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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Zadown's Poetry Challenge


Zadown

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Lately I've been reading the newest poems in Pen - given that I'm a poor reader online, I figured I might be able to muster the concentration as long as the stuff I have to read is short. After going through quite a few, I can say that although many of them are great and thought-provoking, there's an area of poetry that from my point of view seems to be greatly under-represented: poems that deal with the ordinary life, the things we see and hear and do during the normal course of our lives. The few ones I've seen (Wyvern's Observations and Cerulean's poetry come to mind) I remember better than most others I've read.

 

For each of us our own lives may seem too mundane, too insignificant to warrant forming visions of them into poetic shapes, but one's mundane is another's exotic; and there is beauty in both. Not to mention therein lies more variation than in the inner lives, I claim - for I have hated and loved and been angry, but there are a lot of things that others do as routine parts of their days and nights I have never done. These might show what I mean, even if their quality is not the best - three poems I've written inspired by my current temporary job as newspaper delivery man.

 

Now, I challenge you to see the world around you with poet's eyes as you go about your daily chores, and write a poem or two about what you see and do or what others do around you. Reply to this or post it on its own thread, I don't care - I just want to see bits and pieces of the lives of others painted by the expressive yet minimalistic strokes of poetry! ^_^

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Today’s the fight,

may the best team win

Our spirits are bright,

so let the game begin

 

A circle is made

hands on hands

The last piece of advice

are the coach’s plans

 

That number six

serves pretty hard

She knows her tricks,

be on your guard

 

Get in the field,

show no remorse

And do not yield,

just stay on course

 

The crowd goes wild

with every score

People smile,

and spirits soar

 

We shout and dive,

knees scraping the floor

We always strive

to give just a little bit more

 

A whistle sounds

One arm goes down the other up

After five rounds,

we’ve lost the cup

 

Under the shower

the game washes away

With our team power

we’ll win one day

 

 

Et voila, my answer to your challenge.

I'm still trying to bend my brains around understanding 'meters', and other poetry techniques, so this will probably answer to no single poetry rule.

I have however tried to implement an ABAB rhyme, and it reflects the feelings during a game pretty well.

 

- Sweetcherrie

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My wife comes in and wakes me up,

(She needs to talk a while before she can sleep),

Our whispering voices in the dawn of the night

Often so lonely, she's held so she can weep.

 

Perhaps my oldest thinks he's a vampire

Or such his schedule shows.

Such sensitive brilliance and creativity

That I've no time to get to know.

 

The second arises when the first descends

Reluctant, for its school he'll dread.

An artist, a poet, he's a break dancing b-boy

Unless I chivvy him alone, he'll head back to bed.

 

I've small break but not enough to sleep,

When with cheery hug and blurry smile,

(I wish his earnest heart I could defend -

He's so desparate for best friend -

Highly smart but lack of thrills

He's too common-sensed for social skills)

My youngest from his bed will bound.

His hopeful goal to watch with me cartoons a while.

 

It's after dawn, the sun has risen

Hop into the car and begin the commute.

Their faces look like they're driving toward prison

As in and out of traffic I scoot.

 

Now at work begin the day with data checks and reports to weigh

The database work and Statistical coding be careful to write because of quoting

Watch out for ad hoc queries and VB scripting, the meeting times are always shifting

Arrange for supplies and run the slide show make sure the folks know where to go

Run over there and interview verifying data through and through

Touch a heart and mend a friend this constitution we will defend

The day is done when responsibilities all met and then drive home into sunset.

Throw together a dinner or scrounge around for whatever food might be found

Don't slow down now there's homework to be done a Daddy's work is just begun

There's only one computer that we all do share tomorrow your girlfriend will still be there

Have you tried to call her?

Oh her father's angry tonight; I'm sorry I know this really must bite.

Really sorry but work's called the database is down,

I'll need the computer to bring it around.

You've a report that's due WHEN?

I'm hearing this just now... why? Tell me again?

No that's all right, I wasn't home lets get it done and just move on.

Yes I love you but it's time for bed I'm sorry about your aching head

No, you'll go to school anyway I'm sorry you didn't have time to play

I'll try to spend fun time with you some other day

Hugs and kisses and chasing all to bed

Take a deep breath and empty my head

Oh it's my turn now, check in at the Pen, and I still want to reply to that letter from Ben and I've been praying for them but I should send to my friends that I love a reminder that they're covered with prayers from above and if the portal will work I'll play my turns in TR and I wanted to study but my book is in the car and I think I'll leave the dishes for the morn and delete all this spam that is probably all porn and maybe I can ambush a love on Yahoo and get myself hugged by a friend or two and look at the time I'm back up in five hours, better polish my boots and set out towels for the showers; let me pick up the front room so it's not such a mess. Has Lilly gotten water or been fed let me guess

My mind is really buzzing with so much to think; better wash those clothes that pile is starting to stink.

The printer's out of ink? When did that happen?

 

Let me push this all off to God and just tumble to bed,

He always works it out when all's done and said.

 

It's three hours later and my wife wakes me up...

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it's 6am, alarm bell rings,

if i've yet been to sleep

the youngest needs awakening

and scooting through the morn

before her bus arrives.

She's almost ready for the door

oh! look at the time, her sister

needs to be awake now. Her alarm?

did it ring? did she wake?

i'd better go and check,

and while i'm at it i should check

the oldest's schedule for today.

First class today? what's that you say?

oh, i'm sorry, sleep a while yet.

Check my messages, check my mail

delete my brother's snarls and wails

answer the phone and verify

i remember her appointment time

and i will be there, because she can't drive.

phone the pharmacy, order meds,

wash the dishes and the clothes

and take a moment to brush my hair again

before i hit the door and oh yes,

was there anything you needed while i'm out?

small town traffic shouldn't be nearly this insane -

penalty for being so close to the school?

i see. convenience has its price, they say.

flying down the freeway to appointments,

slotting in the expected rash of "oh yeah, i need" errands

on the fly, rearranging, time deliberately

left open as i know her pattern by now.

The girls are home before me,

so i take care to wear my headset

since they always phone to ask me

"can i go?" "may i do this?" "where are you?"

and, oh - "I love you." I love you too.

Errands done and home again, switching gears

it's dinner time.

Skate between the likes and dislikes,

who's here tonight anyway? Quick head count,

will they be back? Do you have homework?

Yes you may use my computer to type that up.

Just a minute, i'll find the pictures you need.

A map? of where? of course, just let me finish this -

i know you need it now,

will five minutes make you fail?

Thank you.

Homework done, trailed outside for

a much needed smoke break

by a child who wants to talk. And we talk.

And we listen. Change places for another one

until they're all talked out

and it's bedtime. No, please, believe me

it's bedtime. Yes, you need to sleep.

check my messages, check my mail

delete the spam

laughingly try the remote on the girl who's downstairs

for the third time tonight.

There's no remote for sleepless children.

And the phone rings, it's a dear friend

with overnight availability

who likes to talk through the darkest hours of the night

and keeps me company

and maybe i'll sleep tonight

tucked in with a lullaby?

or a story from my favourite storyteller?

or maybe we'll talk, and i'll sleep tomorrow?

because it's not tomorrow until i've been asleep,

and it's 6am, alarm bell's ringing...

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Dearest Zadown,

 

I'd like to write something new for you and this fascinating challenge, but for today and its decrepit lack of time, I'm forced to settle for contributing something already laid to paper. This poem that I wrote back in December definitely came right out of the pages of real-life, and I hope it'll add a little bit to the challenge until I can come up with something better.

 

Yours in Haste,

~Yui

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The gentle whisper of the alarm

Echoes through the world of my sleep.

That soft urging to awake and move into the morning.

Soft patter of water seeping through my skin,

Rinsing the soap and stubble from my face and head.

 

The drift of the weary, greeting each in passing,

Upon the bus, express to a vivid world of glass,

The etchings of neon patterned in the walls

Of all that hold me in.

 

Coffee, scribbled words of the nights dreams,

The only place I write, filling with the travelers

To the day of duty, the service of all who pay.

 

Merging into the controlled chaos of busyness

The setting of the bait, the placement of the traps of trade.

Sparkle and shine in the glass, enticement of the prey

Sharks cunning, kitten’s smile, is how I earn my pay.

 

In the kiss of the morning air I greet the door,

Its creaking chains raise it to the roof,

The glass of the open front yawns to the street.

Extending the hand of welcome,

Hoping for the start of a full day.

 

 

:raven:

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Spring Thaw

 

When the shovel spins out of my hands in the evening

it cuts down through the soil and into the clay

where it bites and it holds--I am wielding a bulldog--

I step onto the shovel and wriggle its blade

left and right, up and down, I'm not dressed for this work,

and my shoe slides to land on the slippery clay

when the handle falls backwards and I do the same--

rising up in a block, it's half soil, half clay,

and the soil's half knotted with last autumn's stalks,

but by god there are earthworms, and not a clay brick

but a moist orange layer--I shake the dog's neck

and it lets soil go, bang its head on the ground

to release all the clay--it will make my arms weary,

all that weight on the shovel--and bite down again.

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