Mwc9: Sep: Poetry!: Entries

[idiot-buster]

++ ENTRY THREAD++
DO NOT DISCUSS THE CONTEST IN THIS THREAD. ALL QUESTIONS, CONCERNS AND COMMENTS GO IN THE DISCUSSION THREAD: HERE!!!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -Welcome September's 2009's Monthly Writing Contest: - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - MWC9 - September - Poetry - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

I would like to make this an annual contest, maby every 6 months if this one goes well. Now as you may know there are so many types of poetry that are out there and I will post below which types that you can use. If it's not on the list the you may not use it. Don't worry there will be a lot to pick from. Now, as for the theme of this months poetry contest is to pick you favorite Entertainer/Performer/Singer/Band. That you may think is a bit vague. We've decided to place a thematic restriction on this contest. Poems must include a performance by one or multiple artists. These artists can be, but are not limited to musicians, artists, animators, dancers. You must creatively include a creative persona in your poems, and their inclusion must take a central roll.

> Rhythm is going to be important depending on what type of poetry you decide to use. In your post I would like you to say what type you are using so it's not a guessing game for me and my judges. If you use it correctly then you will be fine. If you do something completely different then what type you said you were using then points will be deducted. So make sure you do some research if you don't know what to do, there are a lot of sites out there if you need any sort of help.

> What you are trying to do is paint a picture of the person or group you are doing your piece on. It could be how they act in public places, what they wear, or you could base it off one of there songs ::: I don't want to see any song that you did not make in your poem::: Almost any aspect of them is ok to use in you poem.

Types of poetry:

Here are the types you will be able to use and what they are.

The Acrostic Poem

The acrostic is a fairly simple poetic form, and odds are just about everyone has written one, whether they realize it or not. An acrostic poem is created by using the first letter of each line to spell out another, usually related, word. That is, by reading down the left margin, the reader discovers a word. In simple acrostic poems, this may be the subject of the poem (such as when grade-school students write descriptive words for each letter in "Mother" on their Mother's Day cards).

The Concrete Poem

The concrete or image poem is another simple form often practiced in school. In this type of poem, a single word is written repeatedly to create the shape of the object the word describes. For example, the word "apple" would be written to form the shape of an apple.

The Cinquain

Pronounced "sink-cane", this type of poem is named after the French word for five because it consists of a single five-line verse. Each line has a specific syllable count, namely two, four, six, eight, two. Many variations also exist, such as the reverse cinquain, in which the syllable counts are two, eight, six, four, two, and the mirror cinquain, which consists of two five-line verses, a cinquain and a reverse cinquain.

The Free Verse Poem

Perhaps the most common poetic form today, free verse allows a poet to create his or her own form, placing virtually no restrictions on the number of syllables per line, lines per verse, or verses per poem. However, the poem still must have a recognizable form that will be coherent to readers.

The Ghazal

The ghazal (pronounced like "guzzle") consists of five to fifteen couplets (usually seven) with a refrain of one or a few words repeated at the end of each of the first two lines and the second line of each subsequent couplet. Additionally, the words before each refrain are usually rhymes or partial rhymes, and each line should be roughly the same length or meter. While the couplets develop a common theme, each one should read like a poem or unit in itself.

The Haiku

Originally a Japanese form, the haiku is a three-line poem with a strict syllable count for each line - namely five, seven, five. Traditionally, haiku poetry had a seasonal reference (in Japanese, "kigo"), and the Japanese haiku were written in a single line. Along with dividing the poem into its three metered units, Western poets have also expanded haiku's subject area.

The Limerick

While most people probably think of the limerick as an obscene poetic form, it doesn't have to be. The main point of this five-line poem, rhymed AABBA, is to be witty or humorous; however, this does, on occasion, encourage its practitioners toward lewdness.

The Sestina

Perhaps one of the most difficult poetic forms, the sestina, or sextain, is highly structured. It consists of six six-line stanzas followed by one three-line stanza (called a tercet and referred to as the poem's "envoy"). The last word of each line is repeated in each stanza in a different, but prescribed, order. If the lines of the first stanza are numbered 123456, then the second stanza ends with words 61524, the third with words 64125, the fourth 532614, the fifth 451362, and the sixth 246531. Words 1 and 2 are then repeated in the first line of the tercet, words 3 and 4 in the second line of the tercet, and words 5 and 6 in the third line of the tercet.

The Sonnet

A sonnet is a poem of fourteen lines that follow a strict rhyming pattern. There are two types of sonnet, the Shakespearean sonnet, named after William Shakespeare, and the Italian or Petrarchan sonnet. A Shakespearean sonnet consists of twelve lines in three alternating rhymes, followed by a rhyming couplet. That is, its rhyme scheme is ABABCDCDEFEFGG. An Italian sonnet consists eight lines rhyming ABBAABBA followed by six lines rhyming CDECDE.

Now, as you can see word choice and where you place words are going to be pretty important, as well as your sentence structure and structure from line to line.

Since you have so much to worry about I'm not going to limit what you can write about, so long as you've picked a Entertainer/Performer/Singer/Band you feel you're relating to them in all aspects of your poem and you are proud of it then you can submit it to this thread.

[idiot-buster]

RESTRICTIONS

1) Word Count Minimum: No minimum, but please write enough.
2) Word Count Maximum: 1,000 words
3) You must post about someone or a group that is well known, not a home town band that no on knows.

DEADLINE: October 1ST, 2009; MIDNIGHT STD, EST (ie midnight between October 1st and October 2nd)

PRIZES*
1st) $30 Newgrounds store credit

2nd) $30 Newgrounds store credit

3rd) $30 Newgrounds store credit

4th & 5th place receive honorable mentions in the winners thread

USERS ARE WELCOME TO OFFER UP ADDITIONAL PRIZES, BUT RETAIN SOLE RESPONSIBILITY OF DISTRIBUTION..

SUBMITTING
1) Post your poems in this thread.
2) Do not post revisions in this thread. They will be deleted.
3) You may submit one poem only, one time. Posts will not be deleted at your demand so make sure your work is perfect before posting here.
4) Post the type of poem you are using in the beginning of your post so we know what to look for.

MWC RULES
1) Contestants may submit exactly one entry. No more. Users found trying to smart ass their way around this rule will be disqualified from this and an arbitrary number of future competitions to be agreed on by the judges. (You are your alt and vice versa)
2) Users caught posting writings which they do not own will face immediate disqualification from this and any future contests. That means don't try to pass other's work off as your own, you will fail and we'll all hate you!
3) Users must submit on or before the given date. NO EXCEPTIONS!
4) You must follow the rules of this BBS. If you have a question about whether you will be breaking them, contact a moderator.
5) HAVE A BUNCH OF FUN! OR GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!

GETTING REVIEWS
The judges do not HAVE to review your work and give you a detailed critique, there are too many entries in most contests for that to be a plausible option.
You have the following options none the less:
1) I highly recommend that you review someone else's work, in that way, they may return the favor. ;)
2) There is both a writing club & and writing guild in the Clubs & Crews section which is there as an open forum for writers to post their work.
3) PM the specific person you would like to review your work and hope they will.
4) Post a link to a news post on your user page which contains your poem again, in either the discussion thread or at the end of your official submission in this thread.

JUDGING
If you'd like to judge, feel free to volunteer by PMing Idiot-Buster. You must of course be well versed in writing and reading and judging the many different types of poetry. If you are still in your early years of high school, it's probably better to wait a while and get your writing up to snuff. Judges can't be in it for the prizes, so don't get down if you aren't selected to judge.

If you really want to be a judge and haven't been accepted yet, the best way to be noticed as a good candidate is to review your fellow writers' works for them. Let them know how they can improve, what their weaknesses are, and what you enjoyed in a respectful well put way and you'll be one step closer to judging in the future.

Judges for this completion are:

1) idiot-buster
2) Gagsy
3) WeHaveFreshCookies
4) Fro
5) Ass-Crumb

Users have requested in the past know exactly how contests will be judged. This is our attempt at being open with our process. If you have specific issues with the way we judge entries, you are encouraged to pm a judge. Posting in threads about the system used to judge pieces is off topic, so please don't do it.

Judges rank users on a 10 point scale. And then submit their results to the contest organizer, that's me. I then take the top five scoring submissions from each judge and give them a set number of points to eliminate any bias present from the 10 point scale. A judge who gives a piece his highest rating, gives that piece five points. The second highest piece gets four points and so on. Points awarded from judges are totaled and the user who has scored the most points is considered the winner. In the event of a tie, the averages of the 10 point scale results are used to break.

As a board of judges we attempt to read all submissions posted to the contest. In the event that there is unexpected turn out, we may move to a two phase system. The first phase is an elimination phase where poems are split up between judges, with overlap. Top scoring submissions from each judge make it into the final round of judging and we revert back to the system described in the previous paragraph for the final set of poems.

By submitting a poem, you not only agree to abide by the rules and regulations of this competition, but you also agree to accept the terms by which we judge your piece. If you cannot do that or feel there need to be changes, you may PM Idiot-Buster.

Please note, judging takes roughly 2-3 weeks. Please be patient.

LET THE CONTEST BEGIN!!! GOOD LUCK!

[Earthshine]

Here is my tribute to Billy Mays.

The voice of an angel
Some may say.
When you hear his voice,
You know you're going to pay.

A minute was all it took.
To sell anything.
From Mighty putty to a cleaning spray.
You know you're going to pay.

Celebrities die in three.
He'll throw an extra in for free.
Even though he is in heaven now.
He'll still hit you with a POW!
And you know you're going to pay.

[MerlinsBeard]

I would first like to say that Michael Jackson, the king of pop, is undeniably one of the most influential artists to have ever lived. In an interview, Mr. Jackson was once asked about his obsession with children, and the man gave the most sincere response. He said that he loved children so much, because He likes to give everything he can to the world. And it's a sad fact that people often ask for much more... even after you've given so much. With children, however, they are grateful for what you give, and won't ask for any more. It's so easy to put a smile on a child's face, and that's what Mr. Jackson only wanted to do. So to all the haters, go fuck yourself.

Now for my submission:
This is a Shakespearean Sonnet. Of all the structured poems out there, the sonnet is easily one of the hardest. I didn't want this to be easy, and wanted to do as much justice to such a great man as I could. From what I know of Micheal Jackson, I think it's safe to assume that he lived every day asking himself how he could give more. I would like to think that this poem (not word for word, mind you) was the last thing going through his mind before his time came. Shakespearean sonnets have the ABAB CDCD EFEF GG structure, and the final lines, the GG, are supposed to be the most powerful of the whole pattern. The words that you end your poem on. I did my best to make them memorable.

The Man In The Mirror:
As I lay here, breathing my final breath
I can't help but look back on my career
With what I had I know I did my best
Although the world will mourn without me here

I poured my heart and soul into my art
I changed the world the only way I could
Some people tried to tear my name apart
But truth be told, my ground I always stood

I touched the hearts of all who heard my songs
From Jackson Five, to Thriller through the years
I fear my time in this world isn't long
With one regret, my eyes well up with tears

My final though before my time has come
I wish that there was more I could have done

Regards,
merlin

(8BIT) Thriller, by SteveO526 Type: SongGenre: Video Game

[michelinman]

This is a little ditty I created for the Politics Regulars Lounge Thread. It's in the genre of romantic poems based off words that rhyme with wolverine. Enjoy.

Once upon a Halloween, I lay upon thy trampoline
Looking back on the day I had seen.
As I looked at the skies, I was rudely surprised
by the sound of my music as it died...
What was once glycerine, was replaced by a teen,
Sinai Rose, LOL's what she sings.
Who is this serpentine who hath done this to me?
replaced music with garbage and things..
Her presence was known when the smell hit my nose,
that of bagels and rich tangerine...
Tears filled my eyes, for that perfume was a disguise,
always worn by my sweet Geraldine.
WHAT THE FUCK? I then screamed, for this song was obscene,
The lyrics nothing more than OMG.
She moved her head near, oh right next to my ear,
Quoth my lady: I fucked Mr. Clean....

[truegamer1]

This is a poem about the now long gone singer Bon Scott of the band AC/DC.
I'm not expecting anything,but this seems pretty fun.

He was the driver
They needed a singer
He wanted to be a drummer
That was a real bummer
They gave him the choice
He had the voice
They gave him the chance
He gave them the song that made everyone dance
They wanted to rock
They made it to the top
They went to London
And went clubbin'
He got drunk
He went to a friends truck
There wasn't any thing they could do
His last recorded words were Shazbot Nanu Nanu

[FBIpolux]

Smoking a cigarette. Said I'd quit. I will eventually.
Reading the newspaper. Shitshow all over. Nothing unusual.
Been ten months since the war started. Getting used to it.
Mortars stopped screaming last night I could hear a kid cry.
I yelled: "Hey you pansy shut the hell up!"
He got captured by the enemy. Probably dead by now.
I think they heard me. They didn't see me yet.
Well I'll be god damn waiting for them.
Got my engine loaded. Just waiting for the first cowboy to burst into my hideout.
Fucking hell yeah. It's god damn Sunday. I'd kill for some beef.
I hear someone.
Motherfuckers better be ready to die.

[bountyhunter14]

Ok here is my submission:

Newgrounds is awesome!
The greatest website EVAR
You know it is true

So its a little cliche to make a poem about newgrounds but there you have it

[Sonik-Team]

A haiku about HIGH and MIGHTY COLOR (well it had to be a Japanese band really ^^):

Sharp strum of guitar
Drum beats as autumn rain, yet
The sweet voice rings clear.

[xboxbob11]

For this thread, I will do a poem on Kurt Cobain, the late lead-singer of Nirvana.

His presence was always welcoming
His words echoed throughout the crowd
Little did we know that he would bring
A sound unique and somewhat loud

Within the year of ninety-one
His band left insignificance behind
The hearts of fans were all won
With the release of Nevermind

He knew he was ugly but said it's okay
And used his voice to make up for his merit
Whenever he sang the crowds would sway
As he proclaimed it smells like teen spirit

Sadly he passed away long ago
To this day his death remains a fuss
But everyone who knew him knows
He came here to entertain us

That is all.

[ForFinnegansSake]

This is my poetic tribute in Sestina form to Jeff Mangum, lead singer and songwriter for the unapproachably moving and amazing band "Neutral Milk Hotel." It's obviously in sestina form, but the guidelines for sestinas in the rules are slightly wrong. I have fixed them here, and I've chosen to go with a haiku for my envoi which is among the many arguable choices for an envoi. Also, this is basically a pastiche of poetic influence, so each segment is using the style of a different poet (Whitman, Williams, Cummings, Dickinson, Li-Po etc.). (If my Williams/Cummings stuff doesn't work then oh well.)

***

Where ya' been Jeff the singer?
Jeff the troubadour? Jeff the lover?
You dropped off and left us with our hearts
beating in the air on upraised palms.
Cause that's how it was with you,
our hearts tore free when your throat trembled.

I trembled
before you, singer;
I cried before you,
when you claimed to be her lover--
sweet Anne of soft palms
who has touched a thousand hearts.

And all the numerous, throbbing, heaving hearts
which you yourself have altered in the spinning of a voice that trembled
and then cracked, under the pressure of a note soaked in distant melancholy, written beneath the palms
of your seminal city; city of you, the haunted singer.
And I was awed by the separation of you and your lover;
a separation of time; a void, where you instead found a bridge, in dreams, spanning two eras, traversed by only you.

I still remember when I first heard you--
we're coming down from Maine with holy hearts
upraised, and there I'm thinking, 'I love her.'
Her, yes her, girl before whom I have trembled.
On radio you came, and I desired to sing HER
with you, as you sang HER, about a girl with soft, sweet palms.

-----Those palms
------------raised for you,
------------for a singer
------------------who makes hearts
-------------------------that trembled
--------------------------------now quake and bleed for a lover.

-------It's Like I've been left withOut my loVEr
----------------------------------------
-----and these LOVEly white palms
-------------------- no LOnger haVE another, to grasp them, because they trembled
--------------or sHook. I think I undERstand you
-------though, prEssured by All those worshipping, CHest-ripped hearts,
----------It was too much expectation. But come back soon, we want you, maybe neeD you in a wAY, you solemn sweet singer.

---------------------------------{Partin g Image of Jeff Magum {Envoi}}--------------------------------
---

Beneath tall, dry palms
you lay with red, shining hearts
beating around you.

[denzel-crocker]

Since a lot in here are for musicians, i decided to try. here's something for belle and sebastian. I don't know what kind of poem it is or if it's even a poem. But it's up to you whatever you make of it.
------------------------------
"Seeing Stuart"

i want to know what's on your mind
i want to know what makes you up as an artist
what you feel and
what you think about everything
what makes you smile and what not
i want to transcend you
so the next time id listen to you i wouldnt want to kill myself for something lesser

-----------------------------
what they say wasn't true
the inside of a man isn't really warm
warm is an overstatement
-----------------------------

we shouldn't have done this eh? i feel i have stained my resume
is it much?
i coudn't say, i had good but not really
so this is better but because of, you know, eh?
all i know is i'm still confused
is it that important?
im not talking about that
care to tell me what then?
i'm not really sure
you can trust me
it's long and boring
i think i understand
you aren't talking about my, you know, eh?
actually i was
i want to prove myself
then go
alright against the wall with the iggy poster

[shadow1124]

A Tim Burton Shakespearean sonnet

The horseman stops at the old house's door,
His steed impatient to be on its way.
Having head no more,
He points out your path, and rides away.
The door creaks open and the Pumpkin King
Beckons you in further with a grin most wide,
While candlelight gleams on the grave-tarnished ring
Of the lonely Corpse Bride.
The Demon Barber stands at attention
Near a blood-soaked, yet comfortable chair
And the scissor-handed man, product of mad invention,
Watches the movement of your hair.
A figure approaches from behind curtain unfurled
He smiles and whispers, "Welcome to my world."

[El-Duego]

Here is my Free Verse for The Beatles

From an octopus' garden,
To Lucy in the sky,
From strawberry fields,
To apple rooftops on high.

Their ups and downs,
Walrus and all,
The might writers,
Lennon/McCartney, John/Paul.

Guitarist George,
A death unplanned,
Poor drummer Ringo,
Not even best in the band.

From small dark Cavern,
To zebra on street,
And Paul is "dead",
Cos there's no shoes on his feet.

All the stories,
The infamous tales,
Only ever fuelled,
Their gigantic sales.

The Beatles themselves,
Greatest band in the world,
From humble beginnings,

[Lunaful]

A Shakesperian sonnet about Muse and in particular their front man Matthew Bellamy.

Knights of Cydonia [EON Remix], by EON Type: SongGenre: Trance

I sit transfixed in a haze of gloomy definite sound pollution,
Listen to you strum out riffs plucked straight from time and space,
Feeling forlorn as I beg for absolution,
I am like depraved Politician receiving a warranted coup de grace.
You utter words of frenzied men, who have lost love,
As we all take note of the gentle serenade were we all blackout.
Giving the opinion that there is no god above,
While we watch the most breathtaking show as you trash about.
I eavesdrop in on your sharp piercing tone,
Hearing songs which lighten hearts and sink ships.
Your past is atypical rising from the ashes of a broken home and
Watch the one you kiss get cobalt tinted lips.
Your mantra reverberates in the universe with timeless existence,
As you really us all and call for resistance.
Matthew Bellamy

[Youngafrofist]

my tribute to Michael Jackson

You gave us butterflies when you sang the songs that made us cry,
a heavenly name, Michael, king of pop was your title, you touched
so many hearts throughout the world uniting us in love, your voice was one
that descended from above,it was a shame that no one really knew you, but through your music
we could feel the realness that was you, so many greats have fallen before there time,
but you are forever classic and will remain in heart and mind,
you said they don't really care about us, but that's because they didn't know you were
one of us, a blessing brought to us all, all together united we fall,we will forever miss the king of pop,who was able to integrate r&b, jazz, and rock the one who would always remember the time,when it didn't matter if u were black or white, we would jam but never forget the man in the mirror, we would never forget the thriller,the way u make us feel
it's not artificial but something real, u give us butterflies inside and in our memory you'll always reside, goodbye michael Joseph Jackson.

[idiot-buster]

This is my submisson to this months contest. This will not count for prizes of anything, just for fun.

Michael Jackson: What have they done?

You gave the world passion
Passion to make it a better place
You may have tried your hardest
In the end you have made a difference

The world said some things about you
Things that could have never been true
All of This made you angry and inside
You said meny thing in retaliation

They made allegations they segregated you
They would Jew you they would sue you
They would kick you and would kike you
But you would never allow them to:

BLACK or WHITE you.

They tried to take away your creativity
They never did succeed in doing so
You just kept on going and doing your thing
Your songs spoke on what the world was doing

You tried to find your place in this new world
That has changes so much since you started out
Now that giving money to the sick is not right
That helping kids is now looked down upon

There was so much trepidation and speculation
They tired to beat you hate you and break you
They hit you bashed you and trashed your name
But you would never allow them to:

WRONG or RIGHT you.

Now since there are some questionable things said in this, i pm'd EyeLovePoozy and he said it was ok to post.

[TheThirdSix]

Free Verse Poem

"Living Breathing Machine"

the clock is moving backwards but i still dont wanna stop it
faster and faster the hands try to make it last her
hands slammed on the table and she yelled at me
get your eyes off of the hands and your brain in the clouds
the thing i will miss most is being told i will miss it
the lyrics may eventually come off as bein explicit
my arms shake i've got the jitters and the
taste in my mouth is bitter as if every bit is
worth something

you won't remember
specifics don't matter
holding hands in the corridor
even though she's a whore
it doesn't matter anymore
because she's closed the door
on her mind
being honest with yourself is a virtue moreso than patience
and this might be coming too fast as if there's some sort of latency
but it's plain as day in hell that you can see
that it is only me
and only me
will let my mind free

more and more
longer longer
it's only getting worse
my palms are sweaty
but it means nothing

my dirty mind can't roam
when your in control
feels like im losin my soul
that may have been your goal
but i don't know
i don't know
every fucking day is the same
born of misery and pain
but you don't hear my cryin
no you don't hear my cryin
except when i've been lyin
i lost it all

don't fucking cry
when they that i've been split in two

the insanity of our lives cannot be cyrstallized
you and i are alive but are we really living
the blood is dripping from the ceiling
and my mind has fled me
ever-fleeting love paralyzed by
an act of passion
and i am not thinking rationally
illicit and obscure is the fashion
that we choose to express ourselves
but why? far away but still close
and i am the only one that understands this
and then i met her
my mind has had a temporary lapse of memory

more and more
longer longer
it's only getting worse
my palms are sweaty
but it means nothing

[The13thStep]

I love limericks. Took me a while, but I figured out how to get 2 song titles into one limerick and actually have it make sense... So here goes... a tribute to Michael Jackson:

Addiction's a hell of a fight,
Don't matter if you're black or white.
The king of pop
Just couldn't stop
Till he got enough that one night.

[Neophyte-Ronin]

I've decided to submit. There is a title if you know where to look.

Dig this:
I'm on a quest.
Someone asked me to draw
Two pictures and they're due this week
And, well...
Nothing
Could prepare me. I'll do my best;
I can get cash for them!
Now, what to draw?
Going....

[MrSaint]

It's a free verse. I usually write on Russian, but a decided to try out my skills on English. It's about 2 Pac. I hope the poem is okay. Also the "simple black male" part, I didn't want to be racist or anything. Good luck to the other contestants.

A simple black male from a ghetto,
Who wanted to choose better ways in his life,
Sadly the situation around, didn't let him,
Find the best way to survive.
Deaths around, people violently representing their sides,
After doing evil, he didn't want to live, but rather die.
After killing, crack dealing, he was still praying for a better way,
Which he hoped, would come some day.
Supporting his side at hard times,
Talking about the truth, speaking about it in rhymes.
Later was sent to jail. Got blamed a lot,
"Another one of those, who will die there"-many thought.
But he managed to survive, the cursed nightmare,
And seriously thought, of changing his ways,
Being serious in albums, telling truth here and there.
Sadly, the clock was ticking away the days
Of life which he had left. It is a shame that death came unexpected,
Which he treated with disrespect.
It is sad, that he left. Letting the memories stay,
But he couldn't choose a better way.
And now, the price is paid...
Rest In Peace, dear poet,
In your rhymes we keep fate.

[Incredibly-Ironic]

At 9/10/09 05:30 PM, Sonik-Team wrote: A haiku about HIGH and MIGHTY COLOR (well it had to be a Japanese band really ^^):

Sharp strum of guitar
Drum beats as autumn rain, yet
The sweet voice rings clear.

Needs moar penis.

[boloneyman]

I wizard never submits late, nor early. He submits exactly when he attends to.

So this is my entry, a free verse about Freddie Mercury. The line that I italicized is a lyric from a Queen song so I didn't want it to get lost in my own words.

Charismatic Phoenix

The moment he stepped on
stage every soul stared in
awe. A screaming ocean that
swayed and sung to his whim.
Cameras flash, Wembley filled with starlight.
Stars that flare into existence and
wither to darkness. Satisfied
their moment of life was to
record him.

Every motion, every word
subtle, large, is full
of purpose.
He makes the stage his abode, with
the precision of his presence.
He stands tall with
his sword and head held high
Triumphant.
Like the intense inferno of
the Phoenix, all eyes transfixed on his
blaze, beauty, grace.

An invisible chill snuffed out
his flame. Silently stealing the
energy but never the passion.
A dark day of woe, and
bitter winds.

His fire lives on. Reigniting when
the sea of fans spread his voice into
the breeze, lifting it to
the cold and slighted. Giving them
warmth and will to stay alive.

New life springing from the ashes.

I was inspired by the statue of Freddie at Montreaux. It does an amazing job of capturing the essence of his spirit.

[ForNoReason]

A little limerick about the late, great Mama Cass. The performance is her last.... her death.

There once was a Mama named Cass
And on any food she could not pass
Yet somehow she managed
To choke on a sandwich
The next day she was dead on her ass

[Sawdust]

Permanently confident, his aura is pink
He consistently says "Beat me? You wish!"
A kick and a blow was all it took,
To take this great man off of his foot.

Not yet disgraced and a boisterous look on his face
The mighty Dan springs forward
"I will not lose, I will not lose to you!
Your powers are weak, my defense is arduous!"
So he proclaimed, confident he was

His opponent was tall, mighty as sin
Dark skin and stretching limbs
It was Dhalsim! He knew he could win!
But fireball by fireball
And extension by extension
He could not stop the power of pink

[RapeMuffin]

[I may be too late, since it is unclear whether the deadline was last night or tonight, but below is my submission either way. Also, I knowingly did not abide by the 5-7-5 rule for Haiku poetry. It may disqualify me from the contest, but the rigidity of the 5-7-5 structure did not allow me to create the poem I wanted. Sorry]

Submission
More Parables than Punchlines
Does Laughter Obscure the Void?
"I've always wanted sons..."

Explanation
This haiku is about Bill Cosby, one of the most insightful entertainers of our time. The first line of this poem reflects my great admiration for the man. His tales are both revelatory and inspiring: instead of trivial jokes, his stories are filled with real-life truisms. His ability to simultaneously entertain and convey his wisdom lead me to dub him the greatest Storyteller of our age. Descended from the prophets of old, Cosby sits around the metaphorical campfire spinning webs of golden truth to both captivate and educate. Real life meets fiction, and is better for it.

The second part of this poem, lines 2 and 3, reflects the tragedy the Cosby family continues to endure to this day. Throughout his comedic career, an ongoing theme in Cosby's routine is his wish to have a son. The 3rd line of this haiku ("I've always wanted sons...") is a quote from Cosby's 1968 performance at the Cleveland Public Auditorium. It was later developed into an album entitled "To Russell, My Brother, Whom I Slept With".

In 1969, just a year later, Cosby's dreams were answered when his wife, Camille, gave birth to his first and only son: Ennis Cosby. As Cosby proudly raised his son, tales of the boy's childhood would appear in both his stand-up routines ("The Reverse Mohawk") and his hit TV Show, The Cosby Show. Within the show, the character of Theo Huxtable frequently mirrored Ennis' own childhood and adolescence.

In January 1997, Ennis Cosby was shot and killed in an attempted robbery alongside an LA Freeway while changing a flat tire. He was only 27. Bill Cosby's dream of having a son was over.

Just a month later, Cosby returned to the concert stage to perform his routine, and continues to perform to this day. Though Cosby's desire to have a son no longer appears in his routines, one must ask: Does the laughter of the crowds drown out his sorrow? Does it fill the void left by his only son's murder? I pray, if only briefly, it does.

[SonicLe]

Silver Screen

Ears are not such important things,

and it was I who cut them off

for turning into reel dust

A sealed lip reading

crawls across the light

in picture perfect synchronicity,

timed like jumping fish

Where can words go?

For all things must have a stage

I have said it, I have told them,

A word is not a sound

A word is not a word

But a quick lick and boom to bulging eyes

But better than the Entertainer,

they do know

its truth

do they know?

Charlot, Charlot, give us Drama, give us Comedy

How can they not hear

that silver screen touch?

Echoing now, echoing to the

theater's silent air,

Echoing, echoing,

to what was always never there

This is the silence a voice can never break

And these then, bones?

THREE TWO ONE EL FIN!

Free-verse poem about Charlie Chaplin, and how I believe he felt about the onslaught of "talkies."

[SonicLe]

Whoops sorry - just realized I was supposed to post the type of poem in the beginning of the entry. My bad.

At 10/1/09 09:35 PM, SonicLe wrote: Silver Screen

[idiot-buster]

The contest will be extened to tonight at 12:00!

I am extending it because of the lower amout of entries, anything after that will not be counted sorry!

[Ass-Crumb]

I made this one a few days ago and being one of the judges I wasn't sure whether I should submit it or not. I'm hoping that this will give some extra push to this thread so it will atleast tick over to two pages. Like idiot-buster, this was entirely just for the fun of writing it. It is an acrostic poem, something I haven't tried out since I was in 5th grade or so.

It's about Bela Lugosi, who was chiefly famous for being one of the first to portray Dracula in film, and the first to do so in a film that wasn't silent. He set the popular image of Dracula, from the cape to the accent and the look and everything; he was even so ingrained into the role that he was buried in the cape he used for the movie.

Bold he was
Even until his death,
Living on forever
An icon rests

Life is long,
Until your end will come
Go and make your legacy
Our memories live on
So proud he embodied evil,
In his cape he sleeps.