Britt's Contest [Freebie Round #1]

Hey folks! I know we -just- finished another contest, but I have faith that we can get another started and get some great participation!

That being said, we will have four rounds (maybe a few mini rounds here and there.. keep your eyes peeled!). I have my judges in order and they're just ready to dig in!

FIRST ROUND: Freebie -- Write anything about anything, just toss your name into the hat and go! You have until Dec 14th (next Wednesday), 9am pacific standard time (I am about three hours behind PnQ time, so roughly 12 PnQ time).

**Do not post your poems to your account until after you have been eliminated or the contest is over. If you post your poem and you are still in the contest, you will be disqualified.**

*Also make sure you PM me the poems and do not post them here in this thread :D*

Oh, by the way. 3 bonus points for first poem in, 2 BP for 2nd poem in, 1 BP for 3rd poem in. ;)

This sounds fun, Britt!

Total Fun!
Can you update us regularly with the number of entries?

Like now, are there any entries??
:p

The first two entries have come in -- we have one chance for bonus points left!

Oh awesome another contest is up and running already!

Look forward to this one Britt.

Update -- I have five poems so far, so the bonus points are no long up for grabs. You still have plenty of time to get your poems in, so no rush! Lets push and get 20 poems in for this contest! :D

Sounds fun Britt. Count me in.

Ya, it sounds good :)

Count me in =) sounds fun!

Sounds fun :) I'm in

Thanks guys! :)

Just a reminder for everyone to PM me the poems and not post them in here.. just in case.

11 poems so far, I think this is going to be a great turn out! Still time left!

Holy schmackeroni. Nothing entices me like competition. Reading that make me want to participate. Come on, old brain, come oooon!

12 in now.. and I'm seeing new faces :) my goal is 20 poems, I think we can do that!

Cmooon Abby. You can whip a little something out!

15 poems now in ... You have a few days yet!

Edit -- make that 16! I'm itching to get to 20.. ;)

Wow i can finally participate in something hot!! bet it wud b fun.by d way britt can one send in more than 1 entry

WOw just composing mine right now this wud b hot..by d way britt how many entry is allowed

Traditionally one per member

Mikes right, only one entry per member. Please PM it to me and do not post to your account.

24 hours left!

How many entries now?

18 now :D This is great participation.. but I.. want.. mooore. I'm greedy this way lol

Couple of more hours
make sure you post your poem before it's too late!
go go go

Come on, 2 more people! Let's make it to 20! Make Britt happy!

14 hours ;)

Woooot! Got 19 now. One more, I know we can do it!

22 poems now in :) you have two hours left.

24 poems! 5 minutes left! If I get a poem before 9 (five minutes exactly) they will get 2 bonus points ;) What can you write in 5 minutes?!

ROUND IS CLOSED! Give me a few minutes to compile the poems to send to my judges and then I shall post them all for you to see. Feel free to comment on the poems I post and discuss :)

Untitled

It happened so fast,
Like a flash flood with no rain,
A land slide on solid ground,
And the devastation of a hurricane.

Unexpected along came tragedy,
Striking within the blink of an eye,
Without warning a life came to an end,
No time to think or say a last goodbye.

Now the world seems a little darker,
No words to fill this empty space,
A little less light without the smile,
He always wore upon his face.

It's said God called him home again,
For reasons we can't quite understand,
To us it just wasn't his time to go,
But God reached out and took him by the hand.

And though we cannot see him here,
He has not truly gone,
For because of how he touched our lives,
Inside of us he still lives on.

----------------------------------------------------------

Murk and Murder

It's December, and
the fog is stalking
out of the half-dead
grass like a silent
army of white
crows. They
shudder their feathers and the
fog laps up the sides of oak trunks.
They spread their wings and
it settles into the hollows
between logs and sodden
piles of soft,
rotting leaves.
The fog nests down
on my chest like a roosting
bird, fluffing itself
and pecking quietly at
everything
I've buried.

----------------------------------------------------------

Breezing Along With The Breeze

And here you come, again...

Wafting, twirling in the twilight air
thrusting your way through
to flirt with my nose.
Reminiscent of rich
and flavorful fields,
heaving beneath
the soaked Earth.

At times, caressing the spacious
ground of my being
like a current with no bearing,
as I drawn myself
to the infinite beauty
and splendor of
the wonderful World.

Grateful for the cold
that touches me
in the morning
and for the warmth
as gentle as a father
cradles a frightened child.

**How often do you take time to feel the breeze?

----------------------------------------------------------

Untitled #2

I climb across this summit looking for you,

and for answers

that strut themselves before my eyes in the darkness

but never come to light.

And in the screaming wind, I cry to you

"Are you there?" "Can you hear me?".

The cold sweeps in, and wraps itself about me, like an old friend

who's welcome has long worn out.

The snowblindness grows too bright for my eyes

and the lights are on in my bedroom.
I dreamt of you again, but the answers stayed in the dark.

*this author did not give me a title, as did another author, so for judging purposes I named it Untitled #2 to be easier on me and our judges

-----------------------------------------------------------

Shattered Heart (Nonet)

Her
heart has
been shattered
a multitude
of times leaving hands
bloody as she grasps at
fragmented pieces with such
ferocious despair only to
find her eyes painted hollow with hate

---------------------------------------------------------

Family idol
Maths the father of his relatives
with his petrifying looks that com from his aging
his strong perspectives
that has pestled his brothers and sisters
making them take his view as the god raiden.
keep filling their thought of him
and squeezing their juicy brain
his siblings does while they pick up a book to read of him
his equation and formulars all jampacked to form a puzzle
and the only one diversed way out is getting his "answers"
which would lead out of the nozzle
he studies day and night
till the sun loses its shine
woke up his caring sister, biology one chilling night
as the moon gave out its kind
his living sister said "you would get ill
if you dont stop this"
but her angry brother replied
"why dont you go argue with your sister literature
cant u see i am trying to humans all"
well i guess that is why i was made king by our mother nature
and our father world

-----------------------------------------------------------

Fire Engine Red

It was hot outside.
Even more so inside,
though; you came to show
off your paint swatches
under the sunlight that
snuck in through the drapes,
springing forth like spindles
holding the whole
universe together.

They looked nice
and your eyes beamed while
you imagined how beautiful
the walls would look
when they were covered in
this new coat of paint.

I came to check on you
now and then. Each time
seeing how meticulously
the paint roller moved
about - and although you
were clearly doing the work,
it was as though the work
was doing itself. It was
perfect like a new
primordial ooze for the house.

It wasn't long, or
at least it didn't feel long
before the job was done.
Life sprang forth.
Everything gleamed
and it seemed that
your rebirth had
come and swept you
away with that big
beautiful smile.

We left the living room and
made for the patio.
It was still sunny -
I joked all day about
how you had better beat
the sunset while painting.
Sitting in the heat,
we looked out past the street,
toward the ocean and
marveled at its beauty.
Dad came out and joined us
and we talked for the
rest of the day over
a few cold beers.

----------------------------------------------------------

Winter Escape to Barryessa

We carve curved lines in the sand with
dead twigs of a sycamore.
She creaks above our tussled hair,
tired, too tired to bend with the violent gusts
that catch my breath each time.

A park bench is not far in the backdrop,
rotted planks host to a murder of crows,
braying and feasting
on our salted sunflower shells.
We watch them, indifferent.

I pull two coronas from an old backpack,
wet with condensation like morning dew,
and you cast handfulls of black pebbles into the lake.

When they break the surface,
it sounds like rain.

I know how you love the rain,
so as silver clouds turn to an angry gray,
and shadows fall upon us,
I don't have to see the smile
to know it's written across your face.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Unconditional stupidity

Your two-handed sword fell from your hands
creating space for my dreamy fingers
after waiting all this time to be your prisoner.

The irrationality of my body lingers,
enters my brain and goes beyond
what I can feel. I wipe my eyes surreptitiously
in case I need to find more space in me.
-The space is full of my heart-

You are farther and further.
Now.
Not now.
I don't happen to you.
You can't see my adjectives on a silver spoon
even when I offer you them
to cure your blindness.
I want to drop dead immediately:
get your sword and slice me
in this excruciating night.
I love dying for you.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Lonely December

Today I sat with
the past mark-making history
with watercolors that dripped
from my thoughts.
A shadow of who I once was
etched in the distance
upon the moon

and time with all its
power to pull forward
flew backwards
upon a raven's wing
and shied with a quiver,
for even time wore black
that bitter day in
December

Yet with a pocket full
of loneliness and a pen
in hand I mended
a relationship
between feelings and thoughts
and created a distance
from control.
And at that very moment
created the law
to release the wrongs,
hold onto the truth
and leave the rest
unwritten

---------------------------------------------------------

Invisible Terrorist

I don't mean to slaughter,
but to pass; definately a bit
messed up, so what?
Would you call yourself healthy?

I can move completly freely
and calmy watch how some
complain about what I bring.

Yet I am no different than you,
power and money is what I
yearn for, peace achieved by
violence and egalitarianism
by repression. Your fears
and anger nourish me.
I'm not a walking contradiction

because I disguise myself;
an invisible, cold mirror
reflecting society.

Yes, I do pollute your reality
yet you cause me to do it,
you don't stop me.
Rather than run from me,
face it mayflies, your life
is oh so short.

Yours sincerly
dominant Zeitgeist.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Succumb

I want to tower the largest building
ready my voice and exclaim
how I feel
but my thoughts are tangled
and my emotions, alien.

I wish to script this
frustration
into a lovely romance
but all that remains is
bitter, vacant, numb.

I remember when my wishes wore wings
stitched in cliche, but held promise to fly
now remain drowned in frustration

----------------------------------------------------------

Farm

It was stinking hot, hot as Hades.
from the back verandah
stacked with worn torn, old boots and broomsticks.
you could see the lifeless Sheep yards off to the left,
amidst the curling twirling mini tornadoes of dust and dirt,
swirling to and fro.

The yards
three foot six high, three planks with a top rail
squarish in nature,
wood, old, silver grey, hard as nails.
lying askew the rickety gate, hitched with number 8 wire,
the hinge rusted to hell
long since gone to heaven.

stinging nettle grew in long stringy clumps around the planks
that would intentionally catch and brush the unwary,
the only thing green.
to the right, in front of the unruly Macrocarpa hedge
burnt and twisted with age,
were three empty 40 gallon drums
lying on their sides like battered WW1 relics.
each open at the front
pegged to the ground with a short stout chain.
thrown inside each, an old sack.
old bones littered the front,
picked clean, bleached white,
no longer of interest to the flies.
chained to the drums, two black and tan lumps lay hunched,
every so often to stir,
a lazy flick of the tail
or to lift a head an inch or so,
casting an eye towards the back verandah
to see if the boss was up and about.
but then the sun was just up,
He'd be out in a tick,
another day,
another day on the farm.

----------------------------------------------------------

"Dead illusion"

Wipe my tears�
that shell into thee ocean.
Embraced and vined
into depression and
chained by an illusion

Through deserts of rain
and storms of pain,
tornadoes of the insane
reality full of shame

Broken hearts
fill the stars.
Love
it is but a dream
that dwells in the moon

The sun's light
dose not reach my soul
pain an sorrow
even hurt
fills my all
and tears
are what I cry

It is�
a heart broken
girls world
lonely
and small,
no love at all

She cannot find
what crawls�
underneath� � her skin.
The dead silence
within

Chained by an illusion,
Embraced and vined
into depression

Through deserts of rain
and storms of pain,
tornadoes of the insane
reality full of shame

Will her heart be mended
once again?

---------------------------------------------------------

The Remnants Is All That Remains

Before my time I was made to
drown
Grasped for air but they held my head down
Dwelling into a deeper despair
From the very bottom of this pool
I found a second wind that carried me here
Over and above everything else
The glitter of the sun reflects of the ocean
"How vast is its reflected light?"
The question that arises
When I contemplate the signs of God

Having you, I don't require anything else
It's like instant light was found,
As I wondered in the dark
Things were different before
The carnage is what followed
Now we find ourselves in turmoil
But only a long silence is uttered
How is that a response?
When we first met
All doubt was dispelled

Yet I lied to you & now it's too late one lie amounted to another
And before I knew it
I became the recipient of hell
Now everyone that roams around me
Appears so damaged as well
I finally understand how it feels
To lose I feel so unsettled now
But in my haste & selfishness
I concentrated solely on myself

You were my only go between
And I treated u with contempt
Took you for granted
And returned your goodwill with lament
Now you're gone
And my cries for forgiveness seem pretend
you are beautiful, kind & virtuous
These qualities in one are not easy to find
But when in the hands of those that don't coincide
you will be harmed as I have found
Now the remnants is all that remains...

---------------------------------------------------------

Kofi

Somewhere between
labor and injustice
I became a dreamer-

I often thought about
the time,where my
days contained more
than just sweat and
back pain..

although I can
barely recall the
faces of my people..

I still sketched them
in the boarding room
of my mind,
that often waited on
dilated flights to nowhere..

Ripped by choices.
(not my own)
but of those
who bluntly believed
they owned me

I bloomed
in the garden of
acceptance,
and all there was for
me was wood
and hopelessness.

chains of impotence
and a half chopped leg
kept me on the same place
for ages,

but I've been everywhere.

I never saw the
price tag on my body..

still,
for an undisclosed
amount
I was sold,bought
and sold again..

for my skin
was a starless
night sky

a fabricated,
humiliated and abused
piece of charcoal

life will always be about choices,

but,

I don't remember
choosing slavery.

----------------------------------------------------------

Mysterious discrepancy

Sporadic rages of confusion
ranges in the mind of the culprit
as its conscious betrays him
with every beating of his heart.

Shots of coffee won't do
the trick to hide him
from his thriller dreams.

Repetitive scenes of what used to be,
and what might be, when the truth wins
the swimming race from the bottom to
the surface, imprint in his mind.

As the detectives try to solve
the conundrum of the missing movie
that is no where to be found
other than its empty case,
under the bed the child hides.

-----------------------------------------------------------

What Conquers All?

Piercing, puzzled eyes,
they stare endlessly.
Thinking with their hearts,
and ignoring their minds.

Doubts fly deviously around
yet they remain hopeful.
Hands locked, strong grip,
ready to conquer the battle.

Their fears trace silently,
they subtly reject them.
Their shelter is protected
with love, trust and courage.

At the end of the struggle,
they will still have their love.

-----------------------------------------------------------

In circles

I guess, to you, I'll always harbor
shadows of kohl and light trails

You'll see me, every autumn, on beds
of reddening leaves, with light seeping into
the darkness of my hair and the sun
in my eyes. Burning
the same ambers and browns
of your eyes.

I guess, to me, you'll always harbor
choppy seas of ink and circles
of Zen. I'll hear you everytime
flutes of champine sing
against my fingers and brushes
whispher - a one-stroke Enso,
staring sightlessly- against
my palm. Locks
of your dark glossy
hair against my palm.

----------------------------------------------------------

Sharpened Tongue

Like a pin prick in my mind,
your words nestled by the point
of destruction,
Your touch as sharp
as a razor across the skin,
like the lies you twisted with
the knife of memories in
a slice of a heart full of fireflies.

Boy, You broke the
led of dreams I wrote
upon a page.

Your sharpened tongue
licked the wound of love
I gave.

Like a pin prick in my mind,
words sting but fade away in time.

----------------------------------------------------------

You Do Not Have To Like Me

My voice is audible and clear,
when I speak it clears the air,
does your heart feel mild?
or does your head go wild?

My stance is bold and strong,
when I stand it stops your song.
does your eye give a spark?
or does your vision turn dark?

If ever you will like me,
you need not to tell me,
your actions will show that you do,
but you do not have to...

Let me do things my way,
do your things your own way,
you have no right to 'shush' me,
because you do not have to like me.

-----------------------------------------------------------

Two Pianos

Mrs. Lowe has two pianos;
one she's used for five generations
teaching neighborhood children;
no recitals, just the joy of learning
to play Christmas tunes
and traditional melodies.

This instrument is brown, upright
and the keys amber with the touch
of so many fingertips on the ivory.
She no longer likes long fingernails
on her students, because the girls
wear grooves in the surface,
but she'll look at the acrylic paste-ons,
sigh, and say, "Let's get started."

Mrs. Lowe is widowed for years
and she adored her husband.
Once they went to the store
for new sheet music and Mr. Lowe
saw his wife admiring a beautiful
black baby grand they couldn't afford.

Later, he came and told her,
"Come on, baby, let's go,
we need to get your new piano."
His picture sits on it
always smiling at her.

Mrs. Lowe has two pianos,
one is used by children learning
Ode to Joy or Carol of the Bells;
the other one sits undisturbed,
top down, red velvet lining
showing along the lid-seal,
more red velvet covering the keys
whenever the key cover is raised.

But in the evenings, after students
have gone to their homework or
off to the soccer match, traffic slows
and the sun is low, Mrs. Lowe raises
the lid and the warm crimson velvet
soaks the room in nostalgia.

Then off comes the key cover,
Mr. Lowe's photograph moves
to the music holder, and Mrs. Lowe
dedicates to him all the love and devotion
kept hidden in the heart strings
of his baby's grand piano.

---------------------------------------------------------

Panalol

For the last three years,
I've been living
on myriads of prescriptions,
for my lungs
became susceptible to thin air

or...

it's just that I became
will-less, untenable
and tedious.

I've grown weary
of counting footsteps
and tearing calendar papers
just to serve a purpose

that's not my own.

My therapist said,
Cytoxan will do you
all the good.

But no body knows
it's not the case;
I'm not breathing now
because of his drug.

If it weren't for your
Panalol,
I would have been
wrapped up in a coffin
by now.

And I am, already.

Your sense of humor
has killed me.

---------------------------------------------------------

Talking Tall

Many people see me as six feet tall.
Compared to stars I am really quite small.
Even I have often wondered who I am,
Born on the cusp of Leo, VIrgo, on the lamb?
It is when I have tried to be strong,
Most observers have got me wrong.
Honest liars take pride in humility,
While attempting to judge Divinity.
That is somehow over all of our heads
As a searching light shines in the beds
Of the self righteous sinners who deny
A higher power, the throne on high.
Religiously pious for heaven sake,
Yet we've been tempted by a snake.
The shallow may see me as odd
I ask myself, who is like God?
Many will see me before I sleep
In a grave that is six feet deep.
Pray my soul answers a sacred call,
In paradise where He will judge us all.

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK.

Those are lots of beautiful poems. What a poetical battle!

Indeed, Kips! I really want to thank everyone for participating. I know I pestered the heck out of you guys, but what a turnout! I'm really excited for this!

I wanted to see how many poems you got in. I haven't read them yet, but can I just say.... poor judges! Haha! I bet you got half the active members in this one, Britt. Who did you have to threaten, bribe, and flatter?

Well... I didn't do anything but bug them ;) Haha. I pestered quite a few people until the very last hour... but it worked! I gave the poems to the judges as I got them (after the first 10), so they were able to read and leave their comments originally. Now it's just finishing it up, which I have full confidence in them doing so quickly :D

"Now it's just finishing it up"

You dribbled out the first ten, then dumped 14 on them all at once?

Ye-ow!

EDIT: I read them all & would say the range of comments is going to be fantastic. Some of them are so good makes a person want to drop out now.

I'm impressed, there are quite a few gems in here.

I gave them the first ten, and then gave them poems as they came in. They got five at the very end (what I got overnight). I tried to be nice :)

I read all of them, something I rarely do. Excited for this contest, bunches :)