April 2007 IBPC Nominations Options

[Eisa]

This is a very original poem composed of different levels of mythology, spirituality and fantasy. I found it a very powerful poem.

This is posted in Seren's Synapse: Adonis in Dreamscape

Adonis in Dreamscape

Somewhere--
where chimney smoke dots the distance
in synaptic gaps, like memory loss in warm rolling meadows, I tango

with the sun matching my every step.
Our growing heat--a fever un-indexed on any chart--
warms my neck as meadowlarks

sing warnings to intruders. I pause
in rehearsed mid-curve of a dip
to slip myself off; upside-down, the blue sky

becomes a cloudy skipping stone path
along a zen azure river bed.
Someone crosses that rarefied stream; meadowlarks

scatter and soar into those rapid currents to drown,
as the timothy grass above
bows and parts like hair yielding to watery eyes. He arrives

hunkered and stalking; the sun
returns to its rightful place; released,
I twist and fall onto my knees.

The wind offers burning incense:
cherry-wood and ripened blackberries
from the undergrowth of his kinky hair.

His indefatigable arms,
with sun-kissed skin, gather me up--
wildflowers bunched to his bare chest

in one motion; I stare at thin scars on his stomach
while his breath--
a Snowy Owl's stuttering wingtip-- brushes me.

My trembling fingers crawl inside his hands: hands
dewy and deathless as the Earth
that receives us all in our due turn.

We spin.

Where did you come from, O Beautiful One? The ancient capital
of Nineveh, by way of Lesbos and Sappho's revered verse,
only to descend into my arms...maybe...

pivoting, his dark myrrhic eyes betray his intentions,
and I feel my breasts heave and sigh, as our rush
blurs grass and sky,

until colours fracture, fall
and form iridescent steps to Aphrodite's throne. We ascend past the clouds;
I half expect feathers to tear from his back, during our dance.

We drift.

I kiss him before he condenses and falls like rain,
returning back to the soft ground.
His blood slowly coagulates into a bed of red roses

that are plucked
by young, barefoot maidens in flowing, virginal dresses
who have come far to worship our passing beauty.

I wake.

The sun bestows me red rows through my window in consolation;
I grin at those fresh flowers filling the kitchen vase,
while my husband, awake early, smiles coyly
and burns myrrh incense.

[AMETHYST]

Absolutely am smiling from ear to ear to see this here! Good Picking Snow!

Good Luck, Tim ~ On yet another amazing poem! :) Hugs, Liz

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hiya Tim.

In order to have this poem included in our IBPC poll that I will creating this evening, we need to have your permission for inclusion.

I've sent along a few PM's and inquired in my crit to this poem as well. Should I assume you do NOT give your permission? If I do not hear back by 6PM this evening, sadly, we won't be able to include this one.

Please advise.
Lori

[AMETHYST]

I would like to nominate this poem located in Herme's Fairies At The Bottom Of The Garden ~ This poem is well written, making great use of metaphor and sounds to enhance certain meanings. The magical setting and intention is a grabber for any age - it not only speaks of enchantment, but the underlying, but peeking out metaphor of real life experiences are brought to life with this as well.

At dawn, when sunshine spills across the grass,
my eyes are drawn to fuzzy balls of light
that float and flit on gauzy wings. They pass
down low to skim the dandelions, their flight
controlled, describing angles as they go
criss-crossing rapidly without a pause
so that it's hard to see them clearly, though
here's one that hovers near,

defying laws

of physics. Oh. It's just a dragonfly;
a pity, for I thought I'd seen the dance
of sylvan sprites. Ah, Mother Nature's sly,
for where there's prey there'll always be a chance,

and here's a tic-tac-toe of silver webs
to catch the morning fairies by the legs.

[AMETHYST]

I would like to nominate this for its strong use of sonics, and imagery connecting the past into the future - There is a strong sense of history within the majestic setting and tone. The poem unfolds the details of a story while maintaining a steady, harmonious voice. :) You will find the thread for this lovely poem at Lamentable Conviction, Located in Seren's

Lamentable Conviction


I stand

in Conquest’s aftermath,
where bronzed valleys bemoan
crimson-soaked chants.

Frantic charioteers storm off
to slaughter an enemy
of lamentable conviction.

In faint whispers,
Gods of Wind and Rain clamour
a thunder of horses’ hooves
upon my crusade

cleansing the bloodshed and core
of fallen kinfolk I never knew…

In that rancid place,
the gloom of dreams summons
those clanging upon heartstrings
of acquiescent minds.

For it is in their whirling laughter,
their incomprehensible actions,
that we shall find truth!

Those who follow false Messiahs
shall surely perish…
not by thy enemy’s sword nor hand,
but by their own feeble foolery.

A tolerant innocence exists
only in our yesterdays
where the strong return
shaking in triumph;
bearing freedom’s crest.

In black armour, we ride
to the depths of Hell,
where the only enemy to conquer

is ourselves.

Copyright © Lorraine M Kanter

[AMETHYST]

I would like to nominate this for the lovely sentiments and smooth rhythym and rhymes through out.

Listen! (3RD REVISION)

Hear it ! The wind is calling us.
Let’s leave this gloomy cell,
to roam vast fields and pick
bouquets of sunshine in the dell.

Yes, listen! Let green grass and trees
command those flowers speak.
The call of deer, the chirp of birds
revive us when we're bleak.

Refrains of rains and swirling sea
console our heated mind.
These gifts of heaven, ours for free;
let's thank Him who is kind.

So don't allow your ears be closed
against the splendor's sighs
and never let your heart be blind
to modest orphans' cries.

Agatha Lai

This post has been edited by Cleo_Serapis: Apr 7 07, 07:05

Reason for edit: Edited for 3rd Revision

[Cleo_Serapis]

Thank you very much Liz!

I appreciate and accept the nomination. This is one challenge that I really enjoyed responding to. It begs the question, What have learned about ourselves as human beings over centuries past? Are we our own enemies?

Cheers
~Cleo

[AMETHYST]

I would like to nominate this poem.

On the Verge. (Tersa Rima)

Alone. It's hot. Familiar odours steam
in tones of brown. The trees are breathing earth;
dark humus wets their feet and mine. I lean
against an ancient Puriri, its girth
a measurement of time. It gathers me,
absorbs my consciousness, and gives me birth

into another world ... of energy
that flows between the trees; that fiercely sweeps
in elemental chaos from the sea
and buffets, sneers at innocence that sleeps
upon the threshold. Help! A sly green man
is giggling in the leaves, enchantment creeps

in tangled vines. I run while yet I can,
my feet inspired by panic, lent by Pan.

[AMETHYST]

I would love to nominate this poem. The Huitian Form is delightful and this poem examples the melodious tone the form can offer. The images and tone are wonderful, they make my spirit dance and I found both the detail of the poem and the skill in creating the poem a pleasurable experience to read! Wonderful poem!

Springtime Samba

As creatures stir with spring’s advance
familiar rhythms bid us dance,
cavorting while the skylark’s trilling;
nascent daffodils enhance
the grassy stage where lambkins prance.
Now winter’s pillowed, sunshine’s spilling,
glide to samba’s lively beat …
igniting passions with the heat.

[Eisa]

Thank you Liz

Hugs Snow

[Cleo_Serapis]

Congrats Snow - a lovely dance this is!

[AMETHYST]

I would like to nominate this poem for its enchanting theme, the skill and pleasurable read. The calm and wonderfully pleasant feeling I get each time I read it. The images are stark and magical.

Seashell's Whisper

Sweet bluebells blue and cockleshells,
white puffy clouds and playful swells
bedeck the gently rolling dunes
that harbour ancient mystic runes

and fairies whisp'ring tales that tell
of bluebells blue and cockleshells.
Soft floral crowns, pink-posied rings,
whose wafting scents on breezes sing

of sun-warmed sighs o'er ivory beach,
are drifting far outside their reach
for bluebells blue and cockleshells,
to wind up haunting distant dells.

Yet maidens poise on sultry sands,
mer-magic sown by fictive hands
bewitching sea-foam tint pastels
from bluebells blue and cockleshells.

Cathy Bollhoefer
copyright March 17, 2007

[Guest_Cathy_*]

Are you the original author of this poem? Yes

Has this poem ever been published? No

Has this poem been nominated by any other participating board (of IBPC)? No

Has this poem been reviewed as "best and final" to assure the latest revision is judged? No... I will try to have it up to snuff before the deadline.

Is your email address on file up to date (what is it)? Yes

Do you accept the nomination to submit the work (if selected to represent MM)? Yes

If yes to above question, what is your real name? Cathy Bollhoefer

[AMETHYST]

Congratulations! Thanks Cathy ~ this is yet another example of how wonderful your talent and your heart is...

Hugs, Liz

[Eisa]

I would like to nominate this very unique poem written by Liz. It's unusual format lends itself to a very thought provoking piece of work, displaying irony and humour. I love it! This poem is located in Seren's Synapse here.

Ambidextrous


I write with my right hand;
articulate and methodical
chirography.
Ink weaves itself, like silk threads
against a virgin leaf.

What's right feels wrong.
Neatly drawn words
fence in honesty,
confining truth, like stallions
in orderly corrals.

Secrets unleashed,
sowed in the unconscious,
as infertile seeds that release

prosaic verse, lacking passion,
like desert sun-tinged sands
are dry and useless.

I use my left hand these days,
speaking aloud, truths
that never dared to dance from my lips.

Prowling promises, secrets
emerge, purge my past
of decadent pleasures, and sordid schemes
that seep through crevices,
as unseen touches that haunt
in restless sleep.

Poetry surges
across vacant pages -- animated.
Unfortunately the words
are much too sloppy to decipher.

This post has been edited by Cleo_Serapis: May 9 07, 17:25

Reason for edit: Edited To Final Revision 4/28/07

[Guest_Kathy_*]

I am honoured by your nomination, Liz. Thank you.

I don't think I can accept though, because the original was published in '03. I have changed it on site here, but it is too close to the original to qualify, I think.

Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa

[Guest_Kathy_*]

Oh this one has been published too.

But thank you Liz. I am excited that you thought it worthy for the IBPC.

[Guest_Kathy_*]

Well nominated. :) I am very tired after several night shifts, but will be back.

K

[Cleo_Serapis]

Thanks Kathy for your reply.

Yes, the IBPC will not accept previously published works. :(

That's ok - I'm sure you'll have other poems that can be nominated over time.

Cheers
~Cleo

[Cleo_Serapis]

Thanks Kathy for letting us know - that's too bad, but at least we're all on the same page in that this one should be seen by a wider audience.

The IBPC won't accept previously published poems. :(

I'm sure you'll have other works to share in time....

Cheers
~Cleo