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SimplyScripts Screenwriting Discussion Board  /  Poetry  /  The "TommyP" Memorial 15 day Poetry Challenge
Posted by: mcornetto (Guest), May 25th, 2011, 1:08am
Who is TommyP and why is there a Memorial 15 day challenge for  him?  

No, Tommy isn't dead - he just rarely posts - though I see him lurking occasionally.
But when he was posting more often about a year or two back he came up with this idea
- a poetry challenge where you write one poem a day for 15 days.  I had a lot
of fun with it and I know a couple of other members who had some fun with it too.

I'm sure some of you are saying "Oh No! the dreaded P word!"  And some of us are
thinking it sounds easier than it really is.  But I figure while we're waiting for the next
OWC it will help pass the time and give us some helpful word exercise.

So here's how it going to work.  I'll post a topic every day for the next 15 days starting
tomorrow morning when I wake up.  Write a poem based on the topic and post it in
this thread.  The day ends when I post the new topic.

Even if you don't intend to do 15 poems, give it a go anyway. This will end when the
OWC begins so it's likely none of us will make it to 15 poems anyway. Use this as an
opportunity to expand your skill set.  Maybe you'll even find something new to be good
at.
Posted by: stevie, May 25th, 2011, 2:33am; Reply: 1
Nice concept MC, will give it a whirl. Need to get my brain working!

Yeah, haven't heard from the ol' tommy lately - I guess he's busy with uni, drinking and shagging...
Posted by: Sandra Elstree., May 25th, 2011, 2:16pm; Reply: 2
This one, by Joyce Kilmer:

I think I shall never see
A poem as lovely as a tree
A tree whose hungrey is prest
Against the sweet earth's
flowing breast;
A tree that looks at G-d all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in summer wear,
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who ultimately lives in rain.
Poems are made by fools like me,
But only G-d can make a tree.
By Joyce Kilmer (1886-1918)

Inspired someone to write this:



Posted by: mcornetto (Guest), May 25th, 2011, 4:20pm; Reply: 3
The first topic

understanding

Good luck and I can't wait to see your poems.
Posted by: Scar Tissue Films, May 25th, 2011, 5:37pm; Reply: 4
Narcissism

I stand on a ragged cliff top,
A pale face Lies beneath me,
Watery eyes, stare sightlessly at the Beyond.
Behind those eyes, Depth Eternal.
A face I've seen a Thousand times,
But never recognise.
I look closer, intoxicated with yearning.
The eyes are windows on the soul.
Can He see mine? I see his.
Pain, cold, suffering, suffocation of existence.
And yet. An invitation.
I step.
Air rushes around me. Two worlds collide.
I am violated by water.
My lungs burn in darkness.
Blood pounds in my head.
Time becomes infinite,
And I become Truth.




Rick
Posted by: mcornetto (Guest), May 25th, 2011, 7:42pm; Reply: 5
Subtext


I pretend I'm making sense
to see if you are listening

You pretend to recognize
the nonsense I am saying

And though we're both pretending
underneath our ruse we see

our words can convey nothing
and yet do so meaningfully


Michael
Posted by: Heretic, May 25th, 2011, 8:09pm; Reply: 6
Untitled

Hate it?  I don't.
Love her, never me, no.
Him?  To Hell with him.  I say what I want.
To Hell with your god, too.
To Hell with your politicians, your family, your dog.

I'm not changing that, but I do have it.
You're not changing that, but you do have you.
Understand?




Chris Shalom
Posted by: Sandra Elstree., May 25th, 2011, 11:03pm; Reply: 7

Quoted from mcornetto
Subtext


I pretend I'm making sense
to see if you are listening

You pretend to recognize
the nonsense I am saying

And though we're both pretending
underneath our ruse we see

our words can convey nothing
and yet do so meaningfully


Michael


This is so very beautiful, Michael.

Scary to say because it might not be proper... But you would make the perfect lover for
so many desperate women.  :K)

Sandra

Posted by: mcornetto (Guest), May 26th, 2011, 12:20am; Reply: 8

Quoted from Sandra Elstree.

Scary to say because it might not be proper... But you would make the perfect lover for
so many desperate women.  :K)


Right there.  Another good reason for getting your poetry skills in order. :-)

Thanks Rick and Chris for stepping right up to that first subject and hitting straight on and with really good poems.  

Everyone should give this a try...
Posted by: Tommyp, May 26th, 2011, 8:13am; Reply: 9
Poems! Fun. I will have to get involved in this at some point. Thanks for starting the thread, Michael.
Posted by: stevie, May 26th, 2011, 4:00pm; Reply: 10
I don't understand Jeff - he's pissed

I don't understand why Phil left - he's missed

I don't understand why I love the Fab Four

I don't understand anything - anymore...

I don't understand why I'm finishing this now

I just don't understand...how?
Posted by: mcornetto (Guest), May 26th, 2011, 4:15pm; Reply: 11
And stevie gets one in under the wire and I liked his poem too.  

Congrats to everyone brave enough to tackle that first topic.

But the others lurk, afraid to show their words.

The topic today honours them.

fear
Posted by: Scar Tissue Films, May 26th, 2011, 4:45pm; Reply: 12
Grey Tombstone.



The Clock ticks, your Sand's run down.
Thine time of grieving approaches now.
Weeping faces stand around,
Spades slice open the burial ground.

No white light upon your Death,
No Heaven's Gate with your final breath.
The Fate of all the flesh and bone,
Cold corpse under the grey tombstone.

Rest thee well and suffer thy home.
Forever Dead And Forever Alone.
Posted by: Sandra Elstree., May 26th, 2011, 10:52pm; Reply: 13

Quoted from stevie
I don't understand Jeff - he's pissed

I don't understand why Phil left - he's missed

I don't understand why I love the Fab Four

I don't understand anything - anymore...

I don't understand why I'm finishing this now

I just don't understand...how?


Yay, Stevie!!! You made me smile!!!!  ;D

Here's mine: Late but shate:

***

Ma Havinah?

Ma havinah? Ma havinah?
What is understanding?

The bird-like screech came suddenly.
A hawk—a habicht, pierced through my vision.

Down as feathered lightning
To its target
A small deer, gripped by talons
The deer rolled, scrambled back to its feet
Flight again for the hawk
Pursuing the deer again and again
Sharp jabs

Ma havinah? Ma havinah?
What is understanding?
He screeched again,
Needling the deer
Pecking, gripping

The deer’s dahm flowed tasty
Teasing Vampires
Teasing me
Little rivers of red
Little trenches in flesh
Gashed for Zamin

Miraculous,
The deer fled
More miraculous,
The hawk released,
Riding innocent
Upon his back
Flapping then,
In front then,
Leading him, the hawk then--
Away is away is away.

Still I am.
Still I stand.
I know, I stood--
This way, before.
And I go back to nevermore.

Behind me, a sound
Tramping dead leaves
Old bones
I failed to turn
Feared to turn

Paw paw pawing
It pawed at my back
I couldn’t turn wit
I couldn’t face it

Panim beh Panim
Might be it kill me

Ma havinah? Ma havinah?
It growled.

It smelled of wild compost
Burning
My lungs did burn
I had to turn

Around--
To see The Wolf
His eyes like Jack
Dainty killer,
Burlap sack
Unknown
Unknown
He glazed at me unknown.

There were the white things I remembered.
The failed bride's dress.
And all that horned mess.

Yes.

White nods for the morrow
Black whips of telling
Black whips of story telling

He spoke
As storm clouds arched with black cat spine
His howl ached as nephilim
The volcanic sky
Like apple pie

So I turned…

Ma havinah? Ma havinah?
He leapt upon me
Meaty will to eat
I saw his teeth
I heard his howl
Ma havinah? Ma havinah?
His hate and fondness tramped my senses.
Only though and three; yet he did not bite.

Please, I said.
Ani lo mevinah. Ani lo mevinah.
I do not understand. I do not understand.
Please tell me,. Please tell me.
I pleaded
When he gripped my throat with something
Something clenched my veins
Something held me tight, inside me.
Frozen Nirvana—
Inside me….
I cried--
Kshar! Kshar!
Bond! Bond!
Kshar! Kshar!

His fur brushed my forehead.
His teeth kissed my breasts
Breast that weep
They weep with milk
Now still-even-still,
No child in sight,
And still they give,
The milk of mothers--

Mindless mothers
Mindful mothers
Scorned in restless never-will
Laid in beds of luster-kill

Eat, goddamit anyways!
Is what I say.
In ever sway—
Of my
Tormentor!
Of my love grantor!
Eat! You bloodless dahmless sovereign!

Whence I forced the hand.
Both left and right together!

He cinched the hairs upon my head
To a tightly rung tail
By that he grabbed
He grabbed so hard each piece and part
And lifted me

Whereby is by
He bowed his head.
Stood up straight and became a man.

Why didn’t you follow the hawk?
His graveled voice crisped the metal
Shot the sham
Stealing air, the wayfare damn

Hushing me.
Stuffing me.
He crushed my heart.
He then continued…

With hydrogen, helium,
lithium, beryllium...

The  hawk had sense, he said.

What sense?! I asked. Shelot? Shelot?

Questions? Questions? If I may?

He answered, in a breezy way.

Sense to lead the deer from harm.
Away from me and my left arm.

Squibbles crawled before me.
Ants. Just ants, I thought.

My flesh felt alive with  bass and baritone,
Hitting me, pounding me.
Prickling my skin, weeding it.

His words corrosive as drain cleaner,
I could eat you even now.
Don’t you see? Don’t you understand?

Ani lo mevinah, I said…
Ani lo mevinah! I cried.
I soared and bombed.
I flew and fell.
I felt you behind me.
I felt the chill.
I don’t understand.
I don’t understand.
Ani lo mevinah.
Why do I love?

His naked arms held me under the noir.
And I knew.

I know you.
I know who You are.
And…

I’ve waited a long time.

For this moment.

He hailed me with a silent sniff of his black nostrils.

You’re mine, he said.

I know.

The volcanic sky opened to a sunlit glaze.

It was all and all a grand ole phase.

The Sun Rose. The Moon Rose.

These be the days.

And we followed the blood of the deer.

Together.

Sandra Elstree
Posted by: mcornetto (Guest), May 26th, 2011, 11:14pm; Reply: 14
Presentiment


I run away
when it does seek me out
the mere sound of its voice
I go astray
at the nags of self-doubt
there's never any choice
there's just this wall
that's far too high to climb
which I could never scale
ever, at all
even with all of time
I'd still find I would fail
that's why I run
and that's why I tremble
it's the reason I stress
but once begun
it's painful to dispel
impossible unless
I run away



Michael

PS and Sandra WOW! You wrote a whole poetry book!   You going to do one of those a day?    
Posted by: Sandra Elstree., May 26th, 2011, 11:28pm; Reply: 15

Quoted from mcornetto
Presentiment


I run away
when it does seek me out
the mere sound of its voice
I go astray
at the nags of self-doubt
there's never any choice
there's just this wall
that's far too high to climb
which I could never scale
ever, at all
even with all of time
I'd still find I would fail
that's why I run
and that's why I tremble
it's the reason I stress
but once begun
it's painful to dispel
impossible unless
I run away



Michael

PS and Sandra WOW! You wrote a whole poetry book!   You going to do one of those a day?    


After reading Presentiment, all I can say, is

That's how I feel and it cuts deep into me to feel a connection in that.

Thank you dear Michael.

Sandra
Posted by: Heretic, May 26th, 2011, 11:35pm; Reply: 16
Untitled

The young fire grows, but too much warmth escapes;
Rocks pile round higher and higher,
Matching the wind that pulls sparks unforgiving
Into the darkness.

But each rock cools the last
'Til each is more feebly warmed
And, inexorable
Night rises within as well.

Unsafely enclosed.
What should I have done?
Posted by: Heretic, May 26th, 2011, 11:41pm; Reply: 17

Quoted from mcornetto

PS and Sandra WOW! You wrote a whole poetry book!   You going to do one of those a day?


By my count we'll have the makings of a whole poetry book in about 13 days!  :)

...some revision may be necessary.  Hahah.

But indeed, Sandra, seconded.  A lot of effort and a vivid collection of words!
Posted by: Sandra Elstree., May 26th, 2011, 11:47pm; Reply: 18

Quoted from Heretic
Untitled

The young fire grows, but too much warmth escapes;
Rocks pile round higher and higher,
Matching the wind that pulls sparks unforgiving
Into the darkness.

But each rock cools the last
'Til each is more feebly warmed
And, inexorable
Night rises within as well.

Unsafely enclosed.
What should I have done?


"Matching the wind that pulls sparks unforgiving
Into the darkness."

Made me think of the recent wildfire that destroyed the entire town of Slave Lake, here in Alberta.

The blackness and night rising from sparks and flames-- it's a familiar feeling.

"Unsafely enclosed"

Has me always begging,

"Release the captive!"

I appreciate the fact that perhaps,

Although I might interpret it wrong:

In youth, too much warmth might escape.

Our passion burns us into feeble warmth unless
we capture the resultant sparks, saving them for
their worth as many pennies add up to a great sum.

Sandra
Posted by: Sandra Elstree., May 26th, 2011, 11:49pm; Reply: 19

Quoted from Scar Tissue Films
Grey Tombstone.



The Clock ticks, your Sand's run down.
Thine time of grieving approaches now.
Weeping faces stand around,
Spades slice open the burial ground.

No white light upon your Death,
No Heaven's Gate with your final breath.
The Fate of all the flesh and bone,
Cold corpse under the grey tombstone.

Rest thee well and suffer thy home.
Forever Dead And Forever Alone.


This makes me feel like picking up my guitar again
and strumming a few.

I could easily find a melody in this.

Sandra
Posted by: Scar Tissue Films, May 27th, 2011, 5:20am; Reply: 20
Enjoying your work here guys!

Surprisingly fun writing poetry...think I might have a more serious attempt in the future.
Posted by: mcornetto (Guest), May 27th, 2011, 5:11pm; Reply: 21
And I'm enjoying all the poems too - so keep them coming.  

The next topic is about something  everyone wants yet they don't have.

wishes
Posted by: Scar Tissue Films, May 27th, 2011, 6:21pm; Reply: 22
If wishes were real.


Were wishes real I would hold you again.
Drop coins in wells and exorcise pain.
I'd search for Fairies in forgotten lands.
Rub golden lamps with eager red hands.

Were wishes real I'd see you once more.
Find magic rings of Old Folklore.
I'd break every wishbone, pray to a star,
Keep Monkey's Paws in broken glass jars.

Were wishes real what dreams we would share.
But all magic died the day you weren't there.
Posted by: mcornetto (Guest), May 27th, 2011, 6:29pm; Reply: 23
That's a great little poem Rick.  You're getting really good at this. :-)
Posted by: Sandra Elstree., May 27th, 2011, 8:19pm; Reply: 24

Quoted from Scar Tissue Films
If wishes were real.


Were wishes real I would hold you again.
Drop coins in wells and exorcise pain.
I'd search for Fairies in forgotten lands.
Rub golden lamps with eager red hands.

Were wishes real I'd see you once more.
Find magic rings of Old Folklore.
I'd break every wishbone, pray to a star,
Keep Monkey's Paws in broken glass jars.

Were wishes real what dreams we would share.
But all magic died the day you weren't there.


It's so very strange. That the thing that remains when a loved one isn't there anymore, emotionally, or physically, or maybe they have indeed, died-- the magic was there all the time, but how much did we appreciate them? Acknowledge their presence. Hug them absolutely every time they ever walked out that door.

The family I grew up in never ever left each other before giving one another a hug before leaving. Maybe that was magic. Maybe they are still there.

Loved this one very much, Rick.

Sandra
Posted by: mcornetto (Guest), May 28th, 2011, 12:35am; Reply: 25
Last one because the OWC has started.


(sung to the tune of the chorus of 'When you wish upon a star'.)

Do you wish upon a star?
Then like that cricket sang, you are.
I bet you wished for a sports car,
forget world peace.

Do you wish cracking a bone?
There's no app for your smart phone.
You can't do it on your own
you need some friends.

Do you wish using a cake?
Once a birthday wish you make.
If by chance it's a mistake
there's still next year.

Do you wish into a well?
Don't you wish that you could tell?
If you wish then sit a spell
but please bring change.  

Michael
Posted by: Heretic, May 28th, 2011, 12:49pm; Reply: 26
Untitled

Kate wishes she were thinner.
The reasons, she reasons, are many --
Sex with a different type of person;
People with a different personality;
(There will be less of her to hate, too)
And what they want will change considerably.

What Joel wants, actually, is more of her.
His reason, he reasons, is only one --
(Regardless of what she can offer)
She's such a lovely lady.

Kate works to be thinner, oh yes, daily.
What hell!
She lies to the judging glass that it's beautiful;
She wears the right clothes, the ones Joel rages don't suit her;
At least, on the days she knows what she wants.

Joel knows what he wants.
What hell!
Just her, after all.
Posted by: mcornetto (Guest), May 28th, 2011, 7:42pm; Reply: 27
Hey all!  Well done on the three days we got to do this Poetry challenge but the OWC is off and running so we'll have to stop here.   I'll do this again some other time.
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