Iron Poet XX

[FinnLassie]

Yep. Now we just need to summon Vaynor with some delicious satanic ritual--- I mean, uh, yeah.

[Vaynor]

Yes, and Septimus Fabrius has taken CWater's spot as a contestant. Everything should be up to date and complete in the first post.

Sorry for the delay everyone, I was camping in Yosemite so I've been incommunicado for the last week or so. I'll try to have the first round up today or tomorrow!

[FinnLassie]

Noooo hurries, Vaynor.

[Vaynor]

Sorry for the delay everyone, I developed a case of sudden-onset busyness.

Iron Poet XX: Round One

The Fiery Tower vs. Duck999: Grime, Father
Weezer vs. FinnLassie: Cloud, Thread
Techwarrior vs. parodoxymoron: Ward, Shaking
Cuthalion vs. The Extinguisher: Shift, Invite
TheWombatofDoom vs. Targ Collective: Predecessor, Store
3SecondCultist vs. Septimus Fabrius: Theory, Bathroom
Benthesquid vs. Exegesis: Graduate, Low
Zweisteine vs. Dallas-Dakota: Faint, Guard

Try to incorporate both words as well as you can, with any meaning of either word (but make sure it's not so obscure the judges won't realize you've used it!). Good luck!

Deadline: Saturday, August 30th 2014 at 11:59 pm (EDT).

[The Extinguisher]

I'm pretty sure that deadline is a mistake. I don't think we'll get any poems done by tomorrow evening

[Vaynor]

I expect too much of you, I guess. But yes, that was a mistake. I was looking at a calendar and looked at the date at the end of the wrong week. All fixed now!

[Septimus Faber]

Exegesis... If that's your submission, shouldn't it be in spoiler tags? Or am I missing something?

[Targ Collective]

Had fun with this one.

The italicised text at the end is just fluff, of course, this is an original.

Spoiler: Submitted poem

Show

I am a drake, this is true,

Obvious as the sky is blue

Yet it is my predecessor who concerns us here

My Father, a drake most powerful and dear.

My Pater was a mighty mage

As drakes go he was indeed most sage

He taught me first to conjure Light

And later gave me the gift of Sight.

Battle magic too I learned

And proficiency in it earned.

My Pater and I were often invaded

By heroes of the land.

By our fiery breath we roasted them

On our cavern's floor of sand.

Roasted and eaten - the fate that lies in wait

For those who would with our hoard escape.

My Pater had a mighty hoard

Many treasures in it were stored

And one day he said to me,

"Keep this hoard well safe, you see?

For I must fly well away

To find a mate for you my son

That our line may then continue

With little drakelings to increase our sum."

I took it as my sacred task

To defend the hoard until the last

And offered services most great

To local townships to keep them safe.

In return the towns did give

Much treasure for my hoard

I saw to it no foes did live

As more wealth in my cave was stored.

Now as you know I am a mage and blessed with Second Sight.

I grew impatient for his return and scried my father's might.

What did I see? A corpse! A death! And worse that I do not tell

My loving father died a death most treacherous, most fell!

I had to honour my Pater's life

In some fitting way

So with a minimum of strife

I keep his hoard safe 'till this day.

So! Hero! Now you know my tale.

I tell thee, swiftly depart

Or I shall roast you to a cinder

You armoured, fool upstart!

The Hero, who had been listening

To all this sorry tale

Said "Peace! Friend dragon! I lost my mother

To a dragon attack one day.

Perhaps there is hope yet

For peace between our kinds.

So I shall leave you with a token

From a fellow griever, as you find!"

And with that the Hero took off a glove

And took from his hand a ring

And to the drake he did then say,

"Here! Take this shiny thing!"

And he threw it upon the hoard

Where ever since it has been stored.

Tales of the Dragonfolk, vol. 1

[Cuthalion]

Exegesis... If that's your submission, shouldn't it be in spoiler tags? Or am I missing something?

I think it is a quote from the book where there is a fellow who is about to write a poem.

[CWater]

Were all the contestants informed by PM that the contest has started?

I think some asked that they would be.

[Septimus Faber]

I think it is a quote from the book where there is a fellow who is about to write a poem.

Cue faceplanting keyboard in realisation of my failed Common Sense check. Ah, well.

@CWater: Yes, I got the PM.

And hey, here's my poem.

With the prompts "Theory" and "Bathroom", I present to you my submission:

Spoiler: My Poem

Show

End

So tell me, my dear,
How will you do it?
What will you do?

I think
a drip
might
start things off
yes
plip
beautiful sound
a rush, now
curves I have seen
so white
they hurt

It will not hurt.


I
wait

That will do, no doubt.
Have faith in your old obstinacy.


will it flash

my life

That's for you to find out.
Not me, I couldn't. I told you so.

full

Indeed. Now?
Will you?

not ready.

I must
be steel
have courage

You do.

I
do

You know you can do it, why delay?

true

perhaps
I'll find
a friend

Breathe out.
breathe
out
Breathe
out.

[FinnLassie]

Muh poyem.

Spoiler: prompts: cloud, thread

Show

The sky hides behind a veil of shade
Sunshine hasn't reached us for days
It makes me question if the sky is blue
Or has the tone always been this grey

All there used to be were white threads in the sky
As the airships flew towards the fields full of might
But instead of victory they were greeted by death
Fear fell on our land as the clear sky took its last breath

It was us that began this child's play
Yet we seek for others to blame
The sky hides behind a veil of shame

[3SecondCultist]

Well, I've scratched out a submission for the prompts 'Theory' and 'Bathroom'. Interestingly, form-wise it's pretty much the polar opposite of Septimus' piece.

Spoiler: Prompt - Theory, Bathroom

Show

'I know true love is blind'.
That's what he told himself last night,
still fresh from your arms,
crawling to the empty bathroom.
Was it just a passing theory?
The ramblings of a man out of his mind?

The piss missed the toilet bowl, and he didn't mind.
His aim was off, he was firing blind.
He'd clean it in the morning, in theory.
He would crawl back to you that night
Fresh from the unwashed bathroom
And - still dripping - fall into your arms.

You ask me why I'm up in arms?
You didn't think that I would mind.
The shadow in the cold bathroom,
eyes staring straight, completely blind.
I guess the trust you broke last night
Was thought, parable, theory.

If had I known we were a theory,
a lie born from your velvet arms,
I would have left that very night,
and denied you any peace of mind.
I wish you'd gone and left me blind,
he hadn't snuck to the bathroom.

But when I saw him in that empty bathroom,
I was transfixed on a mad theory.
I stabbed his eyes until he was blind
tied down his legs and lover's arms,
and asked him then if he would mind
if I visited my wife that night.

When they ask me how you died last night,
I'll tell them you slipped in the bathroom.
The floor was wet, you didn't pay it any mind.
They'll suspect, they'll have a theory,
they may even clap irons on my arms,
but it's justice, not love, that's blind.

The theory of my broken mind
is on repeat: your arms in the bathroom
last night left me blind.

[Vaynor]

CWater: I sent everyone a PM just in case.

[Techwarrior]

For some reason I thought the deadline was Friday, and thought that I would have to rush a poem tonight since I won't be home Friday. Before midnight on Saturday though, I can definitely do.

[Benthesquid]

Spoiler: Graduate, Exegis

Show

Late, late into the dying night,
I dip my quill in ink and write
There are two schools of thought in the examination of the Pnakotic Fragments, the Revelatory and the Rational.
I pause and look at my article-
Safe so far, I've not yet plunged those depths
Over which word-wars are launched,
Arterial ink spilt on snow white pages.
Late, late into the dying night
I once more force myself to write.
The Rational Approach works on the premise that the Fragments were inspired entirely by the world available to the senses of its time-shrouded authors.
Not to publish is to perish,
Yet to publish, to make comment upon the conflict
Is to immerse oneself in it.
One must wonder, is my Master's worth it?
Late, late into the dying night,
I sharpen my quill for the coming fight.
By far the more useful method of analysis is the Revelatory, which examines the greater knowledge hidden within the fragments, often obscure to its earthly authors.

[FinnLassie]

Let's hope everyone posts this round.

[Exegesis]

Spoiler: Prompts: Graduate, BentheSquid

Show

In the depths Pnakot senses His scholar, fragments of whose mind lilt into procrastination. He watched the man's mind flicker through daylong blocs of shadow and self-reprimand.

Ben grew desperate, sensing the chill spotlight of the Great Squid's eye.

One day in His trance Pnakot felt the man's body roving to the shore in anguish, eyes bent on a huge page scrawled with foam. Felt the lips form the chant that sent His own body athrum.

The man sent one glowing soulchip into the surf. It sailed through the deep to Pnakot, who at its taste rose irresistibly.

Ben saw two red eyes break the water. Finally feeling real, he drew out the verses he had written in last night's reverie.

You know what comes next. Arterial blood spilled on word-blemished pages.

These he threw to the waves, hoping to the Unnameable his thesis was right. Because he was betting everything on it. Even as Pnakot digested his lines, his akrasia reified—first just a pool of shadow, then a leaping little thing, then a huge black somersaulting demon licking to drag him down. With each victory it had swelled and now it was this or redemption.

The Great Squid swilled His scholar's embrace of the supernatural. It seemed genuine.
It pleased Him.
So He sent a tendril of zealotry through Ben's mind.

Waves pounded. Ben was very still, his eyes shut.

Over a mental tundra he saw the black demon and a missilelike squid rush at each other.

The monsters met as if blazing, spraying blood on the white sheet of that deep sea whence the word wars come.

Spoiler: Epilogues

Show

His theory had been wrong, but he had the head of a squid for consolation. “That's Pnakotic!” said his roommate. Ben nodded, then used his new mental slave to clean the flat.

His theory had been wrong. He collapsed motionless on the gray sand, rationalizing his loss, bereft of the willpower to move.

His theory had been right. He walked home and expanded his Pnakotic fragments into a full book.

[Zweisteine]

Spoiler: Entry

Show

The guard stood tall, against the wall,
Watching the setting sun.
The traveller crawled, towards the wall,
His journey nearly done.

He neared the gate, and thanked his fate,
That he would not succumb
To the deadly pain he’d long since gained,
Not eating for nine suns.

The man stood still, he voice quite shrill,
“Allow me in, I plead.”
The guard looked down, without a frown.
His eyes gleaming with greed.

The guard at last, his face a mask,
To the traveller told,
“On this bright day, you’ll have to pay,
A mere three coins of gold.”

They stood and stared, each one glared,
And neither one did shift,
Until the traveller fell, his frame unwell,
His soul at last adrift.

[The Extinguisher]

Cutting it way to close for my comforts.

Spoiler: Prompt: Shift, Invite

Show

“Graveyard shift”

Forty five years.
A lifetime of digging
holes for the lifeless.
midnight monotony
on sacred ground.

Tending to the last
memories of untold fallen,
passing from this world
to the next.

Forty five years.
I used to be young.
Used to have passion
Used to care.
I used to be someone different.

The dead tell tales
laced with heartache
The pain of living.
I used to be young.

Forty five years.
A life-time of dying
A graveyard shift of perspective.
As life moves on.

Forty five years
I've heard them calling
For me to join them.
A dark invitation
To a brighter place.

I've seen the young,
and the old,
the sick and the well.
I used to think
That death only came early,
for the bad.
But I've seen far too many
The good and the young.
I've seen far too many
to care.

Forty five years.
I used to care.
Used to have passion.
Used to be young.
But now
I’m done.

[Duck999]

Cutting it way to close here, I was busy today. And forgot when the deadline was.

Spoiler: Grime, Father

Show

This grime tnat is upon my hands
To remove I have no plans.
For it will not succumb to wash
Though it fits not wihin my posh.

From where has it come?
Not from my mum.
But from my father it has appeared.
Every time at him I leered.

Whrn I was mad.
When he was glad.
To him I made my anger clear.
And me, he hugged me dear.

So when did I become so fierce?
When did I decide to pierce?
This hapiness he's gladly shown
While rocks and glass I have thrown.

His hapiness has brought his doom.
When I was lost in my gloom.
The weapon of his demise
was but the look in my fearsome eyes

It wrought upon him great fear
When he just wanted me near
When he wanted to run away,
I was the one to force him to stay.

Up upon a throne I sit
While his body is in pit
That is where it has come from
The grime upon my hands that numbs

I feel so bad at poetry right now.

[Dallas-Dakota]

Bah, my apologies. I intended to write yesterday but real life interfered.

If it's not too late....

Spoiler: Faint, Guard.

Show

Seeing determination,
I would have him swear with frustration.
He needed what was mine to protect,
so his blade swept.

A test of the blade,
He was too full of pride,
Stride to the right, lunge left,
I drew first blood in an unfair trade.

His eyes filled with challenge and greed,
I knew that in this duel I would more then bleed
With another attempt there was no doubt,
That our tasks meant that there was no other way out.

My swerving and jabbing,
Swerving and timely stabbing.
His striking and shielding
cut flesh with sword unyielding.

A soldier with earned skills
with a well practiced guard
That came not from drills but kills
for his flesh was rough and scarred.

Feinting another time,
he would not get away with this crime.
Parrying when I must,
to quickly return my sword with a thrust.

His frustration grew with fighting this way.
My body dodged with a sway,
but too late to prevent bloody spray.
Strike and stab our bodies both felt decay.

The man saw I was exhausted and diminished,
Drawing him closer then before,
His arm and sword moved but then I spun,
He came down but he was finished.
With my sword inside him I had won.

[Techwarrior]

Spoiler: Ward, Shaking

Show

My eyes can't seem to focus
But I have to keep trying
In this pristine room of death
If I'm going to keep from dying

I don't remember how I got here
Into this room that's far too white
All I know is that I can't recall
What happened to me last night

I remember the wind in my hair
And the smell of pompous grass
I remember the light in my eyes
And then nothing but a brief flash

There's people rushing to and fro
As someone asks about Allergens
Then there's a pain so sharp
As someone mentions pathogens

I wish I knew where I was
Or what was happening here
All I wanted was to go home
But my body disagrees

[Benthesquid]

Hurnh. I may have misread the prompt.

[Vaynor]

Did you guys both replace your "low" prompt with each other's names just to mess with me, or was my formatting for the prompts hard to read?

[Targ Collective]

Dallas-Dakota,

You're pretty good. Wonder if I'm up to your level. Probably not.

[TFT]

Oh shoot... I was just about to post my poem, thinking that I had just gotten under the 24h extension deadline, then I figured out that A. 24 hours EDT would have been 2 and a half hours ago and B. it's a 12 hour extension. Sorry guys, I was really excited about the prompt too T.T

First week of school got to me.

[Exegesis]

Surely if you have it ready that's a negligible difference?

Prompt: I followed suit.

But both feature LOW (lack of will) prominently.
labor of writing
lovecraftian otherworldly wisdom
loliginidae optimus weird

[Garwain]

Judging is almost done, but I need to share 2 observations for this round.

1) It's a sad thing that the first 5 duels are won by default.

2) You are all happy people right? I mean... Death features in almost every poem. Like it was one of the prompts. We have a death wish, a dying man, death in the sky, a paternal death, a bathroom murder, a dying traveler and then some weird stuff that can't be healthy either. What happened to the poems about love and happiness?

[CWater]

Judging is almost done, but I need to share 2 observations for this round.

1) It's a sad thing that the first 5 duels are won by default.

Yeah.. But, well.. I think it at least better this way, than have pairings in which neither posts. Now at least the maximum number of people can advance to the next round.

2) You are all happy people right? I mean... Death features in almost every poem. Like it was one of the prompts. We have a death wish, a dying man, death in the sky, a paternal death, a bathroom murder, a dying traveler and then some weird stuff that can't be healthy either. What happened to the poems about love and happiness?

That is true It's like there was a common theme for the whole round or something.