carefree.
I reached out to over a dozen DUPers to take part in the judging of the work here. As there are a variety of voices and styles represented - I wanted the same of the judges. My primary contacts were those who are listed as "Top Critiquers" on the site hoping their time spent on DUP would give them a fair and balanced overview of the work presented.
With that said - aggregate scores for this competition are as follows:
I. Pishabee ~ 24.8
II. Sammy4444 ~ 17.0
III. JohnFeddeler ~ 16.0
The outstanding judges ... Harpalycus ~ JazzManor ~ Gabriel ~ Vee
Judges were only asked to comment on their first choice but many went above that - Many thanks on behalf of the writers.
The judges scores and comments - IN NO PARTICULAR ORDER ...
David Macleod Ice 9
sammy4444 Childhood Hero 8
Pishashee The Expression 7.5
JohnFeddeler Gypsy Mirror 7.5
Atakti Krill & Sea Gods 7
Ice.
This at first seems but a nicely observed descriptive piece with effective similes and metaphors and with a well controlled but natural rhythm, but, in terms of its content, rather mundane and shallow. The beauty of the poem lies in its clever oblique reference that leads to the sudden realisation that the writer is Andrews in the smoking room of the Titanic and ones perspective is immediately and radically shifted. The subtle hints and resonances found earlier in the poem suddenly come into focus. To me, whether intended or not, it becomes even more powerful, a metaphor for a ragnarok like ending, set against the background of the sad detritus of a party, with the beautifully controlled final line ‘wait for the arrival of the ice.’ A clever, subtle and ultimately surprisingly moving poem.
-------------------------------------
1. sammy4444 ..This is sleeplessness 9.8
Before I read this piece which is his #2 entry, i read his prior work titled, Childhood Hero which I absolutely loved. I thought who is this guy, he's amazing with the way he tells a story with rich details. Taking caution not to bore the reader and captivating enough (even though they are long pieces) to keep the reader guessing how it'll all end.
I was totally blown away by his natural way of delivery, like a tour of the compartments of his brain, with each step you'd think you're getting there but then he conveys more, revealing deeper to the point where we think we could be him.
And, thats how i felt when i read 'This is sleeplessness', the confusion of the mind, the fragmented thoughts, the frustration, the self pity, the controlled anger, the disappointment in himself desperately trying to get some shut eye to get a moment where he could put his brain to rest.
great inner thoughts in the following lines:
//A monster under the bed would at least be company.
It would be better than his closet full of skeletons
that only visited on holidays and the occasional weekend. //
I looked for grammar, tenses, typos and punctuation, non jumped out even with the two reads i went over, the only problem if one would call it a problem; it's actually a prose. Since the sentences are long and detailed, using conjunctions, clearly indicating that it's a prose. To transform it into style of poetry it would need editing, but as is, as prose, it's absolutely fantastic.
2. Pishashee..The Expression 9.3
This was my no. 1 pick before i read Sammy's work. She most definitely knows the art of writing. The way to manipulate words and the imagery with rhythm and sounds in short concise way, does not take much to figure out, she's a pro.
The controlled tone and the voice of conviction are the backbone of this poem. Despite the fact that there's discontentment, the delivery is of humility and that's what makes it so attractive. To show that it's not about 'do or die' type of thing, but rather, 'i will do my best, because i'm not perfect, and neither are you.' and that's the message that the poem conveys and she does it with brilliance.
No spelling, grammatical, or punctuation errors. Even though in this modern age the rules are relaxed on capitalizing the first letter of each line, it does not take anything away from the poem.
3. alon aLion..SARCOPHAGUS CALLS 8.7
The depth in this poem is just astounding, it can be interpreted in so many ways under the umbrella of social predicament issues.
the following lines are the gem of the poem:
//abandon provides
a lifetime's balance
of mind and body //
how we all need and seek balance, comfort but to obtain those necessary elements in life first we must give up vices, but then vices are the flavors of life. Otherwise, life becomes monotonous.
The last line with salmon die, makes one think how that is associated with the rest of the poem, what is the metaphor in there.
It just means, how swimming against the tides, to get where we need to be, fighting obstacles, defying logic can be life or death.
He's absolutely fantastic with the way he presented this abstract work, which i love, the way a poem makes me think or makes me want to dig for some research, giving me satisfaction that the poet didnt shortchange me with my time invested reading his poetry. Mr. Alion is one fine writer!
He could've used some punctuation but since he chose to line his lines in a short format, punctuation becomes unnecessary. Couple of words could've used a second look, one used a possessive from which was incorrect, another word needed an apostrophe. One other word, used the wrong tense.
4. Alexander Case ..Premature Obituary 8.5
It's a beautiful and a sad piece. There is so much pain, shame, vulnerability, regret and lifetime of memories which weigh heavily on him. Hoping for his child to see that he was not perfect but he tried his best with all he could, with all he knew. It had a strong start and just as strong and powerful ending which to me as a reader i look for, anytime i read a poem and he certainly has done a good job not only showing his vulnerability but also showing that how his actions have caused pain around him.
I want to pick favorite lines, but they are all heartbreakingly beautiful.
He has used the word 'knew' to end the first 3 stanzas, as purposeful repetition and then he didn't in the rest of the stanzas, that's the shortfall with this type of structure, there are certain things that jump out which may not have been obvious as he was writing.
Stanza three, contains the wrong tenses.
Also, the punctuation was a bit of disarray or lack of and it has to do (again) with the structure he's used, like they're a long string of thoughts and he is trying to format them into perfectly aligned lines. Putting more emphasis aesthetically.
I know that at that time he primarily used this type of format, but i believe the structure does not do justice to the poem to elevate as it should.
To compliment and highlight certain lines to bring focus, with stop/pause/think manipulation of breaking the lines and also the right punctuation.
5. Miss Chi..Haiku vi 8.3
She submitted two pieces and at first i was drawn to the other one with the nightingales, till i took a closer look at this one, the detail of how the last word became the first for the next line, painting such an exquisite image in just three short lines of haiku, needless to say she's the mistress of this format and anything she touches turns into a masterpiece.
The color blue is normally associated with sadness but not in this case, there's an element of calm serenity, as if belonging to a place carefree.
1. Miss G.: Ashes Of Yesteryear 10.0 / Super Words Beatifully Woven inTo One Masterpiece!
2. JJ. Chance Encounter 9.0 / Peculiar Story And Thrilling Stroryline. Enjoyed!
3. John Feddeler: Gypsy Mirror 8.5 / Such A Romantic Story. So Well Written And Fantasy Swims Through The Lines. Lovely!
4. Pishashee: The Expressions 8.0 / A Real Cool Artfully Composed Ars Poetica. Strong Hymnic Like Lines Carefully Crafted With A Soft Touchdown At The End ... Showing The Author Clear Knows Not All Might Be Achieved .. Lovely!
5. Gardenlover: Poetic Protest 7.0 / Awesome Theme Thoughtful Execution
-------------------------------------
REKS24- Let Children Be 9.8
compelling tell of a personal history that includes well known historical names and describes that zest or vitality of exploration that we lose as maturity sets in
JJJay Jr - Dancing 9.3
Sammy 4444- Childhood Hero 9.0
Section eighty - The White Seat 8.9
Ceejay - Developments 8.5
-------------------------------------
More than anything I hope both writers and judges discovered some new ink to subscribe to, this place is a treasure chest.
Up next: With over 7 feet (2+ meters) of snow in Buffalo, New York (I lived there for two years) ... Their are many in that area who are gonna be trapped inside for days ... I'm thinking an erotica competition would be good to aide in the coming baby boom next August and September.
2. JJ. Chance Encounter 9.0 / Peculiar Story And Thrilling Stroryline. Enjoyed!
3. John Feddeler: Gypsy Mirror 8.5 / Such A Romantic Story. So Well Written And Fantasy Swims Through The Lines. Lovely!
4. Pishashee: The Expressions 8.0 / A Real Cool Artfully Composed Ars Poetica. Strong Hymnic Like Lines Carefully Crafted With A Soft Touchdown At The End ... Showing The Author Clear Knows Not All Might Be Achieved .. Lovely!
5. Gardenlover: Poetic Protest 7.0 / Awesome Theme Thoughtful Execution
-------------------------------------
REKS24- Let Children Be 9.8
compelling tell of a personal history that includes well known historical names and describes that zest or vitality of exploration that we lose as maturity sets in
JJJay Jr - Dancing 9.3
Sammy 4444- Childhood Hero 9.0
Section eighty - The White Seat 8.9
Ceejay - Developments 8.5
-------------------------------------
More than anything I hope both writers and judges discovered some new ink to subscribe to, this place is a treasure chest.
Up next: With over 7 feet (2+ meters) of snow in Buffalo, New York (I lived there for two years) ... Their are many in that area who are gonna be trapped inside for days ... I'm thinking an erotica competition would be good to aide in the coming baby boom next August and September.
http://www.fieldeye.org/wp-content/uploads/2010/12/BogartMonroe-500x400.jpg
Judges at the after party ... Harpalycus (center) is the man. PoetSpeak you shoulda come buddy ... I sent you the invite.
Judges at the after party ... Harpalycus (center) is the man. PoetSpeak you shoulda come buddy ... I sent you the invite.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Wow, I’m both astounded and honored. Thank you, Lobo, for sponsoring a contest for a written underdog, and thank you to all the judges for the duty you took on and esteemed so graciously. Congratulations everyone, I’m humbled to be in your company. Again, thank you all.
