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)
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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)
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