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Post by Amber on Apr 20, 2005 11:29:37 GMT -5
The SIXTH person going through to round three, joining Ennui, Amber, I like the ordering here. Well done PJ, good luck Pheonix and Soidanae. |
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Post by MambaduMal on Apr 20, 2005 15:41:53 GMT -5
OH NO that's a horrible decision to make.  I'm going to wait to see if the other judges vote the same, then I won't have to vote... |
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Post by PJ on Apr 20, 2005 16:09:46 GMT -5
Yeah, I'm rather surprised that I came through.... You people where judging me BY my poem, right? But thanks for your votes, either way. |
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Post by BSam on Apr 20, 2005 17:16:03 GMT -5
apologies soi but i have to vote for phoenix to stay
both poems were very good tho, as well as all the others
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Hikori
Catastrophic Captain
Man of Mystery
Posts: 54
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Post by Hikori on Apr 20, 2005 18:07:20 GMT -5
my vote is for pheonix to stay.
i just know she has potential and i know it will soon show.
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Post by MambaduMal on Apr 20, 2005 19:51:50 GMT -5
Well, it wouldn't matter what my vote was now, I guess that's what I wanted?  Congratulations, Phoenix, I agree that you do have a great deal of potential.  I still wish Soi could've stayed on longer; he's written some amazing poems before, and I'd be very interested in reading some more. His are some of the most creative and fabulous poems I've ever read, not only compared to the works of peer writers, but to professonal, published works as well. |
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Post by Phoenix 4242424242424242424242 on Apr 20, 2005 23:28:03 GMT -5
Thanks for the support, guys. Soi is a great writer, but I don't feel I wanna go just yet. Good luck Soi, and cograts on getting in PJ.
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Post by PJ on Apr 21, 2005 2:03:55 GMT -5
Blast! I wish Soi had gotten through and I had lost....
His poem was teh sex.
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Post by champ103 on Apr 21, 2005 11:51:06 GMT -5
Well done Pheonix, and well done to Soidanae, who wrote some very good poems.
The next round is round 3, and the theme for the songs or poems this time is that it has to be about a certain age in time. For instance, Victorians, Stone Age, Ice Age, Medival Times etc. The choice is yours. Good luck everyone, hoepfully poems should be in on Monday.
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Post by Soidanae on Apr 21, 2005 18:44:45 GMT -5
Blast! I wish Soi had gotten through and I had lost.... His poem was teh sex. Ya know, that poem was absolute and utter drivel I turned out late at night in a couple of minutes. Seriously, all this mushy crap was getting on my nerves. |
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Post by PJ on Apr 21, 2005 19:00:40 GMT -5
Ya know, that poem was absolute and utter drivel I turned out late at night in a couple of minutes. Seriously, all this mushy crap was getting on my nerves. Hey, I liked it second best of all of them. So bleh to you. |
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Post by Phoenix 4242424242424242424242 on Apr 22, 2005 1:18:34 GMT -5
Well done Pheonix, and well done to Soidanae, who wrote some very good poems. The next round is round 3, and the theme for the songs or poems this time is that it has to be about a certain age in time. For instance, Victorians, Stone Age, Ice Age, Medival Times etc. The choice is yours. Good luck everyone, hoepfully poems should be in on Monday. So um, did we get through? Consider it done. Mine's on the witch burnings in the Middle Ages/Medieval time. "Last Tuesday, week before last, A letter came addressed to me, Came in the post. As I tore open the coarse envelope, I knew good it was not. In confusion & rage, I stamped on the letter. "The Council accuses me, Of evilness & devil association. But aye, it is not my heart, In which the devil frolics. I am but an innocent damsel, Living a God-less life, A woman of quick temper, I admit, & a sharp tongue is a flaw, But I'm a medicine woman, Associated with herbs & plants, Nothing more, nothing less. "Without a religion, Without a church, Is how I live my life. "It's ironic, I make potions, Merely to ease pain, & quicken healing. Nothing more, nothing less. "They can just steal life, Like a greedy child, Snatching the last cake. That's almost certainly the reason, Why I remain childless. "I've lived alone, Since dearest Jon, Passed away. They gossiped that I, Had poisoned him. Resulting in these months, Being oh-so fruitless. Business runs slow, Like a drying river-bed. "I daresay, If I were a witch, I would cast a spell, Over the Council, & damn their souls. "Now listen close, Dear child, I'll soon be among, Many a nameless graves. "So remember this, Dear child, I am innocent. No guilt rests on my soul." There's a chink of lock in key, & then the old woman, Is marched from her cell. The little boy stares, Then draws away From the window. He runs as fast, As his bony legs, Carry him. Finding his Ma, He clutches her tight, She's watching the Burning, In the Town Centre. The flames lick, At the old woman's feet, Dancing around her, Teasing her, As she watches helplessly, Bound to a wooden stake. She's nervous, & she has all right to be. Her life is held, In the hands, Of her merciless Executors. "Jonny," the boy's mother calls, As his hat bobs, Then disappears into the sea, Of onlookers. |
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Post by Soidanae on Apr 22, 2005 19:27:29 GMT -5
Hey, I liked it second best of all of them. So bleh to you. Which either makes me worry about your taste in poetry or in the writer's taste in poetry... |
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Post by A. the Returned on Apr 23, 2005 2:11:53 GMT -5
Ok here's mine. It is based on a Medieval Marsquerade ball, because they're cool.;D
Midnight Masque
By A
A large ballroom, an inviting glow.
Filled with people I do not know.
I don’t know them, they don’t know me,
For behind this mask you can’t see.
Forget who you are and what you do
Let the feeling come over you
It may not be particularly wise,
But it’s a thrill to be disguised.
The rules are gone, restrictions lifted.
Perhaps reality’s drifted
There’s freedom of speech and wine to drink
Say what you feel, think what you think
The new identities at the ball
Then I lost myself in it all
The guests talked and danced, the music played
Until the next day we all stayed
The revelations at the last dance
After that there isn’t a chance
Masks to confuse, protect and disguise
Are lifted from the wearer’s eyes.
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Post by Amber on Apr 23, 2005 3:11:10 GMT -5
Mine is about a servant in Victorian times,
I wake up each and every morning,
Just to stoke your fires.
You say to others I’m treated well,
You’re a bunch of liars.
And then you wake up and call me,
Someone needs a feeding
When I get there you say its all cold,
What else will you be needing?
I leave you and go down the stairs,
I’m off to scrub your floors.
Then to do all your washing,
Then to clean the doors.
I hear the clock in the hall chiming
Time that you need food,
I don’t know what to cook for you,
Changes with your mood.
I’ve spent another day in your home
Wasting all of my life,
I cook I clean, I do the washing,
Like an unloved wife.
Many visitors you get at your door,
Yet I’m allowed not one.
Much money you have to throw around
And yet I have none.
Your Servant-Amber
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I'm going to wait to see if the other judges vote the same, then I won't have to vote... 
Proud member of the Prudish Society of America
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