Here's Your Poetry Challenge #150 Let's See What You're Made Of

[drab]

I wonder if Vienna's poem will include any mention of patience 
Joking V, I know where you're coming from...but D has been proactive, didn't just slap any old challenge up, and is American...so had to contend with their 'other Christmas'.
So well done Deb, it was a big ask/challenge, the only time I've won this was when I was the only entry 
but you convinced enough of us to enter.
But I keep entering. Win or lose isn't the issue; supporting the host is.

[Gyppo]

Well done, Deb.  And well done those who entered.  It's going to be a hard choice, so I'm glad we're allowed two votes.  At a first reading I'm stuck between three potential winners and two 'very honourable mentions'.  But this may change with additional readings.

The trouble with a close contest like this is that you can keep putting off a final decision and then suddenly realise the date has passed.  A definite case for a Post-It reminder on the edge of the screen or somewhere obvious ;-)

Or is this just me becoming an absent minded old git?

Gyppo

[DGSquared]

Now, as promised in the initial post, a tribute due to the winner.


Praise Be too the Poet Tom 10

There is a writer we know as Tom 10
So it’s here that I shall begin
Wouldn’t you know it
The man’s quite the poet
We’ve seen it again and again
 
Although my deadline was set
I am late, which I deeply regret
I swear I’m no liar
But there was this fire
Of the likes I shall never forget
 
Threatened by fire for two weeks
For 2 nights flames were licking the peaks
We kept the roof wet
And tried not to fret
Then discovered our roof had some leaks
 
This limerick is not meant for me
It’s a payment with lack of a fee
Now I shall conflate
an attempt to create
A tribute to our honoree 
 
 
Tom 10 has waited so long
For this praise be to him song
It may seem a cheap trick
Delivered by limerick
But for fun, they seldom go wrong
 
Tom 10 has been patient a long while
Without growing weary or hostile
I couldn’t resist
In fact must insist
He accept this architectural style   
 
Quite often my rhymes are a reach
But that’s no excuse to impeach
I suffer my art
And want to impart
With another figure of speech
 
So for Tom I will reach to the sky
While I’m wearing a fancy bow-tie
A toast with red wine
Mere words can’t define
How we know he is such a nice guy
 

[Catherine F]

Great Deb 
Mine's to come...

[Catherine F]

To Tom

The man is made of words
built with letters (and numbers)
he lives in clouds
of rhythm and rimes
following narrow paths
chasing a slippery game:
the silvery word
the glassy metaphor
the chanting line.

Inspired from dawn to night
he travels his day sailing on verses
chiselling  and carving and turning
his favourite material,
light as a feather:
W.O.R.D