Poll

Praise Poems You May Choose Two Favorites by Close of December 6, 2017

#1  The Gift
3 (12.5%)
#4  Praise be me
4 (16.7%)
#3  Untitled
4 (16.7%)
#4  Ebahgum
4 (16.7%)
#5  Separated at Birth
9 (37.5%)

Total Members Voted: 12

Voting closed: December 07, 2017, 02:39:23 AM

Author Topic: Voting Poetry Challenge #150 Praise Poem, Let's See What You're Made Of  (Read 644 times)

Offline DGSquared

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Praise Poems
A big, "Thank you!" to all of the participants for your clever, fun, personal, and moving offerings.  It has been my pleasure to receive these poems first and I'm thrilled with the results! I applaud your sense of adventure and bravery for digging deep inside and exposing your core selves.  Good luck to all of you!

This challenge presented a specific task for the writer to convey personal information. http://mywriterscircle.com/index.php?topic=62825.0
I recommend you write one for yourself.

You'll find vulnerability, humor, and tragedy in these poems, so take your time to read these, mull them over, let them sit with you while you try on the writer's shoes. You have twelve days of Christmas Season to choose two favorites. It won't be easy. Voting closes after December 6th. Polling tallies are revealed after you cast your votes.

To the victor belongs  the spoils. Each participant and yours truly, will extol the winner with poetry written to or about him or her, in any form. We've got high stakes here so be sure to vote.

My sincere apologies to everyone, especially the writers, for the tardiness of this post.  I did the best I could to run this challenge properly but I can't control unforeseen events so please do not let yourself be disgusted and give up on these challenges or this site. We mustn't let extraordinary challenges sour us. Let's get this site jumping again.

I'm sorry this post is so terribly late
but you'll find these poems are worth the wait.
Now, without further adieu
A bouquet of poems for me and you.

Enjoy!
~Deb

    _______________________________________________________________________
                       
                                                             
                                                          ~      *      ~        


    ________________________________________________________________________


                ~      *      ~      



1.  The Gift

It wasn’t dressed
with pretty pink bows
wrapped around
factory rolled insipid paper
masses pick
in ignorant bliss,

it came from Paula Rego’s
topsy turvy world
where young girls undress men
while mothers smile,
check pulses
and plead
that I ask why.

You see,
the gift
is not to balk at
nor cast aside
without due thought
as you might throw aside
a painted chocolate box,

it’s to think.
see with different eye
stories told in paint
so powerful
my heart beats fast
while drawing outlines,
fleshing the tale
of a moral maze
at first dismissed,

then like that blank canvas
now filled with brutal beauty,
the gift sets free
my mind to show me

me.


             ~      *      ~


2.  Praise be me

I'm a Woman.
I came through the womb of Ages,
rolling out
like my mother
and her mother
and all the mothers before her.

I'm a Queen
made a mother
by my daughter.

My swinging strides knit my path through the world
I'm old and I'm young
I'm the little girl hidden deep inside
Living a life of nothings
Sometimes beautiful sometimes bitter
And I've known fragile sparklings.

I am a Tower.
The Fortress : come and cry in my lap
and I will dry your tears
(mine make big clouds,
mine don't rain)

I smile.
Always.
To enlighten your lives.
To make you laugh.
To show you the path.
I smile like a stream rolls down the hill
or like the bird darts in the morning air.

My fingers are velvet
and my mouth is soft
when I sing my praise
when I sing my praise
when I sing my praise
…..


            ~      *      ~


 
3.    Untitled

I'm taller than I look, the casual eye observes average height
sees a slim, white-haired man who's closing in on 60
pale Celtic skin adds to the impression of frailty,
countless tons of granite carried, countless hammer swings
might have dropped my shoulders, and bruised my back
but they still laugh at ideas too heavy for ordinary men,
and work and move the heavy stones that
commemorate bigger healthier men.

I'm braver than I look, every fear destroyed,
and there were many
dark, dentists, spiders, blood, heights, public speaking, needles,
to mention a few,
all banished by force of will.

I'm stronger than I look, the sexual abuser when I was 12 didn't
create a 'survivor', he created nothing, and was resigned to the past,
but worse
the teacher's crippling humiliation bled into my adult years
the occasional little bandage still occasionally required now
is still a positive, it's a gentle reminder to always be kind because
the dangerous hurts hide silent.

It is what it is.

I sometimes feel like a hawk, hovering, observing
seeing life for what it is, attacking, and
accepting when it doesn't always go to plan.

My anxious origins and challenges have defined me.
I'm better than I appear, most of us are.

Maybe that could be my epitaph
'He was better than you thought he was'

But no,
because I'm kinder than I look, and know that Supermen don't wear capes.
I've blocked rush hour traffic to save an injured pigeon, and to carry a dying badger off the road
wrapped him cosy in a blanket, and sat holding him for his final hour and
will forever be proud of myself for not taking my roundabout exit after passing him,
I was scared, but the rear view mirror showed no one was stopping
so I returned, before they, afraid,
slowly squashed him flat.
The experience of being that close, of touching such an elusive creature, was quite a thing
and I'll admit to a few tears.
I saved the life of a little girl, once again a traumatic situation, and me fresh out of First Aid school.
I still haven't got over the wonder of it...it's still quite a thing.

Maybe my epitaph should read


'He was kinder than you though.'



            ~      *      ~


4.    Ebahgum
ahm a big yorksher lad me
Fra Gods own country tha knows
ah   like what I  say and
ah  say what ah  bloody well like and
ah dunt care what any bugger else says neither

I’m like a big oke tree me an’all
seven foot three in me bare feet
a flat cap, wellies and a ferret
dahn me trasers is all it teks
to see where ah come fra’

nowarrahmean like lads an lasses

ah like a drink me  so stop
polishin them there glasses
and fill em up wi ale eh?
ahm spittin ruddy fevers here
must be oer 10 degrees eh.

on a summer day ah tie knots in me ankie
and purrit on me head, cant afford a sun hat  me eh?
ah dunt like me wimmin to make a peep
that’s why ahm courtin a sheep and
baa eck like she’s a right likl goer an all
took er to t’edge of a cliff t’other night like

well that’s a noother story if tha knows nowharrahmean.

and so ahm ready for a Yorkshire Pud, and a bit of Gravy me
So ah’ll nip off and see if me dinners ready eh.
If not ah’ll prune them there White Roses eh.
ah dunt like red uns me tha knows
Tarra lads and lasses, sithee later mebbe.



       ~      *      ~


5.    Separated at Birth


We come from
Maine and the Midwest
and before that mostly
mud huts, but nobody
wrote it down.
I heard we farmed
or cobbled or hooped
or something.  Grubbed
for sure, and probably
argued, drank and fought.
Like a quick line of unicorns
halted too abruptly.  Or
wool clothes passed down
until someone dressed
a dead uncle in them
for burial.  Finally.


I am metaphorically
my own size.


Somewhere between wüstite
and magnetite I turned black or
red - I blame the wind, the rain.


I can mimic a cat in repose,
a dog in heat, a woodchuck
on the run, and a Shetland
hunkered, in the dead of winter,
ass-end to the wind.


On that topic, I hear the wind
on the north Manchurian steppes
never quits. That’s me.


At the creek bed
I regard the banks, rocks,
pool depths. I sense life - the rustle,
the gurgle, the smell of rabbit tracks,
crayfish, trout poop.  My lungs fill
with organics.  I set my hiking stick
on the downstream side and put
full weight on a crossing stone only after
testing its stability.  Above, hawks
play in sunlight in a sky which, on
a scale of one to ten, is breathless blue.
None of this escapes me.


I am short and fat
but I can stand up.
I can see.


I walk the hills above, until
the day’s light is lost. At night
I come alive.


              ~      *      ~

« Last Edit: December 09, 2017, 12:53:20 AM by fire-fly »
"Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read." -Groucho Marx

A child’s life is like a piece of paper on which every passerby leaves a mark. -Chinese proverb

Blondesplosion! ~Deb

Offline fire-fly

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Re: Vote for Poetry Challenge #150 Praise Poem, Let's See What You're Made Of
« Reply #1 on: November 25, 2017, 03:02:04 AM »
Thanks so much Deb, I know it was hard work to get this up mate  :-*
I'm A Binge Thinker: Do It A Lot Somedays, Then Not Much At All.

Don't take life too seriously, none of us get out of it alive. >:D


Offline Simple Things

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I am going to have difficulties picking. :( 


A bow to the poets who submitted.

Offline fire-fly

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I received a message from Deb today.

Where she lives has been given evacuation orders due to wildfires only a few miles from her home. She may be late back for winner reveal but she will get here as soon as she is able.

Stay safe Deb  :-*
I'm A Binge Thinker: Do It A Lot Somedays, Then Not Much At All.

Don't take life too seriously, none of us get out of it alive. >:D


Offline DGSquared

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We've been watching fire all day. Now being evacuated. Scared shitless.  :-\  Send us your good thoughts, vibes, prayers. Gotta go.
"Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read." -Groucho Marx

A child’s life is like a piece of paper on which every passerby leaves a mark. -Chinese proverb

Blondesplosion! ~Deb

Offline fire-fly

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Shit Deb, stay safe mate. If you are going to evacuate, do it early  :-*
I'm A Binge Thinker: Do It A Lot Somedays, Then Not Much At All.

Don't take life too seriously, none of us get out of it alive. >:D


Online Tom 10

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Deb -- you've got my good thoughts, my vibes, and my pagan equivalent of prayers -- be safe!
Featured link: http://mywriterscircle.com/index.php?topic=55584.0

Offline drab

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Real prayers from your local internet Reverend on their way.
To live, with gentle but cunning deceit, and accept the consequences, is the destiny of every man.

Offline Vienna

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Stay safe and take care.

Just a well-read punk peasant

Going to church makes you a christian as much as standing in a garage makes you a car!

Offline Laura H

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Please keep us posted, Deb. That's one heck of a fire over your way.
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.” ― Maya Angelou

“Don't be like the rest of them, darling.” ― Eudora Welty

Offline Vienna

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We all wish debs well and that she is safe, but she doesnt actually need to announce the winner. There is a clear winner so step forward the author of number 5 and we can get moving.
Just a well-read punk peasant

Going to church makes you a christian as much as standing in a garage makes you a car!

Online Tom 10

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I am the author of Separated at Birth and thank everyone who took part in this challenge.  Deb was right, it was a good experience to write a 'praise poem'.

And with all respect to Deb2, Vienna is right.  While our first thoughts are with Deb and the safety of her clan, we should move this along.  I hope no one is offended by my doing so.

I appreciate Deb's efforts to breath new life into the Poetry Challenge and I will do my part as well.   I am dearly hoping all of you will join in.  8)


Look to see the new poetry challenge up soon,  So sharpen your pens, re-ink your pencils, and WD-40 your keyboards. 

Cheers

T
« Last Edit: December 08, 2017, 02:02:07 PM by Tom 10 »
Featured link: http://mywriterscircle.com/index.php?topic=55584.0

Offline Vienna

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Congrats Tom. Well done. Mine was of course number 4  ;D
Just a well-read punk peasant

Going to church makes you a christian as much as standing in a garage makes you a car!

Offline Catherine F

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Oh my this is terrible Deb ! I do hope you and your family are safe by now. Your life is really hectic these days! I'm sending you all my good thoughts and look forward hearing good news from you. And thank you for hosting this challenge, which has not been a piece of cake...
Tom I've been real busy so forgot to look up the results, and I'm sorry I missed congratulating you earlier. Yours is a great piece, and I voted for it with both my hands.
Now let's get ready for the next challenge.
Cheers, and best wishes to Deb and family.

Offline Catherine F

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I liked that one Vienna, it was my second choice, though I'm sure my french brain/culture kept me from getting all the subtilities. But it sounded very exotic to my ears  :)