Weekly Contest Results 4/22/19

  • PnQ Mod Account
    4 years ago, updated 4 years ago

    Good morning, poets! Or good afternoon or goodnight, depending where you are on the planet. Congratulations to the winning poems who grace our front page this week: A glorious sonnet delivered by the PnQ Shakespeare himself, Ben Pickard; a moving free verse describing, in so many words, what it is to be a woman by Tanya Southey; and a perfectly unfinished soliloquy about dying by IdTakeABulletForYou. We had a tie-breaker poem that should be given special attention: A romantic testament by Larry Chamberlin, the starlit visitor.

    Thank you to our judges and the sub judge this week. Congratulations to the honorable mentions. - Jane

    RESULTS:
    Sun In Strife (English Sonnet) by Ben Pickard: 10 + 10 = 20
    Water by Tanya Southey: 7 + 7 = 14
    remember by IdTakeABulletForYou: 7 + 4 = 11
    Starlit Visitor by Larry Chamberlin: 7 + 4 = 11
    La guillotine de fea (syntuit) by Mr. Darcy: 10
    Still here by Solus: 10
    Spoils by Danny: 10
    She Becomes The Story (Rictameter) by Maple Tree: 7
    Mornings Melody by Jack David: 4
    Children, Our Blessings (etheree) by Larry Chamberlin: 4
    Coming clean by Dagmar Wilson: 4

    COMMENTS:
    Sun In Strife (English Sonnet)
    by Ben Pickard
    10 + 10 = 20

    Ben strikes again, writing about inspirations for poetry and what better way in, his favourite form, a sonnet. Like the Ying and Yang of life, we need order and balance in the world. Where would God be without the Devil, or a flood without drought? I guess, we need to embrace our ‘dark sides’ as to deny this fundamental part of us, is to deny our humanity. (10)

    --

    What makes me appreciate this poem, is there is something to it that I don’t quite understand which makes me want to read it again. Although it’s mood is gloomy, I feel rays of inspiration reaching out from behind the clouds. There is beauty in changing seasons that allow us to contemplate and interpret in our own ways. (10)

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    Water
    by Tanya Southey
    7 + 7 = 14

    We are born a ‘blank canvas’ and as soon as we respond to stimuli our canvas becomes marked. What a shame we not born instead an ‘etch-a-sketch’ we could then erase such absurdities, as objectifying women, or believing men are sex predators. Tanya shows us wisdom in all her musings that shows off her intellectual view of the world. (7)

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    This may sound rather odd, but reading your poem actually reminded me of two references, and the depth of your poem moved me an incredible amount because of that call for acceptance. Self-acceptance is so necessary. I must admit that I had chills when reading that you realized you had been "trained to fear men, trained to keep myself safe" and how many have felt this way yet could not put it into words? Does society somehow take away a woman's right to feel safe and secure, reminding them of what could happen as they mature so that they always have to be on guard, that they are all vulnerable no matter age or upbringing, simply for the body they have?

    What this poem made me think of first was the bathhouse in the animated film "Spirited Away". It served as a place spirits could rest and cleanse from what was clinging to them. The other reference I thought of while reading your piece was a visual novel that dealt with a trans woman accepting herself without apologies in a public place. She became fearful that others would judge her or call her "less", when others openly accepted her and let her freely be herself, to relax and be able to live her truth.

    One observation I made reading your piece: the first three stanzas seemed a bit heavy with commas, then in the remaining stanzas, there is a natural break and flow, and the only punctuation noted was the question marks. I thought perhaps this was intentional to show your hesitancy at first despite confidence, then the realization near the end that you came to realize your truth instead of the weight of everyone else's' perceptions that your worth should be based off of weight, off of flesh instead of revering your intelligence, your opinions, your own voice.

    I'm not sure the first stanza needed all that punctuation, I found the last few stanzas far more powerful without much punctuation. You brought forth not only the strength and unwavering truth of who you are, but also the truth of this element that signifies purity and can truly bring you closer to acceptance. Well done. (7)

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    remember.
    By IdTakeABulletForYou
    7 + 4 = 11

    First off love the tanka form, in the shape of an hourglass, very clever. His poem is about the end of a life. He refuses to allow these last moments to be overtaken with grief and pain. Instead he allows peace to take over, relishing the journey he's been on. I always wonder when it's my time will I go peacefully or kicking and screaming? (7)

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    I must say that my breath caught a bit at the end. It was as if your voice faded, your physical form shifting, and I had to read the title to complete this memory, to understand the impact of a person's story and the words they imprint. That coupled with the endless wondering of if we can possibly remember or hold any connection to our past life, that threshold between exiting and perhaps entering another state of being or perhaps none, made this poem even more thought-provoking.

    Of course, the shape of the poem to signify an hourglass and time running out worked well here. What stood out to me was the range of emotions surrounding the arrival of death: an overwhelming sense of dread, then a focus on something other than the pain, reflecting on the impact of this "epic journey". This piece was morose and a bit chilling as the reader does not know for certain the specific circumstances of either indulging the idea of death, how it would feel to "prepare" or the reality that one can never have that certainty and we must accept the unknown. There was that moment, that last breath, that last hope to cling and grasp for one more moment then meeting serenity and acceptance... almost like you would be kept safe under that blanket of stars, in infinity maybe, asking someone else to remember you. (4)

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    Starlit Visitor
    By Larry Chamberlin
    7 + 4 = 11

    Wishing to be a hero on her midnight story, is the starting point of this poem. Is it sensual? Maybe, but it seems it could be also interpreted to a pure honesty: “the one you whisper to yourself when the lights are out.” For when can one be more honest to oneself more than when that person is putting down every single mask? In the light cannot detect anything because everything is for the show in the dark only one is truly oneself. And then the imagery of her: as a star guiding an uphill path to her ‘boudoir’. 
    The second stanza starts with the same wish, though in this one the writer is switching on the light in the end in the darkness: “when the lights come on.” But by reversing the darkness to the light, the meaning is, of course, intact. For as it was described, the first darkness was where the masks fall down and the light, through feelings, emerged. The stanza for me is finished here but the poets want to continue, “standing by door… that you adore”, do not really add to the real meaning of the beautiful part, though confirm the previous poetical argument. 
    The third stanza also starts with the same wish but switches to some kind of the synthesis of the first. and second stanzas, a conclusion in the method of describing itself: First, absolute darkness that brings the absolute light ( second) in recognizing the true feelings, in which drawn all our coves (third). 
    Then I do not exactly get why: “poor vaquero” or: “your hero” they do not even rhyme. (7)

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    Rather than a lullaby, this poem feels like a bedtime story that I could even imagine the illustrations for. The title may seem a bit creepy, but after reading the poem it drew a smile on my face. I truly enjoyed this!! (4)

  • PnQ Mod Account
    4 years ago

    La guillotine de fea (syntuit)
    By Mr. Darcy
    10

    There is something about a formed poem that can say so much in so few words. Mr. Darcy's piece this week does not disappoint. We all watched with sadden hearts as the Cathedral of Notre Dame burned. Seeing the damage to this sacred place unfold live on TV took my breath away. I believe Mr. Darcy captured that feeling perfectly. (10)

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    Still here
    By Solus
    10

    Poem s has four sections each starts with deep phenomenon questions in four different periods of life(perhaps)
    “I'm still here, but for how long?”
    “Is my fear of hurting others keeping me here?”
    “Is it my inability to admit they'll be fine without me that keeps me here?”
    “Is it apprehension of the next place that keeps me here?”?
    This poem is a twirl of emotion forces, that constantly pulling you up and down, left and right. Each part has its own section of twist and turns by pulling towards the same objective reality, with different twirl and elongation of emotion. Each section is a trying to rationalize the reason of if he should or shouldn’t stay. This sectionalizing the emotional tendencies is the great achievement of the poem. The poem even though moving towards a somehow definite conclusion, yet never gives you any different answer to any of these question, exactly like the life itself. 
    Even though the poem is not realistic and uses and exchanges images with the solid objects of reality, but still the magnificent realistic way of picturing twirls of the emotion, indecisiveness, and all the emotions that primes within us, deals with absolute reality. The writing style somehow reminds me of Kafka and, in a way Hemingway. (10)

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    Spoils
    By Daniel
    10

    Truth be told, this made me emotional while reading. There's a humility and vulnerability in calling for those male figures (who believe the existence of women is to have their ego stroked) to sit and listen. To know that a woman must not be docile, must not comply, must not always need his hands or his touch or his presence to console her. To complete her. She is not scrappy remains. She is not a consolation prize. I read this with even more zeal because it, at least how I interpreted it, calls out the eager man who may be itching to "prove" his masculinity or to somehow show that it is his strength she can/should rely on. Those last few lines shook me because it told a story of fighting back, of not complying simply because it may be expected. You packed way more meaning than that into something so poetic and profound. Those final lines even gave me the image of disciples kissing the feet of Jesus, to show they serve only him, yet does being subservient determine one's worthiness or one's ability to put another first? With the images you've given, and after reading many, many times, I still feel that little spark. That defiance. That wake-up call to understand women are not secondary and are not simply party favors or additions to adore. This poem spoke so loudly and your words leave an impact, at least to me. Thank you for sharing this.

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    She Becomes The Story (Rictameter)
    By Maple Tree
    7

    In some way everyone writes there story as they live, how it is titled and passed is up to the person who carries it afterwards. Her mother chose to share her story with the world, not only to share her pain but to inspire and give hope. This poem left a mark on me, the words are so deep and carefully chosen. Mourning, a shallow gravestone all the words just give me shivers. What a strong way to express your feelings!! (7)

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    Mornings Melody
    by Jack David
    4

    We are certainly in Spring and this poem, for me, symbolises a typical dawn chorus. I did like the prelude though, especially the smell of bacon. Jack has written this with thought and with poetic flare, such as alliteration in the 3rd line and pleasing rhyme throughout. It is a shame there’s no obvious meter. (4)

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    Children, Our Blessings (etheree)
    By Larry Chamberlin
    4

    Larry's poem this week is about how many blessings our children are. No matter where they go, no matter what they become, these babies are cherished and loved. This is a love poem to our children, you have our hearts, no matter what and that map etched in their heart will always lead them home. (4)

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    Coming clean
    By Dagmar Wilson
    4

    “I have climbed mountains?
    one by one,? 
    the top remains a mystery”
    One would wonder, how come the top remains the mystery when she already climbed all(?) of them one by one? The answer is that she did not find what she was looking for in those mountains. Or perhaps the physical or even visual tops are artificial. 
    The whole poem is like that, describing the same endeavours: “I have flown through thousands of winds”, “my feet covered with blisters -- landed me in the desserts.”, “Doors slammed in my face”, … but everything seems futile, the tops are superficial, there is not a real achievement but the array of lost, stairs, one by one taking you to: “Running the streets -- not fitting in”
    But the poet insists that she doesn’t want to justify: “it's not for you to understand” and explains it: “it's me coming clean.”
    Though even she hasn’t climbed the real top, she achieved something, a high in which she could observe the world better than others because of all those severe experiences: “Here I am halfway old?watching others suffer,?
    what you don't know?
    I died a long time ago.” (4)

  • IdTakeABulletForYou
    4 years ago, updated 4 years ago

    These comments are poetic in their own right. Thank you to both the host and judges for their effort expent to put each week together flawlessly.

    Also, thank you to everyone for making this a community that feels like home.

    Congratulations to the winners and HMs!

  • Larry Chamberlin
    4 years ago

    Congrats to the Winners and other HMs. The site did a good job on the tie, "remember" is a great choice.
    Thanks to Jane for hosting and thanks to the judges, especially for the insightful comments on my poems. Thanks also to Dagmar, Michael (Darcy), Craig and Andrea for nominating my poems.

  • Brenda
    4 years ago

    Congratulations to all the front page winners and HM's! Once again, blown away with all these wonderful and diverse writes! Jane, thank you for hosting and our judges for doing the voodoo that you do...

  • Ben Pickard
    4 years ago

    Well done to Tanya, Stephen and Larry and also to all the hms. Great week of poetry.
    Thank you truly to the judges for their time and comments on my poem; it is genuinely appreciated.

    All the best, one and all.

  • Poet on the Piano
    4 years ago, updated 4 years ago

    Fantastic poems highlighted this week. Congrats to all! Thank you to Jane, for hosting, and to our judges.

  • D.
    4 years ago

    Congratulations to the winners. :) thank you too, for the comment on my poem and the HM. You’re all awesome!

  • Mr. Darcy
    4 years ago

    Sorry for my absence.
    Well done to our trio of winners and my fellow HM"s. Also a big shout out to Jane, Ben and our judges.
    As a side note: wouldn't it be awesome if only one judge volunteered next term? If so, I hope they're my biggest fan! Lol