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BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Georgiansilver Date: 20 May 08 - 02:08 PM 1)Speed the broom when your lifes at a low ebb sweeping away all your troubles and strife. Speed the broom to get rid of the cobwebs sweep negativity, out of your life. Chorus Speed the broom, wherever you are, Running through life keep your head on your shoulders. Speed the broom, as life rushes by, Living your life to the full. 2) Hold your head high as you go to your business, Hold your head high as you're doing your chores. Don't let the daily grind make you feel troubled, Live through each moment believing it's yours. Chorus 3) Great optimism is one of lifes options, Believing that everything works for the good. Don't just sit by thinking can I or can't I, Or thinking I would do if only I could. Chorus 4)Don't be impetuous, instant decisions, Never helped anyone stand in good stead. Take all the time you need thinking things over, Making good use of that brain in your head. Chorus Mike Hill (21.11.04) |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: open mike Date: 20 May 08 - 01:02 PM althought this thread drifts far and wide I am re-newing it for the poetry side I was looking for a thread on a poetry corner the latter the contest, am still searching for former. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: GUEST,guest/munky Date: 08 Nov 05 - 02:02 PM wow.............interesting |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: GUEST,Blackcatter Date: 16 Jul 04 - 04:09 PM I'd have hairy palms but something keeps rubbing the hair off........................................................................................................................ahem. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: JennyO Date: 16 Jul 04 - 01:09 AM ...and you should see HIS hairy palms :-) BTW, if you have hairy palms, do you get hairy dates and hairy bananas off them? I'll get me coat.... |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: TheBigPinkLad Date: 15 Jul 04 - 06:18 PM ... so it was you, hey ... ;o) |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Blackcatter Date: 15 Jul 04 - 06:14 PM I have no affliction (at least not one connected to this). I started this thread several months ago and I doubt that anyone is surprised that the creator looks in on the thread. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amos Date: 15 Jul 04 - 06:08 PM Even if it does give you hairy palms.... |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: TheBigPinkLad Date: 15 Jul 04 - 05:52 PM Except rather than make me blind, as my mother warned, it tends to make me see things better, Amos. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amos Date: 15 Jul 04 - 05:48 PM Self-abuse? A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: TheBigPinkLad Date: 15 Jul 04 - 01:37 PM Blackcatter ... do you know that name of the affliction you and I share? Symptom: You KNEW what was in here but you just HAD to look? ;o) |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Blackcatter Date: 15 Jul 04 - 01:31 PM My god. This thread still exists? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: GUEST,Dr.Varun Date: 15 Jul 04 - 12:58 PM Your contest is GREAT! |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amos Date: 01 Jul 04 - 08:21 PM Jack: Very promising stuff -- you have an intuitive ear! A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: LoosanaJack Date: 01 Jul 04 - 07:27 PM Please consider my poor renderings... Grief Grief rests upon my pillow sleepless, shag-haired, air-staring, unclad, ripe mad with daring. It wants me. So near my face it leans, poring into my lost precision, my soul's incision, my missionlessness. It knows me well, I guess. It never rests. Its raspy breath breathes restless. It wants no rest, ever and never lets me sleep. It keeps me close, strokes me, chokes me in dark ecstasy. Burns me with fatigue, rends me senseless, defenseless, thus, I yield. Against Grief, there is no shield, no sanctuary, no flowerly field of peace. Yet, Grief is a stalwart companion, ever near, even kind in its cruelty. At least it does not die, ask why and sigh. Grief doesn't even cry. Wordless and strong, it never remembers or even dreams. Grief is the perfect lover in life's imperfect scheme. Hollow, resolute I purse my lips, bereft. You, my love, are dead and Grief is all that's left. Though it be ever cold, at least, it has a substance I can hold. And loneliness is worse than Grief, I'm told. Jack |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: GUEST,SandyCreek Date: 01 Jul 04 - 12:05 PM Wrong Way Train 1. Wrong way train rollin' downtown streets and dogs all dusty and brown rollin' downtown on a broken down track broken down track clickety-clack clickety-clack clickety-clickety-clickety-clack rollin' downtown and we ain't comin' back ain't comin' back clickety-clack clickety-clack clickety-clickety-clickety-clack 2. The engine's all busted the gears are all rusted and we've tried every trick tried every trick clickety-click clickety-click clickety-clickety-clickety-click 3. Wrong way train gone and made me sick the engine and gears gone and made me sick made me sick clickety-click clickety-click. clickety-clickety-clickety-click 4. Wrong way train done run outta luck windows all broken and the doors are all stuck doors are all stuck clickety-cluck clickety-cluck clickety-clickety-clickety-cluck 5. Driver and porters gonna buy 'em a truck buy 'em a truck clickety-cluck clickety-cluck clickety-clickety-clickety-cluck 6. Wrong way train done become a rejeck We gonna scrap this heap before it goes and has a wreck goes and has a wreck clickety-cleck clickety-cleck clickety-clickety-clickety-cleck 7. Wrong way train got wuthless 'ol stock we lost all our money put us all in hock all in hock clickety-clock clickety-clock clickety-clickety-clickety-clock 8. We gonna burn the station and rip up the track Wrong way train ain't never comin' back never comin' back clickety-clack clickety-clack clickety-clickety-clickety-clack clickety-clack clickety-clac clickety-cla clickety-cl clickety-c clickety- clickety clicket clicke click clic cli cl c never comin' back |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amos Date: 30 Jun 04 - 02:19 PM I have, Peg. QUite concur. A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Peg Date: 30 Jun 04 - 01:57 PM So, has anyone gone back to re-read (or read for the first time) any of the Mudcat Poetry Corner thread?? There is some brilliant work in there from some very talented people. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amergin Date: 30 Jun 04 - 10:47 AM I think the poet was none other than george w... |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: 42 Date: 30 Jun 04 - 10:43 AM and "famouse" conjures up images of rhinstone bedecked rodents. j |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Stilly River Sage Date: 30 Jun 04 - 10:26 AM Certainly a Goth character with "pail" skin, and "Her mother was no roll model" conjures up some amazing images! Spelling errors aside, that's a very depressing piece. If it's based on personal experience I hope the individual finds some help. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: 42 Date: 30 Jun 04 - 07:55 AM ok...I'll bite. This Guest, while oft waxing poetic clandestine and peripatetic; with spellcheck on hold and grammar most bold penned sentiments wan and pathetic. j |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: GUEST Date: 30 Jun 04 - 03:43 AM She had pail skin Just As Clouds Where White She had a heart of black like the darkness of the night. They dissliked her for her looks And Her Dark Black Clothes. They never saw who she was Thats just what they Had chose. She could have been famouse Despite what they had said But yet she still lay there Cold Beneath Her Bed Believing things deep in her head. Her mother was no roll model Her Father Was Never There She couldn't live like this She had to run away She had never found a place where she would be safe to stay. The people never excepted her They Never believed she was right They only wanted her for picking up a fight. Her eyes where always sad She never had a smile Depression was her bestfriend She didn't like the beggining of life She just had to find an end. She left the note of sorrow right beside her body of pain. they all thought she was insane They didn't understand She always needed a hand But No one was there for her So she decided to show how they never cared. We love you dear child You're sorrow is missed and hoping you're allright now in the grey dark mist. There you go ;) theres my poem Eh? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: beardedbruce Date: 13 Jun 04 - 12:35 AM btw, "Doe" was from the same workshop that I wrote "Bhean Sidhe" in...and a few others. Interesting concept- at the end of each ( monthly ) session, there would be given out a phrase or sentence- and each of us would go off and write something using, or about, that phrase, to be discussed the next month. Something like what Keats and Hunt did. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: beardedbruce Date: 13 Jun 04 - 12:05 AM Amos: Thank you- I take that as a serious compliment. However: "Those who are counted now as ageless or timeless (in English, anyway) have achieved something extraordinary, where their insight and balance and sensitivity not to their own feelings, but to those of life itself have come together to create beauty. " IMO, it IS their own feelings, that they have expressed in a way that reflects those of life itself. True poetry is the ability to make the personal universal. I do not claim to have done so- but that is what I am trying. To find that within myself that resonates in others. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amos Date: 12 Jun 04 - 11:56 PM There are probably a countless number who wrote for the ages and missed. There are probably a countless number who wrote as earnestly as they possibly could, and for some reason also missed. Those who are counted now as ageless or timeless (in English, anyway) have achieved something extraordinary, where their insight and balance and sensitivity not to their own feelings, but to those of life itself have come together to create beauty. I think you are capable of that. A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: beardedbruce Date: 12 Jun 04 - 11:31 PM Amos, There are a number of poets who wrote for the ages- few are know today. The ones who wrote from the heart, about what they cared for, are read generations after they are dust. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amos Date: 12 Jun 04 - 11:12 PM Is there any more that one should aim for? I suppose that is up to you, BB. A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: beardedbruce Date: 12 Jun 04 - 10:54 PM and I enjoy writing them! |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: beardedbruce Date: 12 Jun 04 - 09:45 PM Amos, Thank you. I do know that my love sonnets are not to everyone's taste. As I have stated, my intended audience, those I am writing them for, seem to like them. Is there any more that one should aim for? If they earn me one meaningful sigh, I have earned enough to justify writing them. 8-{E |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amos Date: 12 Jun 04 - 10:23 AM A capital point. Bruce,, the more I look at that Frozen Doe, the more I think it may have a real poem in it. A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Stilly River Sage Date: 12 Jun 04 - 03:23 AM Blackkatter, U may have worked, but the thread hasn't. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Blackcatter Date: 12 Jun 04 - 12:54 AM Hey - guess what? I started the thread with the title to get people's attention. I worked. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amos Date: 11 Jun 04 - 10:27 PM There are some nice images in these two, BB. A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: beardedbruce Date: 11 Jun 04 - 08:57 PM Doe at 2AM She froze, staring into the light Thinking the eyes unseen could see The apprehension inside. Night Seemed so secure: Darkness would be Welcome, to hide within. How might She in this brightness hope to flee Back to the shadows? Time stands still: A moment that the tensions fill. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: beardedbruce Date: 11 Jun 04 - 08:53 PM "From: beardedbruce - PM Date: 24 May 04 - 03:10 PM btw, I would argue that the answer to the title of this thread is impossible to determine. Is the "best" poet the one with the "best" poem, the most skilled, the most productive, with the widest variety of topics, or the most popular? Perhaps it should be just "Mudcat Poem Contest". I will stake out the love sonnet as my strong point- as for the rest, there are those here that may very well be more skillfull, or more inspired than I am. I do not think that makes them better, or worse poets than I am- just different. My Haiku are weak, and not sufficiently focused; my limericks are lame. " "Poets, much like songwriters, singers, and other performers, seek out an audience. There is feedback, which can help to improve the performer, and raise his/her skill level. If nothing else, the performer, by hearing others, can see what CAN be done. By your standards, much of the music I hear, at open sings, workshops, and getaways would be done privately, with no audience. I, for one would not want that. As for judging, I think I have expressed myself. I feel that CONSTRUCTIVE critism is worthwhile- my only concern is that some will use this forum to tear down without showing what might be built up. " Kisses are, but may be classified, according to intent. A kiss Upon the forehead is to seal devotion: A light touch on eyelids indicates a hope for peaceful dreams: On a cheek shows family affection. A kiss upon the lips has several meanings: One, a gentle brush of lips, offers concern, The other, a striving of the teeth and tongues, shows willingness and desire. To kiss the ears, the neck, or chin Might be to seek for trust, or just to taste the skin. A kiss upon the curve of breast, investigation: That upon the nipple often a plea, or hunger for attention. The kiss upon the stomach, back or arms is to arouse sensation. A kiss on back of hand, a greeting, or a subtle offer: Upon the palm, a gift of heart, to be tightly held, or quickly released. The kissing of the fingers, or the toes, shows a desire to please, or to be guided onward. The touch of lips to thighs, and variations, are preludes and will not be treated in this note. This is a partial catalog of meaning: Next week, we will discuss techniques. 23/2/81 |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amos Date: 11 Jun 04 - 08:47 PM But I also object to the opinion that being able to write structured verse means that one cannot write poetry. I'm sorry if I created the impression I was saying this, as I never thought it. What I do think, and have said, is that writing structured sets of words does not mean one is writing poetry. I believe that rather strongly. No matter how many. Even RHYMING ones! A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amos Date: 11 Jun 04 - 08:34 PM I can't tell you how many, Amergin!! I can turn out the most awful poetry practically willy nilly!! It makes me laugh to think of the morning-afters when I tried to make sense of some deathless poetic insight scribbled in the night, only to sigh wistfully and throw it away. LOL! A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: beardedbruce Date: 11 Jun 04 - 08:33 PM "Or are you so godlike in your technique that you never once wrote something better left unwritten? " I leave the imitations of god to Amos and SRS. "As said before there is a big difference between knowing how to write in sctructured styles and knowing how to write poetry." AS I have said before, as well. Again, did you bother reading what I have posted? But I also object to the opinion that being able to write structured verse means that one cannot write poetry. Some of what I write is not structured- I happen to enjoy the sonnet form. If you dont't, then continue to not pollute your so pure thoughts with my verse. "else I do not think there would be enough room for your ego. " True, my ego is big- but let him who is without sin cast the first stone. I think it might be average, or a little less for the mudcat chat thread. Can we get back to poetry, of whatever form? Tang, we need you! |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amergin Date: 11 Jun 04 - 08:03 PM LOL@ Amos! BB, I stand with friend Amos...he knows what he's talking about....apparently much of the lovely humour on this thread has been lost on you....It is a very good thing that cyberspace is infinite...else I do not think there would be enough room for your ego. This thread had potential (though not as a contest thread), but it degenerated into a thread about your mental masturbation. Ok you can write in various poetical forms....so bloody what? As said before there is a big difference between knowing how to write in sctructured styles and knowing how to write poetry. I admit that I have written many many duds...prose and poetry alike. I love doing both...as well as doing song lyrics...and I love the applause I receive from performing my poetry and songs...if I didn't I wouldn't share them....but I learn from the duds...and they disappear into a file never to be seen again. Can you say the same? Or are you so godlike in your technique that you never once wrote something better left unwritten? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: beardedbruce Date: 11 Jun 04 - 07:53 PM I did comment on the "best" aspect, some time back- Or don't you bother reading anything that might upset your worldview? If that is a game you enjoy, have at it, but don't even begin to pretend it is about poetry. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amos Date: 11 Jun 04 - 07:39 PM Well since you asked the question, BB, my ability is kind of self-generated, just like yours. I object to poetry being thrown in to this kind of context, is all. It is unkind, ungentle, unenlightening, and serves only to feed voracious, needy egos. If that is a game you enjoy, have at it, but don't even begin to pretend it is about poetry. Your challenge -- to post poetry or shut up -- is risible, but maybe the subtlety of the humor is lost on you. I don't think it is the sort of thing a best poet would think of saying, though! :<) A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: beardedbruce Date: 11 Jun 04 - 07:10 PM Amos, Who made you capable of that decision? either post poetry, or shut up. A Dark Corona What vision can I hold, when dreams are dark And chill creeps into soul? How can I see If future offers reason, or might be Enough to some image of hope lend spark? Yet, shall I think that past would not leave mark Upon a weary soul? Will darkness hide The scars of heart that to dead dreams are tied? Can any shroud cover a wound so stark? My soul in silence dwells: I hear no muse To offer song, nor to receive my heart. What passions might I hold, when heart is bound In cold and silent tomb? Can hope refuse To fade, when all is grim? How can dream start When only shadows in the night are found? When only shadows in the night are found To fill my dreams, how can I hope to know A reason to go on? Desire might show Image to heart, but silence has heart bound To dark despair: All of delight is ground Into the dust. Yet, should I try to light My dreams, when hope brings me such pain? How right To think of muse, when no replies resound? Should I care for the past? It matters more Than I might say: My muse remains a part Of soul. I cannot longing for muse end. I do not dare forget her, or ignore All that was never said: Dream offered art Far more than I might in my verses send. Far more than I might in my verses send, I give concern. I worry still, but fear Heart cannot hope to hold past muse as dear As I desire: Regrets darken hope's end. I wake to find no dawn; Pale stars pretend To light cold night, but vision cannot tell Between gray thought, and black. Will my mind dwell On loss, or hope to future hopes defend? I care, but cannot alter fact: My dreams Have little value to my muse. I seek What will not be, that desires might not fade. It matters not: The desire I held seems Beyond all thought. I cannot make muse speak: No power I control can passions aid. No power I control can passions aid. To hold to muse: Heart seeks for voice in vain Without bright dreams. How can I hope obtain From silence? Yet, can my desire be made To change, or bend? Shall I think that heart paid Such price for transience? I cannot bear That it is for illusion that I care: How can I heart's desire for phantoms trade? Ghosts fill the darkness: Memories now dead, But free to roam my dreams. I do not fear What was: Future alone frightens heart's night. I cannot forget what past words I've said, Nor regret one concern, or wish, or tear: Why can I not find muse to bring dream light? Why can I not find muse to bring dream light And end this silence? Do I ask for more Than might be wise? Did I some god ignore, That Heaven withholds what could make heart right? What crime condemns me, that I cared? How might I earn reprieve, or pardon? I regret Only those words unsaid, that I have let All hope depart, by not holding muse tight. All passions pass, but I do not seek grave For my desires: I prize even the tears The memory of smile recalls to mind. Yet, memory alone does not dream save From bitter night. Should I look to spend years Waiting for end, with all my visions blind? Waiting for end with all my visions blind, Echoes remain, to fill the empty hours With illusion of life. Does past hold powers To control dreams and thought, or with hope bind Dark night to all desires? Can I not find Some path for future muse to alter fate? What might my heart resolve, that hope would wait In silence? Do echoes of muse remind? The chill seeps in my bones: I ache, to try To move my heart from past. Nothing remains, But I am loathe to leave this tear-filled grave. When shall I forsake dreams, and know hopes die? How can heart binding burst? Let these tear stains Be all that I recall, and all dreams save. Be all that I recall, and all dreams save From dark concern: I cannot ask for less, Nor more. I can only concern confess, That muse matters to heart. Is silence brave, To keep me blind? Had muse one reason gave I'd accept fate, but in silence I hear Only the absence: Hope does not appear, And all attempts to know have left me knave. I wish muse only well, but wish she'd say Some word of what transpired: Must I believe That all past conversations were but lark? I cannot forget past, nor future sway, But present gives me only cause to grieve: What vision can I hold, when dreams are dark? |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Amos Date: 11 Jun 04 - 07:01 PM As a whole, this thread was better asleep indefinitely. Most of what is in it is neither Best nor Poetry. A |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: GUEST, PL Date: 11 Jun 04 - 06:38 PM Hey, it's labelled 'Mudcat's Best Poetry Contest.' That's a prosecutable misnomer. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Blackcatter Date: 11 Jun 04 - 06:20 PM Take a pill, PL. You can igore it like most of us do on the thread we don't like. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: GUEST, Poetry lover Date: 11 Jun 04 - 06:12 PM That's just plain cruel. I thought we were safe from this nightmare of a thread. |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: beardedbruce Date: 11 Jun 04 - 06:07 PM bringing this to the top, since I have been told that the only reason I am on is because of this thread... |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: Donuel Date: 05 Jun 04 - 12:10 AM he said the lights are bootiful watching nature nate flinching at the watchimigoo and how that thing is Great glimming all the flatchers skipping way across laughing at eeyoos pobbing when its not asking what is that gee I just don't know he says I knew that waaa its time to go you know its just not fair here we go a buzzin without and full of care. .............................. First kill all the children And the Pharoh said, "kill all their male children" "Let it be written let it be done." A wailing was soon to come. And the shadow Mic Od spoke, "kill all their leaders" "Let it be planned, let it be done." John, Robert, Malcom, Medger and Martin are gone. They claim that lone gunmen and media were to blame. "Let those who sing against us be done." And another ounce of lead silenced a generation. And the President said "silence news and air waves" Neither rightious or right they conquered their headless foe. For the next 35 years the void became full. We could silence their rush generation, but for whom would the bell toll? The front men are just puppets, as everybody knows. The complex is safe from lead. Years ago it was said We can teach the true blues and reds. or if that doesn't work we can remove the chicken from its head. ............. Giving what they need He's only two so when he asks for Mox, I give him chocolate milk and he is pleased. She's only 16 so when she says "My mom has no clue". I protect her fantasy. He is only twenty two so when he asks for peace I tell him there's no such thing. Now he seeks the golden fleece. George says give war a chance. He disregards the lives. They are to old to learn. Unless we kill their wives. ............................... Last night John Lennon, Bob Marley, Jimmy Hendrix and Bob Dylan jammed together in my dream. This is what they said: 300 years ago Arabs sold the slaves. Africa divided white man reaped da gold. W is a traitor a rich man we are told. Whats he done for people? They're lied to, killed and sold. Brother against brother Is what the Man counts on When we're all together All his power's gone Love your child and free em To reap what they can sow If you want your freedom Its all in what you know They say Raggea's done Hip Hop thinks it flows fulla hate and short on fun The singers come and go Gangsta rappers boast still none outrun the gun Our songs are sung by ghosts like ice out in the sun US rules, Africa fades Half of Cape town now dies of Aids buried in da ground. AIDS slaves in their graves Don't know who put them down. Don't know who made the virus Don't know who wears the crown Hands that move against you to put you on a slab invents a brand new flu deep within a lab You've got to tell your neighbor There is a message we must send... Brother against brother Is what the Man counts on When we are together All his power's gone Freedom needs compassion not jail for smokin herb When freedom is rationed Your life becomes absurd We are not the infidel We are not the enemy We are just the people We all want to be free. __________________________ don hakman c.2002 |
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Subject: RE: BS: Mudcat's Best Poet Contest From: GUEST Date: 04 Jun 04 - 07:27 PM |
