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Watch out, I�m going to ramble.
This is my third poetry contest, up till now. I consider my self a pretty good poet, and if nothing else, I enjoy reading the works of those who are as good, and even better than myself, in a modern style. I hate when people use poetry as a trashcan for all their emotion and problems, so I�m hoping this contest will force or reinforce you to NOT do this.

Unlike my last contest, I will not have many restrictions on the words you are allowed to use. I am focusing more on breaking people from that idea that free verse is the only type of poetry they can attempt. You will be forced to write in a format that you must keep true to, either if the format is of your own construction or a preset one with or with out variants.

In the end, I completely believe poetry as all art, requires premeditative thought and planning to it, or else you don�t have art, you have what I am going to call �refrigerator art�, or little pills of self esteem that your mom magnets to the fridge, only to be tossed out later. So, this contest will guide you into a more subconsious form of effort in your poetry. Where before you ranted, now you will (gasp) actually write, and write well (assuming you already don�t).
I never had much experience with the whole �Hey, well, now that I see what I can improve, I�ll edit my entry� type of contestants. You�re still welcome to do so, just PM me so I know about it.

This contest is free of charge, kind of. Everyone is allowed to enter one poem; however a second or third poem will require a 200g donation, which will go into the prize.
The prize in question will be split for the top three poets, 50% for first, 30% for second, and 20% for third. Any items will be given as their market place value.

I shall now define what a poetic style is in my own words.

You must have 2 of the following:
-Defined meter (I.e., a 6 8 6 8 pattern for example. A haiku has this)
-Defined repetition (i.e. 1 2 3 2)
-Defined accents (I.e., iambs, trochee, etc.)
-Defined word style (I.e., must be a palendrome)

You may write in any other type of poetic form, and edit it. What I mean my editing is that you can say Im writing _____ style, but replacing the rhymed lines with repeated ones. If at all possible, check to see that style does not already exist. You may not edit a poem like Well, Im writing this, but Im going to make the fourth stanza have three lines instead of four, and the last stanza is one word. Thats just bullshit I dont need.

Error on my part, as onion points out:
meter is not necessarily syllable count, as described in your poetry contest. Meter is about the accentuation of each syllable. smile

If it has syllables per line, then Its fine.
Posting and Grading.

Alright, lets get a bit organized here.

-First thing you should post will be your forward. If you want to take me for this contest, or tell me that you hate me for it, but need the gold, do so there.
-Next, give me form youre going to write in, and what it means if you will.
-Your poem.
Simple, no?

Also, remember not to post in strange colors, fonts, or with graphics.

Im going to try and not complicate myself on the grading.
-30 points for following your form correctly. (Like, if you screw up your iambs in one line, you lose a few points.)

-30 points for fluency and emotional grasp.

-20 points for originality.

-20 points for your ability to use the form to your advantage, instead of having it use you. In other words, how well you incorporate the form as a necessity in the poem.

1. LaFlauta 80% B-
2. Indigo_Streetlight 89 B+
3. vegan_chica 67 D+
4. cerenacat 65 D
5. Renee the Rabid Squirrel 80 B-
6. by_the_tail 65 D
7. melancholyjupiter 93 A
8. Sylphi 87.5 B+
9. Darth_Aiyan 81 B-
10. Irime 78 C+
11. Kiria Delusional Kitty 80 B-
12. AnaHope07 75 C
13. kornerpocket 90 A-
14. Syphli 96 A

Read page 8 for my graph reguarding the deadline.
A haiku has a defined meter of what? I thought meter was a regular pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables, not quite the same as having a set syllable count. sweatdrop
A haiku has a defined meter of what? I thought meter was a regular pattern of stressed and unstressed syllables, not quite the same as having a set syllable count. sweatdrop
Nono. Meter is how you count pairs of syllables. Thus, pentameter, with a prefix of penta or 5, is five pairs of syllables, or a 10 syllable line.
Syllable stresses include Iambs, which is unstressed and stressed pattern.

A haiku uses the meter of 5 syllables, 7, 5.
Poem:Free Verse
Title razz leed

My body in you, again
A deep black water from which you never let me breathe
An acid that ate away at my heart slowly every day you ignored me
Crying in my ivisible fault I pleed for a love so strong that it'll rewind time itself
And heal these peices that lay shattered at the bottom of my chest
I ponder my own soul beaneathe my forest of dreams
I cry for someone to save me from this numb body
And drag me to a haven where someone will read the pages of my life and see my body so
bare and think of it not as beauty but as something that has been twisted and has a soul that can be scarred
That that someone would not slip into my hurt but push my hair aside and look into the dark eyes
and feel me in a way that no one else has ever
Not physically but in my own mind
To pull the peices not from my body but from my lips
To sew them together with his titanium pomises instead of glueing them and watching it seep waiting for me to dry to forgive them again

PM me.
LaFlauta's avatar

Dapper Gaian

((Tetrameter.. ABCB pattern?))

She stood quietly on the edge,
Watching the waves crashing below.
Knowing nobody would miss her,
Thinking no one would even know.

Alone in a sea of people,
That is how the world made her feel.
No purpose to her existence,
Like a nightmare that wasnt real.

There were never any answers,
No one to see her through the strife.
Just a piece of cosmic garbage,
Living a lonely, useless life.

She wondered if the fall would hurt,
Not sure if shed die right away.
Knowing her luck, she might survive,
Crippled by what she did that day.

Maybe then people would notice,
Even though theyd try not to stare.
She wouldnt be invisible,
At least, they would notice the chair.

As she stood there in reflection,
She heard a strange, familiar voice.
She turned to see a little girl,
Begging her not to make this choice.

Mommy, you dont want to do this.
You dont know how precious you are.
Who is going to be my Mother,
If your light burns out like a star?

The child became a teenager,
And addressed the woman again.
Who will pick me up if I fall,
When my rebellious years begin?

And then the vision changed once more,
A young woman addressed her now.
Who will help me plan my wedding,
When I agree to make that vow?

Again the apparition changed,
An old woman reached for her hand.
There is something I must show you,
Which might help you understand.

Then suddenly, all around her,
Stood scores of people, young and old.
Each of these are your descendants.
What a sight it was to behold.

Then the vision began to fade,
Till just the little girl remained.
Mommy Im depending on you,
I hope you see what Ive explained.

Every person has a purpose,
In lifes classroom, no one should flunk.
For every soul is important.
God is not the maker of junk.

With that, the vision disappeared,
And lifes meaning came into view.
All have a reason for living,
Theres a plan and purpose for you.
The Grossblank is patterned after the Blank Verse stanza, but is limited to twelve lines, with 12 syllables per line. iambic hexameter, unrhymed.

It was originally envisioned as a sort of poor man's sonnet, with the first 9 lines setting a scene, problem or proposition, and the final 3 commenting, contrasting or concluding. But you are free to do whatever moves you.

Example: The Quiet Eye

I come from folks who tend the land, who search the sky
at sunset, search again each morning, learn to do
just what the elements determine. Wheat is ripe
when solar rays paint fields with gold; then cutting comes
unless impending rainfall interrupts. A stalk
of corn may bear three ears if summer's heaven wills,
or one or none in barren autumn. Those who work
the earth accept such necessary bargains with
their world and reap the fruits of bold humility.
The process brings two worlds together, out and in,
as newborn birds may blindly leave their mothering branch
and dive, though not aware quite yet if they could fly.

2001 Larry Gross

Title: The Mulatto's Shortcut

I stop to talk to wells at times. On sunny days,
I'll pull up tongue with one. On cloudy days, they slurp
my way to work, the wells are stoned. I'll fix my skirt
to lapidate, it's never free of mouth or lips
with heavy lids. I know that heels abort the mind
in fluid cries. I know those columns, black with pride.
They shine. They puncture bucketstones and sink the chest.
It draws and tumbles within. Stick, the water sticks.
It fills the form, the paper lungs, the letterhead.
"She black. She calm." I grab a bite and powerwalk.
I only talk to wells when white with interview
or date. Their shadows slap my a** and send me home.
@Blood. Freeverse does not count as a poetic form.

LaFlauta- I believe you're writing in tetrameter, with an ABCB rhyming pattern?
That's all you needed to put.

I'm going to start handing out grades once I get five people in.
I'm currently working on my entry. Could you save me a spot? A sonnet, I beleive, would fit your requirements as it uses iambic meter and a set system of rhyme.
Title: What My Lady Cannot See
Style: Shakespearian sonnet (iambic meter, abab cdcd efef gg rhyme scheme)

Behold, a lady fairest of them all
Smiles sweetest, dearest love
So gracefully she walks upon her feet so small
The fairest is she with her skin white as the dove

To her I called one day
Smiling so lovingly
To my home I invited her to stay
Replied she, twould not be maidenly.

This heart of mine was breaking
For in her eyes she could not see
The love I had for her wasnt failing
If only she could share her love with me.

My ladys eyes just cannot see
And so our love isn't meant to be.
heres me poems

Broken walls

walking down a dark road, seeking a bead of light,
but never finding it..
Giving up hope for what I need,
Crying in the corner of my mind,
indulging in my selfdefet,
not knowing that Ive been hiding, running,
fleeing from what I seek...
You were what I been needed all along,
the emptiness is now filed,
im no longer alone!


What can I say

I dont know what to do..
I know I need you , you filled that empty void.
I no longer feel that pain that once was,
I no longer know what to say.
You are there for me,
you woke me up and pulled me from the hole that was my life.
I was sick, I was ill, I didnt know what to do,
but now you found me,
and in all hope that this disease would of subside.
For a wile it was gone, but now is returns.
The same feeling, the same sickens,
but I find myself walking down a different road..
This road I dont know, but these feelings I do,
but this time I want this disease..
And now im getting to ill to speak, what has come over me?
I push you away for I dont know whats wrong, it scares me so,
but yet I crave it...


The pain I cause myself

I go about, seeking the things I need,
seeking the things I want.
I go among with the desire to fill the emptiness,
I try so hard,
but I only end up loving those who dont love me.
I treasure them as more that they know,
im gullible, ignorant, a bliss to my own naive ways...
I no longer know what is love,
I no longer know what I feel.
My own desires blinded me to whats was true,
but the truth is something I cant bare,
even the lie is something I fear,
it hurts all the same.
Its all my falt,
I jut cant bare it anymore...


The forgotten soul

What good am I in this meaningless Exsistanc,
I know my place.. But yet im still seeking.
My prayers go unanswered, for one simple reason,
I gave what wasnt mine, but for no more than a worldly pleasor.
No more than a motherly tuch, no more form my own blood.
Now im a hollow vassal, a monster, a daemon, evil in its self...
I try to fill the emptiness with many things,
worldly goods, happiness, love, friend, and family,
even these things cant even start to tame it.
The hole became black as my heart,
all I do is hurt and destroy the things I care about the most..
Now I try to take my own life, and fail to do so,
the feeling taunts me to do so..
Time and time again I try, but only to fail in misory defeat,
so I pray for the day of rest, the day I will not be a bourdon on life,
I need someone, anyone, to set me free..
Each day goes on and I cant take it anymore,
its not the pain they cause me, because I deserve it,
its the pain I cause them..
These are my true words that I speak,
and now on Ill will speak no more...


Tethered soul

Such is the Tethered soul,
Hate and harm pushed on to others,
Engulfing my inerpeace.
Pulled form one end to another...
Ill be found one day, by a genital soul,
and that has come...
But were did you go, were have they have putten you.
They taking you away from me,
But there I find you on the ground, as your heart takes it last beat.
As I have to go on with out you,
Not having time to say I love you,
but now its to late for me as well...
As its to much to bare!
Gone unknown, gone unseen,
My body is hanging three feet form this earth.
I cant help if people see my scars,
the pain and suffering...
So cut me down to the floor,
Looking down to see myself, feeling nothing,
not even despair.
All tho I left long before.
for what I had was all in you!
Only if you were still with me...


Inner cage

Night after Night I give in,
A slave to urges I cant control.
And every time I do, I die a little.
Im slowly killing myself,
but I dont have the power to stop it...
I want to pull the trigger...
But just cant.



the guilt with in,
rotting the pit of my heart.
I can never forgive myself for what Ive done,
I have been for given, but never for gave.
I dont balm them, it was all my own doing..
no matter how many times I scrub,
trying to wash myself,
all tho people dont see it,
theirs blood on my hands...



We are born, and we die.
We go threw life wanting to be remembered.
We all exsist, but yet we dont.
We meet others like our self,
we see each other, we talk to each other.
We go day to day,
hoping that tomorrow will be different,
or better..
We dont remember people that we have not meet,
nor people that have no value to us...
We say time heals all wounds,
is it thats because what we remember fades.
We are no more than Fragile memories...
so do we?


Death with in

The pain and the sorrow,
You think this is a game, the way you treat me,
the way walk around on me, putting me down..
You cause me pain for your entertainment.But yet I cant do the same,
I am better, I am kinder, I am not like you!
So I want to believe...
I go on with a fake smile,
painting it real.
I have been pushed beyond my limits,
I have been exiled to the edge of my mind.
Im screaming inside, but no one knows it but me,
im slowly dying, I want to be set free!

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