Simulacrum Contest - Round 2 Poems

Second round was indeed a challenge, and I want to thank this amazing poets for participating as well as for making us see within the picture what we couldn't.

http://www.flickr.com/photos/joses_artwork/2760838894/lightbox/

Here are the poems, Enjoy.
Results will be posted within this thread no later than 4 days from today.

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#1 The Watcher and the Bull

Centered, hidden in front of bushes, behind a porch
and over a slat Carmen peers at an unseen man;
headlights from the street turn night a hideous yellow;
a shadowy bullish ghostly figure lies lower left.

Off stage to the right, Murray stands at bay,
hands held not up or down but in full view,
as ordered, with the look of death on his face.

Only Carmen knows what happened:
witnessed Murray's mindless descent
from enamored suitor to jealous
bull locking horns with his rival.

Carmen had been sitting on the cool porch
in evening air, flirting with Felix standing below,
her legs brushing his sides lightly, a whisper.

That's how Murray found them;
entering with a roar he charged,
butted Felix hard, breaking a porch leg,
then hauled him to his feet for more.

Blood poured down Felix's head,
stained red the porch leg where it lay;
he threw his punches blindly hooking only air.

The brutish men bellowed murder;
Murray knocked Felix down again
stomped his neck with a horrible crack!
Before Felix could turn he was ended.

Murray stood snorting despair; seeking pardon,
saw his true form in Carmen's hate-filled eyes;
sirens, then lights spotted him: a bull in the ring.

Footnotes: Murray = Miura, the finest fighting bulls of Spain. One of them, Reventon, killed bullfighter Felix Guzman in Mexico in 1943. Felix, aka Felice Kutmann Schopenhauer, left a pregnant widow, Carmen Rovira.

[Objects: the girl; the bushes behind her; the slat over which she is looking; the porch; the bloody porch leg on the ground; the headlights; a bull's head in the lower left corner; Metaphor: a bull fight over a mate.]

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

#2 Photograph

I visioned faces of
nightmares, as the porch
creaks with whispers,
rocking chairs sway,
as the old companion
silences his masters fears.

I'm a photograph, burned
beyond recognition,
I should be with him
now, my face of tears
grow weary, yet he
sees beauty; I simply
can not see...

I'm nowhere to be found,
and yet he knows I'm there-

Always and Forever ~

Objects used: Porch, Dog, and rocking chair.

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

#3 Porch

The memory and shadow
of his girl, diving to her grave
remained in her father's mind,
as he rocked on the porch
in the glowering, failing dusk.
The coffin, he remembers, was little bigger
than the cot she would fall asleep
(to the lullaby of stars) in,
the discolouring of her neck almost innocent.
Shadows find ways to persist,
and he still heard, each twilight hour,
the cracking of a diving board,
the breaking of a line.

***
The metaphor used: Comparing a coffin to a cot.
Three objects: Diving girl, cot, porch, fathers face.

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

#4
My Reflection [I Aspire To Be]

Her hair is the color of midnight.
Reflective; like a waterfall of silk
swirling down her waist
in perfect waves.

Though with a neck like that of a giraffe,
many have tried to climb
such a lofty height,

only to be drowned in the psychedelic
pools of her slumberous
eyes.

Much like a timeworn oak tree that never breaks,
she's the paradigm of strength,
and her legs as sturdy
as bits of wood.

If I could paint her beauty,
I would choose colors that scream,
as that of daybreak's sublimity
most resplendent,
most comely.

Objects: Table, ladder and paint brush

Imaginative !!

Nice poems and its good know what people found in the picture as well

All good poems #4 is my personal fav :)

Hello, for this round, one poet will be eliminated and three will advance to the Final Round.

Here are the results.

******************

Poem #1 The Watcher and the Bull

Centered, hidden in front of bushes, behind a porch
and over a slat Carmen peers at an unseen man;
headlights from the street turn night a hideous yellow;
a shadowy bullish ghostly figure lies lower left.

Off stage to the right, Murray stands at bay,
hands held not up or down but in full view,
as ordered, with the look of death on his face.

Only Carmen knows what happened:
witnessed Murray's mindless descent
from enamored suitor to jealous
bull locking horns with his rival.

Carmen had been sitting on the cool porch
in evening air, flirting with Felix standing below,
her legs brushing his sides lightly, a whisper.

That's how Murray found them;
entering with a roar he charged,
butted Felix hard, breaking a porch leg,
then hauled him to his feet for more.

Blood poured down Felix's head,
stained red the porch leg where it lay;
he threw his punches blindly hooking only air.

The brutish men bellowed murder;
Murray knocked Felix down again
stomped his neck with a horrible crack!
Before Felix could turn he was ended.

Murray stood snorting despair; seeking pardon,
saw his true form in Carmen's hate-filled eyes;
sirens, then lights spotted him: a bull in the ring.

Footnotes: Murray = Miura, the finest fighting bulls of Spain. One of them, Reventon, killed bullfighter Felix Guzman in Mexico in 1943. Felix, aka Felice Kutmann Schopenhauer, left a pregnant widow, Carmen Rovira.

[Objects: the girl; the bushes behind her; the slat over which she is looking; the porch; the bloody porch leg on the ground; the headlights; a bull's head in the lower left corner; Metaphor: a bull fight over a mate.]

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

Judge#1

When this poem was first passed to me I couldn't open the link to the picture so I had to rely on what the author was telling me here to help paint the picture in my mind and, they certainly did that.

This read more like a narration to a play rather than a poem I will say but, it certainly kept me entertained throughout. When I finally managed to open the picture through google I thought WOW! How on earth did this person come up with something like this, it amazed me. I've searched and searched for a bull but still can't find one and yet, through these words I'm convinced it's there. I believe the quote supplied by the hostess was really used to the maximum here so, very well done for that.

I did like the metaphor used and, it was interesting to note that the characters were based on really people. Interesting and enjoyable interpretation of the picture supplied. [ 22/25 points ]

Judge #2

The creativity you have here in truly acting out a tale and including a history for the reader is enthralling, I really enjoyed reading about the bull fight and the characters in it. Everything about it seemed real- like you are the one survivor recounting something once thought to be legend. I also liked how Carmen was the bystander, taking in the visuals before her yet knowing the fight was done for one's mate. Great structure, the form was constant, four lines then three lines and it reminded me of an epic....at some points of the poem I felt you crammed too many words together though. It was a lot to take in, and I did have to read two or three times to understand who was who...Murray was a bull from Spain and Felix a bullfighter. In this line particularly I didn't like the array of so many adjectives: a shadowy bullish ghostly figure lies lower left. I find something very unique and articulate in the way you write, not always arranging words in ways other people would, such as: "entering with a roar he charged,"- I know some people would write it as "with a roar, he entered", or another way. It was very pronounced. You did mention seeing the reflection in the closing lines "saw his true form in Carmen's hate-filled eyes;" which conveyed a sense of loss in the end, that he had given up the fight now. He had destroyed and now he was almost cornered, caught. My biggest praise for you writing this is with the objects...with the story they come at me with ease and a few were hard to spot at first in the picture, but the mind can pick it up with imagination. You gave quite a variety and focused on the main prompt with skill and clever thought. [ 23/25 Points ]

Judge # 3

Creativity (metaphor/figure of speech): 6/10
Theme (relevance to the criteria): 5/8
Consistency (sound, overall structure): 3 /7

Title: The Watcher and the Bull

The picture was just a picture, but after reading this poem you can slowly see the violence that's been painted, the blood dripping along the skin of the canvas, and the chaos. This is an effect of the poem which is aligned to its goal; to puncture the reader with the same syringe the characters such as Felix, Carmen, etc we're poisoned with. It worked, in a surrealistic way, but what I find difficult here comes multiple things, namely the structure. It's as if this poem/prose/narration has an identity crisis. The "poem" wants to be narrated in a stream-of-consciousness type of style, but with the dissection of the stanzas, it also tries to provide small clippings and events, like a comic strip, a picture per stanza. For me, this could not work.

Sadly the sound was off and the "story" became too telling and overcrowded. The reader is forced to stop each line, each stanza, to grab the picture instead of going through with it consistently like a flowing river. The start: "Centered, hidden in front of bushes, behind a porch" forces too much location. Centered, then hidden, then in front, then behind - if this was a moving picture then there'd been too many edited cuts like an action scene from a Bourne Identity film. I think the author here tried too hard to tell the story in such minimal words, but when you have a story in mind you must but just as much effort in thinking of a medium to tell the story, the mouthpiece of this one did not fit in poetry, possibly a short story, but as a poem it would have better worked if the author focused on one or two of the character's emotions and perspectives. Focus, for example, between the bull and the watcher, instead of a seemingly bird's eye view of the whole event.

There was a introduction, a climax, and an ending, but sadly the emotion of a reader which is I never made a significant flinch to feel and understand what happened within the event. It was almost a dictation from a newspaper with tiny footnotes scribbled in the margins. [ 14/25 Points]

Judge #4

8.5/10 Creativity
10/10 Reality
2/2 Metaphor & effectiveness
3/3 Objects

This poem was extremely creative; the author took it upon themselves to revolve the poem around the objects the author saw (primarily the bull which influenced the plot line of the poem). It's extremely creative, and you could truly tell the author immersed themselves into this metaphor as the entire poem revolves around the life of Felix's life. The poem was a narrative of true events, which is why the author earned 10 on 'reality'. The author also earned a 2 and 3 in metaphor and its effectives and objects respectively because of how the poem revolved around true events and the sheer number of images they saw. This is definitely one of my favorites. [ 23.5 /25 Points ]

TOTAL Points : 22 + 23 + 14 + 23.5 = 82.5

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Poem #2 Photograph

I visioned faces of
nightmares, as the porch
creaks with whispers,
rocking chairs sway,
as the old companion
silences his masters fears.

I'm a photograph, burned
beyond recognition,
I should be with him
now, my face of tears
grow weary, yet he
sees beauty; I simply
can not see...

I'm nowhere to be found,
and yet he knows I'm there-

Always and Forever ~

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

Judge #1

I was very interested in the title of this poem for two reasons. #1 When I first looked at this picture I also thought of a photograph although, in my mind, it seemed like an over exposed shot rather than one that had been burned but, still our train of thoughts were similar. #2 To use the actual picture as a whole for the metaphor was very clever in my opinion. I just loved that idea, creative, very creative.

It's strange what we see in abstract art and that's why I've found this round to be very interesting. What I assume you see as a rocking chair looked to me like a stairwell but now I can see the back of a chair!

I also like how the dog has been introduced as an old companion rather than just a dog, again very clever.

Overall I really loved this interpretation but I wonder if it should be

"I'm no where to be found." [24/25 points ]

Judge #2

There was a certain vagueness about this piece, especially with the last two lines of "I'm not where to be found, and yet he knows I'm there".... I would have liked a bit more clarification, or specifically what this man sees in you. For now "he" just remains a person who is linked to you somehow to your past perhaps. You did mention how he sees beauty you cannot see, but I would have liked to see one example, not just a statement. The metaphor was simply expressed- you are a photograph weary (with age, stress, scars) and he can still recognize the reality of you though every edge and corner may be burned and ashen. The voice is clear and strong in this poem, seemingly eloquent. I kind of find it to be vulnerable, and then with the declaration that he knows you are there- there's some substance, hope.
There were three objects which were asked for, however, the biggest question I had after reading this was why you didn't put more stress on the objects that the reader is supposed to visualize in front of them. Give more direction to the objects, give them more purpose than what they do (creak, whisper...). A well-structured piece with a bit of mystery and wonder about it, yet in my opinion lacking in connecting the sight of the three objects with your metaphor- tie them to the end, have more foundation for the reader. While I feel you penned your thoughts, there was not a lot of development or further depth to help me see the porch, dog, and rocking chair. It seemed more centered on you and him, and what relationship you were heading toward. [ 19/25 Points ]

Judge #3

Creativity (metaphor/figure of speech): 4/10
Theme (relevance to the criteria): 3/8
Consistency (sound, overall structure): 3/7

Title: Photograph

I can feel the writer wanted this poem to feel open-ended, but it seems the story has just begun and the piece left a bigger mystery than when originally reviewing the abstract painting. Who is the "master" and what is his story? We know it's a tragedy, hinting the tears, the nightmares... but there goes the problematic writing here as well, we lack the information. "visioned" is used wrongly here, "silences his masters fears" is bad sound (also apostrophe is required), "face of nightmares" and "face of tears" too many faces, and too little clear image here. The face of the sky, may work since we have a clear idea of the object that could filter the sky (sun, moon, space, birds, clouds, etc), but "nightmares" is just too specific and subjective, it could be a phobia, an event, a person, an animal, a feeling, etc, which the poem failed to provide more information. The stanzas did not connect well with one another also, and the final line left a sour taste. [ 10/25 Points ]

Judge #4

6.5 /10 Creativity
7.5/10 Reality
1.5/2 Metaphor & effectiveness
3/3 Objects

This poem was interesting to read; however it was a bit too abstract for my taste (in spite of the picture being abstract). The first stanza was not abstract but the rest of the stanzas were; had the author 'touched back' on the first stanza a bit more, I would not hesitate to score higher. The poem received a 7.5 on reality because of the abstract nature of the poem. I had trouble finding what the metaphor is, but I think the metaphor revolves around the nature of 'faces of nightmares' representing the 'unknown'? I'm not entirely sure. It was excellent written regardless. [18.5 /25 ]

TOTAL POINTS: 24 + 19 + 10 + 18.5 = 71.5

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Poem #3 Porch

The memory and shadow
of his girl, diving to her grave
remained in her father's mind,
as he rocked on the porch
in the glowering, failing dusk.
The coffin, he remembers, was little bigger
than the cot she would fall asleep
(to the lullaby of stars) in,
the discolouring of her neck almost innocent.
Shadows find ways to persist,
and he still heard, each twilight hour,
the cracking of a diving board,
the breaking of a line.

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

Judge #1

This was somewhat dark and sinister to me. I'll admit that I don't see a diving board anywhere in the picture but that's not to say it isn't there, just that we look at things differently.

To me, the central focus is a small child, perhaps wearing a nightdress in the middle of the picture and I think that's also what you focused on? She appears quite ghost-like and, maybe that's what the father also sees each night. I can also see something that could be perceived as a coffin or cot, although I would not have considered either of these objects as how you have described them before so, you have opened my mind up here.

I'm not sure about the words you have chosen to put brackets around, while you have created a nice image with these words I hesitated before continuing on as it interrupted the flow slightly.

As I said, this was quite a dark write yet, I thoroughly enjoyed the journey you took me on. [ 23/25 points ]

Judge #2
Title: Porch

I would suggest in the second line adding a comma or pause after "grave" so the thought doesn't run on to the next line. Also, in the sixth line, I think "a" needs to be placed after "was", it seems to flow better in my opinion. I liked the metaphor of comparing a coffin to a cot, it was subtle
but creatively expressed through this line that I fell in love with (...the cot she would fall asleep to the lullaby of stars in, the discolouring of her neck almost innocent." That penned a morose picture for me. It was neat
how you pulled in the innocence of the girl's youth and called the bruises almost innocent. That gave me chills. Good connection with the father and daughter- you portray him as pensive, sitting outside at sunset in almost anticipation of the shadows. The loss feels heavy in this piece but I'm also thinking the father had a sense of pride he wish he could still tell her about. It's obviously haunting him and you have crafted this poem with tenderness and well-chosen words that convey the story of this little girl. What I liked about the three objects is they all had a part in the tale you were telling, it's like they were individual voices that added to her death. My only suggestion would be if you wanted to give more background on the day the girl died, or why she dived that day, etc, if you wanted to give more detail about the girl...maybe with the quote "..wondering what she saw that I didn't" you could ponder what her last thoughts would have been. But otherwise the brevity was strong here and managed to tie the objects in with a purpose and flow! [24/25 Points ]

Judge #3

Creativity (metaphor/figure of speech): 9/10
Theme (relevance to the criteria): 6/8
Consistency (sound, overall structure): 6/7

Title: Porch

This is just horrifying and sad, and as I read each line, the images haunt it's way like cat-like fog inside my mind. Nearly perfect in my opinion, but jumping back to the art image (the bright yellow), if death was the topic then one would assume it would be of fire. Still, the poem, in a way ignited melancholic empathy on my side (and possibly more readers). Poetically, this piece is my favorite of all the entries. The imagery just attaches itself to both mind and heart and in a way you get to feel for the characters. The girl, an innocent child, young (small coffin/bed), the father, grieving, without a hand to hold (no wife mentioned) possibly alone, a widower. Though the reader can find a sense of conclusion in this one, we are also allowed to make this poem and its story bigger than it already is.

The use of words matched the dark theme quite well, but some could be improved as per below:

The memory and shadow... remained in her father's mind,
^ better to omit or substitute "memory" here. It could be read as "the memory remained in her father's mind, which is redundant like saying 'the food I ate went down my stomach'

Glowering, failing dusk - scowling, sulking?
^ Glowering at first glance gives an image of brightness, unless that was the point made, then it disrupted the flow of the images you were painting.

The coffin, he remembers, was little bigger
than the cot she would fall asleep
^ does not seem necessary to point out, also too much remembering for little significance. "a little bigger"

"(to the lullaby of stars)" - same with this one.

This part is the poem's moment for me:

"the discolouring of her neck almost innocent.
Shadows find ways to persist,"

Such simplicity that tells the story of the whole poem, a terrible hanging, a suicide, that shadows a terribly memory for a father, who (we can guess) is also hanging for dear life recounting this tragedy. [ 21/25 Points ]

Judge #4

8/10 Creativity
6/10 Reality
2/2 Metaphor & effectiveness
3/3 Objects
Total: 19/25

What I like the most about this poem is that the author managed to find a balance between 'plot' and abstractness, without leaning too much towards one side. I find the poem creative as I faintly see a small face that seems deprived of any emotions (which I think the author used as inspiration, and assumed that was the face of a deceased person). The author could have easily scored higher if there was a bit more of a 'depressing' tone to the poem, as the poem is about a father grieving over his daughter. I absolutely loved the metaphor; the cot is a symbol of an innocent past, which is contrasted by the simile of the coffin's comparison to that cot. It's a bit heart-wrenching to read, as I cannot picture any father being able to handle their composure a the thought of that. [19/25 Points]

Total Points: 23+24+ 21+ 19 = 87

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Poem #4 My Reflection [I Aspire To Be]

Her hair is the color of midnight.
Reflective; like a waterfall of silk
swirling down her waist
in perfect waves.

Though with a neck like that of a giraffe,
many have tried to climb
such a lofty height,

only to be drowned in the psychedelic
pools of her slumberous
eyes.

Much like a timeworn oak tree that never breaks,
she's the paradigm of strength,
and her legs as sturdy
as bits of wood.

If I could paint her beauty,
I would choose colors that scream,
as that of daybreak's sublimity
most resplendent,
most comely.

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

Judge # 1

I think this is the most abstract entry in this round. You know it's funny, because the other entries all mention a porch yet I could never see one. This poet saw a table with strong legs and I saw a bridge with strong columns. Strength is depicted in both these objects so that's the interpretation I have taken here. I think the first verse relates to the scene rather than the person so I'm considering this as a metaphor? I wasn't so keen on the term "neck like that of a giraffe" at first but, I think it refers to a ladder so, in my mind, it works here.

Now the last verse is very interesting. Perhaps you're saying the painting is rather bland and you would like it to scream brighter colours at you? Not sure but I like the idea that you may be questioning the artist's work here.

Overall, this verse had my brain working full throttle which is not a bad thing. [ 25/25 points ]

Judge #2

From what I got out of this poem, the one metaphor was in the first line or you meant for the metaphor to be the bigger picture of the girl herself, the person who you hope to become. I know this wasn't fantasy you wrote about but it read to me like a character from a fantasy novel...however, I admire how real you made this woman to the reader. You definitely use and equate the quote into here because all I can see is a woman staring into the mirror with her reflection glancing back. Are there two sides? What hidden beauty is there? So well done on that side- I also thought your word choice was carefully chosen and it was well-crafted, especially paradigm, it sounds much more archaic than just saying example or model. I liked how she symbolized strength though, becoming the table. The only part I was
unsure of if I liked was "only to be drowned in the psychedelic pools of her slumberous eyes." That is a beautiful, vivid line that instills some fear and awe, but reading aloud I felt "slumberous" was a bit too much of a mouthful...that's just my opinion though. You tied in the beauty at the end, like being chosen to paint her beauty would be an honor you someday hope to rise up to....and I think it was creative to write about the paint brush and use it as an object. Your poem reflects art, the essence of this reflection that is noble and only worthy of the colors truly resembling her truth. A great read- my only other thoughts would be to possibly give more basis about the table,
you mentioned the ladder and covered it in a few lines but I feel for table, it was just comparing her legs. [21/25 Points]

Judge #3

Creativity (metaphor/figure of speech): 8/10
Theme (relevance to the criteria): 8/8
Consistency (sound, overall structure): 5/7

Title: My Reflection [I Aspire To Be]

The imagery here is striking, each stanza tries to mimic an emotion drawn forth from the picture concerned and it allowed the reader to piece them all together like a puzzle. And once finished, just like the ending mentioned: beauty. This is probably the most concrete and obvious piece of all the entries as one can easily connect the idea with the picture, though it lacks a story, the descriptive element in this piece follows the criteria well and at the end we find ourselves having a clear vision of who and what the author "aspires to be". Really admired the consistency here...

Her hair is the color of midnight.
Reflective; like a waterfall of silk
swirling down her waist
in perfect waves.
^ Everything here is perfect except for, ironically, the use of "perfect". Midnight, envisioned, can easily be seen as a mute waterfall; the breeze, the texture, the color. But it is difficult to mould it by thought into a "perfect" wave. I don't think there's a significance of it being "perfect" in this sense anyway, so maybe a different adjective could be inserted, something that could correlate better with the theme of the stanza.

The two following stanzas were the weakest in my opinion because it seems the "neck of the giraffe" image seemed to shoehorn itself with the picture concerned, but if you do CLIMB such a height, in correlation with the metaphor, the least we can think of is someone "drowning", falling seems to be a more fitting image here, but that would mean you would have to change the whole stanza and idea: "fall into the psychedelic knoll of her eyes". Maybe change psychedelic as well...

and her legs as sturdy
as bits of wood.
^ Wonderful. The whole stanza symbolized power both external and internal, as we all find symbolisms in a tree (how it starts as a small seed growing slowly through the years). Just not sure why you didn't think of using "bark" or "husk" instead of "bits".

And the ending summed the whole idea neatly like blowing out a candle to welcome a night's sleep. [ 21/25 Points ]

Judge #4

9/10 Creativity
7.5/10 Reality
2/2 Metaphor & effectiveness
3/3 Objects
Total: 21.5/25

This is an excellent piece; what I like most about this poem is the author's voice has a sense of infatuation to it, as if they're entranced by a woman that is their muse to their artwork (I'm assuming because of the paintbrush and the table, and the mention of painting in the last stanza). Furthermore, I also like the author's diction; it gives a sense of sophisticated elegance which relates to the 'artistic' nature of the speaker. Although I didn't like the second stanza, I find the two verses ('many have tried to climb/such a lofty height" ) a bit awkward in the sense that it doesn't seem to fit quite right with the poem (although it's brilliantly worded). It lacked a certain 'oomph' to be the best poem. [21.5/25 Points]

Total Points: 25+21+21+ 21.5 = 88.5

*************** SCORES*********************

Poem #1 :22 + 23 + 14 + 23.5 = 82.5

Poem #2: 24 + 19 + 10 + 18.5 = 71.5

Poem #3: 23+24+ 21+ 19 = 87

Poem #4: 25+21+21+ 21.5= 88.5

*******SECOND ROUND ELIMINATED ***********

Poem #2: 24 + 19 + 10 + 18.5 = 71.5