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Thread: "TWELEVE-Shirt" Poem Contest

  1. #1
    lucynymph's Avatar
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    Default "TWELEVE-Shirt" Poem Contest

    Dear peeps,

    I started a new thread as I don't want to kill this contest yet, there is hope , and I don't want it to detract from the original "No Discoveries...." thread established by cryptic.

    Summary of clues:

    Read quotes from peeps. Read my quote(s).

    Read "Snow" post.

    Not thematic.

    The question is, "What is different from the T-Shirt poetry then my other posts in Creative Corner?"

    Tense is Very close.

    Good Luck Twelevers!

    bronte
    Deep in Blue Dog's eyes will always lurk the hopes and longings of a melancholy people, but, like the Cajuns, who always trained their eyes on the future, Blue Dog must move forward.
    ~George Rodrigue fr 'Blue Dog Man'

    He must have a truly romantic nature, for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about.
    ~Oscar Wilde

    From sumthyngness into givyngness unto the given.
    ~fr 'DAR' m.s

  2. #2
    LadyHope's Avatar
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    I posted this on the other thread before I saw this one...


    lucynymph wrote:
    what 12pm said re different point in someone's life is VERY CLOSE....VERY...here is your hint, Read My Quotes.

    best,

    bronte


    remember time. period.


    Here goes...

    A personal resolution.
    Coming of age.
    A loss of virginity.
    A career change.
    A mid-life crisis.
    Resentment.
    Divorce.

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    How did I get reeled back into this?
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    Bronte's visions.
    The life and times of Bronte.
    Through the eyes of Bronte.


    __________________________________
    Throw that LadyFish back in for oxygen.
    LadyHope

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    Default The Wrath Of Grapes - "T-Shirt Poem

    I possess the wrath of grapes
    'The Rape of Lucrece"
    is on my bed
    The fullness of you is in my head
    My grapes do not lie, raisin-ing on the vine
    There is till time
    To squeeze the freshness fast from my flesh
    I will awaken your deadness
    You are magic, mulberry, and like a pillar
    I crush my fruit upon you
    Gently stains your silent composure,
    Turns your whiteness, red.

    I possess the wrath of grapes
    I will not relinquish the wild fields
    Waiting for me with limbs of wheat
    My orchard to your farm-bed
    I have turned your whiteness, red
    And sipped your blood from a sewing needle scratch.

    The corn is firm, erect and hermetic
    Masked by rows of waving stalks
    Listening for the Indians, they do not come
    Deep in darkest Sausalito the pickers hum
    Hands stained blue with the milk of grapes
    Your hands, bland and slightly wet
    Yes, you will be a picker yet.

    I possess the wrath of grapes
    Carry well the cross of youth
    Yours - pulling at your throat like an anvil
    Like a great, salted sea-bird
    Do not let your amulet drag you down
    I know you better than that
    know that smile lost on your face
    You unlocked my purpleness.

    Now I will stain you
    And trucker great plain you
    You may flee like the migrants
    Run like an Indian into the hills of stone demeanor
    Chanting, shame-ed shaman, into the blue-veined blood of moon
    Yes, I have figured out your tune.
    It has been said and sung before
    But I possess the wrath of grapes
    I know how to be fondled
    And recall how wine is produced
    When grapes are squeezed
    And birds are teased
    My mind flows like the Nile
    My souls crawls like an old woman across the floor
    You are such an expired, angelic bore
    But somehow I must show myself to you
    In the grove by the river.

    I possess the wrath of grapes
    I hide a smile beneath my face
    It dampens my bones when I am pressed
    And whets my palms with sticky, gold stars
    All of my inhibitions, damn
    Red wine Is only for the lonely.

    I possess the wrath of grapes
    I cannot relinquish the wintry strands of field
    Waving to me, hands of straw
    My still to your mill
    I will not drown in another's bed
    You have turned my lovely head,
    The maize is hard, masked and straight
    Whitened in rows of waving grass
    Listening for the Indians - they've yet to come
    Dark in deep Sausalito, the pickers hum
    Baskets bulging, hands stained true blue
    with the blood of grapes
    Your hands, colourless, yet slightly wet
    Heed these words, like Lupe's song
    They will never leave your lips.
    And you will be a picker, yet.


    bronte
    Deep in Blue Dog's eyes will always lurk the hopes and longings of a melancholy people, but, like the Cajuns, who always trained their eyes on the future, Blue Dog must move forward.
    ~George Rodrigue fr 'Blue Dog Man'

    He must have a truly romantic nature, for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about.
    ~Oscar Wilde

    From sumthyngness into givyngness unto the given.
    ~fr 'DAR' m.s

  5. #5
    korggrok is offline Junior Twelever Bronze korggrok is an unknown quantity at this point
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    The TS poems are all dialogs between "you" and "I". That seems to be a common thread, although I can't say for certain if that differentiates these from the previous.

    But if that is some part of the answer, I can't see how it would tie in with the attempts you've described as "very close"......
    Here, Pook!  Here, Pooky Pooky Pooky......

  6. #6
    lucynymph's Avatar
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    Default Re T-Shirt Contest Poem

    Quote Originally Posted by korggrok
    The TS poems are all dialogs between "you" and "I". That seems to be a common thread, although I can't say for certain if that differentiates these from the previous.

    But if that is some part of the answer, I can't see how it would tie in with the attempts you've described as "very close"......
    the anwser offered by 12pm re time and tense is close...

    maybe I need to sweeten the pot?

    bronte
    Deep in Blue Dog's eyes will always lurk the hopes and longings of a melancholy people, but, like the Cajuns, who always trained their eyes on the future, Blue Dog must move forward.
    ~George Rodrigue fr 'Blue Dog Man'

    He must have a truly romantic nature, for he weeps when there is nothing at all to weep about.
    ~Oscar Wilde

    From sumthyngness into givyngness unto the given.
    ~fr 'DAR' m.s

  7. #7
    LadyHope's Avatar
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    Default

    Maybe you could just PM me the answer.

    ______________________________
    Eight kids asking for lunch money.
    LadyHope

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    I think bronte is lusting someone/something.

    LadyHope

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    One more attempt...

    The difference I see in the poems is a complete change in attitude towards something/someone. In poem one, I see love, devotion and honor. In the latest poem, I see disgrace, worry, and longing. The common feeling I see in both poems is adjustment itself.

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  10. #10
    12pm's Avatar
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    Increasing contempt for the stupid (such as yrs truly).

    Growing anger through time.

    The holy wrath of end of days.

    The future conditional. (The French have a tense like this, I'm pretty certain.)

    The pluperfect. (Ditto.)

    The mutable viewpoint of an original, just as original and mutable as any snowflake.

    An angry woman growing angrier.

    A loving woman growing loving-er.

    Some man pretending to be a woman growing angrier and more loving.

    My funeral on some future date (feeling a little grimm and narcissistic since I can't guess bronte's riddle no matter what.)

    Hurry up, please, it's time.

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