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WCT - The Writing Competition Thread [Short Story Results]

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Hello, OC fans! I've been running around this website for at least four years, but I've never had the heart to come out of my dark box of bandwidth-usage. But I saw this writing competition thread, and thought I'd come out and post something for the occasion.

The title of my poem is called "The Kiss." It doesn't follow any particular format for poetry that I am aware of.

Edit: The author of the poem is myself, which would be Chris Allen (AKA Chirus E. Highwind).

The Kiss

I looked upon her kindled face,

Amidst the rooks in this moonlit place,

And we locked into a looming stare,

As my fingers sifted through her hair.

My heart - thumping, my eyes - a gaze,

We embraced each other in this sudden daze,

My lips kissed hers and she 'a mine,

And thus then forth, our heart entwine.

The moon drew down to watch in please,

And the world hushed itself to slow ease,

But the leaves on the trees shook with force,

And my lover's lips took their divorce.

She then looked away deep into the brush,

And with tears forming, she turned to mush,

They melted down from out her lustrous eyes,

"I cannot," She cries,

"I cannot," She cries...

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Heya!

I am back - Whoo!

>_>

<_<

Here ish poems :P

Semiconductor

People laugh at me 'cause I'm wired

I laugh back, however.

So what if I am bound, tethered to this earth by these optic fibers?

So what if my wrists are tied behind my back with electrical tape?

So what if I am gagged by my own gaming headset or chained to the wall by my power cord?

Now you may ask - "dear brother, how can you possibly laugh back?

It seems they have quite an argument against you."

Well, I say in response.

Quite simply,

Because I'm wireless.

Kthx.

Also, how has everyone been?

~Khold

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Wow, I just made it in time.

Beyond the Sea of Memories

In fading, bitter consciousness I lay

Upon my weary vessel’s surface bare,

And shift into the aether amethyst,

My home as wand’ring sailor in the bay

Of nascent dreams, to find Alisa’s stare

From sandy shore, aloft her goddess form

With piercing eyes as stars in foamy mist,

And lunar pallor as Endymion’s fay.

She tells me not her second name, or where

Ascends her fantasy’s sweet genesis,

But takes my hand in vagrancies seaborne

To freely swim and rest on shoals and stones,

Ere leaving me to face the blinding morn—

For when I harshly wake—I wake alone.

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pandora's lunchbox

coldcuts and razorwire

fill my face with glee

3/4 dancing down the hall

raining on all who see

when the time arrives

my friends will storm

and the fun will be a siege

drawing on plastique bags

the hours tire

time to set you free~

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What a nice turnout so far! Thanks to all of you for your participation. To everyone else: there's about an hour and a half to submit, folks. If it can be done, do it.

As for my poem, I'm terribly dissatisfied with it, but I am still on pain meds from my wisdom teeth extraction yesterday so there's not much chance that I'll a) stay awake much longer and B) have the will of mind to concentrate on improving it any more. Here we go:

Spelunking

Do not pretend you do not know

what it means to chase the sunrise,

to floor the pedal one morning

and race to meet it—somewhere,

then turn and watch as it falls,

waiting the night to flee before it.

Let me tell you one such tale:

Once man went and found a hole

from which blew Earth’s chill breath.

He dig-dug-dug to fall into the Lake of Dreams

where everything he ever saw collected,

reflected. And there he met the sullen specter,

gleaming white as the moon or Pluto.

It stalked him throughout and out,

haunting as a watchful pillar from God,

appearing there, afar, here, face-to-face,

now and then, everywhere.

You may think it pleasant

to frolic with your demons,

toy with them as they toy with you,

until you are so caged.

You see, not all who chase the sunrise

will again flee before it.

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Huh. Must be the time of year to have wisdom teeth extractions... a friend of mine also got hers out on Friday, and I got mine out last May, so I know how painful it is. I hope you get better soon, Imagery!

Anyway...

Voted-ed-ed-ed-ed-ed

... ed.

This was one of the best sets of poem submissions I've seen here. Great job everyone! I wish I could've participated, but with my focus almost entirely on my novel, I just didn't have any inspiration for poetry this time around.

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who do we send teh votes to again?

>_<;;

also, on the subject of wisdom teeth - i have some advice.

the first 2 days are the worst - keep popping the pain pills ^^

food will suck for a while - so if you love food - you are out of luck for about 4-5days.

DO NOT DROOL WHEN YOU SLEEP! trust me.

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Here are the voting rules again:

- Early or late votes will not be accepted.

- Anyone may vote, even if he or she does not have a current submission. If foul play is suspected (i.e., an entrant finding a bunch of friends or alt accounts to artificially support their entry) an investigation will occur.

- When voting, you will award your allotted points to any two or more entries as you choose. Note: this means you may not award all of your points to one and only one entry.

- Scoring: If the voter has submitted an entry this round, he or she will be allotted 6 points to distribute. If the voter has NOT submitted this round, he or she will be allotted 3 points.

- A voter may allot up to one point to his or her own entry if he or she so chooses.

- Please submit all votes via PM to me (Imagery).

And here are the entries (all nine of them)! Everyone check your own, make sure I didn't mess it up in any way when I was copying it. :P

Random Hajile

To You;

To you, possessed of such a tempting grace,

moving so sublimely through star-struck space;

Can I ask of you this quiet question-

Why do those sad tears frame that flawless face?

What’s the reason for that cultured lesson

that laces your well-controlled complexion?

Have you, through some finally-found fancy

been shown the harsh meaning of rejection?

Maybe, you dreamt of a light romancing

Under the moons bright, fatal faerie-fire

Its sight telling tales of your desire,

That sad love ethereal- transient?

No? I didn’t think that the murky mire

That we call “Love” would have you trapped today-

To make such stories of these fallen fae,

As an excuse to perform worn word-play

Or! Maybe, it’s some other telling tale

That led you into this unjust travail-

And left you with those shining streaks

Across a face falling pallid and pale-

Had your plans reached the goal, that high peak,

Then plunged; wasted - leaving you worn and weak

With no way out, no truly clear choices,

No way to gain the happiness you seek?

Did you want a house with joyful voices,

A backyard echoing lilting laughter?

Has some callous event foreclosed that chapter

And filled your soul with some private poison?

No, I don’t think that’s what I‘m after.

You’re not being held by some coarse constraint-

Nor your body filled with some tragic taint

that would end with you faltering, and faint.

Do you long for adventuresome release,

Your daily work having no such surcease-

And staring entranced-so at the stratus,

You dream of those mighty in name and deed?

Those stories, the ones that you always read-

Do they make you long for that single pleasure,

Proof of beauty and things unseen, proof of need-

Proof of some fantasy beyond measure?

Don’t lose faith in finding the forever,

The sacrosanct is in those clouds so rare.

And magic is there, suspended in air-

As long as you don’t consider never.

Maybe, I could help in your endeavor,

Together, a meeting of star-bright minds-

Rhyme after rhyme, perhaps we will find

Some tool to meld your fantasy with time.

So Lady, giving thought where it’s due, then

I can only tell you this Plight of Men

And be it my damning declaration,

I will never let you be hurt again!

You will never want for stone or station,

Nor need to seek some other relation.

If the dreary dusk deigned to mar your mood,

To make a Sun, I’d master creation!

To your beauty I would always allude,

(The runic tint to those even-ether eyes)

No comparison would bespeak of lies;

Only to the lay does the truth elude –

So Lady, let my love for you give rise,

To the dawning of our sublunary Sun!

For you; My suitors pledge that come what come,

On my honor, my life; Thy will be done!

Mechasonic4ever

In the dark of night, not a noise is heard

In the dark of night, not a person moves ahead

They all lay sleeping in their beds

While in their heads are lingering dreams most absurd

In the dreams of people, all their wishes come true

In the Dreams of people, nothing can stop them from what they conceive

The all consist of various fantasies, both real and make believe

While in their thoughts they know that the dream cannot ensue

In the last minutes, we cling to our dreams

In the last minutes, we know that reality is near

They all try to resist, refusing to give what they hold dear

While in their dreams, they are pried from it at the seams

In the seconds before, all the memories remain

In the seconds before, the vivid tales stay clear

They all hold on to them, as they seem to disappear

While in their minds, they know not what tomorrow’s dreams contain

Darklink42

Masking Tape

When you woke up, you were plain

Only the veil you put on

your face hides the truth.

Frame that with dangling decoration

and put it above fashion

statements which fit the mold

people you'll never meet created.

How much becomes false

when what is presented is manufactured?

Impatient attitude? check.

Practiced facial expressions? double check.

Mirror seems to mock as it breaks

the disguise, winking in scattered pieces.

Even photographs feel unreal because

your eyes refuse to lie.

Barnsalot

Night's Bygone Fantasy

Alone I awoke from a deep, dark slumber

My body, with chills, sweat cold.

And, I peered at the clock and betook its number

Only ten 'til one, the night yet to unfold.

T'was a nightmare I'd dreamed

Of the cruelest, vilest sort.

Of ghouls and of goblins it teemed

Of lives full of hope, cut short.

"Only a dream," I chided myself,

And crept to the pantry for comfort.

And there I beheld, not a shelf, but an elf,

My mind, I thought, began to distort.

But, then he drew forward,

Withdrew from his sash

A sword,

And beckoned me do nothing rash.

I turned around then,

And beheld with my eyes

All throughout the kitchen

A scene of surprise

The ghouls and the goblins of bygone fantasy

In attendance now,

T'was plain to see,

But how?

The elf, he strode forward,

And raised above his head

The ancient, runic sword,

The goblins soon to be dead.

But before he could strike,

The world shuddered grey

And it seemed to me like,

I was awaking to a brand-new day.

ChirusHighwind

The Kiss

I looked upon her kindled face,

Amidst the rooks in this moonlit place,

And we locked into a looming stare,

As my fingers sifted through her hair.

My heart - thumping, my eyes - a gaze,

We embraced each other in this sudden daze,

My lips kissed hers and she 'a mine,

And thus then forth, our heart entwine.

The moon drew down to watch in please,

And the world hushed itself to slow ease,

But the leaves on the trees shook with force,

And my lover's lips took their divorce.

She then looked away deep into the brush,

And with tears forming, she turned to mush,

They melted down from out her lustrous eyes,

"I cannot," She cries,

"I cannot," She cries...

Kholdstare

Semiconductor

People laugh at me 'cause I'm wired

I laugh back, however.

So what if I am bound, tethered to this earth by these optic fibers?

So what if my wrists are tied behind my back with electrical tape?

So what if I am gagged by my own gaming headset or chained to the wall by my power cord?

Now you may ask - "dear brother, how can you possibly laugh back?

It seems they have quite an argument against you."

Well, I say in response.

Quite simply,

Because I'm wireless.

Bruce Lee

Beyond the Sea of Memories

In fading, bitter consciousness I lay

Upon my weary vessel’s surface bare,

And shift into the aether amethyst,

My home as wand’ring sailor in the bay

Of nascent dreams, to find Alisa’s stare

From sandy shore, aloft her goddess form

With piercing eyes as stars in foamy mist,

And lunar pallor as Endymion’s fay.

She tells me not her second name, or where

Ascends her fantasy’s sweet genesis,

But takes my hand in vagrancies seaborne

To freely swim and rest on shoals and stones,

Ere leaving me to face the blinding morn—

For when I harshly wake—I wake alone.

Manic Cinq

pandora's lunchbox

coldcuts and razorwire

fill my face with glee

3/4 dancing down the hall

raining on all who see

when the time arrives

my friends will storm

and the fun will be a siege

drawing on plastique bags

the hours tire

time to set you free~

Imagery

Spelunking

Do not pretend you do not know

what it means to chase the sunrise,

to floor the pedal one morning

and race to meet it—somewhere,

then turn and watch as it falls,

waiting the night to flee before it.

Let me tell you one such tale:

Once man went and found a hole

from which blew Earth’s chill breath.

He dig-dug-dug to fall into the Lake of Dreams

where everything he ever saw collected,

reflected. And there he met the sullen specter,

gleaming white as the moon or Pluto.

It stalked him throughout and out,

haunting as a watchful pillar from God,

appearing there, afar, here, face-to-face,

now and then, everywhere.

You may think it pleasant

to frolic with your demons,

toy with them as they toy with you,

until you are so caged.

You see, not all who chase the sunrise

will again flee before it.

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Thanks for the wishes and advice and assistance, guys. It's actually been a fairly easy experience for me. I mean, the pain hasn't been bad at any point so far (this being my third day into it, and first day off the pills), and it's not like I haven't been able to eat anything (just ice cream the first day, but I managed macaroni, tomato soup and grilled cheese yesterday and an omelet this morning), so last night I was mostly exhausted from the long day.

Anyway, thanks again for compiling the entries, Barnsalot, although everyone should note that Irregular's entry has been disqualified (see the original posting for an explanation). And Kholdstare, I know it's been a while since you last joined us so if you (or anyone else) have any questions about the new voting system, just shoot me a PM and I'll be glad to clarify.

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Just a few days left to vote. Only about half of the entrants have voted, so I'll probably be PMing the rest who haven't (and non-current entrants who haven't) soon to remind them. With such a big turnout, it would be a shame to have a poor show for voting!

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Heh, are things always this quiet as the results turn out?

I thought I'd post something, since I've been checking in nearly daily and few words have been spoken. I don't know if you all are as quite as excited about this as I am. I've even begun thinking about what I might post for the next contest...Something involving a mind-wriggling conclusion, an analogical storyline, and my usual romantic-ish-ness...Maybe. In addition, if any of you talented writers are interested, I can write my opinions about your poems...Once the contest is over, of course. I'd be joyous to hear your thoughts, and share mine.

I think that pretty much sums up everything...

...Oh yeah! I wanted to show a new poem I've written, which is kind of a follow-up to the poem I posted for the contest, "The Kiss." Hard critique would be nice, I might fix it up a bit more before I consider it complete. I know this isn't exactly a place for sharing personal literature - and I'll gladly remove it if you consider it too off-topic.

Scarred

Why has love cursed me so?

In the illimitable nights,

I rock to and fro,

Between the content conscious,

And where the lost men go…

This execrable love I stow,

It bled onto my hands,

A daggered scar they show,

It seeped out from my eyes,

Warped my heart into a bow,

And then ripped and wrecked it so,

Out from me a thousand fragments flow.

The pieces storm around me, sift and blow,

And spray forth a fiendish fire,

Cineres cineribus, everything I know…

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Heh, are things always this quiet as the results turn out?

Yeah, things are always pretty quiet during the "off-season" around here. Most of us are busy people, and it's common to see us push back the deadlines for competitions by that fact. So, coming around when there isn't a deadline... We just usually don't have the time for it. I'm sure I don't speak for all of us, but I know that's the case for several, including myself.

I can write my opinions about your poems

We've had critiques like that before and I haven't seen anyone get upset about it. Most people appreciate the criticism. So, go for it if you want.

As to your poem, I'm no critic. This is just my opinion:

I like rhyming in poetry, but I'm a stickler when it comes to rhyme schemes. It starts out rhyming ABACAD, but then it changes.

I'm not sure what you're trying to describe in it, but it sounds good. It flows. You keep up a pretty consistent tempo throughout the poem. If you ask me, it would be even more consistent if you had kept with a regular rhyme scheme. But, once again, those are just my opinions, and I'm no professional.

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Yeah, things are always pretty quiet during the "off-season" around here. Most of us are busy people, and it's common to see us push back the deadlines for competitions by that fact. So, coming around when there isn't a deadline... We just usually don't have the time for it. I'm sure I don't speak for all of us, but I know that's the case for several, including myself.

I can understand that. I don't lead a very busy life, so I have a lot of time for unneccesary thread trailing. Things are picking up, though, with summer being just around the corner, and schools closing down.

We've had critiques like that before and I haven't seen anyone get upset about it. Most people appreciate the criticism. So, go for it if you want.

I'd just like to know that they would read and enjoy the criticism, so I ask that they ask for it. Maybe I'll move to the writing thread that Darklink42 mentioned after the competition is over, and post critique there if I happen to see any of the poems re-posted there. I might even post some of my own.

I like rhyming in poetry, but I'm a stickler when it comes to rhyme schemes. It starts out rhyming ABACAD, but then it changes.

"Scarred" is one of those particular poems of mine that is made not to follow the standard - it is written to not have a scheme or a meter, but still have rhyming and cadence, almost similar to free verse. Also, every single rhyme is that of the "-oh" sound.

All of my poems vary in standard and tone. I always try to write from the heart, and whatever way a poem starts is what I go with. I can often "destroy" a poem if I try to adhere it to a theme, when it came to me without one.

I'm not sure what you're trying to describe in it, but it sounds good. It flows.

You'd have to understand the back-story to the poem - which can be kind of interpreted if you look closely at the poem I submitted for the contest, "The Kiss." In a nutshell, I fell in love with someone, and then I couldn't be with them. Which is why the first line of "Scarred" states, "why has love cursed me so?" Also, cineres cineribus is Latin for "ashes to ashes." If you'd like to know the full story, I'd like to tell it over the private message system.

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About two and a half hours left to vote, folks. The turnout has been less than stellar, which is a shame, but I honestly doubt it will improve with an extension of the deadline. So unless I get some kind of outcry in favor of extending the vote, NOW is the time.

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Sorry, guys. I meant to tally everything up this afternoon, but I was so tired that I had to take a nap or there's no way I could be so freaking pumped to see Rilo Kiley tonight. Luckily I gave myself a fourth day on top of the usual three because I figured something like this might happen, so I'll have to put it up before work tomorrow since I can hardly do anything but jam to "Portions for Foxes" right now. Yes, the concert was amazing, and I'm pretty much going to have to marry Jenny Lewis now.

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Er, woops. Ran out of time before work, but here I am, still before my own deadline! :-P

THE RESULTS ARE IN!

Runner-Up: ChirusHighwind

1st Place: Random Hajile

Congratulations RH/Leon K. on securing yet another poetry victory. And congratulations to newcomer ChirusHighwind for hanging in there; it takes some pretty slick work to keep neck-and-neck with RH, and you certainly have that in spades. Here's the vote spread:

Barnsalot - 6

Bruce Lee - 8

ChirusHighwind - 10

Darklink42 - 3

Imagery - 5

Kholdstare - 3

Manic Cinq - 2

Mechasonic4ever - 3

Random Hajile - 11

Hopefully we'll get you two some nice sig badges shortly. And to everyone else: good work. We had quite a surge in submissions this time around, but not a corresponding surge in voting, so given that everyone was awarded a significant portion of a least one of our few voter's points, there are certainly no losers in this competition. I hope to see you all back again in a couple weeks for July's AMERICAN FREEDOM--err, I mean, freeform competition.

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I'm sorry, but I have to make a criticism of the winning entry. I used to write poetry like that. The criticism is not in the actual construction of the poem, but basically what the entire thing is about and the mood of the speaker. It bothered me when I read it, but now that it won, I'd better say my piece.

It is patronizing. Really, really, patronizing. And I can almost imagine how it came about because I've been there. I don't doubt that I may be wrong, but to me it sound like the speaker in question has a crush on some girl, probably of the high-maintenance, unattainable, zero-personality why-did-I-waste-my-time-on-this-person-in-high-school-in-retrospect kind. Being that kind of girl, she's just been screwed over by the typical idiot who courts her and cried about it. Here comes the dashing poet with a bunch of flowery, well-intentioned language, wasted upon some person whose reaction to this would be to get a restraining order and then create jokes at the speaker's expense with her clique. Even if she is a thoughtful person, the speaker is still effectively coming on like a total balls-out horndog, even if veiled through verse describing romantic love and offering the resolution of all her romantic ills through a person she's never even met.

And here's what really bothers me:

So Lady, let my love for you give rise,

To the dawning of our sublunary Sun!

For you; My suitors pledge that come what come,

On my honor, my life; Thy will be done!

No. You don't say that. Not to a crush or someone you don't even know as close friends. That ending flourish and suggestion of love based on the sole virtues that both speaker and object of desire both want love effortlessly crowns the entire poem as arrogant. Love is ten thousand times deeper than this, based on the most deepest, shared personal experience, intimacy, and affection. This poem is a creature of a misguided crush, but it also smacks of obsession. It is useless to idolize crushes, because it is idolizing a physical facade. True love comes from the unification of two minds; to already write this about one whose mind and manners are a mystery is a counterproductive endeavor. Destroy the illusion and talk to her. The greatest feeling of mutual, perfect love is a deep note that resonates more loudly than ten-thousand pseudoromantic gestures.

Note if any of the above sound sexist based on the criticism of the shallow girl archetype, one needs no reminder that shallowness is shared equally by both sexes.

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Honestly, I had no problem with the piece. Sometimes you have to look at it from a perspective outside of the modern times. In this case, the piece was very stylized and was really shooting for an older feel. (I'm making assumptions based on my interpretation mind you, so I hope I'm not too off.)

As a result of that, when I read it, I treated it with the same regard as I would a piece from the evoked era. In this case a time before there was equality of the sexes.

Beyond that, there was more. I don't know if it's against the rules to speak of how we voted post round, but in this case I feel it fair to say that I gave some points to Leon. It was a poem well written, and I wish I'd seen more of them when I was an editor for a literary magazine a year ago. He made excellent use of rhyme, and a very rare thing I've found, meter. I say rare because a lot of the time I see poems that all read like Doctor Seuss when employing end-rhyme.

edit: there will be more, but I've sadly distracted myself and it's 2:30 in the morning.

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A few comments I wrote when I read these the first time:

Random Hajile - To You;

It did not sound like shakespeare, although it sounds like you enjoy that style.

This was very fun to read, but the first word that came to my mind was "pretentious".

That said though: I don't like it.

Barnsalot - Night's Bygone Fantasy

Sort of like Random Hajile's problem, except you can't pull it off nearly as well.

Advice: stick to language you are comfortable with

OK people, what's with this trend of trying to sound like you're writing from another time period?

Kholdstare - Semiconductor

<3

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