Poetry Contest

Chatterbox: Pudding's Place

Poetry Contest

Poetry Contest

Well, we haven't had one of these in a while, have we? Time for a new one, I say! Welcome, resident poets!

The rules are pretty simple. I am the first judge. I will give you a theme, and you must write a poem relating to the theme. Be creative with your interpretations! I will then judge the entries by a set date, and the winner will then be the next judge, and set the next theme. And so on, and so forth. 

The first theme will be... *dramatic drumroll*

Stars! Whether you chose to write about the kind of stars you wish on, or the kind that take the stage, I will be eagerly awaiting your sparkly, shiny, beautiful poems. Have them in by... Saturday, March 18. Two weeks. Sound fair? 

I hope to see your poems soon!

~Booksy <3 

submitted by Booksy Owly
(March 4, 2017 - 8:58 pm)

ooh, this is an interesting poem. the rhythm and the narrative voice sound as if the speaker hasn't lost any self-confidence despite everything that's happened, and that makes the last line ring more true - because you're wondering how things are going to end for the speaker, but you don't expect the final triumphant declaration. It almost sounds arrogant, expecially because by claiming to be a god, the narrator undermines the idea of being a saint. It reconciles the two conflicting forces that you see throughout the poem (the narrator and society's attitude) in a way that you don't expect, but which also makes sense.

I'm also struck by the way the narrator is caught up in society's reaction. the triumph of the final line reflects a certain pleasure at being proved right, but then again, the world has actually "burned" - something that might also provoke dismay and regret. but there doesn't seem to be any of that emotion on the narrator's part. I wonder if that's a reflection on what happens when society casts people out - do they become harder and bitterer, less empathetic toward the sociey that rejected them?

It's also interesting how each stanza shows a different phase of rejection - the one beginning "I was a saint until my prophecies sounded like curses" shows the initial reaction and violence; then comes the rejection itself and the narrator's adjustment; then finally comes loneliness and emptiness. Then comes the ultimate triumph for the narrator, but since it isn't described with any imagery, like the other stages are, it's as if the narrator is focusing more on previous experiences.

Using the double slashes is an effective technique too; it keeps the pace tense, and it adds to the visual effect, because it seems reminiscent of flashes of light.

And finally the meaning itself... It's very relatable. It seems to be a common occurence that society doesn't want to believe that its actions may lead to doom. I think it's really something that people throughout history have experienced :/

submitted by Poinsettia
(July 8, 2024 - 8:36 pm)

I really love this, actually. it's a cool way to take the prompt!!

submitted by Woodwind@pangolin
(July 9, 2024 - 2:58 pm)

Oh my gosh this is so beautiful! I love the narrative and idea of a phrophet cast aside because the people do not want to believe what they say. Your wording and cadence is also sublime!

submitted by Jaybells, Lost in the Universe
(July 12, 2024 - 1:23 pm)

I wrote this pretty late last night and though it makes sense to me it may not to anyone else? It's supposed to be a loose sketch of a character based on one way a person may react to feelings of abandonment or loneliness. I read once about the idea that a hurt person might grow into the hero they needed and never got; it's sort of an exploration of that concept. Hopefully that makes sense; I'm still not totally happy with it but here

 

the guide

I am afraid

I do not mean I am temporarily experiencing fear but rather

that I was born feeling it

 

but was I born? 

I do not know 

all I’m sure of is that I am made of the stars and thus belong to them

(or do they belong to me? a question that is indubitably 

the daughter of my hubris)

 

my origins do not matter to those whose hands I take

“I will guide you,” I say

“you will not get lost in the dark; you will not slip in the rain”

nobody asks me why although I long to tell them

 

I am the abandoned

I had no gods to look to when I was young and weak and

most tragically, perhaps, alone

alone is an ordinary tragedy and it happens 

again and again and again

 

they say you become whoever it was you needed most

they say you fill whatever hole lives inside of you 

it’s natural to attempt to fix what broke you

no hand ever reached out to me when I begged begged begged

but you don’t have to cry 

you have mine

 

you will not ask me who I was before my eyes dulled

you will not ask me why I do this

you will not ask me anything except “what can you give to me?”

and that’s okay because that’s all I’m really here for anyway

 

at times I ask myself why I believe I will heal a scar 

that is objectively permanent 

and the truth is my actions do not represent an attempt to do so

but rather my hope that someday 

someone else will know what I need

and then maybe it will be them

who reaches out a hand to me

 

will this truly heal me?

I fear it is too late 

maybe I am just a liar,

weaving tales and playing goddess

desperately clawing for some illusion of power

and when it all goes away I’ll still be

forsaken and nothing, nothing else


submitted by Periwinkle, age 14, Somewhere in the stars
(July 6, 2024 - 9:51 pm)

This is so, so good and a lovely direction to take the prompt in! I adore the hope, even if it is tarnished by doubt a little in the end. This is something that resonates particularly hard with me because I am this kind of person, almost trying to make up for the people I never had, but knowing I will neber be able to. All you can do is try to be that somebody to another, but you never truly erase those scars from yourself. I think you put it wonderfully.

submitted by Jaybells, Lost, somewhere
(July 12, 2024 - 1:30 pm)

Thank you so much! I'm also this way, to honest, and while the concept itself is sort of sad I think it's a beautiful form of empathy as well. It was a very fun idea to explore!

submitted by Periwinkle, age 14, Somewhere in the stars
(July 12, 2024 - 8:13 pm)

Congratulations @Bobcat -- your poem was like wow!! -- and @everyone; as always, your poems were all amazing!!! Tysm @Luna-Starr for judging!!!

I'm not entirely happy with this, but I'm open to feedback :)

 

Forsaken

 

You walked away years ago

And left me in the sand;

Before I could follow your footprints,

The tide washed them away,

Leaving me to swim with the fish.

 

Water burbling into my mouth

And air felt as heavy as sandbags

And I tried to swim but my limbs were useless because you never taught me how to part water.

 

(I've never felt so

Forsaken.)

 

The moon rose and I watched as its white glow bathed everything in a gentle caress--

The waves and I became one.

 

You left me years ago

To breathe sand;

I learned to swim when I fell

And there was no one there to catch me,

 

My lungs gasping and closing and stilling,

The butterflies dying one by one in the cold;

I could breathe underwater. 

 

(You left me forsaken,

You left me cold and shivering and needing,

You left me and never once looked back.)

 

I glide in the ocean waves now

And dive to dance on the seafloor;

The ocean my own.

I float in this mighty ocean

With its tides and currents and broken glass bottles--

The ocean, 

Where all forsaken things go.

 

And here, I finally make my home.

submitted by CelineBurning Bright
(July 7, 2024 - 11:50 am)

I love your poem! Each line feels meaningful and breathtaking, especially the last stanza and line...

submitted by Moon Wolf@Celine, age lunars, A Celestial Sky
(July 9, 2024 - 5:26 pm)

This is gorgeous, Celine! I love the second-and-third-to-last stanzas, but the whole poem is worded beautifully. I especially like "The ocean / Where all forsaken things go." It tickles my inner artist and makes me want to write something based off of this. The idea of healing by entwining oneself with the ocean is truly a splendid one!

submitted by Jaybells, Lost, somewhere
(July 12, 2024 - 1:37 pm)

Here is my attempt at writing a poem with slashes and stuff-

 

Each word is woven carefully

Hiding my missed threads/splinters/feelings

Caught just a bit too in the air/in the open

They are gently knitted over/suppressed

The quilt is not quite right/never complete

And I simply keep trying/can’t stop

Threading perfect stitches over leftover

Gaps/wounds that I have yet to fill/hide

Polished with glittering jewels/tears

That I hope everyone will appreciate/won’t hate

How meticulous it is that I aim to please/conceal

Everyone’s expectations/slippery sky-high ledges

That I let them interpret/that I avoid

The bigger picture/which they won’t try to know

Yet why do I keep sewing/needling each detail

When in the end cloth still frays/falls apart

And/no amount of threading will fix it

I suppose my lovingly sewn quilt/fragile facade

Will be grown out of/forsaken, left in the dust

When /no amount of stitching can keep out /

The light rain falls down onto the quilt

Forsaken when it’s no longer strong enough

To keep out the storm

submitted by Moon Wolf, age lunars, A Celestial Sky
(July 7, 2024 - 2:56 pm)

This is a cool idea! I like the undertones that are echoed in the option after the slashes. The concept of a tapestry that is being woven throughout the poem is neat, too!

submitted by Jaybells, Lost, somewhere
(July 12, 2024 - 1:47 pm)

Thank you so much! That means a lot. :D 

submitted by Moon Wolf@Jaybells, age lunars, A Celestial Sky
(July 12, 2024 - 4:51 pm)

Brimstone and ash

Is all that awaits me, they say

Eternal torment in a lake of fire,

A thousand whips and lashings.

I laugh. 

As if they haven't made this life just as miserable.

I know better than anyone. 

You forget how hellish you make the world

For all those deemed "impure," "unvirtuous,"

Meanwhile you twist it to say

That your God has mercy, will one day take this pain away.

You scorn the ones who falter, prey on those who waver

Like a cult, stripping away all semblance of self

Until there is nothing left but blind devotion.

You think your pure white exterior is the pinnacle of existence,

Exhault it 'til you bleed, and even then it isn't enough,

No, you must grind every other into bonedust and viscera,

No point in saving such blemished beings, those that sully your perfect vision. 

And then the pride, oh the pride, you hold

All high and mighty for the beliefs you spew, coating the world in doubt.

I too once believed in a God.

A God of righteousness and love; kindness, mercy, and hope.

I once wholeheartedly thought

That the best thing in the world was to be saved, or to save

That was my whole life's mission

And immense guilt rang through me each day

I could not say I had saved someone. 

Now, though, I see clearly how foolish I was to think so:

What love do you feel when denying those of their rights and autonomy?

What mercy do you feels as you blast gentiles to bits in their homes?

What is right about forcing the suffering to endure in silence

And raising up those who have done such great wrongs?

Why leave behind those who have questions, who need reassurance,

Those who are most desperately in need? 

Rather than help, you condemn them, condemn us instead. 

And so 

I have forsaken the God and church

Who first forsook me. 

submitted by Jaybells, Idk, kinda mad
(July 8, 2024 - 11:43 am)

Whoa. 

@Jaybells, I know I'm at least two years younger than you and so maybe this sounds nosy (and if it is nosy, please feel free to ignore it), but...are you doing okay? I read this poem yesterday, got the sense that somebody or several somebodies at your church hurt you emotionally or were hypocritical or unkind (or maybe this has something to do with the crisis of faith you were talking about two years ago w/ reconciling Christianity and the LGBTQIA+ community), and I felt (and still feel) saddened and distressed...Lmk if you want to talk about it <3 

submitted by Lyric@Jaybells
(July 9, 2024 - 1:29 pm)

Yeah, I'm up for talking about it, kinda lonely these days... Just me and my thoughts, mostly. Completely honest, I'm not doing fantastic, but it could be worse. I've actually tried to post poetry with more details (although still not super specific) but it's hard because of the censoring here; they never actually got posted.

And yes, you are right about the LGBTQIA+ part of me and my life conflicting with the religious. It's not always obvious, but there are so many little things that balloon into super harmful stuff, sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. It still hurts either way. It can be super silly sounding things like a little kid repeatedly asking whether you're a boy or girl or asking why you're dating someone who looks to be of the same gender, or pointed comments about what's going to happen to you or speculating what's wrong with you, or people acting like they can "save" you and saying you're just being stubborn and foolish for standing up for yourself (or at least not bending to their will) or full-out harassment and way more. I've gotten all of that. My family is super religious too, so they that same animosity towards me and my friends, to differing levels of intensity, and just kind of either hold the attitude that I'm getting what I deserve, or actively pile onto the negativity. It's just hard. I used to be super religious too, but I never hated anyone with the intensity and blind rage that they do---maybe it's just my personality and why I ultimately don't identify as religious anymore: I can't just hold onto a belief that excludes and condemns people through no fault of their own. It's not right. But I'm shouting into the void here, no one listens.

Maybe some people can ignore all that and believe anyway. Some people just flat-out don't care, or would like to participate in all of these issues and wouldn't be swayed by any of my points. But I'm the type of person who can't ignore things like this.  When people like me really need a supportive community, we are just hurt worse and blamed instead. We are forsaken. That's nothing worth aspiring towards.

submitted by Jaybells, Lost in Massachusetts
(July 12, 2024 - 1:12 pm)