May IBPC Nominations, June Competition Options

[Cleo_Serapis]

Hello,

Xanadu has requested that Dichotomy Goes to The Races by wordfaery be nominated for it's originality of theme as well as it's economy of words in presenting a different slant on how we may or may not need the use of metaphor to present our message.


Dichotomy Goes to The Races


Thirty years from now
wheelchair bound, gnarly
howling scraps of heavy metal lyrics,
I won’t know I’m an essay topic.

So let me save you some trouble
forget what was said about that piece,
the one the academic egos analyzed.

The Fifth Race at Fort Erie is about
the fifth race at Fort Erie.

The horses, cheap claimers,
bony buck-shinned bays
distant cousins of the Barb, Arabian
and Turk foundation sires.

The noisy lady
peculiar yellow streaks in her white hair
with faded gingham dress,
takes the bus to the track
and only makes show bets.

The guy in the frayed brown suit
and undersized hairpiece
never looks up
from the Form until the final furlong.

Odd low-rollers hoping for a score –
exist at the Fort, Mountaineer, Santa Anita,
every race track. I intended to write about them
about manure smells and dime store cologne.
Choke down a boiled hotdog and
taste desperation in the coffee.

It’s not deep.
Don’t let them tell you differently.

There are no metaphors here.

[AMETHYST]

I would like to nominate John's GAME OVER for vital twists of meaning, as I feel many readers will be able to relate to and feel at home with this poem. I felt that John did really well to shape the poem using lovely rhymes and sounds.


GAME OVER


No mistaken identity here
nor retribution to face,
her last embrace tweaked
my prurient, sultry space.

She’s predictably irrational
when passions rising high;
flaming waves manically fire
a wanton ride hard to deny.

My lady’s sudden outbursts
explode with furious force,
bellowing a blistering wrath,
scathing, with no remorse.

A torrid confusion burns,
fevering my quivering core,
this phantom feeling revives
painful images I can’t ignore.

Dalliances with philanderers
scorched a once intimate bond
turning red-hot trysts to ice,
I suppress, no longer respond.

An opaque mind fails to shine
on this blurry breaking dawn;
a new day pierces bleary eyes,
I feel like a sacrificial pawn.

Tearful promises fail to elicit
a sincere, cordial kindness;
spiritless, my soul is scorned,
score me a zero for forgiveness.