Iron Poet IV

[Vaynor]

Welcome to Iron Poet, round four.
Rules

1) Only the first 16 respondants expressing a desire to compete will be the contestants. It IS a first come, first served basis.

2) The contest will consist of a number of rounds pitting 2 randomly determined authors against each other until only one contestant remains (winner).

3) Each matchup will be given a theme, picture, article, subject, or other criteria to write on, and the poem submitted must match this as much as possible. Stricter following of prompts may help you win.

4) The winner as determined by a panel of judges will advance to the next round.

5) In case of a judge or judges not posting judgments in a timely manner, I will adjudicate and determine the winner.

6) The poems will be limited to 1000 words with a 50 word minimum

7) The entries will be poems. All forms of poetry are acceptable, as long as they meet the required word lengths. If your chosen style is too short, you are free to make two of them, i.e., you may make a limerick with 48 words, then add another limerick, still following the same theme, to reach the required word length.

8) All posted deadlines will given in as much time zones as possible, as labeled.

9) No late entries will be accepted. If you don't post or fail to post by the deadline, you will be disqualified. A 5 minute grace period is allowed. You have one freebie per contest, use it wisely. This allows you to be up to half a day late with your poem (no more).

10) If your entry does not include the article(s) and the picture(s), you will most likely lose because of it, however this will not disqualify your poem, as poems are judged on best use of the prompts.

11) The judgments are final. What the judges decide is how it is.

12) The entries will only include content suitable for the Playground.

13) I will rule on anything I have forgotten or needs clarification which is brought to my attention

14) The contestants will have 1 week (roughly) from the bracket posting to get their entries posted.

Participants:
1. Brickwall
2. Kneenibble
3. Rubakhin
4. Felixaar
5. Hellpuppi
6. Jibar
7. Quincunx
8. Zeratul
9. Dallas-Dakota
10. Raiser_B1ade
11. Devigod
12. Amotis
13. Alarra
14. Em Blackleaf
15. Nexus-R.C._Mina
16. Helgraf

Judges:
1. Zeb the Troll
2. truemane
3. Coolgaelbert
4. Gezina
5. Spidermew

[Brickwall]

I don't have time to judge, but yes to compete.

[Kneenibble]

I wish to compete again please.

[rubakhin]

Might as well. At least I'll be writing.

[Felixaar]

Bricksly? Kneeno? Rubakhin?

And despite the stellar competition, I'm still competing.

(btw Vay, you spelt Kne's name wrong. Its Kneenibble, not Kneeknibble)

[Vaynor]

(btw Vay, you spelt Kne's name wrong. Its Kneenibble, not Kneeknibble)

You know what? I think I've done that every time he's entered. Weird.

[Felixaar]

Creepy.

It's the caars of the kneeks!

[Hell Puppi]

Sooo...umm...freestyle poetry is allowed?
Sorry was thinking of competing but I'm horrible at following a rule set. That and I've never competed before and didn't want to embarrass myself. Not that I won't anyway at some point.
If freestyle is allowed then I would like to compete if that's okay. :smallsmile:

I really need something to prompt me to write...

[Jibar]

Ummm, sure, I'll give this a go.
Good practice, and I could do with something to do.
I'll warn you though, I will refuse to leave my precious rhyming couplets.

[Felixaar]

In this game, it's basically a write whatever you want and call it poetry. Freestyle is allowed, right Vay?

[Brickwall]

Depends if it's still poetry or not. I've seen "freestyle" stuff that didn't have a drop of art to it. Just words strung together.

But you all won't do that, right?

[Felixaar]

Well, thats arguably poetry or not. I'm not saying poetry has to have form, but I agree that it needs to be more than a bunch of pretty words (*coughhaikuscough*).

[Brickwall]

Do NOT bash haiku
I will rip you a new one
Cower in terror

[Quincunx]

Let's see how long a symbolist lasts. I'm in.

[zeratul]

I'm in for writing. I need a new excuse to write lyrics anyway....

[Dallas-Dakota]

In as a first timer.
And something I thought up in a lesson.

Who am I to see, what others can't see?
Who am I to hear, what others can't hear?
Who am I to think, what others can't think?

Who am I?
That is the only thing I'l stand by.
(Short, I know)

[Vaynor]

Sooo...umm...freestyle poetry is allowed?
Sorry was thinking of competing but I'm horrible at following a rule set. That and I've never competed before and didn't want to embarrass myself. Not that I won't anyway at some point.
If freestyle is allowed then I would like to compete if that's okay. :smallsmile:

I really need something to prompt me to write...

Freestyle is allowed yes, but it has to still be poetry. You will not be disqualified for this, but will most likely lose next to more apt poems.

Also, even if to lose in the first round isn't so bad, because it's practice for the next IP.

If you don't feel comfortable entering but still want to use the prompts, you could always write your own poems to the given prompts but not submit them, or post them out of the contest in this thread and maybe judges could give their thoughts if they have extra time. However, you are encouraged to join, we need some new meat in here.

[Felixaar]

Do NOT bash haiku
I will rip you a new one
Cower in terror

Well I'm sorry if you heard haiku, but I distinctly said Military School.

[Dallas-Dakota]

However, you are encouraged to join, we need some new meat in here.
New meat? Don't eat me. Please?
*cowers*

:smalltongue:

[Raiser Blade]

I want to join please.

[Devigod]

Well, this looks like fun, count me in. (First post on this forum)
Just to check, there's an article and a picture?

[Vaynor]

Well, this looks like fun, count me in. (First post on this forum)
Just to check, there's an article and a picture?

It varies, usually in the first round or two it's just a single article or picture but as the contest goes on I add more to increase difficulty.

[Felixaar]

No judges yet. What're we going to do here?

[Zeb The Troll]

Hmmm. I won't promise to be any good at it, but I'll volunteer to be a judge if you need me.

[Quincunx]

No judges yet. What're we going to do here?

0.1 ballpoints, black ink, at 10 paces.

[truemane]

Well, as my previous foray into the realm of actual composition was such a disaster, I'll throw in as a judge this time.

[Felixaar]

Woo! I said something and it happened! *dances*

[Amotis]

I'll write.

[Alarra]

I would like to write in this one, I think...

[Em Blackleaf]

I'll write again.

[Gaelbert]

I'll do some judging as long as you don't expect much skill out of it.

[Felixaar]

Hey, I judged last time and didn't get lynched :smallbiggrin:

[Dallas-Dakota]

If my countings are correct there are :
2 participant spots still open
and
2 judge spots still open!

And then'l it'l be full, aye.:smalltongue:

[Raiser Blade]

Come on peoples. We need more poets!

[Vaynor]

Bump! Come on, so close.

[Dallas-Dakota]

Double bump!
People, there's nothing to lose!
Well there is your soul...but... nevermind....

Even I'm trying out!

[Felixaar]

What? No one mentioned my soul!

[rubakhin]

We'll give you Felixaar's soul if you sign up!

[Felixaar]

This is what I get for joining a forum.

[Dallas-Dakota]

Don't worry, we all have lost our souls someway.

Except me.

Ahk, shouldnt have said that.
*runs while sticking signs saying : Join IP IV! every other while*

[InaVegt]

I'm up for judging, peoplez.

[SpiderMew]

I also wouldnt mind judging.. if you would have me.

[Dallas-Dakota]

Sure...

Judge spots are full.

Still two open participant spots left!

[Felixaar]

Yes! Five judges! Now all we need is two more poets! Reset the traps, we gotta reel 'em in!

[Dallas-Dakota]

*hangs sign above door : Free Cookies, cake and milk.

After that I prepare the lockdown to initiate when two people other then the ones we already have, entered.

[Felixaar]

The Cookies Are Also Evil.

And the Cake is a Lie.

Dunno about the milk tho.

[Dallas-Dakota]

The Cookies Are Also Evil.

And the Cake is a Lie.

Dunno about the milk tho.

Cookies are Chaotic, further alignment depends on individual traits.

The Cake Is A lie.(To true)

Teh Milk is in ur bottlez!

[Felixaar]

Was actually quoting 8-Bit as far as Evil Cookies.

Is anyone else bothered that this conversation has developed in a Poetry Contest?

[Dallas-Dakota]

Not really, but then again, I'm stalk the HoH.

I'l PM Mina to see if he's in. He's good.

[Kneenibble]

Hui! Spidermew in hoc certamine arbitrando adest!

[Felixaar]

You talk much strange, Canada Man.

[Miraqariftsky]

Two midnights gone, there came a call
From Dakota and Dallas
He beckoned me hence, my skill to try
Believe me, fellows, I do not lie
'Tis too great a time to pass
So here I am, a bard among bards in an iron hall...

[Felixaar]

Two midnights gone, there came a call
From Dakota and Dallas
He beckoned me hence, my skill to try
Believe me, fellows, I do not lie
'Tis too great a time to pass
So here I am, a bard among bards in an iron hall...

Bards and Thieves. Yoink!

Just one poet left to join us. Come on.... somebody!

[Dallas-Dakota]

*tries to remember people who are good poets... And goes of to search for one a bit*
*didnt remember nor find anybody*

Can´t we just have 15 contestants?:smallconfused:

[Brickwall]

*tries to remember people who are good poets... And goes of to search for one a bit*
*didnt remember nor find anybody*

Can´t we just have 15 contestants?:smallconfused:

No, it pairs off in brackets. We've done it that way since Iron Author 1.

[Helgraf]

If slot 16 is still open, I will participate.

[Amotis]

Yeah, it was open. Let's start.

Participants:
1. Brickwall
2. Kneenibble
3. Rubakhin
4. Felixaar
5. Hellpuppi
6. Jibar
7. Quincunx
8. Zeratul
9. Dallas-Dakota
10. Raiser_B1ade
11. Devigod
12. Amotis
13. Alarra
14. Em Blackleaf
15. Nexus-R.C._Mina
16. Helgraf

Judges:
1. Zeb the Troll
2. truemane
3. Coolgaelbert
4. Gezina
5. Spidermew

[PhoeKun]

Full? Good, now I can stop feeling guilty about not entering...

*gets popcorn, sits on the sidelines, and watches*

[Amotis]

*gets popcorn, sits on the sidelines, and watches*

*gets strong deja ego*

[Dallas-Dakota]

Any organized order about which pair/who goes first?


Full? Good, now I can stop feeling guilty about not entering...

*gets popcorn, sits on the sidelines, and watches*

Fine, as long as you enter the next one..

[Vaynor]

OK, now that everyone is signed up I'll have the brackets up shortly.

edit: Oh, and I use random.org to place contestants.

For the first round you will be writing on a single word. Good luck!

Raiser_B1ade vs. Alarra: Relaxation
Em Blackleaf vs. Hellpuppi: Perseverance
Nexus-R.C._Mina vs. Devigod: Uncertainty
Jibar vs. Rubakhin: Instinct
Helgraf vs. Felixaar: Conceit
Kneenibble vs. Dallas-Dakota: Desire
Amotis vs. Quincunx: Simplicity
Zeratul vs. Brickwall: Curiosity

Deadline: The midnight between Wednesday, April 16th and Thursday, April 17th 2008. This is the time between 11:59 pm (EST) and 12:01 am (EST).

[Brickwall]

You gave me WHAT?!

Do you know how hard it's going to be not to at all rip Carrol now? I just hope Zeratul is as versed in Carrolian literature as I am, so I'm not at a disadvantage. :smallannoyed:

[Helgraf]

Erm, so are entries posted to the thread directly or PMed to the thread owner, or?

[SpiderMew]

Erm, so are entries posted to the thread directly or PMed to the thread owner, or?

You post it here so all the judges can see it.

[Helgraf]

"Conceit"

I am in involvement to mineself beholden
No greater idol, no glowing unreachable orb
No wistful longing for the disdainful to embolden

It is to mine rightful ambition and place
Before the gates of history to absorb
The praise and power due properly mine face

And if this to thee seem unsightly artifice
Such as thine sensible digestion cannot absorb
That is naught but thy unseemly avarice

For thine place is not mine place
and that which exceeds thy reach is the orb
of mine orbit, high above the lowely space

Tarry not in seeking the path of my ascent
Thy arms cannot propel thy craft so oared
The heights are mine personal advent

This conceit is mine alone.

[Alarra]

prompt: relaxation
Centered, open, empty,
I sit
Breathing.

The air has substance,
Weight,
Glowing, pulsing.

I follow its journey.

A measured breath,
Infusing each vein,
Bringing life.

I exhale
A fine golden mist
Of tension, leaving.

Time stills, waits.
I inhale,
Slowly, calmly.

Color, light, air
I breathe.

Free of worries, time, care
I breathe.

[Hell Puppi]

Ugh I haven't written a poem in years. Not overly proud of this one, but I hope it'll serve. Please let me know if you spot any glaring mistakes.


Perseverance:

With will unbroken he stands
Body bloodied but the heart true
The knight saddles his tired steed
And rides to fate unknown

The lady sits quietly in a corner
All around her demons wait
Trying to pry apart her mind
She writes to keep the demons at bay

She writes about a knight
Once proud and strong
There are no friends beside him
Only enemies nipping at his heels

She writes about the knight
Not knowing
That she is writing about herself
As he stands so does she

Together in heart they ride
Bloodied but unbroken
Their will stronger than the enemy
Their hearts lighting the darkness

She writes about lost loves
And friends turned rivals
Trust betrayed and words left unspoken
Not knowing she is writing her past

Her work labors on
The doubts set in
Her heart is troubled
The knight does not falter

As he stands, so does she
Not knowing that he is what
She would like to see in herself
She simply knows she cannot stop

The book comes to a close
The words stop rattling in her mind
But in her heart she sees
The bloodied knight riding to fate unknown

[Vaynor]

You gave me WHAT?!

Do you know how hard it's going to be not to at all rip Carrol now? I just hope Zeratul is as versed in Carrolian literature as I am, so I'm not at a disadvantage. :smallannoyed:

Err, sorry?

Also, wow, that was really fast on the poem front.

[Dallas-Dakota]

Also, wow, that was really fast on the poem front.

Seconded. If this is the usual speed of posting then. :smalleek:. This will be going fast then...

[Hell Puppi]

Well sometimes it's better to get it done quickly...I know for me if I had 'taken a couple days to think it over'...then it wouldn't get done. :smallwink:
Then again I can't say that for the people that finished well ahead of me.

[Kneenibble]

Contrastingly, you can expect my poem about 11:57 on next Wednesday, as with last time.

[Vaynor]

Contrastingly, you can expect my poem about 11:57 on next Wednesday, as with last time.

That's when I was expecting most of them, usually when they all come in.

[Alarra]

I'd written it, so I didn't see the point of holding on to it for a week. :smallwink:

Not to mention I've far too many other things to do this week and 'working on my poem' would be a convenient way to procrastinate...now I can't. :smallsmile:

[Helgraf]

Sure, I could have kept it 'secret', but I don't expect my competition would be so crass as to write their poem to try and trump mine as opposed to writing their poem to be the best it could be anyway.

[Nychta]

I am now very glad that I didn't enter.

Good luck.

[Devigod]

Well here it is, kinda early, I know. Yet, if I didn't post it now, I'd still be editing and changing it...
This is the first time I've ever shown my poetry to anyone, so, I hope this isn't too raw.

It's kinda funny, it would have worked just as well in perseverence or desire.

Uncertainty:
And then he'd seen-
Seen the maid-
Blue eyed with golden hair-
Never before could one dream-
Of seraphim so fair!

Youthful form and gentle face-
Humble pride and subtle grace-
But could he know?... might never know-
In indecision woe!

The soldier 'fore the coming battle-
So well trained but never killed-
After so much time he's trained,
and all the time he's drilled.

The youth- he was so full of fear-
Afraid he was, approach her near-
He turned away and shed a tear,
knew that of courage, he mustn't veer.

The soldier hears the scouting crow-
‘Twould feast on him or fallen foe.
And then came death on nocturne steed,
beckoned him unless he flee!

Sleeping night and sitting day,
'neath the sky, the coward lay.
All the time has gone away-
Life goes on, whilst he delay.

At his sleep he has a turn-
Oh for her! his heart did yearn.
And yet to her how could he to speak?
What ‘twould he do with spurn?
Weighted cold, his hope seemed bleak-
Whilst his desire burned!

And then he knew, he’d none to lose.
Death in battle, or death in age,
in his life, no other use,
he’d to face his fear-
Or face death’s cage!

Wishing, hoping to the moon,
for triumph in this battle soon.
Crouched 'ntill it's opportune,
beating fear, he climbs the dune.

Angelic, oh she did seem kind-
Tender yet so very blind;
when the youth did give his try,
she seemed to simply turn her eye.

Battered, now he did retreat-
Next day to foe in battle meet.
He’d lived the day- no easy feat,
just one more day- beneath the heat

The youth resolved to finish this-
Seek his eternal happiness,
no matter the answer that she give,
for now he knows:
He’d try, he’ll live.

Charging, eager- to the fray,
beneath the twisted sun of day-
Forgetting- oh... what should he say?
And in response... he gets... delay?

When the girl does call him over-
Thought of the prospective lover,
the young man's heart begins to pound,
his lips are tied, his fate been bound.
In her words she holds his fate-
To right lay heaven, to left- hell’s gate!

The girl said sorry-
Gave him a nay.
Sheepishly, he walks away.
And with a laugh he thinks to say:
"Well, who needs her love anyway?"
From the lesson, now he knows:
'Twas uncertainty been slain-
His greatest of all foes.

[Vaynor]

I'd written it, so I didn't see the point of holding on to it for a week. :smallwink:

Not to mention I've far too many other things to do this week and 'working on my poem' would be a convenient way to procrastinate...now I can't. :smallsmile:

No, just surprised is all.

[PhoeKun]

Well here it is, kinda early, I know. Yet, if I didn't post it now, I'd still be editing and changing it...
This is the first time I've ever shown my poetry to anyone, so, I hope this isn't too raw.

It's kinda funny, it would have worked just as well in perseverence or desire.


I want you to think about what it is you said. Saying nothing about the poem as you've presented it right now, I think you should take a long hard look at your concerns and think if maybe extra time and editing might not perhaps be a good thing? :smallconfused:

[Raiser Blade]

Relaxation


Shifting sands beneath my feet
Oceanic melodies
Beat upon the coast

Hand in hand
We walk and listen
To the rythym of nature

All the cares in the world
Washed away by a sprinkle
Of salty air as I let go

I free my mind
As you free yours
We bask in the harmony

As I forget the world
The world forgets me
And we let the surf remind us to live


To avoid double posting:


I want you to think about what it is you said. Saying nothing about the poem as you've presented it right now, I think you should take a long hard look at your concerns and think if maybe extra time and editing might not perhaps be a good thing? :smallconfused:


How ironic that the poem is about uncertainty. :smalltongue:

[Devigod]

I might, by raw, I really meant that whenever I write, I can never use subtle phrases that only make sense as vague metaphor; my poetry can always be taken at face value. Perhaps direct is the more proper word.

Thank you for voicing the opinion though. I never stop changing things; too much of a perfectionist... I got my 10th grade History test tomorrow too

[Dallas-Dakota]

Tada!

Want, need.. Desire
Its as if I'm on fire
I need it
If I don't get it, I don't know, may I'l throw a fit.

The urge is there
Haunting me like an nightmare
But it can be a good urge
But I can't splurge

The urge is there.
Its there, where?
Always with me.

I need it
I want it
I desire it

But in the end,
I know,
I'l have it.

Doesn't really feel... Right, but its the best I could come up with, I may delete it and then post something new...

[zeratul]

Curiosity

Couldn’t help myself
Had to see what I didn’t know
Couldn’t just let it go

Had to find out what you were up to
Couldn’t leave my thought’s alone
Had to find out what to do

Stuck my nose where it don’t belong
End up face in mud again
Had to look behind the lies
Curiosity killed the cat again

I thought you might be up to something
The strange look in your eyes
Checking it out was better than nothing
First one to die is the first one that tries

Found you in an old apartment
Walked in through the door
Wound’s on my face again
Insatiable need to know something more

Found I was right that you were wrong
Saw through the veil of lies
But I’ve got scars deep and long
That show curiosity means the feline dies

ATTENTION : no cats, or catgirls were harmed in the writing of this poem

[Felixaar]

Ugh. I'm leaving for two weeks tomorrow and dont want to drop out so, as bad as it sounds, I'm going to have to make this up as I go along. On the unlikely event I make it to round two, please dont let it end prior to Apr 28.

Conceit

High and Mighty,
Fast and Flighty,
You don't have a clue.

It doesn't show,
So you don't know,
The things I'll do to you.

You stand tall up now,
But you're gunna came falling down,
It is true...

The only way for me is up,
and the only way for you is down.
You might not believe it much,
but you'll know it when you hit the ground!

Crumbling, Falling, Flaking, Misting,
You dont that I am listening.
Richness, Wealth, Trade, Gain,
You'll be in a world of pain!

And when you've fallen,
I will rise,
And lead our people,
To the skies!


Terrible, just terrible, but hey, It's been ages since I did much poetry.

[Jibar]

I'm torn now...
With the concept of instinct, I want to write something Cat-Muffin related, but this competition appears to be free-form dominated...
Or it could just be me refusing to stop using rhyming couplets. One of the two.

[Devigod]

Just go with your instinct* just write in whatever form calls to you. Honestly, I've never taken any class nor do I actually know the name of any particular style, except haiku. I just try to keep a rhyme and rythm. Just do it how you will.

[PhoeKun]

I'm torn now...
With the concept of instinct, I want to write something Cat-Muffin related, but this competition appears to be free-form dominated...
Or it could just be me refusing to stop using rhyming couplets. One of the two.

To write anything other than the poem you want to would be a travesty. Never, under any circumstances, worry about what other people are writing, or worry about judge's predilections. It's your piece to write, and your only constraint is the prompt.

[Dallas-Dakota]

To write anything other than the poem you want to would be a travesty. Never, under any circumstances, worry about what other people are writing, or worry about judge's predilections. It's your piece to write, and your only constraint is the prompt.

Seconded.

Vorpal +# filler!!!!

[truemane]

...your only constraint is the prompt.

Well, the other constraint is your motivation for entering in the first place. If you want to actually WIN the contest then the judges' predilections and your competition are of paramount importance. On the other hand, if your goal is just to write some stuff and get some feedback (which is true for most of us), then Madame PhoeKun is entirely and completely correct.

[Devigod]

Well, the other constraint is your motivation for entering in the first place. If you want to actually WIN the contest then the judges' predilections and your competition are of paramount importance. On the other hand, if your goal is just to write some stuff and get some feedback (which is true for most of us), then Madame PhoeKun is entirely and completely correct.

Of course, you can do both at the same time (or try to.)
It really depends on which goal has more priority, but if you're trying to improve your own poetry, you will be fulfilling both goals at once.

[truemane]

Of course, you can do both at the same time (or try to.)
It really depends on which goal has more priority, but if you're trying to improve your own poetry, you will be fulfilling both goals at once.

Most certainly. If you don't care about winning AT ALL, then you don't even need to be constrained by the prompt. But usually if you enter a contest, then your intent is to write as best you can within the constraints of a given system.

It all comes down to the question of who you're writing for. Are you writing for you? Or for other people? And most artists are doing some form of both most of the time.

Stephen King says he writes his first draft with the door closed and his rewrite with the door open. Because initially he writes just for himself, but the finished product is for everyone else.

[Devigod]

Does anyone have an accurate count as to how many works Steven King has written? He writes books faster than bunnies multiply.

And I don't mean arithmetic.
C'mon, two more days before I know how I did...
Can't wait for the end of the round!

[Alarra]

He's published 61 books and at least 3 times that many short stories.

[truemane]

He's published 61 books and at least 3 times that many short stories.

As well as a vast amount of uncollected non-fiction material. Essays. Commentaries. Articles. Columns.

[Brickwall]

A poem for you:

Calli-hey, calli-hoo,
Is anybody there?
Is there someone somewhere?
I suppose the saying is true,
I should have stuck with the map,
It would show me the way,
And I'd take boredom any day,
I could do with a nap,
But I took my own route,
Just to see what I'd find,
I didn't think I'd mind,
Getting all turned about,
So now I just pray,
To find someone, somewhere,
Is anybody there?
Calli-hoo, call-hey!

This one's a bit of an experiment for me.

[Miraqariftsky]

On Uncertainty


Walker of the Waste

The sea of sand stretched boundless
across the land,
The land of vision, where all eyes burn
Slow, danced the dunes
Desert waves and desert tides
There ebbed and flowed

Graceful, the sweet caress
Unheeding of mountains’ might,
The crystal kiss lingered,
Rose the ruby to sapphire smite
Frozen thunder, crooked lances
Made the devils dance and scream
In sunlit sight, for sulfurous sin unseen

A storm there blew
From innocent sky of blue
Swift, the wrath grew
Beyond the heavens roared the crests of waves
Beyond the abyss there gaped the troughs
The night seethed and strangled light
The stars sinking, wept
The Moon, beaten, fled the field
And left the sea of sand in darkness dread

No more, it seemed, night its might shall shed
But blazed forth once more the searing Sun
Faith failed not the forge of fates
Burned the dross to cowering, seething slag
Scars of the desert, marring its sharp lines
Scars of the waste, swimming in the sand
Scars of the soul, the mountains and masts
Where truth is born
Where lie as one, the sea and sky

There came once more a darkening of the sky
Ere high-sun, ere noontide true,
But was it midnight?
Cold stung the sleeping feet
The sky coughed and the wind sung a maelstrom
Of its mirth was drunk the whirlwind
And stood it still
Amidst swirling silks and singing sand
It was a tapestry of a thousand shards
And smiled it so

For lo! From its bosom there wandered forth
Lone but for fate and faith
One who walked the wastes,
Shrouded in shadow, shone in silk
The walker lacked
not in cloaks and robes
The head was bound in woven wool,
Tight the bind, but light the crown
Wrought of thorns and golden mould
Wrought of pearl shards and iron black
Far reached the gaze,
Though naught of eyes was seen,
Naught but a blackest shadow
Betwixt veil and crown
Behind was slung, black a scroll,
And a silvern shield
Faith and fate
The way and the wall

The walker wandered forth,
Flying on wings of rags, pinions of dust
The walker wandered on
Beyond the gates of night
The wanderer walked on
Unto the maw of light
The wanderer walked on
And came unto the crest of *****
Wandered forth, the walker of the waste…

[rubakhin]

Although the nationality of our friend here is pretty blatant, I tried to keep this vague, exploring the psychology of a military commander who has been in this situation rather than commenting on any particular war. (You can pretend it takes place on another planet, or two hundred years ago, and not lose anything much.) Hopefully this isn't going against the no-politics rule - it is really nothing more than one man's experience of sorrow.

Daymokhk

Oh, mother, stricken, turn your back
And hide your face like a battered bride.
We have come to take your children
And turn them into men.

Brothers, you will see your sisters married
Brothers, you will buy your family bread.
Help us reclaim the gifts of our mother
Which they have ruined in their stead.

The clouds alone could veil her beauty
Only the fields could hope to adorn her.
An endless sky was once her dowry.
A blackened hillside is her shroud.

They have salted the earth with their language
And the clouds are smoke in dreams of fire.

(Love me, she-wolf. I am your son.
Do not watch me lead your cubs to slaughter.)

Look, brother, the stream is clear
Our hands are cold, our prayers are clean.
No more do our people need.
Only the grass knows to tremble and weep.
The howling lion has no memory
Nor do the antelopes mourn the feast.

Mother, hide us in your loving arms,
Let him be no more than light that falls
On the Tatar thistle and cicada-leaves
Let him forget that he holds a weapon.

Listen, brother, how soft our footsteps fall.
We are but beasts with padded paws.

(Love me, she-wolf. I am your son.
Do not watch me lead your cubs to slaughter.)

And when the mountains collapse
Beneath torrents of rain, and shrug off
Mud and landslides like a person a cloak
Walk, until you can think of nothing but rest
Walk, until you see nothing but the step ahead.

And when it is time for you to kill
Remember that we are the people of wolves.
Reach without thinking for the trigger
Like your father goes for his own bare fang.

And when it is time for you to die,
Remember that you want death more than life.
Beyond life there is the warmth of a woman
With closed eyes, to rest beside, the first sleep
in a long time, and a silence.

And no tower can haunt you like these valleys
No law will give you pause beyond the growl of gunfire.

(Love me, she-wolf. I am your son.
Do not watch me lead your cubs to slaughter.)

Yellow flowers, and the smell of dust.
Sound of cooking meat, of radios breaking
Half-grown men wrestle like playful dogs.
Far behind us are the bodies. And tomorrow we will die.
But no one thinks of it.
In this alone we have our innocence.
Would a canine know what lies beyond
The grotto where we dropped our guns?

When the smoke clears over the morning field
And your children have gone to the earth
What can I offer you, my motherland?
The sun and wind braid your hair,
alone.

[Kneenibble]

On the theme of desire,

currents
it goes like this: I stick my swollen toes
into the water, dipping for relief;
I crave cold comforts, blistered like a leaf
at noon -- the day-hot road has smoked my soles
as red as apples! but the water flows
too fast, too cool, too sweetly gilds the grief
and takes me like a lover or a thief
(that quiet), kissing bubbles from my nose.
and every time, weeds wound around my thighs,
feet slimy in the silt, I lift my eyes
to glowing shimmers. cold as lenten fish,
I shiver for that fire and how I wish
to singe my soggy feet again! again
I grope, and pleasure tugs me on in pain.

[Vaynor]

Five hours to go, get those poems in!

[Em Blackleaf]

Perseverance
Broken, Sore, Restrained
He looks around and all he sees are locked doors
A shimmering ray of hope illuminates the key

His lame limbs find strength to stand
Determination overcomes the chains
He makes great strides toward freedom

His will to go on having paid off,
He soars on brittle bones
Leaving his constraints far behind

[Amotis]

Where's Walden?

Where's Walden?

few years ago,
our friend on pcp thought she could fly
and we believed her. so with ocean
and driving past our old high school trees,
we figured out what we wanted to do.

but now,
s**tfaced silence making it harder to reason with time.
with tomorrow.
first time i've felt anger in a while and now i feel naked. and vain.
tracing unnamed hawks with my finger to colorado thunderstorms.
as i'm stalled out on the freeway.
yeah, i'm part of something bigger.
but so what?

i wish this was easier -
finding a middle zone between
living our dreams and getting high and jumping off of coronado bridge.

[Vaynor]

And the contest is over! Good luck to those who got their poems in on time.

Looks like only two people missed the deadline. Not so bad.

[InaVegt]

My criteria are simple, which one do I like better.

Relaxation: Alarra
Perseverance: Hellpuppi
Uncertainty: Nexus
Instinct: Rubakhin (Jibar didn't submit anything, AFAIA)
Conceit: Felixaar
Desire: Kneenibble
Simplicity: Amotis (Quincunx didn't submit anything, AFAIA)
Curiosity: Brickwall

[Amotis]

whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa.

whoa.

judgements in spoilers, please.

we would also like commentary, if you don't mind.

[Quincunx]

I shouldn't have left it 'til the last day. OotS 549 went up and the site went down. Go on, Amotis.

[Hell Puppi]

Awww no Jibar, either?
:smallfrown:

[rubakhin]

Jibar! :smallmad:

*shakes fist*

[Miraqariftsky]

My criteria are simple, which one do I like better.

Relaxation: Alarra
Perseverance: Hellpuppi
Uncertainty: Nexus
Instinct: Rubakhin (Jibar didn't submit anything, AFAIA)
Conceit: Felixaar
Desire: Kneenibble
Simplicity: Amotis (Quincunx didn't submit anything, AFAIA)
Curiosity: Brickwall

Whaaa-?! I... did not expect that. Thank you.

Aye, the request for commentary/feedback is seconded.

[Dallas-Dakota]

I knew it was good to bring you here:smallsmile:

[InaVegt]

whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa.

whoa.

judgements in spoilers, please.

we would also like commentary, if you don't mind.

I suck at explaining why I do or don't like something. That's the main reason my book report's average grade was just an 6,4.

[truemane]

I suck at explaining why I do or don't like something. That's the main reason my book report's average grade was just an 6,4.

I can understand that, Gezina, really. But the writers here put a lot of work into their pieces, and what they really want is feedback. Most of them don't even much care if they win or lose, they just want to hear what other people think and get some ideas on how to improve.

You don't have to write a Master's Thesis, but even a little bit of effort spent to produce a few detais about each piece would be wonderful. And appreciated.

[Jibar]

Jibar! :smallmad:

*shakes fist*

I'm sorry! I finished my poem yesterday but when I tried to post it I couldn't access the site.

If it's not too late, then here.

Instinct
Celebrate dear kiddies, for here he is again,
It's Jibar, our favourite Cat-Muffiny friend,
Here he is, in the middle of the savannah,
It's the Cat-Muffins annual hunting hour,
Once a year the Cat-Muffin finds itself restless,
To prove their great strength they undergo a test,
Leaving their homes in the hands of their neighbour,
They go out to prove they have their God's favour,
Younger Cat-Muffins settle for daredevil feats,
But as they grow older they desire to be leet,
After their fifteenth year when they are fully grown,
They need to prove that in fights they can hold their own,
They journey to find the biggest animal alive,
But since they killed the last dinosaur in AD 55,
Their challanges have proved dissapointly few,
So these days they beat up animals in zoos,
But Jibar has decided to set a new standard,
And as such has been tracking a buffalo herd,
As they flew cross the Atlantic for hibernation,
In the warm plains of Africa in summer season,
And here resting at a palm tree'sbase,
The buffalo think they are perfectly safe,
Lo! A lion drops from the top of the tree,
And as the buffalo scttaer, who does the lion see?
Each roars at the other, lion and Cat-Muffin,
His sauce shivers as Jibar stares down the ruffian,
The lion leaps, is he done in?
No! Jibar returns with a shoryuken!
The lion yelps and bursts into flame,
And flees to his wife, tail low with shame,
Against such a foe one would think he was screwed for sure,
So remember my friend Cat-Muffins are damn hardcore.

(For the record, the Gods we worship are giant anthropomorphic fridges)

[InaVegt]

I can understand that, Gezina, really. But the writers here put a lot of work into their pieces, and what they really want is feedback. Most of them don't even much care if they win or lose, they just want to hear what other people think and get some ideas on how to improve.

You don't have to write a Master's Thesis, but even a little bit of effort spent to produce a few detais about each piece would be wonderful. And appreciated.

I have difficulties putting it into words in my native language. I wouldn't know how to say it in a foreign language like English.

Really, I can understand the sentiment, and would love to be able to, but I can't do it.

[SpiderMew]

Relaxation

Raiser_B1ade

It was nice, But I've never found the beach to be very relaxing, personally. Its always over crowded with other people, and around here they even make it so you cant get in late, well you cant park at the beach late, but you could walk in. Still, a relaxing walk on the beach is just not very likely to happen down here. Maybe this is why it just doesn't feel relaxing to me. I'm sure it will though to someone else.


Alarra

This reminds me of the breathing exercises I've been tough. Reminds me of how sometimes ill just sit and breathe and my mind will wonder into new directions with every breath. Your poem is also very calming.


Winner

Alarra.



Perseverance

Em Blackleaf

After reading this a few times, I'm left with the image of a man, bloody and broken, chained down, and trapped in a hallway of infinitely looked doors. Then magically there is a key and he can escape. I don't really see the challenge in this. Sure he's trapped, but the key to escape comes too easily for him. It should be something he has to work allot harder for.


Hellpuppi

That was cool. It would make a great metal song, if done right. I can also relate to how the lady feels, I too have dreamed of a hero, someone stronger then myself, to save me from my darkest times. Yet at times I've been the Knight myself, having to rush off to the unknown, just for the sake of one person. (and let me tell you, that did not end well) In short, I like your poem, it speaks to me about different parts of myself.


Winner
Hellpuppi


Uncertainty

Nexus-R.C._Mina

I think this might be longer then Devigod's!? (I actually read this one second)
This is more of a short story really. This chaotic desert is a tragic place to have to pass through. The only thing that is Uncertain though is why the walker is traveling though this place, nothing about where he is, is uncertain though. The Uncertainty is left more with the reader then the walker, or even the desert.


Devigod

A bit long don't you think? I was uncertain on the true direction of this poem (short story I should say!)
The 2 stories (the solder and the youth in love) don't really convey the theme of the story very well, and jumping back and forth like that is a bit confusing.


Winner

Nexus-R.C._Mina
Although both don't really seem to convey the subject of Uncertainty to me, Nexus's story was easer to fallow, it had form and a sense of direction, where as Devigod's was just bloody confusing.


Instinct

Jibar

No entry. I guess you shouldn't have worried about what to write like you said in your post before. A Cat muffin related poem would have been a weird and neat contrast to Rubakhin's war story.
LOL.
I was totally giggling to your poem. I obviously know little about Catmuffins, as they are clearly powerful warriors! (and apparently masters of Ansatsuken!) Remind me to check for ears the next time I'm offered a muffin to eat.


Rubakhin

Sad, yet proud. Such is this man, who's lead the wolfs to the slaughter. I guess its our nature, to fight each other like animals, and to ignore it when its not ourselves lost in the fight. War is so awful, why must it be a part of us.


Winner

Rubakhin, cuz he actually entered. Based off of my instinct, I'de have to say Jibar. Because of the more whimsical nature to her poem.


Conceit

Helgraf

I read this, and each time, I can picture it in a different way. The meanings of everything is left open to the reader, and the poem seems so prideful that at first, it reminded me of rap, and how commonly its about how much better they are then everyone else. Then I got to thinking, what if this orb was some object placed in the heavens, perhaps the moon or a distant star. Then perhaps you could also be writing about God, and how men keep striving to be like God but never will.

Felixaar

Stereotypical Supervillian declares he's going to kick your ass. This would fight for any world domination type; Dr. Doom, The Red Skull, Lex Luthor Sinestro.
The scope of things is rather limited though, it its hard to try to interpret this beyond anything else.

Winner

Helgraf. Because I had to read it a few times, and each time I was able to get something different.


Desire

Kneenibble

You really enjoy your bubble baths don't you? So much so that you cant wait for your feet and body to get soar from work and school, just so you can feel that sweet release of the water. I was honestly expecting something more sexual, but I guess the subject was too obvious to go down that route.

Dallas-Dakota

This was really nothing more then the definition of desire, over and over. No real substance here.

Winner
Kneenibble

Simplicity

Amotis

This is sad, and conveys well how Simplicity is something we today strive for. And yet how something so simple light getting high with your friends, can make life so much more complicated. Life sucks sometimes, doesn't it?

Quincunx
Your lack of poem made me conceder quoting the movie "Dude where's my car." Shame, shame on you!

Winner
Amotis


Curiosity

Zeratul

Cheating bitch, sometimes its good to be curious and find out stuff like that. If she realized she was always poking his head where he didn't belong, why did she think she could get away with sleeping around on him like that. Women..


Brickwall

Calli-hoo, call-hey? I haven't read or heard anyone say those words in years. This situation does happen every day, but with our current level of technology its easer to get out of these situations. I would have liked something more. Perhaps something more tragic, or something totally the other way around. This was simply too lighthearted for curiosity.

Winner

Zeratul

[Alarra]

Since the boards were down and everyone has their extra half day once a contest anyway...I would think we should let Jibar and Quincux get their's in. It's not their fault that the boards were down most of the day. Whatdya think Vay?

[PhoeKun]

Even I think that's a good idea. Which should speak volumes all by itself.

[truemane]

I plan on critiquing Jibar's entry, and would be happy to critique Quincunx's as well, were she to produce one. Whether or not they are official entries is another matter.

I DO, however, think that special consideration be made for circumstances such as the boards being down.

And everyone gets one free pass anyway, no?

But I shall abide by Vaynor's ruling, whatever it may be.

[Amotis]

Yeahyeahyeah, free pass.

The server was certainly up and down all day yesterday.


Go on, Amotis.

DON'T SAY THAT! I PROMISED YOUR MOTHER I WOULD BRING YOU HOME! AND I'M GONNA DO JUST THAT! JUST HOLD ON! I'M GONNA LAUNCH THE ROCKET NOW! HOLD ON!

[Devigod]

Are we getting judged based on the prompt at all?

Okay, I won't ask you to change your judgement, but if you want me to clarify, the whole idea was an internal struggle within the main character to ask this one girl out, but he kept doubting himself. Throughout the soldier part, it speaks the story of another kind of coward. The idea is that they both jump into the fray and even though the kid gets let down, he still knows that he's conquered his doubt and that next time it will be easier. The soldier on the other hand, does conquer his foe, uncertainty and succeeded.

Anyways, this is exactly why I entered the contest though, for critique, so let it continue!

Sure, give them time, I think it's important that they get to have their things judged and that the people in their round have something to be judged against.

Edit: Heh manly hug. Haha, that made me laugh.

[rubakhin]

Jibar! Brother! You - you came through for me! For all of us! *manful embrace*

(Yeah, I know how it is with Rich updating all over our contest deadline. I was hoping that it was just a technical problem and not a terminal case of writer's block. :smallsmile:)

[PhoeKun]

Are we getting judged based on the prompt at all?

It depends on the judge. Some could care less about the prompt, and give it as little consideration as possible. Others have, in the past, docked points for anything less than a literal interpretation of the prompt. That said, I've never seen anyone lose because they followed the prompt, so do keep that in mind.



Sure, give them time, I think it's important that they get to have their things judged and that the people in their round have something to be judged against.

I'm a little iffy on this sentiment. Personally, I love to see the competition thrive, and full brackets make my heart dance with glee even when I'm not participating per se, but the universality with which you seem to be speaking kind of scares me. There are still deadlines that need to be upheld (poor enforcement of that rule is, in part, the reason for the catastrophic collapse of Iron Author), and even if special consideration should be given to extenuating circumstances, I don't think full brackets are more important than timely entries.


...How did I get on this soapbox? :smallconfused: *steps off, curtsies, and scampers away*

[Devigod]

I'm a little iffy on this sentiment. Personally, I love to see the competition thrive, and full brackets make my heart dance with glee even when I'm not participating per se, but the universality with which you seem to be speaking kind of scares me. There are still deadlines that need to be upheld (poor enforcement of that rule is, in part, the reason for the catastrophic collapse of Iron Author), and even if special consideration should be given to extenuating circumstances, I don't think full brackets are more important than timely entries.


...How did I get on this soapbox? :smallconfused: *steps off, curtsies, and scampers away*

Heh, I don't know, but the enlightenment certainly helps. I merely supported that they have a bit more time, obviously, if they aren't done today, I think they can expect to lose. Maybe we should invoke a rule that they are encouraged to get them done on time. If they hit the deadline, good, if not, anyone who has already judged gives them a lose, but if they can scramble before the other judges have their acts together, they should still be considered. (Judges can still opt to penalize for lateness)

Sorry to scare you. I have a tendency to speak in a general tongue that allows for horrifying possiblity.

You seem to know a lot about the contest. Can I ask why you didn't opt to judge?

[Jibar]

Jibar! Brother! You - you came through for me! For all of us! *manful embrace*

*Cat-Muffinful embrace*
Of course. I only miss deadlines when I can't stop it, or if it's school work.
And thank you to you kindly judges for allowing my entry to still count.
*bow and bounce out*

[truemane]

First of all, I agree with Phoe, who's wisdom is equalled only by her fiercely-held principles. Deadlines exist for a reason. And although some flexibility can be allowed, owing to the fact that we're volunterring our time here and owing to techinical problems, if we are TOO flexible, nothing gets done.

And the most recent Iron Author (and the third one, back in the day) did indeed fall to pieces for this very reason.

Secondly, why doesn't anyone title their poetry anymore? I wrote "Untitled" so many times it's burned into my muscle memory now.

Thirdly, EVERYONE please remember that ANY AND ALL discussion of poems, judgements, or anything else NEEDS to be in Spoiler Tags. Just write [SPO ILER] (without the space) at the beginning if whatever you say, and [/SPOILER] at the end. I like to read my poems cold and judge them the same way, and scrolling down to find Devigod discussing his poem openly is like finding out the ending of a move before I see it. So knock it off. That includes judges.

And lastly:

ROUND ONE - FIGHT!

Relaxation
Raiser B1ade vs. Alarra


Raiser B1ade
Untitled

There's some good stuff in here, mixed in with some not so good stuff. I like the phrase 'Oceanic melodies.' I like the general notion of a walk by the sea with somone special being relazing and soothing. I would guess that this idea comes from personal experience.

BUT. Walking hand-in-hand listening to the rhythm of nature is a cliche. "Rhythm of nature" is too abstract a phrase. Show us what that looks like, what it sounds like, what it smells like. Give us a concrete image or two that communicate the rhythm of nature in a direct and imediate fashion and your piece will be stronger for it.

Same goes for "I free my mind..." and "I forget the world." In both cases you could communicate this idea with images that would place us more firmly in the world of the poem.


Alarra
Untitled

I like this, Alarra. Not every poem needs to be a philosophical think-piece about the meaning of life or a series of obscure images. Sometimes all you need is a single over-riding theme and a series of quick stanzas that tell us what it is and what it's like. It's a nice piece. Simple. Refined. Disciplined. Like the process of meditation itself.

If you were in the mood for a re-write, however, think you could make it stronger with a few changes. Everywhere you read something that can't be sensed by one of the five sense, try to re-work it so it can be. The images don't have to make linear sense, but they should invoke the mood you're chasing.

For example: "Infusing each vein,/Bringing life." I can SEE the breath infusing your vein, but with what? I can't see life, or feel it. Give us a nice concrete NOUN that VERBS your veins. Is it like silver pouring through you? It is like your arms fill with air? Is it like small bursts of light flowing through you?

Same with "A fine golden mist/Of tension, leaving." Fine Golden Mist is nice, but if you were to pair that with what tension looks like, feels like, and what it's like when it leaves, the image would be very strong.

And the other thing I would suggest is to use the refrain of breath more directly. Since breathing is rhythmical and central to both the process of meditation AND the poem, use it more. Every stanza (or two), maybe, could begin or end with a repeated image that represent the inhalation and exhalation. That would hook everything together and give them poem the same kind of soothing repetition that meditative breathing does.

Nice work. I look forward to seeing more.


Decision

Alarra

I thought both peices could use another run or two through the Word Processer, and both could use more emphasis on sensual imagery instead of abstract ideas, but Alarra's felt more complete, and more organic and unified.



Perseverance
HellPuppi vs. Em Blackleaf


HellPuppi
Untitled

Hm. I'm not sure what you were aiming at with this one, but it feels incomplete. Are the lady and the knight metaphors? Fantasy Characters? I don't know. And if I don't know, I can't follow you on whatever journey you were trying to take me.

The language itself is fine. Slightly formal free verse is perfect for this material. The pace of your words is also fine, being measured without being precisely rhythmic.

You could use a little less abstract declaration ("Their will stronger than the enemy") and a little more concrete description. You could have characterized both the lady and the knight a little better, giving us an idea of who they are aside from being poetic conventions.

But first and last I'm just not sure what you're getting at and it impedes my ability to engage with the piece.


Em Blackleaf
Untitled

Too brief, Em. There's nothing here. The guy is 'Broken, Sore, Restrained' but uses his 'lame limbs' to make 'great strides toward freedom.' And then, once free, 'soars on brittle bones' and leaves his constraints far behind. And that's it. What was his prison? Why was he broken? What made him get up? Were they real chains? How does "great strides" suddenly mean he's free? How does he soar on brittle bones?

I understand that you were probably trying for a quick-stroke vague and undefined situation where his prison could be anything (drugs, jail, fear). But we need something.

And the language isn't very evocative or dense. You've got the hope illuminating the key, and the soaring on the brittle bones, and everything else isn't even made of images. Just descriptions.

I've enjoyed many of your poems in the pasyt, but this one feels like either a last-minute rush job or an experiment in minimalism gone wrong.


Decision

Em Blackleaf

Tough one. Both poems left me cold. I'm going with Em Blackleaf simply because hers seemed closer to doing what she meant for it to do.



Uncertainty
Nexus-R.C._Mina vs. Devigod


Nexus-R.C._Mina
Walker of the Waste

You gotta respect someone who puts the word 'Lo!' in a poem without being sarcastic and pulls it off. I think that the elevated, formal language works for this piece. It's got a real epic feel to it, and the VAST WASTE and the HEROIC WANDERER relate to it well. I also thought that your decision not to restrict your lines to one length, and not to give them a heavy rhythm, also works. The waste is vast, and the poetry needs the freedom to stretch out to accomodate it. Stylized free verse is the right choice for this material.

My only issue is: who is this guy? What's he doing out there? Is he out of his mind? Where's he going? Does he have any idea what he's getting into? I would like to know (which is good - it shows your writing piqued my interest) but I can't know, because you don't tell me (which is bad, since you can't tell a story without talking about your only character).

What I would do on a re-write is to introduce Mr. Walking Man in Stanza Three. Two full stanzas of description of waste is plenty. If you don't get by then that it's BIG and it's NASTY, you'll never get it. Then, after you introduce him, give him something to do, somewhere to go, some reason to be walking around inside your poem taking up space.

Give me a little of that and I'd have to declare this to be good times.

Also, who's uncertain here? The Wanderer? He seems pretty confident to me.


Devigod
Untitled

Haha. She shot him down. I love that. And the fact that he was fine with that, since it was only the decision to act that mattered made this read a lot better than it should have been.

If you're going to use such a regular rhyme and rhythm scheme, you have to be extra careful to stick with it. No scheme at all and it's free verse. Scheme all the way and it's structures. Scheme sort of/kind of and it just feel sloppy. Like Mr. Miyagi in The Karate Kid who says "Karate yes, safe. Karate no, safe. Karate guess so, squish. Just like grape."

If keeping a single pattern is too static for your liking, then what you want to do is think in sections, movements. Three stanzas at one pattern, three more at a second, and three more at another, and so on. You can use these to divide up your subject matter as well. And if you can match your content to your form (short lines and heavily rhymed when the soldier is indicisive, something light and jumpy when he's about to ask her, and a freer rhythm when he defeats his indecision) then you have something of real worth.

On the other hand, there are a couple of fun lines in here: "The girl said sorry-/Game him a nay." made me smile. And The soldier hears the scouting crow-/‘Twould feast on him or fallen foe." is pretty sweet.

There's the beginnings of a good poem in here. But it needs some polish.


Decision

Nexus-R.C._Mina

Both poems were a lot of style and flash without enough substance to make it work, but Nexus's piece was LESS flash and MORE substance. And so it worked a little better.



Instinct
Rubakhin vs. Jibar


Rubakhin
Daymokhk

I really don't see the point in critiquing your work, Rubakhin, to be entirely honest. Your poetry, when you're on your game, is of professional quality and I think you know it as well as I do. Anything I can offer you as far as points of improvement can only be my opinion set against yours. And your opinion is as informed and as well-formed as mine is, and I think you know that too. You are easily the best practitioner of structured poetry on these boards. And, even in my personal and professional lives, I don't come across many poets (especially as young as you are) who are your equal.

So. What to say? Beautiful piece. Truly breath-taking. Just enough rhythm and just enough rhyme to keep it tight and disciplined. Just enough freedom to make it feel like unaccented speech. Just enough Slavic flavour to make it feel exotic and just enough Western to make it feel familiar. Just enough sensual imagery to root us in time and place, and just enough abstraction to pull us out of it. The refrain is VERY effective. As are the repeated motifs and extended metaphors. And the final two stanzas are wonderful. Sad and defiant at the same time.

There's no point in me sitting here praising you. But I don't have anything to tell you as far as making things better.

I always look forward to reading your work.


Jibar
Untitled

Heh. Good times. A reminder that, sometimes, poems don't even have to make any sense to be fun. I mean, really, how can you not LOVE a poem that requires the knowledge that Cat-Muffins worship anthropomorphic refrigerators in order to enjoy? What a silly, odd, absurd little wack-job of a poem. Your images were completely ridiculous. Your rhymes were forced to the point of self-satire, and your subject matter was so strange that a random shoryuken seemed to fit.

I don't have anything to say. I'm not sure anything can be said about this. I certainly can't think of anything clever or illuminating. It's FELINE CONFECTION for the love of Burlew! What more NEED be said?

I think that, as long as the human race possesses imagination, there will ALWAYS be Cat-Muffins.

That is all.



Decision

Rubakhin

Cat-Muffins are fun and all, but...



Conceit
Helgraf vs. Felixaar

Helgraf
Untitled


"And if this to thee seem unsightly artifice..."

Yes. It does. This piece has two major problems. The first is that your language is FAR too stitled and artificial, and the second is that the language serves nothing outside of itself.

There's nothing wrong with beefing up your language and throwing in some 'thous' and 'thy's'. When paired with applicable subject matter, it can be good fun. But that's the important part: when paired with applicable subject matter. This piece sounds like it was written by someone who thinks that ALL poems should sound like Shakespeare. At least the ones that rhyme. I think that you should take this and rewrite it using normal, everyday, modern language. And then read both out loud. You'll see how much more direct and powerful the ideas sound when you aren't forcing them into a set of clothes that don't fit.

Now. If you want to keep the archaic phrasing, fine. Have a party. But then MAKE IT WORK. Given that your language is several hundred years old, what would a several hundred years old narrator have to say about conceit? What would they be declaring their individuality for? To? Against? I can see this guy standing up against the fedual system. Religion. Tradition. The very poetic conventions that create the very language he's using.

But it's gotta be Something. Otherwise it's just a gimmick.

Also, I know you needed the rhyme, but:

And if this to thee seem unsightly artifice
Such as thine sensible digestion cannot absorb
That is naught but thy unseemly avarice

IF the rank-and-file weren't able to digest the idea of the individual as the centre of all existence, that wouldn't be avarice. Avarice means greed, which is the OPPOSITE of collectivist thought. Wouldn't the rank-and-file, having given over the primacy of their wills to some OTHER force or entity, think the EGOIST the avaricious one? Again, I know you were just rhyming, but watch that sort of thing.

The other, less fundamental, issue is your choice of structure. Repeating 'orb' and 'absorb' doesn't add anything to the poem and restricts the flow of your ideas. And you don't even keep it up all the way through. When you establish a given pattern of sounds and/or images, any departure from that pattern should be deliberate and should add something to the ongoing mosaic. Yours doesn't. Neither the adherence nor the departure. So if I were you I would either drop the middle refrain-type-line ending, or keep it up all the way through. Or make a point when you depart from it.

What's good? Several things. "Tarry not in seeking the path of my ascent/ Thy arms cannot propel thy craft so oared" I really enjoyed that couplet. I still like it. I'm saying it out loud to myself right now and it's nice. Also, given that you chose to restrict yourself to this particular structure, you pull it off pretty well. And although you overuse the word 'mine', your language sounds okay. Nice and formal and classical. It's not the wording I'm objecting to, it's the inclusion of it in a poetic mode that doesn't need it.

Some nice things, but overall I think this one is a do-over.


Felixaar
Untitled


I'm not going to say a lot abnout this one, Felixaar, since I know you threw it up quick-quick so as not to default. On behalf of the entire contest, I appreciate your level of dedication, but there's no point in seriouslty critiquing something that isn't 'A Material.'

So, the big thing here is that you adhere to your chosen rhythm and rhyme scheme inconsistently, and without adding anything to the piece. The first two stanzas are nice. Quick, controlled, tight. And then you loosen it up until by the end you're not even rhyming every line any more. Stanzas four and five have long rambling lines instead of the short and tight ones of the rest of the piece. Which is fine. But if that's going to be the case, the content of those stanzas should comment on the line length. Or the line length should comment on the content. Whichever. It should feel just as deliberate and disciplined as the rest, rather than less.

And last thing: "Lead our people to the skies?" What's THAT all about? I thought you were riffing on some horrid emo break-up rant, or a personal vendetta. And it turns out the narrator is a cultural revolutionary? WTF?

So, in short, drop the ending. Tighten up (or deliberately let go) the middle, and you'll be getting somewhere.


Decision

Felixaar

Neither piece was wonderful. They both had similar problems from opposite angles. But Felizaar's angry rant was a little more direct and immediate.



Desire
Dallas-Dakota vs. Kneenibble


Dallas-Dakota
Untitled

When you write a poem of this sort, you really have two options. The first is to make it about whatever it is that you WANT, and make that the centre of the piece. And then you're talking about the person/place/thing and commenting on it, your lack of it, your desire for it, etc. The other option is to forget about the thing and just talk about your need. Now. The trick with this sort of thing is that, in the absence of knowing WHAT it is you want, we really need to know WHY you want.

You communicate the need well enough, but that's all that's there.

In order for it to really work, you need to give us something more.


Kneenibble
Currents

By the Gods, a sonnet! And a Spencerian Sonnet, no less! I give you full credit for taking something as relatively simple as hip wading and wrapping it in something as formal as a sonnet. But unless the form somehow comments on the content, it's just a gimmick. So the question isn't so much how did you do it as it is should you have done it at all?

I think so. You manage to make the Iambic Pentameter sound very natural and unaffected. I like the way you wrap your lines over the rhymes so that every line doesn't end with the end of a phrase. in particular I liked:

as red as apples! but the water flows
too fast, too cool, too sweetly gilds the grief
and takes me like a lover or a thief
(that quiet), kissing bubbles from my nose.

The way the phrases spill over to the next line is very effective and the parenthetical serves as a syllable cheat AND a way to make it sound more like casual speech.

There is no clear division between Octave and Sestet, which is too bad. The subject matter, being naturally divided into pre-wet and post-wet, would have fit into that mold very easily. But as it is it's nice. Sweet. Simple,

Well done.


Decision

Kneenibble

Gotta give props for writing a sonnet. And overall his poem was more complete.



Simplicity
Amotis vs. Quincunx


Amotis
Where's Walden?

You and I have some history. As such, whenever I hit the Spoiler button for one of your poems I put up my defenses and don my academic reserve so as not to let our history interfere with my judging. I want to be sure that I look at your work with some degree of dispassion so that my critique is fair. I can think of no greater disservice I can do you as an artist than to be be overly lenient in my analysis.

As such I think I can say that the following is a fair and balanced opinion:

Exquisite.

This one slipped right past all of my walls and defenses and hit me right in my tummy. It's a beautiful, delicate, wondrous piece, Amotis. Easily the best this Round. In the last little while I've seen you start to take control of that mad emotional brush you wield so effortlessly. Adding discipline and structure to the irrational genius of your soul.

Where do I start? Grammar. We've talked about grammar, you and I. The way you used periods instead of commas slices up the images and the thoughts so that you're never sure which phrase belongs to which phrase and so the whole thing slides into the realm of surreal and dreamlike. That opening stanza, for example. "So with ocean..." Where does that belong? To the phrase before? After? Grammatically it doesn't really belong anywhere. Thematically it belongs to both. And so it sits there. On its own. Separate and alone and almost becomes a piece of pure abstraction. Like Pollock in words. And the lack of capitalization increases the disconnect between this world and reality. Between the rational and the true.

The way you take the petty and mean things of the everyday and make them epic continues to amaze and confuse me. I don't know how you do it. But somehow even, "yeah, i'm part of something bigger./but so what?" which, in anyone else's hands, would seem like a trite cliche, becomes a window on the narrator's soul, and therefore on our own.

Rage. Sadness. Resignation. Despair. Your simple words and casual phrasing hide all of those in the corners. Your minimilalist imagery creates a deranged slideshow of quick strokes. And then you draw out the overriding motif of space and light and bridge and ocean all around it and that somehow makes all the misery fresh and cleansing and redeeming.

I have only a couple of VERY minor notes for (possible) improvement. "we figured out what we wanted to do." I think is weak and abstract where something strong and concrete would work better. "middle zone" doesn't do it for me. Can we think of an actual PLACE that the narrator would think of as a middle zone?

But really that's just nitpicking. It works magnificently as it is.


Quincunx
No Entry

Decision

Amotis

Unopposed. But this was one the best pieces I've seen from you yet, Amotis, and so your win is deserved.



Curiosity
Brickwall vs. Zeratul


Brickwall
Untitled

Cute. I giggled. I don't have a lot to say about it, actually. It's a fun little piece with an odd rhyme scheme. What is that? ABBA CDDC EFFE GHHG? Unusual to say the least. Like a Spencerian Sonnet gone horribly., horribly wrong. But I think it works. It kind of draws you on and connects the material without calling attention to itself. No consistent rhythm that I can discern. Which is fine.

It was funny. I liked it.


Zeratul
Untitled

A story poem. Good times. You don't get too many of these, as a rule. Modern poetry is used most often to expound on a single idea or to express a given set of emotions, but rarely used to tell a story. So that was fun. And your structure was functional. A little rhyme here, a mild rhythm there. There are a few times where you seem to be reaching for the rhymes, the ends of the fourth and fifth stanzas, especially. So watch that.

My only real problem is that it just sort of lays there. When you use a poem to tell a story, you want to be sure to use some of the same conventions as prose. Who is this guy? Who's cheating on him? Why is she cheating? Does he need to know about it because he's jealous? Curious? Nosy? What? All you have here the narrative information. We need something else to hang our responses on.

On the other hand, your final line made me laugh out loud.


Decision

Brickwall

They were both light, easy poems. Both stories. Both fun. Brick's was just a little more light hearted and little more in-line with what it was trying to do.

[Brickwall]

Responses to judges

@Gezina
Thanks. Further comments plz? We get in this for critique, not trophies.

@spidermew
Some people don't like lighthearted poetry. Fair enough. I was well aware of the risk in being silly with it. But situational realism shouldn't be brought into poetry at all. If you're going to attack it with that, I can defend it by invoking metaphor. And that defense wins every time. I'm sure you'd have liked zer's poem better regardless, given your other opinions, but a pragmatic approach to the content of poetry falls to the artistic approach, unless the poetry was constructed with that in mind. And mine wasn't. Something for you to remember later.

@truemane
I don't know anything about official names for stuff, but the slightly demented rhyme scheme was intentional. I personally thought it made the poem seem a little awkward in an area or too, maybe forced, but if you enjoyed it, I'm not going to complain :smalltongue:

Deadlines: Iron Author fell because we failed to enforce these. Partiall my fault, too. We need to be strict about them.

[PhoeKun]

You seem to know a lot about the contest. Can I ask why you didn't opt to judge?

I've participated in every Iron Poet since the first, and was less than 30 seconds away from caving and entering (first as judge, then as poet) despite telling myself I couldn't have anything to do with this one. I've... well, I probably shouldn't go into my personal problems here. But my finger twice lingered over the post button, and twice I refreshed to find the final slot had been filled. I believe in signs, so I have to believe I'm just not meant to be in this particular contest. I've stopped shaking at the thought of trying again, so you'll see me for sure next time through.

... Oh, what the heck, I'm here. *clears throat*

There are a couple of things I'd like to say in regards to this contest (Iron Poet, not IP IV). Those of you who know me know I often have trouble having much good to say about myself. But, if I can manage to allow myself a moment of arrogance, I really have believed from day one that if I bring my A-game to this contest, there are only a handful of people here who stand much chance of beating me. I won't say who they are, but I think they know. And these people... gods this is terrifying for me to say... they're getting better. I'm in awe. I'm not even sure my best could steal a vote from them anymore.

And it's not just the best. Everyone who has regularly entered these contests has been improving (and at a dramatically faster rate than the bit I'm managing. :smallredface:). The first time I entered, I said to myself "There is no reason I won't win this." As it turned out, I was barely edged out in a titanic clash with an wonderfully talented poet, but that's not the point. I am still chasing my first championship, and it has never seemed farther away. That everyone is getting better is both a testament to the talent and effort everyone puts into their poems and their growth, but also to the care and devotion the judges have given to helping.

I used to fear poetry was dying. At this point, it's my contributions I'm more worried about. I kind of doubt anymore that I'm ever going to live up to my own hopes, but... well, all the same, thank you everyone. This has been amazing to be part of. I'm crying right now, at the thought...

[Vaynor]

@Jibar and Quincunx: You may use your one-day-late pass to turn in your poems, the site not being up all day yesterday regardless. You had one week to turn in your poems, which is more than enough. I'd suggest you use your pass (seeing as the rest of the contest won't happen for you if you don't, anyways) and try to get your poems in a day early just in case, if you think that might help.

Also, a reminder to please put judgments in spoilers, and if someone does not, please don't quote them so they can fix it at a later time.

[SpiderMew]

Responses to judges


@spidermew
Some people don't like lighthearted poetry. Fair enough. I was well aware of the risk in being silly with it. But situational realism shouldn't be brought into poetry at all. If you're going to attack it with that, I can defend it by invoking metaphor. And that defense wins every time. I'm sure you'd have liked zer's poem better regardless, given your other opinions, but a pragmatic approach to the content of poetry falls to the artistic approach, unless the poetry was constructed with that in mind. And mine wasn't. Something for you to remember later.


Are you suggesting I came into this with a biest opinion? Because I had no opinion of you personaly other then the fact you might be a slilly person ("Ive got Negitive Money")
I just read every poem at once and wrote what I honestly thought at the time. Im sorry if what I wrote came off as some sort of attack on you personaly, such was not my intention. Perhaps its just part of my preconceved notions on what I've experenced with the subject of curiousity. Sorry I wasnt really into your poem.
If my review didn't fall into some sort of formula that you've come to expect, keep in mind this is my first time reviewing such a contest.

[Gaelbert]

I'll get my thoughts posted on them soon, I'm about halfway done but I don't want to rush it and make a mistake.

[Brickwall]

Are you suggesting I came into this with a biest opinion? Because I had no opinion of you personaly other then the fact you might be a slilly person ("Ive got Negitive Money")
I just read every poem at once and wrote what I honestly thought at the time. Im sorry if what I wrote came off as some sort of attack on you personaly, such was not my intention. Perhaps its just part of my preconceved notions on what I've experenced with the subject of curiousity. Sorry I wasnt really into your poem.
If my review didn't fall into some sort of formula that you've come to expect, keep in mind this is my first time reviewing such a contest.

Biased opinion? No, I'm saying you said you don't like silly poetry, or at least not on the particular subject matter. That's totally fair. Taste always enters into art.

I'm just saying, realism doesn't enter into it. You brought that up, and it really seemed...wrong. It's poetry. It doesn't mention the real world, and the real world doesn't belong with it. Products of a dreaming mind shouldn't be held in the light of practicality.

[SpiderMew]

Biased opinion? No, I'm saying you said you don't like silly poetry, or at least not on the particular subject matter. That's totally fair. Taste always enters into art.

I'm just saying, realism doesn't enter into it. You brought that up, and it really seemed...wrong. It's poetry. It doesn't mention the real world, and the real world doesn't belong with it. Products of a dreaming mind shouldn't be held in the light of practicality.

Ah! I see your point.

[Amotis]

@truemane:
Thank you for the praise, my friend. It was a weird mix of spending the week thinking randomly about it, ideas and whatnot, and stressing about thinking about it but having nothing concrete until about an hour before it was due until it went on paper in a more emotional environment that I usually write in. Apparently it worked? But thank you.

@rubakhin:
I especially loved your entry, rubakhin. Wonderful.

[Dallas-Dakota]

About my poem

Ah wel, I gave it a shot anyway:smalltongue:
I´l try to follow your advice next time, ok?

Out but still happy with the advice:smalltongue:

[Raiser Blade]

@Spidermew
Huh you don't see the beach as relaxing? That's suprising considering it is pretty well known for being just that.

[Helgraf]

Spoilery so as not to be read by judges til after judgin' be done.


:notes he is currently 1:2, with only two judges holding:

Hmmm. Well. Mmmm.

Bits of quartz crystal in the rough, on one hand, with emphasis on it being rough and forced.

Nothing on the other.

Depth of meaning from the more positive reviewer. To admit it probably should have seen more polish. I made an effort to work multiple definitions of conceit into the poem and the poem structure. This was at least partially successful, but at the same time it has drawn some reasonable fire, especially where the poem may have suffered to too artificially fit the idea. I can accept that. I may have leaned too strongly into conceit as arrogance, which though related, are not the same.


On to non-spoilery things - as this is my first time in Iron Poet, what is the ground rules? Is it single elimination; double-elimination, round robin, modified round robin (x rounds around so you don't face everyone, but do face multiple 'opponents' then best placers overall go into either a single or double elimination sequence to narrow it down to the crown)), some sort of composite scoring (so right now I'd be going into round two with 1-2 + the last two judges, and after x rounds, the highest 4 competitors win/loss records go to finals), or something else altogether, or?

((EDIT: It _looks_ like single elim rounds, but would prefer to know for sure))

[truemane]

It is indeed elimination. You get votes from each judge. The poem with the most votes wins the round. The other gets to play golf for the post-season.

[Zeb The Troll]

I apologize for my inordinately long delay in getting to this. The in-laws to be came to town this weekend and I just haven't had a chance. I'm going to do it right now though, so bear with me just a wee bit longer.

[rubakhin]

@Amotis

You know, I was gonna say the same to you. Man, I have not had a happy time of it on PCP. Never take angel dust and watch Fight Club with a bunch of murderous Albanians.

[SpiderMew]

@Spidermew
Huh you don't see the beach as relaxing? That's suprising considering it is pretty well known for being just that.


I guess im just weird. Sorry. The beach acutaly used to scare me as a kid too. Perhaps its part of those childhood fears playing into that.

[Zeb The Troll]

Okay, I've finally got them done. Bear in mind that my reviews are strictly from a standpoint of what I like and not based in any erudite analysis of poetry, a la rubakhin.

That being said, here are my comments.

Relaxation

Raiser B1ade - Overall this was pretty good. I got the emotion, I got the relaxing, and I got the hint of romance in there. I think it could have been improved a bit by slightly different word choices though. "Bask" for example seemed a bit out of place here. I did enjoy reading it, though.

Alarra - This says to me more "meditation" than "relaxation" but the concepts have similar goals and ends and one doesn't necessarily preclude the other, so I'll give you half credit there. :smalltongue: With that thought, it almost even sounds like a meditative mantra to sit and repeat while you're sitting cross-legged with your eyes closed metering your breaths trying to find your center. I'm not sure why you decided to describe your tension as "a fine golden mist" however. That seems like it would be a good thing, not something you'd want to get rid of. Seems like you'd want to exhale a noxious green cloud of tension or inhale a golden mist of calm, maybe. I don't know. Overall I liked it.

Verdict - Alarra

Perseverance

Em Blackleaf - A good read, to be sure. I'm not so sure it falls with perseverance so much as dumb luck. Your hero didn't keep trying until he succeeded so much as found the will and the energy to continue once hw was shown the way. Barring that, the imagery is wonderful. I could see the crumpled broken man lying in chains on a dirty dungeon floor looking for some reason to continue. I just don't feel like the fist and last stanzas jived with each other.

Hellpuppi - I wanted to like this one more. I feel like there's too much story left out of this. I want to read more about how the knight and the maiden are linked and why. Who are the lost loves? Why did her (their?) friends turn on them. It's a credit to you that I want to know these things just from what I've read, but there's just too much mentioned and not explained. As an example, I think the whole sixth stanza could be removed without anyone noticing.

Verdict - very close, but I'm going with Em.

Uncertainty

Nexus-R.C. Mina - Errrm, wow. I don't know that I'm the right person to be commenting on this type of entry. I have to keep going back and rereading in order to make sure I'm following what's going on. That's not necessarily a bad thing, it just makes it harder for me to judge. But after these few readings I find myself drawn in and almost feeling the searing sand turn cold as the Walker nears and just a hint of dread wondering if he's after me. I do wonder, though, if that's the uncertainty you were writing about, because I didn't see it anywhere else. Maybe I'm just not reading it right.

Devigod - This one really spoke to me. I can recall moments in my life where I've experienced most of the things you describe. From wondering how to woo the fair maiden and what if she says no? To the realization that with all my training and drills and practice, will I be able to perform once the bullets start flying? And on and on. I felt for the hero, and wanted to yell encouragements and and offer condolences. Very well done.

Verdict - I hate to have to say that one of these two shouldn't go on, so don't read it that way, but I have to vote for only one of them and my vote goes to Devigod.

Instinct

Jibar - Just a might on the silly side. It's a clever tale that reminds me, in the slightest way, of Dr. Seuss without all of the whimsy. It just doesn't do it for me, though. Maybe it's the context of the competition which tends to lean to the serious even though it's not mandated to be so.

rubakhin - Moy blizzhayshchij ruskij droog, your poem brings to mind the dichotomy of the warrior-mentor. In one arm he holds his wisdom of battle and survival and the harshness of both that he has to pass on to the youth so they can continue on as he. In the other he holds the desire to set aside these violent and painful things and enjoy the warm embrace of his love and never have to know these things again. It's beautiful.

Verdict - rubakhin

Conceit

Helgraf - I think you hit the prompt on the head. Your imagery is conceit beyond conceit. I really liked the way it flowed as well. The one thing that bugs me is the high language, but hell even that feeds into the nature of conceit and succeeds in adding that "this is why people don't like people who are conceited" emotion welling up while I was reading it, so I'm chalking that up as a plus in this case. Very good.

Felixaar - This one just kind of fell flat with me. It sounds more like lyrics to a metal song than a poem. (I know, the two are not mutually exclusive.) Even with that, I was following okay until the last stanza. Where did leading our people come from? It just kind of flew out of left field at me.

Verdict - Helgraf

Desire

Kneenibble - To me this one fell a bit short of previous stuff that I've read from you. It's missing something that I can't quite put my finger on. I get the feeling of cool running water over hot feet and the sense of relief that can provide, but I'm not feeling any desire here. Were you not into this poem like past entries?

dallas-dakota - Maybe it's because of your avatar, but this struck me more as the beginning of a children's book on sharing. I see the word desire and words that mean desire, but nothing that evokes desire.

Verdict - Kneenibble

Simplicity

Amotis - *looks at prompt. Simplicity. this should be easy*
*looks at poem. drugs and suicide.* :smallconfused:
I, eh, I don't even know what to say to this.

Curiosity

zeratul - I think I can see where you were going with this, that maybe it's not always best to investigate your suspicions about your SO, but the way you went about it seems a bit clunky to me. Two things in particular jump out at me. 1) The use of curiosity killing the cat is a bit hackneyed and cliche and 2) you seemed to want to avoid reusing phrases so you hammered your old phrase just enough to make it misshapen and broken but still recognizable for what it used to be.

Brickwall - I'm not sure what this has to do with the prompt at all. I get more of a "lost" feeling than anything else and the line "I took my own route just to see what I'd find" only serves to explain why your character is lost. The cadence seems to fit a different idea too. Curiosity is usually excited investigation and experimentation, while this poem seems to lumber along taking things as they come. There's no eagerness to it.

Verdict - because despite my commentary, it's cleaner and easier to read, my vote goes to Brickwall

[Gaelbert]

Please note that I have no actual poetry training for writing or critiquing. I’m just doing this on what feels right to me, so my explanations might be a little sketchy and hard to follow.

Raiser B1ade vs. Alarra
Alarra
I really enjoyed this one. It was written well, and it actually does calm me. I don't have much to criticize.
Raiser B1ade
I liked the form of this one, too. They both seemed designed to relax. However, there's something about the imagery of the poem that doesn't quite sit right with me. I don't really know how to explain it, but the use of "nature" pulled me away from the beach scene and over to more of a foresty type atmosphere.
Alarra

Em Blackleaf vs. Hellpuppi
Em Blackleaf
For something written about perseverance, I felt it was a little short. I'm not necessarily saying that short poems are bad, but I think there was a lot more you could have put in by fleshing it out some
Hellpuppi
Another story poem. Good stuff. I really liked the idea of the poem, but I have one small question: What exactly were those demons probing the lady's mind? It sounds like there might be something behind that.
Hellpuppi

Nexus-R.C._Mina vs. Devigod
Nexus
I enjoyed this poem, but it read more like a story than a poem. However, I know I have been guilty of that in the past, and quite frankly, I like stories and plots and so on.
Devigod
This one started out promising, but then it lost me. Call me simple minded, but it reminded me an awful lot of Snoopy when he wrote himself into a corner... *ramble* Back on topic, though, I think you started out with a good idea, but when you split it so much it becomes diluted.
Nexus-R.C._Mina

Jibar vs. Rubakhin
Jibar
I loved this poem. Comedy is what I needed, and here it is delivered. I normally have problems dissecting humor and analyzing it, but I can try. I think you strayed a little from the point a couple of times, but seeing as this was a darn funny poem, that doesn’t really cause too many problems. The entire poem had a light and airy feel to it.
Rubakhin
This on the other hand, was much more dark and deep. I really liked the idea of peeling back the normal, “civilized” mind and going back to the instincts of a time before so-called rational thought prevailed. That’s what I got from it, anyways.
Rubakhin

Helgraf vs. Felixaar
Helgraf
When I first started reading this poem, I thought to myself, “Now, I like vocabulary and all, but this seems a little over the top and… oh.” The fact that the poem is written from the main character‘s perspective is a really good touch, and compound that with the whole use of language, and you have a really good poem.
Felixaar
Rhyming … is not my friend. That’s one point marked off. And then it seems a little cliched, the evil that someone does comes back to bite them, just desserts and so on and so forth. I would also suggest to keep your lines aspproximately the same length, unless you’re trying to make a point with it.
Helgraf

Kneenibble vs. Dallas-Dakota
Kneenibble
This was a good one. I found myself wanting to go outside and take a dip in the pool. The one thing that I noticed, though, was that the flow of the poem seemed to be interrupted and cut in this line:
“and takes me like a lover or a thief.“
Maybe I just wasn‘t reading it right, but you might want to consider tinkering with punctuation and seeing what you could get from it.
Dallas-Dakota
One thing about poetry that irks me is when people let the language and the rhyme control you, instead of the other way around. If you make a rhyme, don‘t restrict your choices by it. Change the other lines if you must, but don‘t settle for something that just sounds… blah. It also seemed a little repetitive to me.
Kneenibble

Amotis vs. Quincunx
Amotis
Trippy. And a little gloomy. It is an interesting way of looking at simplicity, and I have a feeling it’s one that will stick with me for a while. I really don‘t know how to respond or critique this, Amotis, but I never do with your poems. All I can say is good job.
Quincunx
No entry
Amotis

Zeratul vs. Brickwall
Zeratul
This was a good one The poem seemed to me to be moving in different directions that were all tied together. And there were a couple of lines in there that I think were really well put together.
Brickwall
The first was great. However, the poem seemed to lose focus in the middle and wander. Not that there‘s anything wrong with it, but with short poems oftentimes its best if the writing is concentrated on one specific point, as there is less room to use.
Zeratul

[Vaynor]

Those are all of the judges, yes? Counting up votes now, expect the next part later today.

Edit: Congratulations to the following contestants! Good job everyone, and I hope to see everyone who didn't make it back in the next contest.

Alarra
Hellpuppi
Nexus
Rubakhin
Helgraf
Kneenibble
Amotis
Brickwall

[truemane]

And might I say that HAS to be record for one full round, judgins included. And we had five judges, no?

In your prose-laden FACE, Iron Author!

w00t!

[Kneenibble]

Thanks to all judges for prompt and sound judgements & feedback on all poems.
Thanks to all fellow poets for hard work & putting your words on the line, so to speak.
*puts on and dances around in "Round 2" briefs*

Edit: Oh! How rude of me, and thanks of course to Vaynor for organizing this whole business in the first place.

[Hell Puppi]

Huh? What? I made it to the second round?

I'm going to get my furry butt kicked. The poets here are amazing.


Ah well I'm really enjoying this so far. :smallbiggrin:

[SpiderMew]

*hands Kneenibble a bottle of baby oil and a card that says round 2*

Here ya go doll face, hold up the sign and wave to the spectaters.

[Vaynor]

Round 2

I decided to go with some pictures for this round. Good luck!

The titles are part of the prompt, even if the title is not the original intent/title of the piece.

Hellpuppi vs. Nexus: 'Scape (http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c83/Vaynor/mountain__by_reali_t.jpg)
Rubakhin vs. Amotis: Don't Forget (http://www.infogirl.org/img/may05/forgetmenots.jpg)
Helgraf vs. Kneenibble: Rise and Fall (http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c83/Vaynor/Death_Valley_2_by_Vaynor.jpg)
Brickwall vs. Alarra: Guardian (http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c83/Vaynor/whosthere.jpg)

Deadline:
The midnight between Saturday, April 26th, and Sunday, April 27th. Or, the time between 11:59 pm (EST) and 12:01 am (EST) on the previously stated dates.

Also, in case it's not clear, the first picture's title refers to both the words "Landscape" and "Escape."

[Amotis]

Is it picture and caption (aka "don't forget") or just picture?

[Vaynor]

Is it picture and caption (aka "don't forget") or just picture?

Oh, I should have specified, the title is part of the prompt. Going for a combo word/theme and picture thing here.

[Amotis]

Ah, kay. Just making sure.

Looking forward to your entry, Rubakhin. 'Tis an honor, sir. :smallwink:

[Kneenibble]

*hands Kneenibble a bottle of baby oil and a card that says round 2*

Here ya go doll face, hold up the sign and wave to the spectaters.

*oils up and gets down!*

[Brickwall]

This really kind of wrote itself. Here's hoping I didn't get to round 2 just to falter.

Guardian

For you, my best friend in the world,
I will guard your home,
I will stand vigilant
Against the teenagers
who try to take your stuff,
I will be wary
Against the neighbor's cat
I know she's up to something,
I will be steadfast
And I will not let my eyes
Stray towards the poodle across the street,
And I will not rest
Because I know
That soon you will come home
And hold me in your arms,
And you will tell me you love me,
For you are my best friend in the world

[Helgraf]

I used to fear poetry was dying. At this point, it's my contributions I'm more worried about. I kind of doubt anymore that I'm ever going to live up to my own hopes, but... well, all the same, thank you everyone. This has been amazing to be part of. I'm crying right now, at the thought...

Fear and doubt will cudgel you if you let them, beat you down, convince you you've lost 'it', that you've hit your limit and it won't be enough. Politely listen to them, then send them on their way.

And sometimes the well runs dry for a time. Depending on your personal nature, you may need to bull through it with more writing, or drop back to 'recharge'. But come back to it. Write as the writing takes you, or as you take to something. Contests like this - by their very nature - will produce jarring results, like when two very solid poets clash in round one, and one of them goes by the wayside because of it. Compare, contrast, absorb. Synthesize. Discard what doesn't work for you, or simply set it aside for another time.

Me, I'm glad I managed to make it past the first round. With the calibre of people I'm working with, I never go in expecting to win. I go in with what I have and what comes to me. The only stakes here are intangibles, so why not take that plunge? Worst case scenario, you're out after week one and can then sit back and just enjoy the fruits of everyone else's labours.

[Alarra]

Thanks for all the commentary and criticisms. I had intentions of responding to everything you all had to say about my poem, but the weekend got away from me and I ran out of time, but suffice it to say, I appreciate the comments and helpful advice. :smallbiggrin:

And congrats and good luck to everyone that made it to round 2, as always there's a lot of really great poets in this competition and I've been impressed with most everything I've read.

*Doesn't know if I'm worthy to compete against some of you, but scurries off to work on her next poem anyway* :smallcool:

[Brickwall]

Just want to make sure you guys don't forget about this. I'd normally expect a small trickle of poems by this point. I think some of you have used up your late spots already, so...

[Hell Puppi]

For some reason this one gave me a lot of trouble- didn't get automatically inspired like the last prompt.

Anyway, on the subject of 'Scape:


You hear the trickle of water over rocks
A stream flowing gently
A breeze whispers through the trees
Scattering leaves with a delightful sound

Pretend you are an explorer
The first to see this place
Pretend you are a child again
And climb the trees with glee

It is quiet and calm
Beautiful and serene
Here nothing bothers
Here nothing distracts

You spot birds flitting among the branches
Give a wide berth to the bees nest
Skip across rocks
Play in the water

You climb a tall tree
And see the distant mountain
You pretend it is Mount Olympus
And there the gods are having tea

Tomorrow you will return to your house
There will be a job
And an alarm clock
You will have to do things because you must

But today you have escaped
Into the quiet of distant woods
Playing in the mud
And resting among the shade trees

[Alarra]

I had a harder time writing this one than the last.

Guardian

"Athena waits"

Each evening you leave me.
I sit, alone.
Waiting, wondering,
Will you return?

Time passes.
A minute? An hour? A year?
All I know is that I’m lonely.

A car door slams.
I press my nose to the glass.
Is it you?
No. False alarm.

I search the trash.
Maybe you left me a clue
Or a treat? Paper!

I bring it to the door.
Chewing as I wait,
Knowing that I shouldn’t.

No one comes.
Hours pass.
I sit. I chew. I wait.

The sun rises.
I look around.
Are you home yet?
No. I’m still alone.

Soon, the distinctive sound
Of your bike in the drive.
The cat hears it first.

I follow his glance.
It’s you!
I wag, whine, wallow in excitement.

You come in.
Pat my head.
I was good, I say.
Just a little paper today.

I follow you around.
You inspect our home.
I kept it safe for you.
Are you proud?

[Helgraf]

Hooks: "Rise and Fall" phrase / "Death Valley" picture


Six times up and seven times down
blistering grains form the ground
Across the blasted desert sand
Where I pursue a fallen man

Up the slope of spiteful sand
that seeks to snare my feet
to throw me down its one resolve
and wrap me in its sheet

Astride a wretched summit
echoed to the far horizon
in the rolling symmetry
of quenchless static ocean

My pursuit reflects the sun
as it must rise, so must I rise
as it must fall, so must I fall
Invariant to my task

As the sun, so the sand
through wind and heat
through time and toil
forged these hills of trial

And as the sand, so I
against inexorable forces
against indefiable will
am shaped by my opposition

I am shackled by a fallen man
whose form I have followed
whose path I have pursued
whose crime I have committed

In a moment's wavering
from dedication and purpose
my rise became my fall
my journey, my exile

Countless times up, interminable times down
A guilt-wracked soul run to ground
seeking hopeless resolution
risen ... fallen ... absolution?

[Vaynor]

So they're getting harder? Good. It's no contest if it's all easy.

[Felixaar]

Wow.

I got two votes!

I'm shocked at all of you, my poem sucked. Terrible, terrible judges. Just kidding guys, you rock. Thanks all, I'll be sure to check back for poems and stuff.

Toodle-oo!

[Amotis]

Prompt: Don't Forget (http://www.infogirl.org/img/may05/forgetmenots.jpg)


Eve(n Night)

I know that there's another girl,
though I sit here with the windows open.
where the trees reach the second floor
and looking down, the ground broken
with old roots like what first flowers implore.

and now this feels of those roots,
as this room feels alone.
mulched new regrets with a lustful lie
from days forgotten grown.

and I feel like I should thank you
for this little reminder,
as not to feel cold or dry
or god's embrace entire.

[rubakhin]

Tell Me How You've Lived


Tell me how you've lived, pure one, beautiful one
The way that he loved you, and the way
You loved him too.

I want to know what is ineffable
Beneath the tremor of his glances,
And the tenderness of his touch,
The trembling eternity of first love
And the refuge of a secret world.
The peace that came to nothing
The love that rose up and washed away.

You are the path of wind in a wild field
The cool moss that grows beneath a stone.

You are the grass between the slats of a train-track
You are the way the ague-leaf fits my palm.

Tell me how you've suffered, white one, golden one
The river where you dropped your gun,
And where you bled your blood.

Speak to me as though I have not suffered,
Or like I've suffered all mankind has known.
My soul is as vast as the sky
Above the steppes, but my body is so small
And my years are few in number.
Yet I have seen this and I must bear it
I must bear it because there is no one else who knows.

You are the transient rain on a still summer night,
The taste of salt that lingers on the shore.

You are the skyline of a city whose name I do not know,
You are the hidden whiteness of the midnight fog.

Tell me how to love, pure one, beautiful one
The way that I loved you, and the way
You loved me too.

I am not a man or woman, just a poet.
My secrets go back a thousand years.
I see them leave red stains in my footprints
I see them pour from these two lips like blood.
A lifeless line through silent mountains.
I have no other way of loving.
White one, golden one,
I cannot save your life.

[Kneenibble]

Working from Rise and Fall (http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c83/Vaynor/Death_Valley_2_by_Vaynor.jpg),

Surfacing
Down where the wind combs the ripples
packed like dough and spins the grits
thread-fine and hissing across the bars,
the lizard sees valleys
and blinks at the dripping sun,
hot glass slopped in a puddle beneath;
the scarab sees crestless waves
that do not curl to slap their own feet,
that do not reel head-over-giddy
like a dolphin or a salmon
but roll along flabby, flank-first:
slow leeward snakes or strands of baked paste.

The scarabs and lizards, poised scabby,
loaf in the luxury of close meal-coarse grains
and their toes scratch away crumbled sugar
as they change places.
The needle-tickled tidbits
trickle where they scuttle oblique
rising and falling in a fading pen-stroke line
as static as the sand.

But up where the wind braids the vapour and dust
in a whipped hanging froth
dabbed and strung against the sun in the morning,
the sky cannot see beetles or toads
like little weevils dragging their chitin
across a bin of cereal.

The sky, a stretched twisted slab
sees the dunes from above
shift along their rolling bulks
not quite like a wrinkled barm bubbles and pops
but like sentinel whales as old as boulders
rearing their round glazen rinds
and plunging again in a few sibilant weeks
rising and falling in a silent mammoth onslaught
as static as the sand.

[Amotis]

Hellpuppi (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4229940&postcount=155) vs. Nexus: 'Scape (http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c83/Vaynor/mountain__by_reali_t.jpg)
Rubakhin (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4250930&postcount=161) vs. Amotis (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4246028&postcount=160): Don't Forget (http://www.infogirl.org/img/may05/forgetmenots.jpg)
Helgraf (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4231378&postcount=157) vs. Kneenibble (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4250935&postcount=162): Rise and Fall (http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c83/Vaynor/Death_Valley_2_by_Vaynor.jpg)
Brickwall (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4216668&postcount=151) vs. Alarra (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4231368&postcount=156): Guardian (http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c83/Vaynor/whosthere.jpg)

[SpiderMew]

Expect my review tomarow evening, its too late tonight and I'll be gaming tomarrow morning and afternoon.

[Kneenibble]

Did anybody hear from Mr. Nexus?

[Gaelbert]

I'm kinda in a rush right now and I just got home so I'll get them up when I can.

[Hell Puppi]

No Nexus? That kinda stinks. I'd almost rather be voted off than win in a pass....damn. Ah well.

Dangit, Nexus! :smalltongue:

[Brickwall]

Huh. Judges are taking a bit longer than last round. You guys okay?

[Zeb The Troll]

The deadline was only this weekend and the boards have been down for an extended period twice since then. I tried to finish mine last night but ended up losing the post to the "major software upgrade" that happened right then.

I'll try to redo it, but I don't know if I have it in me to spend another three hours drafting up comments on each one. I may just post the list.

[PhoeKun]

The deadline was only this weekend and the boards have been down for an extended period twice since then. I tried to finish mine last night but ended up losing the post to the "major software upgrade" that happened right then.

I'll try to redo it, but I don't know if I have it in me to spend another three hours drafting up comments on each one. I may just post the list.

This is why you should always initially write your judgments in a word processor. Saving is good for your health!

[SpiderMew]

Hellpuppi vs. Nexus: 'Scape


Hellpuppi.
I enjoyed it, didn't even have to look at the image to visualize where I was. I always enjoy something that lets me not be inside myself and just explore like that. Very relaxing. Good Job.

Nexus.
I guess the forum going down prevented you from posting your work, its more then a day later then I was planning on reviewing these poems so... sorry dude.

Winner Hellpuppi.


Rubakhin vs. Amotis: Don't Forget

Rubakhin
Very beautiful, and left me feeling sad as well. I am touched in a way that I care not to explain, for this is not the topic for me to open up like that. Very good.

Amotis
I probably should have read this one first. Its a nice piece, but the substance behind it just doesn't seem that easy to get right away. Your poem was just... lacking something. It lacked what it needed to really drive it home.

Winner Rubakhin


Helgraf vs. Kneenibble: Rise and Fall

Helgraf: An interesting take on man's journey of self redemption. It shows how imperfect we are as humans, we'll always be bound by the chains of our mistakes, and be exiled by our sins to wonder a hellish land, and how we just cant seem to forgive our self's for anything.

Kneenibble: Very visual indeed. Its rare to think of a desert as a place of beauty (for me at least) but you managed to find a way. The awe and scope of the desert from above, and the wonder of it from the ground, the way you describe it rises and falls in the way that it flows.

Winner Kneenibble
I really liked both poems, but Kneenibble was able to both capture the image and the theme in such a way that was very complete and impressive.

Brickwall vs. Alarra: Guardian

Brickwall: Aawwww. That's a good little dog. I miss having a dog. Though the poem itself could have used a bit more substance and articulation.

Alarra: I have noticed that more dogs are like that, anxious about when their owner is getting home. I like the style you used too, reminds me of a dogs sometimes short attention span even though they get tracked into one line of thinking. Thought it could have had a bit more of the guardian aspect of the theme to it.

Winner Alarra.
Her poem better captured the essence of the dog, dogs can get excited, even when they are guarding a home and waiting for someone to get home, and she captured that for me.

[Zeb The Troll]

This is why you should always initially write your judgments in a word processor. Saving is good for your health!Yes, or at the very least save my post to the clipboard before clicking submit. That's the kicker. I've lost enough long posts to know better, regardless of the time of day. Oh well.

Anyway, I'll give my verdicts now and I'll try to edit in commentary later, though my week is screwed this week.

'Scape
Hellpuppi, of course.
Don't Forget
rubakhin. Sorry, Amotis, I just didn't understand yours.
Rise and Fall
Helgraf. I liked the use of metaphor and simile better than the stunning imagery.
Guardian
Alarra. The description of a day in the life of a dog was just a little more amusing to me.

[Gaelbert]

Hellpuppi vs. Nexus: 'Scape
Hellpuppi
A couple things I noticed. It seemed like the narrator was giving orders rather than describing the scene, and that took away some of the ambience. The other thing was that a couple of the lines felt like they were tacked on. Its nothing I can say outright, just one of those feelings.
Nexus
Did not post.
Hellpuppi

Rubakhin vs. Amotis: Don't Forget
Rubakhin
Your poem was excellent. The imagery and metaphors really caught my attention and made a mental picture for me. It really came alive for me. Excellent work.
Amotis
I‘ll start with the positives. I liked the consistency of the poem, and it was well written. However, it just didn‘t really do it for me. I might not have understood it or whatever, but I couldn‘t really seem to find the spirit, to make it seem alive.
Rubakhin

Helgraf vs. Kneenibble: Rise and Fall
Helgraf
Really good work. The only thing that is slightly off putting to me is the third section (verse? stanza?). I don‘t know what else to say, other than I love it.
Kneeibble
This was well written as well. However, the interruptions threw me for the loop a little. My suggestion would be to stay a little more on topic in the future, and stick with the subject.
Helgraf

Brickwall vs. Alarra: Guardian
Brickwall
Awww… I‘m a dog lover. You just scored some big points with me. I liked the poem. It was sweet but not too sugary, it made me smile but was not over the top.
Alarra
A different perspective on the matter. I like it. Although with a prompt like that, its hard for me not to.
Brickwall

[truemane]

I'm usually the first-ish judge to post, not the last-ish. My ego is wounded. Next round I'll put my judgings up before the poets have submitted their entries, just to be sure.

Anyway, I just wanted to say that the quality of the submissions this round was very high. I was pleasantly surprised by a couple of them.

And so, without further to-do...

ROUND TWO - FIGHT!

'Scape
Nexus-R.C._Mina vs. Hellpuppi

Nexus-R.C._Mina

No entry.

'Scape
by Hellpuppi

There are passages in this piece that are very effective. Direct, clear, evocative imagery that puts me right there in those woods. But in between those passages are lines that are just dead.

And I'll tell you the difference between the two: Value Judgements.

It's a funny thing about imagery in poetry. You often achieve the strongest, most universal effect with the most smallest and most specific images. The biggest mistake most apprentice and yeoman poets make is to give us the image and then tell us how to feel about it. Don't do that. Just tell us what it was like and let US decide how we want to feel about it.

I'll give you an example:

You hear the trickle of water over rocks
A stream flowing gently
A breeze whispers through the trees
Scattering leaves with a delightful sound

Beautiful. Very nice beginning. I get all my sense involved here. Water trickling, breeze blowing, leaves scattering. I would leave out the 'gently' in the second line (adverbs hurt more than they help in general) and instead of 'blowing with a delightful sound' I would just describe what they sound like. But all in all, this is an excellent stanza.

Now:

It is quiet and calm
Beautiful and serene
Here nothing bothers
Here nothing distracts

I know you wrote it, but try reading this passage and compare it with the one above. Can you see the difference? Now you're telling me what I feel and what's happening inside my own head. How do YOU know nothing distracts? How do YOU know it's quiet and calm? You don't know. Maybe I hate the woods. If 'nothing bothers' here, then SHOW me what's not here that would normally be bothering you. If it is 'Beautiful and serene' then describe for me what's so darned beautiful.

You dig? The value judgements just lie there while the sense imagery leaps off the page and makes it real.

Now. The other option you can take is to put YOU, the POET, there in the woods. Once YOU are in there, you can tell how YOU feel, and what YOU think about all this. The Romantics all made careers out of this very technique. But if you DO include yourself, you need to have something to say about it all.

It's a nice piece, Hellpuppi. And it shows me that you have some real ability. Try rewriting this piece and ONLY use things that you can perceive with one of the five senses. Then read THAT one out loud and I bet you'll notice a huge leap in how direct and effective the verses are.

Decision

Hellpuppi

Although this was a default win, I think the piece itself was quite good, and may have well won on its own merits.


Don't Forget
Rubakhin vs. Amotis

Tell Me How You've Lived
by Rubakhin

You know, I saw the pictures of yourself that you posted in the Picture Thread up in Random Banter and you like like you're about 14. I mean, I know I'm old and so everyone else looks young to me, but there's no way you're over 20.

And I can't figure out how someone as young as you has managed to acquire, not only the technical skills that you have, but the breadth and depth of experience required to fill that technical excellence with insight and the wisdom that you do.

So, there are only two options:

1. You're actually some 35 year old man using someone else's photographs.
2. You're stealing work from lesser known Russian authors and passing them off as your own in a nefarious conspiracy to subvert the purity of the Iron Writer Contests.

Well. There is a third option, which that you're just a phenomenally talented young man. John Keats, after all, died of TB at 26 and left behind a body of work powerful enough to change the world.

So anyway. This piece blows away your first round entry, and I thought that one was one of the best poems I'd read in a long time, anywhere.

Your structure was excellent, alternating a "Tell me how..." stanza with a commentary stanza and then two "You are..." stanzas. It was like you laid down rails so that your work could run straight and hard. Question and Answer Love poetry can slide into cliche so fast and yet NEEDS to at least touch upon cliche or else it won't work out.

I thought you held that tone perfectly. Your metaphors were beautiful and strange and added a touch of the surreal that, like some salt in your coffee, really set off the soft mood very well.

I've been very impressed with how disciplined your two entries have been so far this time around. Comparing them your entries from previous Iron Poets it feels like you're taking your time and crafting them with care and attention (I'm not saying you are, just that it seems that way).

Excellent piece, Rubakhin. One of these says you'll write something that I can actually critique (as opposed to merely soak with fanboi praise).

Eve(n Night)
by amotis

Amotis, my friend, it pains me to say this, but this piece does not work. I think I can see what you were trying to accomplish in the corners and in the white spaces between the words, but what's here on the page is a lot of half-way and a lot of almost-was and very little right-on.

I like the rhyme scheme. We'll start there. I know you don't use rhyme all that often, and that the flow of your thoughts is hard enough to fit into any sort of structure, so I commend you for stepping outside of your confort zone. And I think the tension between the rhymes and the tone of your language works. But there's not ENOUGH tension to really make it organic.

I was talking about Hopkins earlier, and you might want to have a look at his concept of Sprung Rhythm. He would count the accented syllables in each line, but pay little to no attention to how many syllables were actually in each line. So what you have is more or less a set number of feet in each line, but each foot has a varying number of syllables. And it works for him. He gets a heavy, uneven rhythm that serves the poem but doesn't trap it or constrain it. Google 'The Windhover' and have a look. Good times.

And something like that might have worked here. I can see you changing the flow of your lines to make the rhymes work and, although it gives the images a slightly formal quality, that sort of thing works when you collide extremes. Use Rhyme to contrast with normal speech. Or elevated, formal language constrasted with sordid, petty subject matter. Or use a HIGHLY restricitve rhyme scheme but make your lines all VASTLY different lengths.

And, as always, make sure that whatever you do is organic to the material (whatever you do, make a point, right?).

I might ask, why use rhymes in the first place? The material doesn't require them. I don't get a sense of the narrator as trapped, or sliding forward to some preordained conclusion, or any of the many things that a rhyme scheme might support thematically.

I think what you might do (if you're planning on re-writing this one), is go all the way free-form so you can see what it is you want to say. Let the images go and let them run free in the fields ad then play with them and see what's there.

And then, however much free-flow you write, reduce the word count by 50% AND THEN trap them all in structure. Rhyme, some meter, whatever you like. And I think you'll hit closer to your mark.

PS: I didn't talk much about content, because I didn't think that was as important, but I loved your final stanza. The idea that tragdy is a good thing because it forces you to accept the world for everything it offers was challenging and interesting. I spent a few minutes pondering the idea. And wrapping that notion up in the phrase "...or God's grace entire." was VERY nice.

Decision

Rubakhin

I'm upset that one of your has to go this round. But one of your must, and Rubakhin's piece was an absolute masterpiece of emotion and control.


Rise and Fall
Helgraf vs. Kneenibble

Rise and Fall
by Helgraf

Hm. Is is a parable about one man's race to defeat and overcome his own dark nature? Or is it a story set to verse about a man pursuing another? Is it a reflection on the nature of redemption? Or a reflection on the relative nature of morality? It could be either. Any. All. And that's good fun. There's nothing wrong with a little ambiguity when you treat each possibility with equal weight and dignity.

Nice piece, Helgraf. It has a heavy, relentless, measured pace that I found to be very effective. I enjoyed the narrative style, the alternation between image, event, and commentary. And the implied narrator had a strong enough to voice to make it work. I also liked how you began and ended with rhyming couplets, but had no rhyme in the middle. I think that worked and created a nice we-end-where-we-began sort of feel.

My only real point for improvement is the word-flow. The pace is nice, but it doesn't vary. It's the same plodding bump-badda-bump-badda-bump all the way through. Remember that short lines/short phrases gather energy, and long ones release it.

It might be helpful to work some variation into the pace. Try adding some more open lines with fewer commas and periods. Some longer words with more vowels. Fewer explosives (T's and M's) and more liquid consonants (S's and L's). And wherever you decide to alter the flow, make sure the content at that point mirrors it. Maybe you could add in a stanze where the narrator acheives a success of some kind, or realizes soemthing important. You could communicate that with some nice open, flowing language and then go back into your linguistic prison. And then maybe open it up a bit at the end.

But all the same, nice work.

Surfacing
by Kneenibble

Beautiful piece, kneenibble. Just wonderful. I spent a happy year being completely obsessed with the poetry of Gerard Manley Hopkins and this piece reminded me of his work so forcefully that I can smell the second floor of my community library and hear the rumble of the air exhanger that was always in the background near my favourite chair in the far corner.

Have you ever read Hopkins? He sounds a lot like this. The passive landscapes described in imagery so intense it's agressive, almost violent. The heavy and uneven rhythm. The use of kennings to compress images into units so dense that their meaning is more tasted than reasoned.

Compare:

Glory be to God for dappled things
For skies of couple-colour as a brinded cow;
For rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim;
Fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings;
("Pied Beauty", Hopkins)

With:

Down where the wind combs the ripples
packed like dough and spins the grits
thread-fine and hissing across the bars,
the lizard sees valleys

Christian Moralizing aside, can you see what I'm talking about? The language is so tasty. '...spins the grits' just rolls across the tongue and your use of 'hissing' should win an award for best verb use.

So, I don't have a whole lot to say about this one. It seems to me that the opening stanza's images are more disciplined and controlled than those of the later stanzas and suggest that stanzas two, three, and four could use another turn or two through the word-processor.

But I liked it a great deal. It was stirring and harsh and almost majestic. Like the desert itsef.


Kneenibble

Two strong pieces, two excellent uses of the combined sense-image prompt, but Kneenibble's is the more accomplished, the more complete, and the more effective piece.


Guardian
Brickwall vs. Alarra

Guardian
by Brickwall

I can easily see how this one wrote itself. It's the kind of piece that, once you get the idea in your head, suggests its own execution. But it's no worse for that. In fact, the off-hand and casual tone is what makes it work. And cute and silly though it is, I think it does work.

What really makes it happen for me are these lines:

I will stand vigilant
Against the teenagers
who try to take your stuff,
I will be wary
Against the neighbor's cat
I know she's up to something,

Those lines tell me that it's okay to laugh at this. That you're being funny and silly on purpose. There's a real danger when you delve into pet-human sentimentality. Because almost everyone can relate to what it's like to love a pet (or at least to HAVE the love of a pet) it's a very easy heart-string to pull. But it's also the kind of heart-string that, once you start to pull, you need to have something behind it or you're just writing a Hallmark card.

And those six lines tell me that what you're doing is screwing around. You start with sentiment, and you end with sentiment, but the goofy stuff in the middle sets it off nicely and reduces the Potential Schmaltz Index (PSI) to just the perfect level.

Nice one Brick. Cute. Silly. Funny. Good.

Athena Waits
by Alarra

Matching this with your submission from last round, and I think I have a decent idea of what kind of poet you are. Which is no bad thing. This piece is a good example of how free verse can sound and feel like traditional structured poetry. The lines come in two sizes: really small and medium sized. So on the page the piece runs in a semi-patterned manner. Small lines gather energy, long lines release it. So it runs in a vaguely cyclical manner, which is effective.

The opening line is our setting. And then the short, clipped phrases and lines that emphasize the feeling of being frustrated and trapped. I like how almost every stanza contains a question in either the second or third line. In the absence of traditional rhythm and rhyme, free verse poetry often uses motifs and thematic trends and tropes to establish structure. And you've done that here. And it's good. You can even LOOK at it there on the screen and it looks like a structured piece.

However, where this one fell through for me was the content. It's not bad, but it felt like you were just going through the motions without really putting much of you into it. And barring that, I didn't feel like anything in here gives me any clever or wise insights into what a dog might really be thinking/doing while alone. I can see how something like this could lend itself to some commentary on any number of topics, especially with a dog with a name like Athena (Goddess of Wisdom and War? Sprung from the mind of God? The Goddess who caused the Trojans to lose the Trojan War? Blinded Tiresias the Seer and gave him the gift of prophecy? Lots of fun stuff to play with there).

Or instead of clever and insightful, you could have gone comedic or satirical. The paper was funny, but it wasn't carried through or built upon. Same thing with the cat. "The cat hears it first." I found that interesting. What would a dog think about THAT? What is the cat doing while the owner is away? Does the dog think anything about it?

But in the absence of either approach, it just sort of sat there on the screen for me. Nice. Cute. Well written. Carefully laid out. But no more.

I would very much like to see a piece of yours that really means something to you. I would be willing to wager that the difference is striking. But based on the poetry I've seen so far, I would be willing to wager that you don't show THOSE poems to very many people.

Decision

Brickwall

I thought that, while Alarra's was the superior piece technicially, Brickwall's piece was a better match between form and content and tone.

[Alarra]

To Truemane Thank you for your comments on this one and the last poem. I appreciate how in depth you go and how insightful and informative your commentary is. Now to a response.....While perhaps this poem doesn't have as much 'me' in it...it does have a lot of Athena. (Athena is my dog, by the way) I think this is actually really close to the process she goes through when she's alone every night. Although she probably spends much more time focused on trash than I indicated. I think she's misnamed though, as I see nothing of the greek goddess in her. And the cat does recognize the sound of our cars while she doesn't. I don't know that she thinks anything much of it though. Hmmm....I should do a poem from the mind of my cat, I think that would be interesting...he's far more...complex then Athena is. [/end aside

And actually, I do show the poems that mean a lot to me to anyone that wants to read them, not that there's many....maybe one. But then, I don't write much poetry. I think this poem brings the number of poems I have written in my life up to...7? maybe. Perhaps if I get to the next round I'll be graced with a prompt that will allow you a better glimpse into me.

[Helgraf]

Helgraf
Really good work. The only thing that is slightly off putting to me is the third section (verse? stanza?). I don‘t know what else to say, other than I love it.


Reply to coolgaelbert's comments:

That third second was the hardest bit - I must've rewrote that seven, eight, ten? or so times before I got one I was happy enough with to submit.

And even then, it still bucked the flow I was working on a bit.

[Amotis]

@truemane: So why did I use rhyme/psuedo meter? Sadly nothing dictated by the content itself, which is a pretty bad move, I suppose. I originally did the poem, with the same messages and themes, etc in free verse as I usually do. But even after a few drafts I was unhappy with not only the product but the process. I wasn't enjoying or feeling either one, it always felt off and distant. Too much in my predictable style, I felt like I had written the poem before. And that took all the enjoyment out of the process and I got pretty frustrated. Phoebe, however, suggested something to break the mold. And that's what got me out of it. I actually enjoyed writing the poem as you see it now, I didn't know if it was good or not (heck, I didn't even if my previous attempts were good or not and that contributed to the headache inducing frustrations) but I enjoyed walking outside my comfort zone, as hard as it was to do for me. So that was the big thing for me and I guess it caused me to cease to wonder about the quality of the work and concentrating on just making this new thing work for me, fitting it into what I saw the poem already and how to say it. Not so much physically but iono, it was like a clean slate. Something that I feel I really needed. Breath of fresh air, really. Guess I came out with a sub-par poem but I felt regenerated after that, so that's a plus. :smalltongue:

I'm not sure if I'll draft this one, I still feel mixed about it, like it needed to be done and then forgotten. But thanks for the name drop, pretty neat. And your suggestion about how to transfer a poem's ideas/images into form is a good one, I should try that. What I did on this one probably contributed to it's downfall a bit (the going free to strict form). But thank you for the commentary, I was especially looking forward to yours because this was something new for me.

[Brickwall]

I have nothing special to respond with to any judge. Thanks for the kind words, and I'm glad my poem communicated what I wanted effectively, I suppose.

Also, Gezina, hello? We need all 5 judges.

[Vaynor]

I'll send her a PM.

[rubakhin]

@truemane

Hah, well, I'm young enough to have had the following conversation while working on the poem:

"What're you doing?"

"Writing. Go 'way."

"What're you writing about?"

"You, dickwad." *throws crumpled-up paper at his head*

I am just nineteen. But I'll be twenty in a few months. :smallsmile: (Whether or not I've hit puberty yet is debatable.)

I don't know if there's any "wisdom" here. I don't know if I'm wise, but I do have a lot more helplessness and tiredness than most people do at my age. Maybe this looks like wisdom, I don't know - it's not to me. I once heard a Russian Orthodox nun say of a holy man of some sort that "He was so enlightened, he was like a child!" and this is the kind of wisdom that I myself aspire to.

anywhere about politics, much less a public forum where my words are recorded for a time, so I've edited it a bit.]

[...] I'm mostly talking about my last two guys (one of them has an incurable intestinal disease, and the other is likely HIV+) [...] I tried so hard to understand it, but no matter what I learned, I couldn't. [...] I understood everyone, and really, I grieved for them, but that was all I could offer to anyone. I asked for everyone's lives and emotions. I wanted to write about them, although I don't know why. Why is it important that I myself believed in everyone's essential humanity? And in the end I just had a collection of trauma, of everyone's sorrows and hurts. [...] I felt like I had some responsibility [...] but even now I don't know what it was. I don't know what good my empathy [...] does anyone, maybe it's even harmful that I can write from his standpoint with kindness and love. But about the only thing I knew how to do was love and keep on loving, and witness these things, and bear them. If this is wisdom, then it's the wisdom of pack animals.

During the Soviet Union, the poet Akhmatova was standing in line waiting for news of her son, who might have been killed. This was under Stalin. Everyone was starving, everyone was suffering, the women especially had so much grief and no one had a voice. An old woman recognized her, and she said, "Can you describe this, Akhmatova?" And this of course became the poem Requiem.

Someone who loved me and who had suffered very much told me this story. This was a long time ago. Almost two years. And he asked me, "Can you describe this, Sevastian?"

At an earlier draft this poem had the refrain of, "I am not Akhmatova. This is not the Shahnemeh." To me this is the poetry of a lack of wisdom, of failure.

[InaVegt]

I suck as a judge okay, I know what I wanna say about the poems, but can't bring it to words.

Please find a replacement for me.

[SpiderMew]

I suck as a judge okay, I know what I wanna say about the poems, but can't bring it to words.

Please find a replacement for me.

With the contest already going on its a little hard to aquire a judge already.
Can you atleast give your judgements on this round of poems, or ask someone spicificly to replace you?

[truemane]

Well, we could go on with four. Vaynor could settle any ties that come up. If we find a fifth, all good. But if not, the contest will survive.

[Vaynor]

I'll just judge this round. Not so sure of my ability but I think I'll do ok. Expect judgments later this evening.

[Helgraf]

Yeah, currently we have at least two 2-2 ties, so we definitely need a fifth judge.

[Vaynor]

Ok, beware, I'm not exactly good at judging this, but I'll try my best. Sorry if my comments aren't very long.

Judgments:
Hellpuppi vs. Nexus

Hellpuppi
Good poem. I liked the way you described the scene as if the reader is "an explorer." And at the end, the dreading inevitability of going back to the modern world and leaving nature behind ties up the poem very well. Overall, well done, good usage of the prompt.

Nexus
No entry.

Verdict
Hellpuppi by default.


Rubakhin vs. Amotis

Rubakhin
I like the way you used the metaphors, they seem more like you were describing little bits of memory rather than anything else (if that makes sense). Good use of imagery.

Amotis
From your poem I get a sense of longing, which while I guess fits the prompt, it's hard for me to quite understand what's going on, however.

Verdict
I'm going to have to go with Rubakhin on this one.


Helgraf vs. Kneenibble

Helgraf
I liked this one, I think you captured the up and down part of the prompt well. Your ending especially is good.

Kneenibble
I really liked this one, it flows very well, and while the word choice is great and the metaphors are slightly obscure it's very easy to read. Use of the prompt was good, as well. Good job.

Verdict
Kneenibble; I felt his poem had a better flow, while Helgraf's was slightly harder to understand.


Brickwall vs. Alarra

Brickwall
This one was spot on with the prompt, I feel it captured the picture rather well. Not much else to say about it...

Alarra
I really like yours, it seems like something my dog would think about when no one's home. Good job.

Verdict
Alarra.

[Helgraf]

Ahh well. Guess this means I don't have to wrack my brains any more at least.

[Vaynor]

Ok, congratulations to the winners!

Kneenibble
Alarra
Rubakhin
Hellpuppi

To all those who lost, better luck next time. This post will be edited soon with the new round.

[Kneenibble]

Once again, thanks to all judges for your judgements, and to all poets for playing this game of words.
I have so many demerits on my poetic license by now, it's a wonder I can still write.

By the way, Vaynor, did you take those photographs yourself? Because they were beautiful and well composed.

*puts on "Round 3" bikini and stilettos and wiggles*

[Vaynor]

By the way, Vaynor, did you take those photographs yourself? Because they were beautiful and well composed.

Just the Death Valley one. Thanks, though. :smallsmile:

[Vaynor]

Kneenibble vs. Alarra: Gratitude
Rubakhin vs. Hellpuppi: Imagination

Deadline: The midnight between May 12th and 13th. This is the time between 11:59 pm (EST) May 12, and 12:01 am (EST) May 13.

[truemane]

@Alarra

First of all, you're welcome for the comments. I'm happy you find my thoughs informative (let alone insightful). Thank YOU for the poetry. The real treat for me is reading the work. Everything else is window-dressing.

See that? I would have pegged you for someone who writes scraps of poetry on random things, a line here on your exam paper, a stanza there on the side of the book you're reading. And I would have guessed that the occasional time you actually sit down to write an entire piece, you keep those under your pillow.

Turns out I DON'T know what the heck I'm talking about, eh?



@Amotis

Your story makes me happy. There's little more frustrating than feeling trapped by your own style, and little more invigorating than succeeding is stepping outside of it. Believe me when I say that I've been there. Over and over and over again. Your story is the reason I've always encourgaed my students to learn as much ABOUT poetry as they can. You might never write a sestina, but that's no excuse not to know what one is and how one works.

Because CRAFT is like a wardrobe. The more clothing you have, the more occasions you're ready for without going shopping. And the more craft you have, the more avenues you have to pursue any given idea or inspiraiton. CRAFT is not ART. But it is the form that ART takes.

Dig?

Anyway, I'm happy you felt good about working in a new milleu. And I'm even happier that you wrote this concerned with process and not result. That is worthy in and of itself. And don't let the fact that this one didn't work discourage your from doing that all the time.


@Rubakhin

Well, I envy you and I don't mind saying so. When I was your age (I can't believe I just said that) I MAYBE had the technical skill you have now, but everything I wrote was either so petty ("Nobody loves me") that it was pathetic or so grandiose ("Nobody loves ANYONE") that it was pathetic.

But then, up until my early twneties I lead a VERY sheltered existence. So the pretty girl in class not meeting me under the slide at recess was about as tragic as anything in my life got back then. Like the Eddie Murphy routine about doing his first comedy routine at 15 years old. "Back then, my whole act was about taking a sh*t. Because that was all I had done, at 15."

Anyway. Wisdom is maybe not the word. What I mean is you have the knack of approaching a subject in SUCH a particular and individual manner that your specific observations approach universal meaning. And that's hard to do, and it's the ONE thing that I've never been able to teach to anyone (it's hard enough even to explain), and the one thing that is VITAL to be a good writer of anything.

But whether or not yours is a poetry about failure, or lack of wisdom, or the 'wisdom of pack animals' or what have you, it is a poetry that feels and a poetry that sees. And I would say that, while your personal susceptibility to others' sorrow is NOT wisdom, your wisdom AND your susceptibility both come from the same place.

Does that make sense? It doesn't really matter if it does or not. I know what I mean.

And you made the right choice in leaving out the refrain. Politicizing this piece, even obliquely, would have destroyed it.

[Felixaar]

Well, I know I've already been kicked out as a contestant, but If you need a fifth judge for the last two rounds I'd be happy to jump in. It's fun.

[Hell Puppi]

Well, seeing as I'm up against Rubakhin, the person who seems to win every thread ever, I'm not hoping for much this round.
Still, I don't think he wanted just a pass-and-win :smallwink:


Here's my untitled and slightly rambling poem on Imagination-

I once heard someone say
That imagination is like a lion
You must stare it down
Make your peace with it
Or you can run away

I once read imagination called
The space of the mind
Vast and incomprehensible
Unknowable and immeasurable

What it truly is no one can claim
No words can bind it
The greatest philosopher can only muse
No science can measure it

It is much like a sacred place
Holy to those who know its worth
Just another thing to some
A part that everyone is equipped with

Like those that came before me
I can only ponder
My words fail to grasp this unknowable depth
Perhaps I can only hope
To give you something to think about


Imagination can be like a cave
Dark and frightening
Noises come from the depths
Echoes of things you wish to forget

A private playground to pass the time
An adventure you create
Filled with heroism and daring
Simple entertainment

A world the you build
To share with others
Filled with people you come to know
But who do not exist outside of this place

There are dark, frightening places
That come sometimes only in dreams
They can invade your private world
Even if you chose to ignore them

There are great beasts and nonsensical creatures
There is light and happiness
There is sorrow and pain
There are things you are proud of making
There are things you wish you could stop thinking about

Heroes and villains
That appointment you need to make
(how did that get there?)
An old friend
That cowboy from some movie

They all exist within that space
That vast nothingness
And yet everything
That is imagination

[Kneenibble]

I will probably be using my free half-day late for this round, just so yous know. Tough week.

[rubakhin]

Same here. I'll try to get something in within the next handful of hours, but I was on holiday - didn't get back until two A.M. yesterday, so I didn't have access to the prompt until just today. And on top of that I've fallen ill. :smallsigh: I'll probably have to drop out, my mind is in total fog. I'll try not to, though.

[Alarra]

Prompt: Gratitude
A cold, mourning dawn, in silence shrouded.
The careless wind scatters wilted blooms.
Pale mist casts forgotten tears on fresh packed earth,
Collects in pools on neglected tombs.

Through frozen limbs and aching joints, she holds her vigil.
Kneeling molds in dark clay as she weeps.
Her tears join the dew, to muddy her stockings.
And still the silence she keeps.

Hands clasped, she awaits the sun’s birth.
Watching silent and still for her cue.
As it crests, she begins her lament,
Achingly giving the child her due.

I remember you, always.
Golden curls framed your face.
A gurgling laugh and toothless grin
And the joy you brought within.

I remember you singing
As you danced the backyard
How you twirled through the flowers
I could watch you for hours.

I remember you crying,
When a boy broke your heart.
Holding you close, worries you’d share
I offered comfort, compassion and care.

I remember you happy,
As you walked down the aisle.
You looked an angel, glowing and pure.
Ready, willing, confident and sure.

I remember you dying,
I clung hard to your hand.
Death and birth, tangled together,
A child without a mother.

My life for yours
In a heartbeat, I’d give.
A new life beginning
One you deserved to live.

But lord, since you claimed her,
My daughter, my love.
I know that you’ve reasons
To need her above.

And so lord I thank you
That I am still here.
To care for this child,
Show her a life of no fear.

I’m grateful, my lord
For the chance I’ve been given.
A new life to raise,
Old mistakes been forgiven.

I’m thankful I find
For the memories I hold.
For the tales of the mother
That the child must be told.

I wish she were here, lord.
My daughter, my friend.
Yet I trust in your judgment
Of what’s right in the end.

And I thank you, my lord.
For the child that waits my return
For the love she’ll be given
And the women into whom she’ll turn.

With lowered head and hooded eyes she finishes her prayer.
Though for a few hours more remains silently there.
And then as the sun rises high in the sky
She looks to the clouds and resolves no longer to cry.

For now she is needed,
A child to love.
To hold and care for,
As she’s watched from above.

[Hell Puppi]

Same here. I'll try to get something in within the next handful of hours, but I was on holiday - didn't get back until two A.M. yesterday, so I didn't have access to the prompt until just today. And on top of that I've fallen ill. :smallsigh: I'll probably have to drop out, my mind is in total fog. I'll try not to, though.

Please please please don't drop out! I defiantly don't want to get another 'pass and play'. I mean not that it's not neat to stay in the contest, I'd just like to actually win something because I deserve it (the rounds, not the competition, I mean) and not because I just happened to actually write something.
I can sympathize with life coming at you fast at times, though, so I'll forgive you if you can't make it. :smalltongue:

[Kneenibble]

Well with Mr. Rubakhin's predicament, and meaning apologies to Alarra and Hellpuppi who have submitted punctually, ... would it be possible to extend this round by a day or two? I won't be burdensome with details, but I started a new job lately that is physical with wonky hours and I've been exhausted. I shall not be fully pleased submitting what I will have by noon tomorrow.

[Vaynor]

Part of the contest is turning in a poem. You may use your extra half-day or so, but anywhere past a day late will be disqualified. Sorry, but I have to draw the line somewhere.

[Kneenibble]

Fair enough.
I'll do what I can.

[Felixaar]

Um, just out of curiosity, was there any decision as to whether or not I should be a fifth judge? :smallconfused:

[rubakhin]

Ach, hopefully I'm not too late with this. I just threw something together, it is not particularly good. Sorry I couldn't put in a better effort.


Your death will come as a matter of routine
To these white walls, to that yawning nurse
Timed with the flicker of florescent bulbs
And the distant hum of your machines.

I have written this poem to imagine death
As I myself would have liked to have had it.

I revive you. I revive you now
In the mountains, where I sing nasheeds
Songs that float to nowhere in the fog.
Beneath the mist there is a lake
Where, like a child, I play at believing
That I alone among all men have seen it
As I alone among all men have loved you.

I revive you in the storm-winds and the dusk
Revive you in the leaves and shadowed rain
Revive you in the changing face of streams
In the somber eyes of boys you might have loved.
And in the evening, when night wells up so softly
In my weariness, I revive you in my tears.

But in my silence and my secrecy
In prayers as soundless as a flock of birds
That rise from a distant treetop
I revive you. I truly do.
I do not want a large miracle,
no movement of the earth, but a small one
That may have happened on its own.
The test results. A sudden cure.

And for this gift I had surrendered
All that was left for me to give.
Take my life, or everything in my life,
In heaven and earth I want nothing for myself.
You will murder me, rape me, carve deformities into my body
You will burn my mind to ash, make me speak in tongues
No longer love, and lose all reckoning
Of humanity, of profound depths and infinite names
Then you will cast me into the pool of darkness
Where even your hand cannot go.

My God! Why won't you take from me
My offering? My life, my work, my reason.
All hope for the future, all my gardens
And my swaying gates. My dawns
And my days, and my nights.
Take all I have and give it to my lover
My white one, my beautiful one,
Come make your child better
With my own breath and blood.

And my love was so ardent
That I knew I would die as I offered.
Perhaps slowly, as you yourself may have died,
at the hands of sickness, at the hands of men
Or quickly, with a beating of wings
And delicate exhale, a murmured word
Light and shadow moving across the wall.
My heart was at peace. I walked
As does the wind, ephemeral and half a myth,
I moved like a blessed thing. And I wondered,
How will it come to me? What are the terms?
What torment will I feel, what softness and repose
What dark god will take my blood?

In my weakest moments I imagine
That this creature in his infinite grace
Curls his massive hand around my shoulders
And does not demand a sacrifice,
For my kindness, for your good heart
There will be a house, a road and a marsh
With birds of prey and snails, flatlands, mud
And storm-tossed reeds among the riverbanks.
Here you will die, at an old age, with no sorrows,
Where the world drifts close to us and dissolves.
And at your feet will be our children
Yaroslav Sevastianovich
And his brother Alexeychik.

And I wait for death,
And I see it in the eyes of men,
hear its footsteps in the beating
Of my small and shivering heart,
So fragile, in the face of this world,
with it all its murders, with its helplessness and guilt.

And I wait for death,
And I see it in the eyes of men,
And each night I continue living,
and the dawn breaks my heart.

And I wait for death,
and I see it in the eyes of men,
and if I can hear the smallest voice
I will listen, will burn all I own,
and throw my body on the pyre,
I will tear my throat and eyes.

There will be no voice,
There will be no symbols,
There will be no call.
No signs, no sacrifice,
no ritual, no power to this love
To my fierce and terrible fire
That blazes without wavering
On the remote cliff side, on the farthest shore
Of my soul, of my goodness, of my mind
That cannot kill me, cannot cure you,
Cannot light the smallest room.

And I wait for death.
Though I know that God,
if He is still living,
is not a savior of men.
Not like this.

Your death will come as a matter of routine
To these white walls, to that yawning nurse
Timed with the flicker of florescent bulbs
And the distant hum of your machines.

The end of the world will not know shouts,
Nor thunder, nor hope of redemptive rain.
There will come a dimness and a twilight
There will come a stillness without wind.
The sun will appear as a red heavy beast
Slouching beneath the horizon to die.

[Kneenibble]

I hope I'm not too late.

Bouncing off the prompt of Gratitude,

Narcissus and Echo
I found a piece of candy on the sidewalk today,
A smooth and confected young thing.
I tore off his wrapper
Without words or flowers
And scratched his thigh on my cheek.

He admired himself
In the foggy mirror
Of my eyeballs -
As clear a reflection as a muddy puddle
Slopped against the bottom of a wall -

And left no flower growing
Where he knelt there gazing.
I've slurped up all that he left
Already, and I am still
Hungry.

He dissolved on my tongue
And disappeared - he thanked
Me like a picture
Thanks a frame -
Even wrapped up together, that unnoticed

And that empty.
But that necessary,
I like to think
(I took
It, it's all the thanks I'll get).

[Vaynor]

Um, just out of curiosity, was there any decision as to whether or not I should be a fifth judge? :smallconfused:

That would be fantastic, thank you.

[Zeb The Troll]

Kneenibble (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4317874&postcount=204) vs. Alarra (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4315530&postcount=197): Gratitude
Rubakhin (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4317559&postcount=203) vs. Hellpuppi (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=4305839&postcount=194): Imagination

[Vaynor]

Sweet, no one late this time. Good job everybody! Next: the final round. :smallsmile:

[Felixaar]

Judgements! *cue disco music*

Kneenibble vs. Alarra
Tough, but Alarra edges out. It really was a difficult choice though, but while Kneen's poem was great and not without it's trademark start/stoppiness, Alarra's damn near made me cry. Which is quite an acheivement because I cant remember the last time I did anything outside of just misting up, outside of the occasional times when I get hit in the... well, the rest ain't suit for a poetry contest. Only thing that bugged me was that while I liked the effort to make it rhyme, the actual form keep feeling a bit strange. I think Al' would have benefited from having three line paragraphs(or verses, I cant remember the proper term) rather than four. But the idea of the poem and the subtle adherence to the prompt was more than enough to put it over the line. Well done.

Rubhakin vs. Hellpuppi
Rubhakin. Sorry hellpuppi, your poem was great and I loved it, but it just had nothing on Rub's. Rub, thats the most beautiful poem I have ever read, and while I havent read alot of poetry in my life I still have to hand it to you mate, Awesome. Bloody Awesome (Australian expressions like this are why I lost in the first round). I mean, by steve, that was one damned amazing poem, epic love and just filling all my senses with such tingling emotionary mucus that I feel like I might suffocate from the sheer poetic goodness. Maybe a few slight wording's I'd change (e.g. "I long not for a large miracle", in my opinion, would've been better than "I dont not want a large mircale") but outside of that, sheer awesomeness.

...I need some tissues now.

[Zeb The Troll]

KneenibbleThat's not what I was expecting regarding the prompt, nor from the title (my recollection of the story of Narcissus and Echo has him rebuffing her right from the outset). I liked how you took it in a different direction, though I was a little surprised at the direction it appears to have gone. Am I crazy or is this submission a bit, errmm, racy? To me it seems to be about youthful lust as compared to mature desires and how the young often fail to appreciate what they have and live in the now while the more mature unattached often find themselves seeking form over function and are left wanting. The thing that trips me up is the flow. It doesn't break up at readable intervals. Or maybe I'm reading it wrong. When I read it as it's written it sounds very Shatner-esque and so I actually had to rewrite it with different breaks so that I could read it with a flow that appeals to me.

Alarra This brings to mind one of my favorite songs, Lightning Crashes by Live, what with the mother who lost a daughter who had herself just given birth. It's always a sad thing when parents outlive their children. It goes against the natural order of things. As the father of a grown woman, some of the memories you describe I can vividly recall in my own life, though thankfully not having to bury my own. Back to the poem. I like the way that you describe the strength of the grandmother, allowing herself this one day to mourn her daughter, but afterwords needing to be the mother once again. Not forgetting, just remembering fondly instead of in sadness, not letting herself be crippled by the loss when there's now someone else who needs her. I liked also that she feels that one of her
duties is to remember her lost loved one in detail so that she can pass on to the grandaughter what kind of person her mother was so that she can feel proud to have come from her. Where you lose me, though, is the part where you bring in the prompt. To me those six stanzas sound like something intended for marketing in a faith based bookstore or in one of those "send this to everyone you love" chain e-mails. Maybe it's just me, though, since my beliefs don't lean that way.

Verdict Alarra. It has a beauty and an emotion that I didn't quite get from Kneenibble's.

rubakhin This isn't your best entry. I'm not sure how this fits the prompt, other than the word is used once. As for the poem for its own sake, it's dark and gloomy, even for you. It just goes on and on about death and dying. The lover is dying, you're dying in sacrifice, the lover is dying anyway, and no one cares. It is possible to have love without dying for it, or wanting to. I don't think I've seen you write a poem about love for love's sake as opposed to death for love's sake. I realize you've had a particularly trying life for someone so young, but there is a beauty to love that I can't recall seeing you write about and I'd really like to. I want to see you say something about being uplifted and carried away, with birds singing and colors vivid.

HellPuppi This made me smile. I enjoyed the compare/contrast of various types of people and their relationships with the sometimes fleeting idea of being creative. I giggled outwardly at the daily life sneaking unbidden into a time of escape. It does seem like you tailored this for an audience of gamers. Maybe you did or maybe it's just a reflection of the fact that you are. I don't know, but I connected with it.

Verdict HellPuppi

[rubakhin]

Zeb

You know, that's a creepy observation. Death and love are just intertwined with me. I've known this for a while. From some very ****ed up stuff that went down when I was a kid, to my last two lovers being dead (murder; suicide) and my remaining two dying slowly of incurable diseases. And of course I have been absolutely steeped in the **** for as long as I can remember, coming from messed up circumstances, and then living in Chechnya for a while, and I've tried to commit suicide multiple times. It permeates everything I've had.

I'll try something better next time I write, but this is bad timing. I found out a few days ago - I mean, I had known for a while, really, the symptoms were unmistakable, but now we know for sure - that the guy I love is HIV positive. You, you're getting married, and of course love seems epic and uplifting to you (I sincerely hope it lasts for the rest of your lives), but I buried half the men I have loved and I know that unless I die at a young age I am going to bury the rest of them. It would really be impossible for me to write anything about love that doesn't involve death right now. Sorry if it bothered you.

[Zeb The Troll]

rubakhinIt's true, I'm getting married soon and at this time in my life love is especially bright and shiny. :smallcool: However, I'm also pushing 40 and I've had the opportunity to be in a few relationships, all of which made me feel peaks of emotion, at least at the beginning. And it's the beginning part, the part where you feel like this time, this time it will be different and we'll be happy, that I would like to hear from you. I expect some darkness to creep into your stuff because that reflects your experiences. And I'm not saying that you should take all of that out because then it wouldn't be you. Just maybe adjust the brightness a little bit. :smalltongue:

And just to be clear, I love your writing. This wasn't a bad poem. It was just bleaker than usual. You yourself admitted that you didn't bring your "A" game to this one and it's the semifinal round.

[Gaelbert]

Kneeibble vs. Alarra: Gratitiude:
Kneeibble
This poem seemed a little choppy, especially at the end. I usually have no problem with this, except where it hampers the understanding of the poem. And I‘m afraid that happened at the end.
Alarra
Aww… this poem was really touching. I felt a sort of understanding of the woman who lost her child, not because I have ever gone through it or anything close, but because of the detailed way you layed it out.
Alarra

Rubakhin vs. Hellpuppi
Rubakhin
I didn‘t really get the connection to imagination until the very end, but I thought it was very well done. Your writing always seems to give me a very detailed mental image, and I appreciate that greatly.
Hellpuppi
From a technical standpoint, your poem was good, at least as far as my meager knowledge knows. However, when I see the prompt Imagination, I think of something lighter than your poem. Your poem was good, but it seemed a little too heavy, and failed to completely inspire me.
Rubakhin

[Vaynor]

If all of the judges post before I can get back on Sunday, will someone else please start the next contest? I will be away and unable to start it.

[Amotis]

I think I recall truemane expressing interest into being able to help with something like that. I may be mistaken.

[Felixaar]

I imagine you mean next round rather than next contest, since we still have the ultimately cool grand final once the decision is made. Did you have prompts planned, Vay? also, for the matter, I'm just confirming their were no pictures for this last round?

[SpiderMew]

Sorry im late on my judgements.

Kneenibble vs. Alarra: Gratitude

While both poems are good, Alarra's was able to hit me emotionally in a way that Kneenibbles couldn't, and that left a bigger impact with me. There really isn't anything else for me to criticize about either poem.
Winner: Alarra.


Rubakhin vs. Hellpuppi: Imagination

Well this is hard, while Rubakhin's work is very well done (but rather depressing) he seems to go off of the subject half way though and it becomes something else entirely as if he were writing this on the subject of death and lost love .Hellpuppi's sticked to the subject very well and made me smile, he really captured what I think about when I hear the world Imagination.
So for this round, the winner is Hellpuppi.

[Vaynor]

Felixaar, I meant the next round. I just got back, and I'm way too tired to even check if we need a new round, let alone make one. It's 4 am here (6 am from where I came from) and we had a 13 hour trip, so, yeah.

[Zeb The Troll]

*pokes truemane for his results*

[truemane]

I have spent some time wrapped up in several things that have nothing to do with the fact that I made a commitment to my fellow writers, my fellow judges, and to this contest, and there is no excuse for failing short in my responsibilities.

Disappearing from a group acitvity without warning or explanation is rude regardless of circumstances.

Here are my judgements for Round Three, offered with my most sincere and humble of apologies to all involved.

Kneeibble vs. Alarra
Gratitude

kneenibble
Narcissus and Echo

You know what's fun? Applying serious poetic techniques to something light and silly. It's always odd wen you see it. You have a completely absurd little piece about eating candy and you fill it with sharp images, a stolid tone, and an erotic undercurrent. The result was that my brain kept looking for the deeper significnace and not finding any. It's like having Kafka write your yearbook blurb.

Good times. Wierd times. But good times.

The extra fun part is that if you assume that 'candy' is the metaphor and not the rest, it could very well be about a guy and his street-hustling gay lover. And that's fun too. Candy and sex make such a convenient combination that it doesn't really matter which is which.

Anyway.

Good stuff:

"A smooth and confected young thing." Beautiful line. Confected? I don't even want to know if that's really a word or not. I enjoy the way you abuse parts of speech by forcing them to fill roles that they normally don't.

"...he thanked/Me like a picture/Thanks a frame..." Wonderful, especially coming as it does as an infix to another thought in progress. It makes a great aside.

All I would offer you as points for improvement is to watch the logic of your metaphors. Does candy even have a thigh to rub against someone's cheek? While I'm on that image, I would say that the visual image is also a little more explicit than is necessary and runs the risk of jolting the reader out of the piece.

And watch your asides. The grammar of the sentence needs to be served, as well as the narrative/thematic needs.

He admired himself
In the foggy mirror
Of my eyeballs -
As clear a reflection as a muddy puddle
Slopped against the bottom of a wall -

And left no flower growing
Where he knelt there gazing.

The flower growing seems to comment on the puddle at the bottom of the well, when the puddle was the aside, and the flower growing SHOULD refer to the foggy mirror of the eyeballs. And that makes less sense.

But that's it. I'm still not sure what to think about this piece exactly. But it sure was interesting.


Alarra
Untitled

Before I start, I'll admit to you that this is not my kind of thing. Doesn't make it bad, but I don't find this sort of poetry hits me where I live, as it were. So if that colours my commentary, I apologize in advance.

That being said, I would say this is a decent example of a poem of this type. A little too sentimental for my liking. A little to heavy on the weepy and a little light on the thoughts and insights that could really make it into something. A little too much invocation of the divine without any real notion of how the divine could fit into this situation.

I did very much enjoy how you turned a story about a grieving mother into a poem about gratitude. The inclusion of the grand-daughter worked in very well in that regard.

Sylistically, it's a little uneven. The first three stanzas rhyme on alternate lines. Then you rhyme the third and foruth lines of each stanza, but not the first and second. That scheme is unusual enough as it is, without it coming as a sharp change from a prior scheme. Changing a rhyme scheme should come with a change in content, since like changing the beat of a song right in the middle, you'll find that you've got a whole club full of kids suddenly dancing on the wrong beat.

Read the first three to yourself (out loud if you can, that's always best) and notice how your voice naturally falls into a rhythm that fits the scheme. Your voice naturally hits the final word a little harder and emphasizes each syllable.

Then you switch it up with no warning. And that little unconscious ryhthm is upset. This is not a bad thing, but again it should be reflected in the content. And it's not. I would either stick with the rhythm you start with, or make the change MEAN something.

The four 'odd' stanzas are all the "I remember..." stanzas, so perhaps that was your intent. But I don't think the alternate scheme adds anything to the material, and in fact detracts from it, since it takes getting used to and makes the reading uneven.

Everything you do should make a point, even if your point is there is no point.

Dig?

Anyhoo. Other than that, Alarra, it's not a bad little piece. Not my thing, but nice all the same.


Decision

Kneenibble

My personal biases aside, and as odd as it was, Kneenibble's piece is better crafted and better structured.





Hellpuppi vs. Rubakhin
Imagination

Hellpuppi
Untitled

Although I appreciate the variety of metaphors here, I have to admit that there is something inside of me that actively resists this kind of poem. I read the first image or two, and then the third, and by the time I'm that far I'm done with the parade of episodic metaphors and ready for you to tell me So What? It's like space and a sacred space and a playground and get to the point...

But that IS the point of the piece. A parade of images. And that's what doesn't do it for me. I'm not saying it's wrong, or bad, but it just passes right by me without stopping to say hello, as it were.

As such, I'm reluctant to get into any serious analysis of the piece, since what I'll wind up doing is picking away at those things that are the piece's primary purpose, instead of picking away at the things that generate that purpose. It's a subtle difference, but an important one. Can you dig on that?

So, I have to say that the images are strong. The structure is effective for what it's trying to achieve. The flow is nice and the ending strong. So it's good. Not for me. But good.

And this:

Heroes and villains
That appointment you need to make
(how did that get there?)

Made me laugh. So that's good.


Rubakhin
Untitled

You know that Jack Keroac always felt that the only real way to write was to splash it all down on paper and leave it there, as is. How can you rewrite the natural impulse of your heart? He would say I disagree with that entire school of writing, but there is something to be said for catching a spontaneous outpouring of emotion and leaving it there, mostly untouched.

I could go through this one, Rubakhin, and point out the lines where less would have been more and where an image could have been clearer or more ecocative. I could point out stanzas that could be shorter, ideas that could be more compressed, blah blah blah.

But I really liked this piece. With all of its flaws and all of its warts. I think the fact that you're wrestling with the looming death of your loved one increases the effectiveness of its raw state. Like Spielberg prettifying the Holocaust in Schindler's List, why should you present such pain in nicely composed imagery and well structured lines? This might be a submisson to a poetry contest, but I would guess that, had there not been a contest, you would have written this piece anyway.

So, really, what's to say? All of your fire and fury is here, and your skill at crafting off-angle and unusual images to illustrate simple concepts. No discipline, but again, when this is the subject matter, who needs it?

As an afterthought, I enjoyed the Second Coming allusion at the end. I felt that moment of abslute despair in a way I don't think I would have otherwise.


Decision

Rubakhin

I usually don't make decisions based on my emotional reaction to a given piece, since my reaction is based on many things that have nothing to do with the piece in question. But in this case, emotional reaction was the only real way to choose.

[Vaynor]

Congratulations Alarra and Rubakhin! You have both moved on to the next round. Sorry Hellpuppi and Kneenibble, better luck next time.

Final Round:

Alarra vs. Rubakhin: Dawn (http://i25.photobucket.com/albums/c83/Vaynor/idyll.jpg)

Deadline: The midnight between May 28th and May 29th. For further clarification, this is the time between 11:59 pm (EST) May 28th and 12:01 am (EST) May 29th.

Images courtesy of Digital Blasphemy (digitalblasphemy.com)'s selection of free wallpaper images. Many thanks to Ryan Bliss for the beautiful creations.

[PhoeKun]

We're practically at the deadline. When will the poets appear?

*tension mounts*

[Alarra]

I'm sorry. This has been an incredibly crazy week. I haven't even had time to think about this. I may have to use my extra half day, although I'll try to get something written as soon as possible.

[rubakhin]

In case you are wondering, a lezginka is this. (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v3iCL-Jitw8) A lezginka is traditionally performed approximately whenever the dancers feel like it, which is why these inspired young men are hopping around a crowded train car like lunatics.

Lezginka

The storm is a beast,
and the body is mine
The lightening is heartbeat,
and the thunder is blood;
and I am coming to you
from across the forest,
La illah ha il Allah.

The wind is your scent
From beyond the damp earth.
The rain is your voice
From beyond the shadows;
and I am coming to you
from across the dawn,
La illah ha il Allah.

I will know happiness
When night is on my back.
I will know happiness
When I have bloodied my feet;
when the rain covers me
like the body of a lover,
La illah ha il Allah.

I will not know peace
Until I have what the thunder awoke
I will not know peace
Until he has me exhausted
when I no longer know
where my footsteps land, or why,
La illah ha il Allah.

Assah!

Darkness, draw back
like the sleeve of a woman
Sun, rise up and cleanse me
Light up the rain of my tears
Leaves bend down and brooks overflow
I am thirsty for him, thirsty,
La illah ha il Allah!

Come to me, oh, come
I am your grey wolf
Come to me, oh come
I am dying, I am dying
Let me come to you,
endless run,
La illah ha il Allah!

Assah!

God, grant me the breath
so that I may kiss him again
God, grant me the sun
so that I may see him again
God, grant me the ground,
so that I may take him in the rushes,
La illah ha il Allah.

God, grant me the vision
to carve his likeness with my words.
God, grant me the strength
to build the tower of my verse.
God grant me tirelessness
and I will make him immortal,
La illah ha il Allah.

[Alarra]

Sorry I'm a little late.

Hope
A stilled breath, heartbeat,
Fleeting, chilling.
I waited.

Time caught, broke,
Continued too soon.

Your whisper in my ear,
Step amongst the leaves,
Illusion.

Your hand in mine
As you pushed me away.

I longed for a choice.
Having none, I left.
Reluctant.

A last look, assuring,
You would come.

Before dawn, you claimed
And believing, trusting,
I waited.

I did not doze.
Stood vigilant alone.

Clinging to hope, love
A passionate embrace.
Foolish.

Light’s first touch, shadow,
A crystalline mist.

I saw tendrils of smoke
Over distant trees
Inevitable.

A perfect moment,
Forever tainted.

The mind grasped reality.
Still, the heart hoped,
And I waited.

[PhoeKun]

I think I speak for everyone when I say it's fine, Alarra. After all, this is what you saved up that extra half day for... ^_^

By the way, Rubakhin, it is now a goal of mine to go and see one of those dances for myself. I hope you're happy. Now I need an international passport and enough luck to happen upon a random event. :smalltongue:

[truemane]

Okay. Final round. First off I would like to thank everyone involved in IP IV for a great time. I have very much enjoyed this edition of Iron Poet. There was a real sense of community among the judges and the contestants, and it really felt to me like we were all in this together.

Which is nice, as I had pretty much given up on these things before this. But my faith in internet based sudden death elimination writing contests has been restored.

::smalltongue:

Alarra
Hope

Before I say anything about this piece, Alarra, I just wanted to say that I am very impressed with how much you've improved since this contect started. That may sound like a left-handed compliment, especially as my views on your last couple of entries have not been excessively laudatory, but all the same it's true. It makes a nice point about how important it is for poets (and writers, and artists, in general) to have the chance to show their work to a community of sorts. The 'ideal' we push on artists is a guy in basement poring over his work all aone and never caring what anyone else thinks, but the reality is that art, like love, needs company to reach its full potential.

Anyway.

I liked this one a lot, actually. I enjoy poems that can create images and emotions in quick brush strokes, and I enjoyed the one and two word images and the stutering, disconnected pacing caused by them. Like watching a story in freeze frames, or occasional bursts of light illuminating large patches of dark, the word-comma-word-new line-word-perdiod-word, etc really worked with the material presented here.

The structure is nice as well. Three line stanzas (two long lines followed by a short one) alternated with two line stanzas, gave the piece a steady, almost inevitable (ordained?) feel without calling attention to itself. TS Eliot, being one of the two godfathers of Free Verse poetry, never defined Free Verse as poetry without form. He defined it as poetry in which each poem creates its own form. He said that "No vers (verse) is libre (free) for the poet who wants to do a good job."

And you're good at that. The physical layout of the poem on the page suppors its primary purpose as well: it looks constricted and tight. The fact that's its longer than it is wide makes it look like something falling, or speeding towards some inescapable conclusion.

Something to think about for a rewrite: make the tone or the content of the two kinds of stanzas (two line and three line) sharply different. One coud be the male's point of view, or the view of hope vs that of experience. Or they could even just vary in tone. That would give the piece some variety and enforce the structure even more without stifling the content.

The last note I have is this: you're written this poem already. All of your entries have been very similar in style. If you choose to continue to enter these contests (and I think you should) you might want to start finding ways to step outside your comfort zone. Try writing longer, less structure free verse. Try something with VERY restrictive scheme. Try something that sounds more like 'everyday' speech, just to see what happens. Doing stuff like that is fun, keeps the process new, and is the only way to REALLY get better.


Rubakhin
Lezginka

This was a tough one, Rubakhin, because your skill is evident, but I don't get anything deeper from this one. It feels like you phoned it in. It feels like one of those films that you KNOW is going to be nominated for an Academy Award (you know the ones: 3 hours long, about a celebtrity who had a fall from grace and/or went from rags to riches, etc) but you can't imagine anyone discussing what to watch one Friday evening and saying "Yeah! Ghandi! You can watch that movie over and over again and it never gets old!"

All your usual tropes are here: obscure Russian/Slavic cultural traditions, the repetition of sounds and images to control pacing and enforce structure, nature imagery, an agressive and almost violent tone when discussing love, a wolf, etc.

But I don't really FEEL it. Part of it is that it is very muhc like your other submissions both in concept and in execution. And part of the problem is that your usual style is at odds with your primary purpose. You want to write a poem about love to fierce and powerful that it causes you to leap up in a crowded subway car and dance about like a lunatic. You want to describe a love so vast that it is like the power of nature itself. And then what you do is take all this chaotic emotion and you LOCK it up in a very deliberately paced, cyclic poem where it doesn't have the room or the air to catch fire. It's like getting the urge to dance the Lezginka in a small closet.

I think this one needed some mad chaos in between the structure-building motifs. Some longer lines, some alteration in tone and pace, some images that may take fve or six or seven lines to complete (as opposed to each image being only a phrase or two long, and easily broken up with a new line's natural caesura). The refrains (which are nice, by the way, and work very well) should feel like they are interrupting an on-going, fluid process. The structure should hold the emotions in place and not stifle them.

Anyway. It's a hard one to nail down and give you concrete examples, since there's nothing there on the page that's wrong. The images are strong. The alternating refrains are excellent. The contect is well done. It's just the stuff in between the letters that leaves me cold.

Like Lawrence of Arabia.


Decision

Jeeze this was a hard one. Each piece had its merits, although I didn't fall in love with either one. Rubakhin's poem was the better piece by academic standards, but Alarra's felt more real and more immediate. One piece was a definite step forward for the poet, while the other felt like more of the same. But then it isn't really fair to make judgements based on any criteria but the work itself.

So, in the end, I had to go with what was on the page, and the words on the page tell me that Rubakhin is the winner.

But seriously, Alarra, you should be very proud of yourself, and of the work you've submitted.

[rubakhin]

By the way, Rubakhin, it is now a goal of mine to go and see one of those dances for myself. I hope you're happy. Now I need an international passport and enough luck to happen upon a random event. :smalltongue:

Not a problem! Every man of Caucasian descent (that is, coming from Chechnya, Dagestan) knows how to dance this from the time that they're two or three. So if you're ever in Moscow/Jordan/Brighton Beach/my house when Said and his brothers get their gigantic asses down from Boston/anyplace else with a lot of Caucasians, just make friends with one and get him to take you home to a party. You'll see so much lezginka you'll get sick of it. And not badly danced, either, I've seen my friends with no professional training at all do like a freakin' backflip.

(So: truemane, not Russian/Slavic. Chechen. Chechen. :smalltongue: I didn't really expect anyone to pick up on that, though.)

[Gaelbert]

Rubakhin vs. Alarra: Hope
Rubakhin
Honestly, I wasn't exactly blown away by this one. Maybe it's my current mental state, but I couldn't really feel the connections, and the imagery wasn't all that impressive to me. I'm rather apathetic as of now about it. It may be excellent from a literary standpoint, but...
Alarra
I enjoyed this one. It wasn't my favorite, but it was certainly good. The lines had a nice flow to it, and the rhyming of "tainted" and "waited" was a nice touch.
Verdict:
Alarra

[Felixaar]

...Total Hell, it's this time of the competition.

Lets get ready to RuMBLE!
Glack, you both had to write such good poems, didnt you? Why, I should skin you all alive... nah, I kid. It's so much easier dead (or atleast unconcious). Although rememembering Al and Zeb are nice enough to put me up for a few nights I should probably STOP talking about skinning people alive.

Now, Rub's poem was awesome, you can't deny that... the language used is amazing, and some of the similies and such are great whether I understood them or not. The greatest thing about reading something that Rubakhin wrote is that it's always bloody awesome, and yet you know that there is so much more depth to it that no one but him could perceive - everyone gets something different out of the poem, and that make's it like, double awesome.

Al's poem was great too (can I call you Al, btw?), visual imagery was well done and I like the way that the scheme is less about rhyming and more about... context? I dont really know the word I'm looking for, but just how the third line in (most) of the three line versii was just a one word emotion. It's one of those poems that, like all your so far, have made me go all "nyahh..." cause I'm a sucker for emotion. Well done :smallsmile:

In the end my friends, It's going to come down to who followed the prompt best, cause I cant decide which is ultimately a better poem. The prompt itself was one kick-ass photo (here we see why I got kicked out in round one), and us much as it hurts me to deny everyone's favourite russian poet, I'm going to have to give this one to Alarra, simply because hers had a bit more to do with the prompt.

Guys, once again I have to say I wish I could give this to both of you. Such a difficult choice to make.

Oh, and just a thing - I would've ultimately selected a poem if it had the tying in Rythms of Dawn and the way things always seem the worst before they get better (It's always darkest 'ere dawn), but whatever you make of the prompts can still be just as great, which it was.

Tough, tough decision, and yet another great contest nears it's end... *weeps* awesome job all poets (except me), thanks for great poems. I think I'll enter again next time, see if I can beat my pb....

[Zeb The Troll]

Okay, I can't help but feel horribly guilty about this, so I'll understand if you all would rather someone else fill in my shoes for this one. I've done my best to be absolutely objective, but I can't be certain that I haven't let my biases affect my decision.

That said...

rubakhin - I'm pleased to see that you've (almost) written a love poem that doesn't involve one partner or the other dying. :smallsmile: I generally like the feel and flow and the imagery you've provided here, though it does feel a little ... stiff, I guess is a good word. Like you were unsure of yourself. Something else confuses me. I know just enough Arabic to recognize it, so I translated the "La illah ha il Allah" (There is no god but God) and I'm not sure how it fits into the poem at all, though the phrase itself has a good rhythm and maybe that's all there is for it. In the end, I still feel like this entry is a bit ... familiar.
Alarra - It's simple, yet evocative. The imagery is engaging and dramatic. I would have liked a little more backstory as to where he's going and why he failed to return, but there's something to be said for leaving that out. It gives the reader the ability to plug in their own reasons and make the poem that much more personal. Still, there's something a bit cliche'd about the lover who waits for the loved one who's promised to return but doesn't.
Verdict - rubakhin. It was a tough call, though. I enjoyed both of them.

[SpiderMew]

Sorry im late brining my judgement in, but here it is.

Well its come down to the final two, and both of you have submitted very fine works.
Its really hard for me to find anything at this point to criticize, both have a very different way of getting things across and it really boils down to at this point, which style speaks to you the best. Which poem's flow and imagery capture my imagination and brings things to life.

For me, the choice and vote is for Alarra. Her poem really drove it a bit closer to home for me, it was like a section of my life that you found and put into words. End the end it was this reflection of myself and my life in your poem that made me have to choose you.

Rubakhin, you should feel proud though, you've got some talent and im sure there are lots of people out there who would relate to your work more then me. Don't let it go to waste, I don't know what your plans in life are, but if its writing then you've got a good chance of making it.

[Vaynor]

Congratulations Alarra, our new Iron Poet Champion! New thread will be up soonish.

[Felixaar]

Congrats, Alarra! Such a close call, especially since basically ALL of us judges had a hard time picking. Definetly big points up to Rubakin too, you both would've trounced in any other competition.

edit: @V, wow, I had no idea thats what the poem was about. But then - and I'll probably have my judgehood taken for this - I suck at interpreting poetry. And glad to here you'll do some more, I look forward to tha' readin'.

[Alarra]

Wow...I'm absolutely shocked that I won this. When I got to this final round, I said that the only way I would win this was if Rubakhin forgot to submit something. Seriously Rubakhin, you're one of the best poets I've ever read and I loved everything you wrote for this contest.

I never really considered myself much of a poet. I don't write it often, and have really only written a couple prior to this. This contest has made me realize that certainly I should write more. I'm really glad you all liked what I've written.

Zeb
Just one clarification...the poem isn't about a lover leaving and failing to return. She forces him to leave for his own safety, claiming that she'll meet him before the dawn. She doesn't, and as he looks back towards where he left, he realizes that she's dead. I wanted to try to illuminate just bits and pieces of the story through this in parts of his memories. I may not have shown enough of the context, but that's what I was going for and I'm sorry if it didn't show you that clearly enough.

[truemane]

Congratulations, Alarra! If this contest inspires you to do more writing, than it succeeded beyond MY expectations. Because you should, indeed, write more.

And more! And more!

Why are you reading this? You should be writing RIGHT NOW!

:smalltongue:

[PhoeKun]

Many congratulations to Alarra! For the wonderful and amazing progress you have made since this contest began, you deserve this win! :smallsmile:

Both poets should be proud. I would like to gush for hours about each of you, but the words I'm reaching for don't seem to really fit with what I want to say. So I'll just thank you for your hard work, dedication, and effort, with an extra special thanks to everyone involved in this contest for helping me, even if it wasn't your goal (and we all know it wasn't :smalltongue:), to rediscover my passion for writing. It's always been what I wanted for my life, but you've all helped me break through a wall that was holding me back in recent months.

I would very much like to participate in the next contest in one capacity or another. Not being entirely sure myself, I'd like to ask: does anyone have a preference for where they'd want to see me? I'm not really arrogant enough to think I have a reputation worthy of people giving me much consideration, but maybe one of you out there has a thought...

[truemane]

If you have no preference, I would say to make your first priority judging (as that is traditionally the hardest role to fill adequately) and then writing (if the judging situation looks good).

That's what I plan on doing. After a whole contest worth of forcing other people to accept my dictatorial pronouncements, my ego is sufficiently soothed that I can once again enter as a writer.

Assuming the judging is all good and stuff.

But really, in the end, you have to ask yourself:

What does your heart tell you?

:smallbiggrin:

[Felixaar]

Ooh! Ooh! That Frodo Is Alive!

In all honesty though Phoe, while I would agree you should do what you really feel you should do, I would love to read summor of your excellent poems.

As long as you aren't matched against me.

Cause then I'm screwed.

Moreso.

[rubakhin]

Congratulations, Alarra! You've improved a lot over the course of these contests. I hope that you keep working, you have a lot of talent.