Vote for the poem(s) you feel is the best (up to two). Remember to adhere to the "Honor Code" when voting.
While it is understood there is no absolute means to monitor the intent of a vote, we ask each PRC participant to exercise integrity when voting out of respect for the contest:
- Please give each poetry submission an equal opportunity in attaining your vote.
- Please read, or at least skim, all the entries before voting.
- Please do not vote for your friends just because they're your friends.
The Poetry Running Contest puts good faith in its participants to act in an honorable manner.
Contestants, remember, you are required required to vote (and you can't vote for yourself)!
Happy voting!
*Interested new participants should submit their poems here.
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Keep up the good work! I used to not appreciate poems (thinking that they were boring) but then I had an epiphany moment with poems - they are much better when read out loud. After this moment every time I read a poem I listen for a voice inside my mind reading it out loud to me.
Keep up the good work! I used to not appreciate poems (thinking that they were boring) but then I had an epiphany moment with poems - they are much better when read out loud. After this moment every time I read a poem I listen for a voice inside my mind reading it out loud to me.
Good to hear. I think that's the other part of what we do here at the PRC- by bombarding people with hundreds of poems a year, eventually, everyone is going to find at least one they like, and that's all it takes. The inner voice, emotion and cadence are probably the only advantages Poetry has over longer form writing, so it's good to hear you can appreciate it.
So I didn't know that there was a banned list for this contest until today and decided to read up on what happened. To be honest though, I kind of sympathized the banned guy. He was a dick, but I do find it true that there have been times where I was tempted to not vote for any of the poems and just roll a die or something simply because, well, they weren't that great. That being said, since I've got time to kill, I'd rather give some constructive criticisms rather than be a troll.
Just a note before I begin: Sometimes, criticisms are no good if a background is not provided. Each person has their own "voice" in poetry, a style if you will, of writing their craft, influenced by maybe some poet of an earlier past. That being said, I believe that if you want a fruitful discussion about your poem, DON'T say what your poem is about, but rather what you, as a writer, write about and perfect your voice so that others can help figure out what works or doesn't work in your poem and what you can do improve.
The mornings get earlier
The nights get later
I feel more tired but
Sleep never comes.
I can't quite keep
Track of whose dreams
Are whose, but
I like it this way.
Because this way, it's not mine.
all the suck and the suffering and
the loss and the lament and the
stress and the sickness and the
relentless stream of life and the
ramshackle attempts at beauty-
It's not mine.
I found this poem rather weak. There's a lot of telling and not enough showing. This poem, for me, does not win my sympathy. Let's go this line by line.
"The nights get later
I feel more tire but
sleep never comes."
Some technicalities to address are the enjambments in lines 1 and 2. I'll give credit to where it's due and say that they were used well in the sense that they weren't used negatively. In other words, you did a fine job in having the lines stand on their own per line, but they didn't add much to the momentum that you're building in the exegesis of your poem. How are the nights getting later? Why do you feel more tired? What keeps you awake?
These questions are ones you don't necessarily have to answer but the lack of concrete images makes it difficult for us to visualize and, more importantly, sympathize with what you're saying (versus showing).
"I can't quite keep
Track of whose dreams
Are whose, but
I like it this way."
Again, vagueness hurts you here. I'll save myself from being redundant and say that this this sentence hurts you the same way as the previous one.
"Because this way, it's not mine.
all the suck and the suffering and
the loss and the lament and the
stress and the sickness and the
relentless stream of life and the
ramshackle attempts at beauty-
It's not mine."
Good rhythm. Excellent use of alliteration, but the slowness of the first stanza and lack of a grounded theme to put the reader into a perspective makes this second stanza, which I will consider to be the volta, or turn, in the poem, random. It's a fantastic job you did with the rhythm of the poem, but it seems little else than just a gimmick with words that have yet to stick to the wall because you've given us little to see what's happening here. We can't, therefore, know what speak of when you say "suck and suffering" or "loss and lament" as they are general words--words meant for talking about things but not showing them---and don't point to a particular.
You came as a dream
my dearest friend
a dream made true;
When I'm about to sleep
I always consider
Thinking about you.
Our yesterdays
Were bright as the sun
Which shone perfectly above
Your eyes, flashing gems
Guided me through the dark
Your feet opened the path
I have crossed
I was aghast,
But never alone.
We dance and fancy
sing and trance
Playing our old infancy.
You will always be
a dream to me
and when I pass away
Until my last day
I will infancy.
I feel as if this poem is riddled with cliches. What I mean by that is the vagueness that plagues in this poem's imagery. You're telling more than showing and so the tone comes more like an essay than something colloquial or tale-telling. For example, by using "dearest friend" in the first stanza, you deprived yourself of all potential in expounding on the concept of why this friend is so "dear." It makes subsequent descriptions such as "When I'm about to sleep /I always consider /thinking about you" redundant, meaningless, and weaker in its message. In other words, these lines don't add anything new to the content but take up space. Also, it seems a little strange that you're considering about thinking of that person. Like, you're thinking about thinking that person, which is not as powerful as actually thinking about that person, unless if you want to emphasize you don't care, but the whole poem doesn't seem to be going that way.
Also, "our yesterdays /were as bright as the sun" is too sing-songy. Comparing the brightness to something like the sun seems disingenuous, not honest. But if you sincerely meant it, try coming to the audience with a fresher image than comparing it to the sun. Same goes with the person's eyes being like gems that guide them through the dark. Though I get the metaphor, the content itself fails to deliver in being believable. For example, consider how metaphor is used in David Lunde's translation of Li Po's Drinking Alone Beneath the Moon
One jar of wine among the flowers,
no dear friend to drink with:
I offer a cup to the moon.
With my shadow there are three of us,
but the moon doesn’t know how to drink,
and my shadow can’t help but follow me.
Still, I’ll make do with their company,
have fun and make the most of spring.
I sing and the moon rolls around,
I dance and my shadow leaps about.
While I’m lively we enjoy each other,
when I get too drunk we go our own ways.
Let’s keep this undemanding friendship
till we join together in the far Cloud River.
I did enjoy your play on dancing, fancy, and infancy. Just watch out on those absolutes like "always" which should be used sparingly. Words like those are won, not used. Oftentimes they generate the opposite effect of what you want. For example, people become more skeptical if you say "my sorrow is unfathomable" then if you simply said, "I don't know why, but I'm sad."
There are words in my head. They are not in English.
So klei mir am mors, Bruder, ich rede Deutsch.
Hab' Angst (Bruder) Wenn ich anfang (Bruder)
Ehre treu (Bruder) Leben frei (Bruder)
Ruhe stört (Bruder) Blut erklärt (Bruder)
Hast du Angst (Bruder) Fange an (Bruder)
Mein Leben garnichts, da ist nur du
Ohne dich bin ich nicht Hirn verflugt
Ich bin dein, du bißt mein zusammen nicht
Kilometer fliegen mein Sehnsucht dicht
Seele brennt mit Sehne keine bekwemme
Ärger siegt diesen alter Gebrauchtwagen
Blut fliest heis dürch kalter Herzschlaggen
Was für Scheiß sagst du jetzt junge Nachtjacke
Ich tu dir weh gut zerstört an die Backe
Wieder und wieder meine Fisten
Deine Lippen blutig küssen
Verstehen fliegt Knie gibt
Der Hammer fliegt frei
Passe auf (Bruder) Was du kaufst (Bruder)
Dein Leben (Bruder) Wird ich geben (Bruder)
Kein Herz (Bruder) Kein Schmerz (Bruder)
Tod macht frei (Bruder) Ich mach dir frei (Bruder)
My Addictions
There are words in my head. They are not in English.
So (kiss my ass), brother, I speak German.
Be afraid (brother) When I start (brother)
Honor true (brother) life free (brother)
Rest stirs (brother) blood declared (brother)
Are you afraid (brother) begin (brother)
My life is nothing, there's only you
Without you I am nothing brain (swore/cursed)
I am yours, you are mine not together
Kilometers fly my longing tight
Soul burns with desire no comforts
Anger wins over this old clunker
Hot blood flows by cold (pounding heartbeats/heart attacks)
What sort of **** you gonna say now young (stupid punk)
I'll bring the pain good destruction on the jaw
Again and again my fists
Your lips bloody kissing
Understanding flys knees give
The hammer flies freely
Watch out (brother) What you (buy/shop for) (brother)
Your life (brother) I'll give (brother)
No heart (brother) No pain (brother)
Death frees (brother) I'll make you free (brother)
On the way home from the city last night, we were blowin' bowls and Mr. Man cranked up an hour's worth of hard core gangsta rap with a sound system so loud it was making my lips vibrate. I heard "the n word but ending in '-a' and '-az'" a hell of a lot more that I would have at any white supremacist gathering. While good and gooned and listenin' to these angry beated threats, this all just kinda started flowin' (if you can call it that) in my head.
Let us all be cast aside
And taste the gloom on this summers night
That buzzing sensation
This delirium razing
Every thought I've ever had.
Every dream I lost in vain
Every moment of suffering
For relief is brief
Sweet
And cruel
Only to drown in the realm
Where thoughts pool.
Long noses, short noses. Different eyebrows and many poses.
Man of Satan? Friend of Moses?
John Mayer to Bob Barker, bushes burn in many twisted manners.
Who's our supreme judge today? Somebody has to pound the gavel.
Synapses fire but no thoughts are processed.
We all ask one another, "have we lost it?"
Built from dust, born from a womb, it doesn't matter.
We all bury ourselves as King's in a Tomb.
No man higher than another? "That's a lie!",
None of you hold back when grading a neighbor.
"What's his job, for whom does he labor?"
"I make this much more, I did this much better!"
God's ruler will lay down the law, so go ahead
measure yourself now as the tallest stick in the mud.
Congratulations, you're built from crud.
i've a blossom in me that nobody knows
an expectant flower waits as the sun glows
though hidden down under cover of darkness
with ignorant hopes that the blossom will die
if it feeds on nothing but salt when I cry
hope it withers and stagnates as a dead cyst
but i hope the blossom grows parasitically
sucks the bloom from my body the blood from my lips
sucks the life from my flesh and the lunar eclipse
just let me lie forever dead and alone
in the bottom of someone's deserted tomb
i'll excavate my own place to inhabit
and all of you can stay away from me
why emerge and destroy the illusion of self
all paths lead to death all paths lead to death
my heart expands growing surely inwards
within the safe cocoon
the heart's vessels become crazy figures
so I'll live suited up in an ant farm in stealth
and initially i move my forelegs excitedly
as i explore and learn within the group without care
recklessness accompanies newness - 'i might be'
and just for a second some peace is here
until i lose myself in the mass of bodies
become everyone else, complaining, ornery
but the carapace stays and the blossom's not gone
as long as I live I will keep to the shadows
to strangle its growth and pretend to be facile
but the carapace stays and the blossom's not gone
trapped in shadows in shadows lengthening lengthening like a summer sunset slickening slickening
a winter front moving in like a bad dream
meld together endlessly there is no identity
here we are everything, nothing, whatever we
want; as long as we can maintain the scream
it's lucky to be in an ant farm isn't it
and we are
all!
the!
same!
and we!
are!
one!
as long as we have our carapaces
chrysalis
i hope the blossom grows parasitically
sucks the bloom from my body the blood from my lips
the life from my flesh and the lunar eclipse
let me be dead and alone
at the bottom of a deserted tomb
i'll excavate my own place to inhabit
and all of you can be away from
me
why open a growth, why try to expand?
all paths lead to death, all paths lead to death
If I grow inwards i see my heart expand
surely within the safe cocoon
i can watch the trees grow tilted left
within the dome I'll cultivate an ant farm
i pick a favorite among the ants
her name is alice
and she moves her forelegs excitedly
as she explores and learns within the group
that recklessness that accompanies nouveau
until i lose her
where is she/where am i/what am i
trapped in shadows in shadows lengthening lengthening like a summer sunset slickening
a winter front moving in
they meld together endlessly
there is no identity
in an ant farm it's lucky isn't it
and they are
all!
the!
same!
we!
are!
one!
as long as we have our carapaces
in passing
we were not what we were
turned from killers to mousers
gave my head a lobotomy
my breasts up to bouncers
make the passing the real
or imagined a fetish
slavish rose-tinted flowers
their pollen embellished
we are growing and writhing
we are spanning the globe
we are enveloped darkness
we will never grow old
we are stupid on purpose
we are blind with four eyes
we are lovely and dying
we are dead in disguise
coven
the coven a hovel desensitized
predictable
undone by its caring defanged
irresistible
the crowd lit crosses inflamed
harangued
the witches grabbed buckets to save
enslaved
denial a vial and drama ensorcelled but rightness is brightness and guilt is a strategy
leave passion to horses and rightness to sheep - being different's a curse being righteous's blind
but the happy are feckless, reckless, denial
the sad are at least cognizant of burials
and as it all burned down at least they knew
their god would not save them
I really should've edited the second half of my poem out of it. It didn't mesh well after I re-edited the beginning.
Also: I got two votes in best Writer!
...
No wonder you were surprised that I was getting trophies, Zelderex. Oh well.
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my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Congratulations to The Dark Passenger, the winner of PRC 187! Due to unusual circumstances, I will not be able to put up the poll thread for PRC 188 until late tomorrow evening. I hope you all understand, and I'm terrible sorry for the delay.
A very nice review.
It's good you pointed out things I need to reconsider and work more, towards poetry.
Hey no problem. Believe it or not, I find good critiques hard to come by and what qualifies them as "good" is really subjective. Obviously, some people (myself included) are not going to like what you write regardless if most people (myself included) like it or it demonstrates strong writing technique. If you think you got something out of me, that's great. I just try to add my best in a pool of a thousand other opinions you get for your writing.
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Likewise
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Here are the Poetry submissions for this week:
Chrysalis by Preve
untitled by iCwalzy
Where Thoughts Pool by the Dark Passenger
Meine Sehnsüchte by Blippytheslug
Childhood by Guilan
Untitled by Zelderex
Vote for the poem(s) you feel is the best (up to two). Remember to adhere to the "Honor Code" when voting.
While it is understood there is no absolute means to monitor the intent of a vote, we ask each PRC participant to exercise integrity when voting out of respect for the contest:
- Please give each poetry submission an equal opportunity in attaining your vote.
- Please read, or at least skim, all the entries before voting.
- Please do not vote for your friends just because they're your friends.
The Poetry Running Contest puts good faith in its participants to act in an honorable manner.
Contestants, remember, you are required required to vote (and you can't vote for yourself)!
Happy voting!
*Interested new participants should submit their poems here.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
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Curse PremiumKeep up the good work! I used to not appreciate poems (thinking that they were boring) but then I had an epiphany moment with poems - they are much better when read out loud. After this moment every time I read a poem I listen for a voice inside my mind reading it out loud to me.
Good to hear. I think that's the other part of what we do here at the PRC- by bombarding people with hundreds of poems a year, eventually, everyone is going to find at least one they like, and that's all it takes. The inner voice, emotion and cadence are probably the only advantages Poetry has over longer form writing, so it's good to hear you can appreciate it.
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
offtopic: is this forum Green now??
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
Apparently so.
I'm always happy to see new participants start thriving so immediately, and I'm really hoping TDP sticks around.
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Curse PremiumJust a note before I begin: Sometimes, criticisms are no good if a background is not provided. Each person has their own "voice" in poetry, a style if you will, of writing their craft, influenced by maybe some poet of an earlier past. That being said, I believe that if you want a fruitful discussion about your poem, DON'T say what your poem is about, but rather what you, as a writer, write about and perfect your voice so that others can help figure out what works or doesn't work in your poem and what you can do improve.
Now...
REVIEWS:
I found this poem rather weak. There's a lot of telling and not enough showing. This poem, for me, does not win my sympathy. Let's go this line by line.
"The nights get later
I feel more tire but
sleep never comes."
Some technicalities to address are the enjambments in lines 1 and 2. I'll give credit to where it's due and say that they were used well in the sense that they weren't used negatively. In other words, you did a fine job in having the lines stand on their own per line, but they didn't add much to the momentum that you're building in the exegesis of your poem. How are the nights getting later? Why do you feel more tired? What keeps you awake?
These questions are ones you don't necessarily have to answer but the lack of concrete images makes it difficult for us to visualize and, more importantly, sympathize with what you're saying (versus showing).
"I can't quite keep
Track of whose dreams
Are whose, but
I like it this way."
Again, vagueness hurts you here. I'll save myself from being redundant and say that this this sentence hurts you the same way as the previous one.
"Because this way, it's not mine.
all the suck and the suffering and
the loss and the lament and the
stress and the sickness and the
relentless stream of life and the
ramshackle attempts at beauty-
It's not mine."
Good rhythm. Excellent use of alliteration, but the slowness of the first stanza and lack of a grounded theme to put the reader into a perspective makes this second stanza, which I will consider to be the volta, or turn, in the poem, random. It's a fantastic job you did with the rhythm of the poem, but it seems little else than just a gimmick with words that have yet to stick to the wall because you've given us little to see what's happening here. We can't, therefore, know what speak of when you say "suck and suffering" or "loss and lament" as they are general words--words meant for talking about things but not showing them---and don't point to a particular.
I feel as if this poem is riddled with cliches. What I mean by that is the vagueness that plagues in this poem's imagery. You're telling more than showing and so the tone comes more like an essay than something colloquial or tale-telling. For example, by using "dearest friend" in the first stanza, you deprived yourself of all potential in expounding on the concept of why this friend is so "dear." It makes subsequent descriptions such as "When I'm about to sleep /I always consider /thinking about you" redundant, meaningless, and weaker in its message. In other words, these lines don't add anything new to the content but take up space. Also, it seems a little strange that you're considering about thinking of that person. Like, you're thinking about thinking that person, which is not as powerful as actually thinking about that person, unless if you want to emphasize you don't care, but the whole poem doesn't seem to be going that way.
Also, "our yesterdays /were as bright as the sun" is too sing-songy. Comparing the brightness to something like the sun seems disingenuous, not honest. But if you sincerely meant it, try coming to the audience with a fresher image than comparing it to the sun. Same goes with the person's eyes being like gems that guide them through the dark. Though I get the metaphor, the content itself fails to deliver in being believable. For example, consider how metaphor is used in David Lunde's translation of Li Po's Drinking Alone Beneath the Moon
One jar of wine among the flowers,
no dear friend to drink with:
I offer a cup to the moon.
With my shadow there are three of us,
but the moon doesn’t know how to drink,
and my shadow can’t help but follow me.
Still, I’ll make do with their company,
have fun and make the most of spring.
I sing and the moon rolls around,
I dance and my shadow leaps about.
While I’m lively we enjoy each other,
when I get too drunk we go our own ways.
Let’s keep this undemanding friendship
till we join together in the far Cloud River.
I did enjoy your play on dancing, fancy, and infancy. Just watch out on those absolutes like "always" which should be used sparingly. Words like those are won, not used. Oftentimes they generate the opposite effect of what you want. For example, people become more skeptical if you say "my sorrow is unfathomable" then if you simply said, "I don't know why, but I'm sad."
Review coming soon.
Review coming soon.
Review coming soon.
Review coming soon.
Of course a review comes when I write one of my really weird "I'm depressed about divorce and work, I'm listening to weird music" poems.
Also: I got two votes in best Writer!
...
No wonder you were surprised that I was getting trophies, Zelderex. Oh well.
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Join the Poetry Running Contest!
A very nice review.
It's good you pointed out things I need to reconsider and work more, towards poetry.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
Hey no problem. Believe it or not, I find good critiques hard to come by and what qualifies them as "good" is really subjective. Obviously, some people (myself included) are not going to like what you write regardless if most people (myself included) like it or it demonstrates strong writing technique. If you think you got something out of me, that's great. I just try to add my best in a pool of a thousand other opinions you get for your writing.