The Monthly Poetry Challenge, September 2006

[wildsweetone]

I don't think there is a thing in the world of which we all make the same thing, and symbolism is such an encompassing expression. An egg symbolises birth, but can also symbolise oneness, or things as opposed as strength and frailty. It all depends on who is looking at the egg and in what context. And I wouldn't ask you to write a poem from any perspective or context different from your own.

the more i learn about symbolism, the more i like it.

 

[EriAliSaa]

see how they roll

see
how they roll
the lowly rollie-pollies,
of plates in 7 concentric rows,
they like a tiny rhino plowing its way
into most young hearts, playing backyard
games they hide and seek, under wet rocks
and stepping stones, oh these dull grey marbles
lives feeding on decay, ick and rot, 14 swimmerets
when threatened tuck in to become a bowling ball
crustaceans hurled in curled up hinges, pill bugs
terrified rolling upon those little grubby palms
as if cousins of armadillos, they play dead
as backyard opossums, but smaller
even than a hedgehog, we
see how they
roll
​

this was a 'round' as i could get it... : )

Ok I didn't write one. I tried, but like I said, I am not the typoe that can describe a tree. I was going to do a fox and all I found myself doing rehashing fox symbolism stories. Nothing good

I will reveiw one despite my own short falling. I found the subject here interesting. When thinking of an animal this is not what I think of as an animal. So it took me by surprise. I like surprises quite a bit. I think this poem (call the pun police now, I have been dying to say this) was very well rounded.

 

[champagne1982]

My advice is not getting too caught up on words or definitions. Symbolism is what you make of it, and what an animal means to you.

In my panda-poem, the basic idea I wanted to get through is that pandas are non-judgemental, accepting, loving creatures, that are pretty contempt with themselves and their quite life. Is that their universally accepted symbolism? I don't really care.

Oh. I thought that part of the challenge was to write the beasts' symbolism into the poem.

I'm glad we cleared that confusion up.

You've done a great job of expressing your personal view of a panda and actually, in spite of yourself, happiness is something that pandas do symbolize. I think that in order to be happy, we all have to be a little panda.

Thanks for your poem and the challenge.

 

[HotKittySpank]

i gave up on the whole symbolism and 'moral values' when i did mine. i'm not really good in that area anyway... : )

so, can we do critiques? need to get on that yea? isn't October right around the corner - can't wait, hope its something tricky.

 

[Lauren Hynde]

so, can we do critiques?

Absolutely. I'm just waiting for the weekend to do mine, when I'll have more time, but go ahead and critique the hell out of the poems we have.

 

[HotKittySpank]

Whale - From behind a glass curtain

cetacean songs sing through a moon
spangled cavern with crystal walls
and hands that press flat palms
no higher than the small insignificance
on the land can reach to send waves
of thought between the lines and bars
our ocean brother swims through currents
strong enough to wash man's cities'
corruption off soft birth water borne
mariner so ancient and fragile
that a blink in history and you're gone.

ok, not that i have any business being critical of anyone else's work, but the rules, the rules say i must say something...

there is a break in thought between these two lines:

of thought between the lines and bars
our ocean brother swims through currents

should there also be a space, a seperation between the two?

and this is tripping me up: man's cities'
its hard to say with the two sss sounds needing a space between them

your stuff always has me tongue tied though : )

 

[HotKittySpank]

An Ode to the Doves of Lovelady grove

The sinking sun tickled tall timbered pines
cues a Dove to sing a song without rhyme.
Carrying her cries across a lazy green meadow
a breeze that blows by Lovelady Grove's widow.

Sitting on the front porch in a bench swing
a Lady alone with thoughts and her dreams.
Wrapped in her past and humming a tune
swinging and gazing at the slow rising moon.

Paired partners fly and unite out of love
one will survive and become a solo dove.
Every evening she sings her lonely song
nestled in the forest till her days are gone.

Patiently she waits as her loneliness grows
an Ode to the Doves of Lovelady Grove.

i think this is the beginnings of a lovely poem - it has a very reverent tone, carries the meaning of lost love, and feels soft and grey to me, like your dove.

lets look at these two lines:

Wrapped in her past and humming a tune
swinging and gazing at the slow rising moon.

could be done like:

Wrapped in her past she hums that tune
swings and gazes at the slow rising moon.

*its very sweet Art. and i'm still not trying to crunch toes, promise.

 

[HotKittySpank]

not sure i've got the hang of the idea of this, but here goes...

Polar Bear Pangs

I watched her shield
grumpy children
as she dodged rain and cars
to cross the road, watched

the kids' heads rise
at the hot chips and burger
smell escaping double doors

under the golden arches,
saw them pounce a puddle
with both feet. She nudged

them inside, cosseted
into a corner table
and smiled as they chomped

and talked fast, chewed
and played in the warmth. Hands
curled around the cappuccino
and she smiled.

too many ands in the last bit. perhaps get rid of the "and" in "and she smiles" could be read like:

and talked fast, chewed
they played in the warmth, her hands
curled around the cappuccino
all(in) smiles

??? just an idea.

 

[HotKittySpank]

Not an apple, not even Eve's
would be had without the bees
and their dizzying dances
telling other bees where all the sexiest
flowers are (sharing resources).

Honeybees traipse the carpet of clover, dust
the simple singles
delve into doubles and tumble in
the trumpets of spring and summer
in love with nature's sex--talk about loving
your job! And we love them
enough to build them houses, to try
to keep them, busy and prophetic

but the sad truth is
they are dying except in Australia
(too many mites envy their honest industry)
so buy all the royal jelly
that you can. And if the bees seem
drawn to you, take it as
a compliment: you must smell
delicious.

this is my opinion only. please understand that.

hmmm... this read differently than the breaks you put in. ditch the rhymes at the beginning or continue it all the way through. not sure about your brackets, could they be taken out and made part of the whole, just on a different line?

Honeybees traipse the carpet of clover, dust
the simple singles

move 'dust' to the next line and take out 'of'
to read like this:

Honeybees traipse the carpet clover
dust the simple singles

and stuff like that... : )

 

[HotKittySpank]

Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias)
Nisqually Delta, Spring 2006

His cry is more croak
than call, a reptile sound
that manifests
—with that wingspan,
with that neck—
a pterodactyl past.

I watch him
snap and still a snake.
Posed, he swallows,
wriggling it down.

My wonderful shy fossil.

so were you recycling an old poem here? or was this a memory from Spring 2006? : )

i liked this - even if there was no 'moral lesson' to be learned.

 

[HotKittySpank]

sorry.

 

[My Erotic Trail]

Fine. I'll go first, you wimps.

Burlesque With Panda

I'm a ladies' man
said the guest with a wink
to the concerned chat show host.

It's true after all
I said to myself.
This time it was an artist
a crooner of romantic ballads
but I remembered the policeman
the intellectual and the doctor
and also the carpenter
and the famous footballer
and that one actor
and I don't know how many
television chat show hosts.
They all know each other
shop at the same supermarket
and are ladies' men.
And it's not that they are
but that so many people
enjoy listening to them
assuring that they are.

To my surprise
(but I'm by nature distracted)
I noticed that the woman
who said
I'm a men's lady
wasn't welcomed
with the same cheerfulness.
She was even
inscribed on the blacklist
of the shameless whores
but the famous ones.

I would like to understand
but I cannot.
Perhaps because I'm not
a man or a woman.

I am a panda.

Don't get me wrong
men and women
I can do without
but I like pandas.​

I liked this poem because first off; it was easily read and second; because Lauren expressed humor. (which I like) I have to agree with the flaws of why it is okay to be a ladies man, yet scorn be-falls a men's lady (good point and well said) I also agree with the ending... I like Pandas!

 

[My Erotic Trail]

Whale - From behind a glass curtain

cetacean songs sing through a moon
spangled cavern with crystal walls
and hands that press flat palms
no higher than the small insignificance
on the land can reach to send waves
of thought between the lines and bars
our ocean brother swims through currents
strong enough to wash man's cities'
corruption off soft birth water borne
mariner so ancient and fragile
that a blink in history and you're gone.

Mystical? I marvel at the feel the read leaves but have a tad bit of a hard time understanding small portions of the write, yet it comes clearer as the poem comes to its finish. Mixing ancient with their ability to 'wash man's cities', I enjoyed your poem of these 'fragile' 'ancient mariners.' Whale... from behind a glass curtain

 

[My Erotic Trail]

not sure i've got the hang of the idea of this, but here goes...

Polar Bear Pangs

I watched her shield
grumpy children
as she dodged rain and cars
to cross the road, watched

the kids' heads rise
at the hot chips and burger
smell escaping double doors

under the golden arches,
saw them pounce a puddle
with both feet. She nudged

them inside, cosseted
into a corner table
and smiled as they chomped

and talked fast, chewed
and played in the warmth. Hands
curled around the cappuccino
and she smiled.

I have been to places (Montana, Texas and California) where the bears gather around a vehicle in hopes of a sweet snack or an un-wanted burger. I was unsure near the end rather the viewers were eating and drinking a cappuccino or rather the polar bear was <grin, I took it as the polar bears playing with human sundries. The poem was delightful... both wild and sweet

 

[My Erotic Trail]

Not an apple, not even Eve's
would be had without the bees
and their dizzying dances
telling other bees where all the sexiest
flowers are (sharing resources).

Honeybees traipse the carpet of clover, dust
the simple singles
delve into doubles and tumble in
the trumpets of spring and summer
in love with nature's sex--talk about loving
your job! And we love them
enough to build them houses, to try
to keep them, busy and prophetic

but the sad truth is
they are dying except in Australia
(too many mites envy their honest industry)
so buy all the royal jelly
that you can. And if the bees seem
drawn to you, take it as
a compliment: you must smell
delicious.

From the land of milk and honey, which would not be without the BEES, Honey, one of my favorite treats, especially in tea. The poem, 'floated like a butterfly and stung like a bee' with truths of their extinction. I read that as well, and yet I go out side and swat them away from watermelon, on the back porch only to anger an army of them <grin (~_~) nice write.

 

[My Erotic Trail]

First his heart became to
numb to cry
the illusion of death.

His voice fell
still as he spoke.

His body felt
moths spinning
cocoons in
the dampness of his den.

His eyes moved ,
their wings awakened.

From out of the blue, a mystical piece of literary Art - illustrated poetry that almost always sends my mind into wanting to write about her chosen pictures. Here, blue has chosen a mystical creature, which I felt was the origianl task, to write of such, like the Sphinx, unicorn and so forth, but wasn't exactly sure. Here is a blue one with just such a touch <grin (~_~)

 

[My Erotic Trail]

Great Blue Heron (Ardea herodias)
Nisqually Delta, Spring 2006

His cry is more croak
than call, a reptile sound
that manifests
—with that wingspan,
with that neck—
a pterodactyl past.

I watch him
snap and still a snake.
Posed, he swallows,
wriggling it down.

My wonderful shy fossil.

Blue Herons, ancient creatures, frequent my back yard, I have several poems written of this marvelous animal, Tzara has captured the true acts of this creature with long neck pecks into the water for a meal with a long snake looking neck, good imagry and a very nice poem! (~_~)

 

[My Erotic Trail]

see how they roll

see
how they roll
the lowly rollie-pollies,
of plates in 7 concentric rows,
they like a tiny rhino plowing its way
into most young hearts, playing backyard
games they hide and seek, under wet rocks
and stepping stones, oh these dull grey marbles
lives feeding on decay, ick and rot, 14 swimmerets
when threatened tuck in to become a bowling ball
crustaceans hurled in curled up hinges, pill bugs
terrified rolling upon those little grubby palms
as if cousins of armadillos, they play dead
as backyard opossums, but smaller
even than a hedgehog, we
see how they
roll
​

this was a 'round' as i could get it... : )

I enjoy illustrated poetry, especially when it is constructed from the words, literary Art! Not only lured by the view but by the poem itself, Rollie Pollies were fun to play with as child, now I help them escape the cauldrons of death as they find ways to get into bowl like traps yet they can't seem to find a way out. Miniature armadillos... nice touch (~_~)

 

[My Erotic Trail]

One out of water
Is one far from home
I now assume that posture
Gasping on my side
Powerless appendages twitching
And I long for gills
As my throat is filled
I wished to be jawless
Or for a slit in my ribs
To detect subtle currents
Or for the nerves
Able to produce electric currents
For fending off predators
Anything
To contend with sandy grains of air

Oh
Moving eyes, because that’s possible
Pisces is rising
Consider the constellation
Its stars’ names and meaning
Alrescha: the ropes
Okda: knot
Fum al Samakah: mouth of the fish
The house of fish is 12th and last
The house of death
The tiny deaths
Ropes and knots and open mouths

Everything is underwater now
Thoughts coming further apart
Like: Anais Nin was a Pisces
Then: I wanted to be fluid
And: I have no control over this
Finally: I ask only for breath

His hook through the mouth
A tiny death

I no longer believe
Fish are below or beyond pain

Nor, I now realize, am I.

I recall the saying, 'A fish saved my life once, I ate it,' like the plankton is to whales, fish are to man, one of the reasons the species has survived so well, their ability to catch such creatures for survival. How it would be to be a fish, schooling like children in a city with out the trip to the mall <grin Man symbolizes this creature, as this poet has poetically displayed (~_~) gone fishing... for poetry!

 

[champagne1982]

ok, not that i have any business being critical of anyone else's work, but the rules, the rules say i must say something...

there is a break in thought between these two lines:

of thought between the lines and bars
our ocean brother swims through currents

should there also be a space, a seperation between the two?

and this is tripping me up: man's cities'
its hard to say with the two sss sounds needing a space between them

your stuff always has me tongue tied though : )

Hi HKS, thank you for your well considered review of this poem. If you've ever been to a major aquarium with a whale tank, that would give you a hint to the visual I was trying to capture.

I purposely left off the punctuation, apart from the ending period, so that the reader would be forced to look at all of the possibilities in each line. The two lines you think seem choppy actually are, unless you read the preceding and following lines with it.
Here's one interpretation with a bit of helpful(?) punctuation additives. See if that smooths the reading for you.

no higher than the small insignificance
on the land can reach, to send waves
of thought, between the lines and bars
our ocean brother swims through.
Our ocean brother swims through currents
strong enough to wash man's cities'
corruption off.​

I'd like to say again that I appreciate the thought you gave to my poem.

 

[HotKittySpank]

hey - yeah i totally got the whole aquarium thing. i saw the 'insignificant' hands pressed to glass - all of it. : )

Here's one interpretation with a bit of helpful(?) punctuation additives. See if that smooths the reading for you.

no higher than the small insignificance
on the land can reach, to send waves
of thought, between the lines and bars
our ocean brother swims through.
Our ocean brother swims through currents
strong enough to wash man's cities'
corruption off.​

I'd like to say again that I appreciate the thought you gave to my poem.

ok, so i did read this differently.

more like the 'thought was traveling through lines and bars' and then, 'the ocean brother swims through currents'. if you add the punctuation as above, it changes this idea completely.

as i've said before i'm a learner. at this point my thought process regarding poetry is very elementary. : ) thanks for teaching me something new again. i am loving it so much.

...

 

[annaswirls]

Kangaroo (rat?)

Is it their big eyes
or cartoonlike tail
the way they hop not scurry or scramble?

I cannot call them by their name.

They may steal seed from our birds
tear insulation under the house
who knows if they carry some sort of disease.

I promise my husband I will kill them.
but it is a lie.

 

[bluerains]

androgyny

cuddles so well in the arms of a panda bear...nice use of metaphor...I liked it alot...blue

Fine. I'll go first, you wimps.

Burlesque With Panda

I'm a ladies' man
said the guest with a wink
to the concerned chat show host.

It's true after all
I said to myself.
This time it was an artist
a crooner of romantic ballads
but I remembered the policeman
the intellectual and the doctor
and also the carpenter
and the famous footballer
and that one actor
and I don't know how many
television chat show hosts.
They all know each other
shop at the same supermarket
and are ladies' men.
And it's not that they are
but that so many people
enjoy listening to them
assuring that they are.

To my surprise
(but I'm by nature distracted)
I noticed that the woman
who said
I'm a men's lady
wasn't welcomed
with the same cheerfulness.
She was even
inscribed on the blacklist
of the shameless whores
but the famous ones.

I would like to understand
but I cannot.
Perhaps because I'm not
a man or a woman.

I am a panda.

Don't get me wrong
men and women
I can do without
but I like pandas.​

 

[bluerains]

This work speaks to the heart

makes me think of the whaledreamer site...and it reads like something I might do as no punc. delightful images...blue

Whale - From behind a glass curtain

cetacean songs sing through a moon
spangled cavern with crystal walls
and hands that press flat palms
no higher than the small insignificance
on the land can reach to send waves
of thought between the lines and bars
our ocean brother swims through currents
strong enough to wash man's cities'
corruption off soft birth water borne
mariner so ancient and fragile
that a blink in history and you're gone.

 

[bluerains]

reads like an ode

with lyrical lines and rhyme...dancing images paint a nice tale from your trails..thumbs up...blue

An Ode to the Doves of Lovelady grove

The sinking sun tickled tall timbered pines
cues a Dove to sing a song without rhyme.
Carrying her cries across a lazy green meadow
a breeze that blows by Lovelady Grove's widow.

Sitting on the front porch in a bench swing
a Lady alone with thoughts and her dreams.
Wrapped in her past and humming a tune
swinging and gazing at the slow rising moon.

Paired partners fly and unite out of love
one will survive and become a solo dove.
Every evening she sings her lonely song
nestled in the forest till her days are gone.

Patiently she waits as her loneliness grows
an Ode to the Doves of Lovelady Grove.