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Contest l Poetry l Observation (Nov 2007)

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Old 11-01-2007, 04:54 AM
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aprilrain (Offline)
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Default Contest l Poetry l Observation (Nov 2007)

What better source for poetry than the world around you and the things you see every day? Perhaps something that you barely glance at normally could be viewed in a whole new way, providing richness and depth to your work.

Pick a day in which you will be away from your home and take note of various people, activity, or objects that you see. Choose one thing you observed and write a poem about it.

Regular contest rules apply, which can be viewed here. However, I am pushing the deadline date back a little (and will do so going forward) so that we can get the results back to you before the 1st of every month. TAKE NOTE OF THE DIFFERENT DEADLINE DATE AND TIME of November 23rd, 11:59 pm U.S. Eastern Time.

"A candle loses nothing by lighting another candle."
Old 11-23-2007, 03:54 AM
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Ok Iím not happy with it yet but today is the deadline.
Since it appears that there are so few entrees I canít see how you can have a proper contest, maybe extend it for another month.

The bus stop cat

Bells sing,
the bakers dozen.
Lures forth,
the bus stop cat.

Black fur,
With glinting eyes.
Treading path,
day for yawning night.

Feral oak,
climbed and scratched.
Scrambling all-round,
and through creeping hedge.

Dreaming lines,
curled on seat.
Gazed upon,
until red bus depart.
Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

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Old 11-23-2007, 06:09 PM
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Might as well make this a contest. My goal in this poem was to have the reader experience the same emotions that I felt as I was looking at these genocide photos.

Silent Genocide

In a world where your birthright decides your fate
I saw beautiful little boys and girls,
Who never had a chance, emaciated and deprived
Their muscles cease to move, their backs broken
Their tongues hang unnaturally between two thin blue lips
As their little hands are neatly folded across their chests
Some die, mercifully, from starvation,
Their bones rip through their sallow skin,
They get so tired they donít know
Whether their eyes are open or closed
Their skin sags as if it were made of rubber
Their heads and bellies swell grossly
As their organs shut down, one by one
Others confront the heavy shadows of the gallows
And hear the inevitable snap of the floor door
Right before their jugular veins are crushed,
Their carotid arteries explode within themselves,
Their necks break with such awful force
The bone protrudes through the skin,
Magnificent evidence of a demolished spinal cord,
Of a demolished life, of a demolished soul,
Their muscles freeze in violent contraction
And they lose control of their bowel movements
As they swing in a cold breeze stripped of human dignity
Their bodies are robbed and tossed carelessly
As though they were diseased animal carcasses
To rot in open graves as the rain falls upon them
It drips through their human hair and human fingers
Around their human eyes, their human lips
A photographer takes a picture with a sigh
A perfect picture of the death of humanity
It will win him the Pulitzer, and make him famous
But the victims of human violence
Will continue to pile upon one another
Continue to fill the basements of heaven
And haunt the consciences of the living and the dead
Because it's the constant struggle of life, the great sin of our race
Violence, it is always with us, violence so terrible
That it could make the devil blink and angels turn away
Violence so thick and so dark
That God can not be found
Perhaps, one day, He will unbury our dreams
And make this world beautiful again
"Where I am, I don't know, I'll never know, in the silence you don't know, you must go on, I can't go on, I'll go on." -SB

Andrew Beutel
Secular Humanist
Free-lance journalist


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