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November 2021 Poetry Challenge (1 Viewer)

rcallaci

Staff member
Administrator
Anonymous November 2021 Poetry Challenge
”Write a poem about Poetry”
PC_NOV2021.png

This is the Anonymous Month

The “Like” function may now be utilized at any time.

Discussion regarding any entry, or any challenge related issues, may take place at any time in either Bistro. Kindly be mindful that secure entries are only discussed in the Secure Bistro to preserve the first rights of entrants.

Once the entry phase has been officially closed, and the voting process has begun, critique for public entries may be posted in the voting thread itself, while critique for secure entries must be posted in a dedicated thread in the challenge workshop to preserve the first rights of entrants.

This is an anonymous month, therefore, entrants must submit their entries to me.*

Please remember that in submitting an entry you are obligated to cast at least one vote in the poll. Failure to do so will result in your entry being disqualified. The names of entrants will be revealed after our winner has been announced, if you do not desire to participate in the reveal, please inform me in your submission PM.


The prompt for this month's anonymous challenge as chosen by James Hercules Sutton is: Write a poem about Poetry

*Your entry must be submitted anonymously and therefore should sent via conversation to rcallaci, so that I may post it for you. Please be sure to indicate in your conversation (formally known as a PM) on which board you prefer your work posted, PUBLIC or Secure https://www.writingforums.com/threads/november-2021-poetry-challenge.195964/ I am responsible for linking all entries posted on the secure board to public board.

Reminder: The names of entrants will be revealed after our winner has been announced, if you do not desire to participate in the reveal, please inform me in your submission conversation.

VERY IMPORTANT Kindly make sure your entry is properly formatted and error free before you conversation it to me as you will be unable to edit your work once I have posted it. If your work requires a disclaimer, please inform me in your submission conversation.

PLEASE ALSO NOTE THAT ANY ENTRY POSTED DIRECTLY TO EITHER BOARD WILL RESULT IN THAT PARTICULAR WORK BEING DISQUALIFIED, BUT YOU WILL BE PERMITTED TO SELECT ANOTHER WORK TO ENTER ANONYMOUSLY THROUGH THE REQUIRED CHANNELS.


Do not post comments in this thread. Any discussion related to the challenge can take place in the
Bards’ Bistro for entries on the public board, and the Secure Bards’ Bistro for entries on the secure board.

This Challenge will close the 15th of November at 7pm EST
 
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rcallaci

Staff member
Administrator
Meta

While you were true to frame and form
I-am-bic droll can be quite dull
So you threw out bars drawn up like litigation
For free flows full of a-
literary prose, which subverted nothing,
but pretended pretentiously
at something grander...

which was not

An all out algorithmic assault of words:
worthless - save as an illusion of allusions to significance.
Then, when the readers caught on,
and they saw the blank behind
fake filtered faces,
you re-branded as Meta
 

rcallaci

Staff member
Administrator
P o e t r y

Poetic delineation and inspiration---a cause for celebration
Onomatopoeia---a Paper Mache of virtual sound on poetic ground
Enjambment---a runaway enchantment of periodic consequences
Trochee---a poetic mess of the stressed and unstressed
Rhyme in rhythmic time with some soft shoe shuffling---can be quite sublime
Youthful vigor in the old as well as young---a poetic trigger
 

rcallaci

Staff member
Administrator
Let Me Out Of This Giant Head

Part 1: Pain

Let me out of this giant head,
this collective pod of babble.
Noise and words and words,
the lexis of all languages,
squares, circles, spaces to be filled.
Interpretations and conundrums elucidate all night long.
They steal my pillow.

Morning glare annoys.
I fret
to plump my page with
golden inkings, words in word,
and perfect de-crimed rhymes.
Creepers infiltrate, pulled from quagmires.
Tame them, take them captive.
Make them mind.

Reduced to pretty cliched presumptions,
I abandon acumen to shape the wind.
Kittens are cute. Flowers bring happiness
and life goes on.

My bulimic brain is constipated.
Yet,
I submit.


Part 2: More Pain

I am flipped, bounced into nom de plumes
hailed as royalty, cowboys, magic creatures,
fruit, and reflectors. Half names, part truths.
Mysterious beings masked in illusions.

Let's dress as ourselves next Halloween,
play games of Name That Poet.
Will I be recognized dancing with you
outside the corners of our circle?

I fist my fork, stab at meat
and speak with my mouth full.
Yet my artist soul can create perfume from flatulence.
And oh, my feet are huge.

Ah, with pinky held aloft,
Just a tweak here or there, enjambed
between pretentious and contrived.

Niggle, niggle, niggle.
Powerful, so well done. Amen.

There are cockatrice' amok in here
Some look at us full-faced.
We hover in their wake, aflutter,
receive their manna,
thank them,
as we corner-eye them back.
 

rcallaci

Staff member
Administrator
Marianne Moore Explaining Poetry

Ás for the song itself, it isn’t important.
The name of the bird who sings it was never important.
The fact of importance is whether the bird is singing
& what will happen as soon as singing stops—
a charge of poisonous gases, sudden explosion,
panic. Gradually digging forward ends.
Reason enough to honor an anxious creature
useful to miners. The bird legislates nothing,
not even its song, not even its own sensibility
& certainly not the way that any who listen
might feel in the future. Reflecting only the range
of its own confinement, alone in a cage, it sits
arguing with itself; and yet, performing a service,
because its singing prevents the cost of silence.
 

rcallaci

Staff member
Administrator
Iambic Pentameter

I
ambic Pentameter, I believe,
An int'resting method for one to read.
Makes one wonder how and why a person
Brewed this way to write. For is this not great
Intellect? No, say others; they object.
Can a person talk like this and yet a
Person still exist? This, they claim, does not
Enlight, but turns good reading into spite!
Nay! the Shakespeare fans object, and quote it
To their heart's content. Better than Tolkien?
Austen? No! Quoth your logic, nevermore!
Muse the ones with taste that yet have never

Entertained on stage. Yet still one wonders
To this day, Who would choose to write this way?
Enchanting? Yes, with well trained voice. But when
Read poorly, perhaps not the best of choice.
 
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rcallaci

Staff member
Administrator
The Glass Rabbit and the Narrator

She was a creature that should not be…the
..........Glass Rabbit
vitrified bones, crazed, yet whole found the place
a convergence of brook and river and sea where
there stood a door where no decent door…the
......... Door
to the world far beyond the chalked sidewalk
a door that leads to a place where reality ends

The Glass Rabbit found the way, found her there
the weaver of the webs, the words, and she is
..........The Narrator
an orator of the arcane, small and spare, just a
..........girl with wren coloured curls
whose fingers were stained in the ink of a place
she had just dreamed, that door in the bay where
..........Violet Bright was lured away
There in the ‘Ways, they knew her only as…the
..........Golden Phi
she who had woven the chalkway to the sidewalk
and found a new beginning where the story ends

Beside her, Rexy settled, quiet and still…to
..........await the Dread Bear’s rise
and Phi knew, the Glass Rabbit, long and cool
had uncovered her secret, Rexy was on the in
those who knew, the finite, the few, and the
..........Endlings
those sharp and biting like a fresh peppermint
who knew the forfeited language of the wind

The Endlings, they are in her keeping…and
..........Golden, irrational Phi
guards them and mounts her patient, lonely watch
beyond the paths they have gone, to places where
the sky is sea, and where an Endling, is not…the
..........very last of its kind
salvation now written, its story there in the chalk-white…
..........a line of footprints in the sand
the compass rose blooms in tarnished brass, its arrows
..........bright petals borrowed by the wind
and now, a Glass Rabbit and the Narrator set to go



(Where the Sidewalk Ends by Shel Silverstein, (1974) Where the Sidewalkd Ends p. 64 )

Lines used:

Where the Sidewalk Ends

S3, L4
S1, L1
S1, L6
S2, L5
 
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rcallaci

Staff member
Administrator
It's All a Process

Write one hour
every day
every other week
every month
topics pre-planned, usually

  • a list of 10 words
  • a new form to try
  • a prompt
  • a challenge
one per page
in a yellow spiral notebook

Edit one hour
every day
every other week
every month
dig the day’s poem
out of Giggle Drove
study red suggestions
page break to the new version
place back in editing folder
or share again for more
sage advice from others

Write edit write edit
every month
alternating weeks
to forget
to see anew
to find better ways to say
what you tried to say
the first time
 

rcallaci

Staff member
Administrator
On Wordsworth’s Poem

It was about a child.
She talked to him of family
and spoke
with easy familiarity.

We are seven, she had said,
of siblings scattered far
and dead.
Despite his protestations.

His arguments all went unheard.
In her head they remained
a part
of who she claimed to be.

Later years bring me a sense
of truth that rings in words
this child
was trying to express.

Two brothers and two sisters lost,
there’s comfort as her riposte
echoes
soft across the years.

Death separates but still the bond
remains intact and claims
our love
as glue to keep us close.

Whether blood is cold or hot
our unity is a Gordian knot.
Unforgot.
We are always five!
 
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