A Poetic Challenge

Lady of Lorien

New member
Here's my challenge to all you poets on the forum: I will post a topic or a poem title. The person below me writes a poem on the subject, then posts a new topic/title. The person below them continues...etc...

So the first topic is:

A Drop of Rain on a Leaf
 
Quivering crystal drop
Poised on the edge of an oak leaf
Contemplating liberation
Sailing one final giddy plunge
Before your quest is done

Sparkle in the morning sunshine
Firey glint of sunlight diamond
Far you fell from lofty currents
Yet you still cling tenaciously
To one last bit of heaven

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Deer drinking from a forest brook
 
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Deer drinking from a forest brook



From the deer's perspective (and yes, it *is* in iambic pentameter ;) )



Though to my eye the crystal stream flows clear

With neither rock or branch to bar the way,

Though many vibrant blossoms draw me near,

And fragrant hills and valleys bid me stay,



I am pursued by one who does not rest,

And I do fear he means to make me tame.

Oh leave me to myself to guide my steps!

Why must I follow roads you have declaimed?



You claim your yoke will surely make me free,

If I submit me to your easy rule.

Yet I have made myself your enemy-

Why choose one bound to wander as your tool?



Great King, the very stars your voice obey;

Come seal my heart with cords that will not fray.


*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*


Constellations in the summer night sky...
 
(I really liked your poem. It was beautiful.;))

Reclined upon the grassy earth,
A girl gazed up towards darkened sky.
Reflected in her eyes, new birth
Of wonder for the gems on high.

Oft' of a summery night had she
Glanced upwards with a wearied thought,
Not seeing glowing beauty free
As yet, though black with bright oe'rwrought.

Now gazing up she traced anew
The brilliant locks of goddess-hair;
And claws of Ursa Major drew;
And met her with Orion Fair.

"Oh Lord," she breathed, "My blinded sight
Has failed to wonder at your works,
Forgive my poor, ungrateful flight,
And grant the wisdom that there lurks!"

So gazing at the deepened dark
With spark'ling banners spread on high,
She learned unto His love to hark,
For He had given her this sky!

___________________________

A willow tree... (my favorite tree...;))
 
A summer day, a summer boy, I climbed a willow tree;
Perched on a branch in pleasant breeze, I pondered consciously
These fleeting peaceful childhood moments, not for long to be,
And learned afresh the value of a vivid memory.


(This actually happened; our neighbors had a willow tree.)

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Upon Having To Admit Being Wrong
 
yay nice Poems everyone ^^ truly they are excellent.

I would try, but I am no good at Poet. =[ they would be a disgrace to your poetry, truly, they would.
 
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Upon Having To Admit Being Wrong

All right, I'll try it, just to keep things moving...:D

I looked around for one to blame,
But could not justly point my hand;
There was not one for me to name,
For deep I knew it was my brand.

I ran from peopled streets and ways,
Convinced that everywhere I turned
The people laughed, knew my dismays,
And that I ever would be spurned.

Not one excuse could I bring forth,
Though to myself I still told lies;
I thought to hide from my unworth;
I prayed that I would ne'er be wise.

Yet through the days I felt its breath,
My crime behind me ever stepped;
Until at last, accepting death,
I turned to face the truth: I wept.

But underneath the pain of truth,
I new uncovered hidden joys;
No longer from myself aloof,
I knew my honesty un-alloyed.

And never can forgiveness of
Ourself or from our fellow men,
Be found until that perfect dove
Of truth alights our darkened den.
;)
_____________________________
On A Child's Kiss
 
Lady of Lorien, that was MAGNIFICENT!!!

Now to reciprocate, "A Child's Kiss."



One kiss is given to arouse, another to distract;
One kiss is like a promise, while another's just a fact.
One kiss is to invite you, and another's to dismiss;
But there's a special sweetness when a child gives you a kiss.

The label "unconditional" is greatly overused,
But children's love at least could be described as "unconfused."
When children kiss and hug you, they're not making a demand,
Unless for what they really should be getting from your hand.

To love a little girl or boy should come so naturally;
If we don't love them, there is something wrong with you and me.
Jack Lewis made confession, it was his deficiency
That love of children didn't come for him so easily.

But love involves the will; and where the sentiment is weak,
By choice and grace we can produce the love that children seek.
Jack Lewis overcame his coldness, treating children well,
And was a fine stepfather, as his stepson Doug will tell.

Thus each of us, as parent or as uncle or as aunt,
A teacher or a neighbor, has a blessing we can grant.
When children offer love with kisses, or with calls to play,
It's in the power of us all to love them in some way.

===============================================


"My Grandmother's Attic"
 
All these poems are magnificent!

Please excuse that my poem is not rhymed, I don´t have the slightest clue about how to rhyme in english :D

In my grandmothers attic

In my grandmothers attic
secrets lurk hidden away
in casckets, clothes and chests.
They humbly lie around and hope
than one day they shall be seen.

One day when the sun will shine
an innocent child will come
and reveal all the secrets
up in my grandmothers attic.

It´ll walk around the attic,
eyeing all it´s secret,
opening them up,
letting them spring out again

The secrets lie around in the dark and carry this hope in their heart that:

“One day when the sun will shine
an innocent child will come
and reveal all the secrets
up in my grandmothers attic”

-----------------------------
"Wild horses"
 
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Thundering presence
Wild spirit of the open plain
Proud, untamed grace
The golden sun sheds fire
Its power rises in the grass
Its richness distills in the verdant strands
The wild horse captures its benefit
He breathes the wild wind
He drinks the wild rain
Fallen from thunder, embraced by the earth
Conjoined into mighty streams
The power of elemental grandeur
Distilled into one proud master
The wild horse of the plains

---

A snowflake
 
Don't apologize for your poem not rhyming. There are four ways for a poem to be poetic:

--Rhyming is one, but not the oldest.

--There's also alliteration, which was used in Icelandic and otherwise Nordic sagas, e.g. "The hefty hero heaved his halberd."

--Regular rhythm of syllables.

--In the absence of any of the above, a poem is still poetic provided that its choice of words gives a poetic FEEL. This, of course, is the hardest element to define, and so some aspiring poets think they have achieved it when all they've done is break up a prose sentence into fragments; but in your poem, you HAVE achieved that poetic feel. Well done, especially in view of not writing in your native language!


We await a poet of horses...

EveningStar: NO WE DON'T....WE AWAIT A POET OF SNOWFLAKES....READ ABOVE
 
EveningStar, I didn't know you could get INSIDE my own post; that's impressive! But perhaps your intervention is what prevented me from making the edit I was going to make anyway on that very point--because, as I've already told you via PM, your horse-post and my post about the nature of poetry were almost simultaneous. But since you've drawn me back into the thread:


First snowflake strikes earth:
Transient Star of David,
Melting, forgotten.


--------------------------------

About being made to wait in a public place!
 
Tweedledee and Tweedledum
Are my names for my own two thumbs;
The only thing that I can move,
For all else "does not me behoove."

Over to the left of me,
Some children scream and shout, run free.
On the other hand, the right,
A pair of men most loudly fight.

I sigh, and turn the page to read,
Though on the words my brain won't feed.
The best I can, must try to be,
No burden to society.
:rolleyes:
That's silly.:rolleyes:

EDIT: Oh dear, now I forgot the topic... Unless someone else has come up with something already in the time my topic has been missing, let's go for "A Butterfly"... :o
 
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THIS IS A FIRST DRAFT OF FIRST IMPRESSIONS
ORDINARILY I WOULD NOT POST SOMETHING THIS RAW

Imprisoned in a public place
Queued in a line of strangers
Each on errands that come and go
From my sphere like shooting stars
Bright for a moment
Disappearing into dark obscurity
Mildly voyeuristic they watch
Seeking some sign from my countenance
That I am not some face
But a fellow traveller, a source of comfort
In the crushing loneliness of crowds
I say "I like your scarf"
The stranger smiles and thanks me out of hand
And then the clerk says "Next"
The link is broken
We shuffle forward one more step
The shooting star grows black
On some deep level I realize
My star has also dimmed
Such is the loneliness of crowds
 
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