Long Entrants Poems
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A Different Kind of Courage
Sam took to the stage, limping with a leg brace
And more than a mere trace of fear on his face
The humorous speech competition was on
He’d made it to finals, prior contests he’d won
Sam’s lifelong bout with muscular dystrophy
Generated sadness and much empathy
He shook and stammered as he started to speak
Competitors thought his composure he’d breach
“Stage fright is shared by many,” the boy explained
And as he began, his eye contact seemed strained
We wanted to rush to his side, offer aid
Little did we know Sam’s point was being made
He’d soon have us laughing at the “crutches” WE use
To gain courage when stage fright ensues
“I’m picturing you all naked,” he laughed, smiled
Soon his sharp wit had us rolling in the aisle
His strength and confidence built fast as he spoke
Sam finished up with a memorable poke:
“You thought I would fail; I read it in your eyes
Seeing only my handicap, I realize.
Those who can’t see beyond disabilities
Are mired in self fear; YOU have MY sympathy.”
Out of four thousand entrants, Sam took first place
Impressing us all with his wisdom and grace
Today Sam coaches a college debate team
Having mastered the art of building esteem
September 8, 2020
I chose this poem because I wrote a poem “Courage” on January 10, 2020, one of the poems in my published book “That Thing Called Life”. I penned the six kinds of courage in my poem; physical, social, spiritual, intellectual, moral, and emotional. I had described and gave examples on each of them.
Carolyn titled her poem “A Different Kind of Courage” that Sam displayed. I agree with Carolyn that Sam showed a different kind of courage. He also displayed four kinds of courage: social, spiritual, moral and emotional. He showed he could face criticisms, rejections, oppositions (social); let go (spiritual); showed his own values (moral) and he discerned and told the truth (emotional).
Carolyn ended her poem “Having mastered the art of building esteem” and I ended my poem “It (Courage) gives us power and inner strength”.
8/22/21 Celebrating Carolyn's Poetry:
An Uncontested Poetry
Andrea Dietrich
I am a labor economist who prepared the unemployment rate,
I was checking with other labor economists about this.
Average income has been decreasing.
Unemployed are dropping out of the workforce.
More workers than ever have multiple jobs needed
tp support themselves with.
More workers than ever have been exhausting
their unemployment benefits and dropping
out of the civilian workforce. This is causing
the number of unemployed to decline.
More workers than ever are being disqualified
who are applying for unemployment claims.
Fewer workers are applying for initial claims.
New entrants and reentrants into workforce
as unemployed are declining.
New entrants are staying in college longer
so they will not have to enter workforce as
an unemployed person.
The net result out of all of this is that the
number of unemployed is declining. as well
as the unemployment rate.
Would like to have your thoughts and comments
about this. It is so easy to mis-state stastics.
There is a labor force and workforce. The
workforce is based on where you work.
The labor force is based on where you live.
My biggest fear that Russia is interferring
with our ability to vote. More and more people
are voting less and less.
Our national average age is steadily increasing.
The result is that more and more people are
retiring and dropping out of the workforce.
who were employed.
Invaribly, the unemployment rate is decreasing.
The number of unskilled jobs is increasing.
The number of skilled workers is decreasing.
God told me to start using my brain and coming
up with something. This is it.
Jim Horn
Form:
Today it’s Pancake Day and there’s to be a pancake race
Entrants are on the starting line with a smile upon their face
Old Ted ‘s ready with his frying pan, he is a fat old josser
but when it comes to pancakes, Ted’s an expert tosser
The gun goes BANG and off they go, Ted’s busy tossing away
busty Bertha's in the lead, if she wins there’ll be hell to pay!
Ted’s won the race the last five years, he tosses night and day
the trophy’s been on his top shelf, he hopes that’s where it’ll stay
Bertha stumbles, her pancake drops and she begins to cry
Ted sneakily stamps on her pancake; he’s such a crafty guy
The finishing line is in sight, there’s about fifty yards to go
Ted frantically tosses his pancake; his wrist goes fast not slow
Bill makes a sterling effort and comes at Ted from behind
they toss their pans in unison; Bill's got winning on his in mind
Ted lunges at the white tape, but the result’s declared a draw
Bill suggests they have a ‘toss off’ - there’s not been a draw before
Both men take a breather, awaiting a fresh pancake to toss
if either of them drops their pancake it will be a great loss
Both men stand on the finish line and flip and toss like mad
neither of them will concede, whoever loses will be quite sad
A crowd gathers, all eager to know who’ll be crowned the winner
suddenly a seagull swoops and grabs Ted’s pancake for its dinner
Ted starts to shout and stamps his feet when it’s announced Bill's won
he takes it all too seriously, but Bill declared the toss off was such fun!
Poem edited - originally posted in 2017
02/16/21
Horrible smash of broken bottles,
Blood gush from young touts' bodies,
Nauseating odour of marijuana, grass,
Spoiled that Monday evening.
I witnessed it,
A deadly fracas erupted,
Between two rival teenage cultists,
At Asarailu's son naming ceremony.
Asarailu cult group had launched,
A mayhem, killed, maimed, butchered,
And escaped during the last encounter,
But this reprisal is more brutally bloody.
Imam's sermon bottled it till sunset,
Final prayer was made, riot unleashed
Boys brought out their lebe, cutlasses
Empty bottles were maximally utilized
Asarailu (angel of death) and his family,
Of eleven siblings, wives and a mother,
Occupied a newly completed building,
Invited terror to our peaceful street.
I witnessed it with my neighbours,
We peeped through a square hole,
Designed to open the gate by the entrants
That's our own CCTV.
Young urchins are more skillful
Than the old ones in using machete
Area boys massacred, stabbed rivals to coma,
I witnessed it
Police came like gentle civilians
In a rickety korope, flashing torch lights
After the storm had turned to a millpond
Arrested Asarailu's mother-in-law and a chum.
At last, fearful peace emerged
Residents resurfaced from asylum
Shared various versions of gory stories
Fears had banished smiles from all faces
Such is a rarity, it pains me
Since I've been residing here
Asarailu had murdered that aged peace
This is the first ever kerfuffle note I enwrite
Some entrants think I am overly officious, even mean
That’s all right with me, I know I can be rather picky,
So, here are some guidelines when submitting to me
If you follow them carefully, you’ll find me less prickly.
I am inclined to nix your entry to my poetry contest
If you have obviously not proofread your submission,
Finding repeated words, misspellings are my first test
Then complex words and phrases will try my disposition.
I do not think I am wrong to expect proper grammar
For poet/writers should be the experts in this field,
Good contest entries should be your finest endeavors
Appealing to strong principles I am unlikely to yield.
Subject verb agreement and not changing your tense
In the middle of your poem, carefully choosing a word
Most of all, make certain your poem makes good sense
I’m not inclined to appreciate the poetry of the absurd.
Be not dismayed, however; I have a feeling for effort
I understand the limitations of language, especially ESL
And, I appreciate a good poem that might not comport
Sooner or later your poems will receive notice, as well.
Remember, some exceptional poets will be submitting
So, you can expect their names to appear at the top
Since I have little patience with errors you’re permitting
I suppose I am setting myself up as a kind of poetry cop!
Written June 12, 2022
( Repost )
Somehow, her eyes expand with the disobedient sky
and there, she senses urchins filling water on the lake
her feet and thighs slide up changing hues,
with receding incarnations of the moon.
She bends down gazing at images on the lake
as limbs turn into seaweeds, a mermaid in pain
changing hues in the crystal white of sky…
and the moon with slices of split mirrors burn
on wiggles of unscented tresses in water.
She dips her hands to catch the sleek tail in a plunge
knowing not a word to describe the reflection on the lake,
and witness the need to flow randomly in its
entrance through the expanse of one silver sky…
trying to recover glimpses reflected in the water.
Without point of reference to unknown images,
she vaguely remembers how transparently liquid
the changing hues of the moon become watery
like a hint of coagulated blood on a mermaid’s lake...
and the laughter of the sky drips into imaginings.
.......................................
* Written for a fantasy contest that was discontinued;
its theme required entrants to describe one's mirrored
image of the self. Few comments ranged from " Nice, but I
didn't get it" to " You seemed to have overused the word
"water?" In hindsight, I asked myself," what
were you thinking? This is sloppy!"
Jerry T Curtis' This Poem S***s Contest
Sam took to the stage, limping with a leg brace
And more than a mere trace of fear on his face
The humorous speech competition was on
He’d made it to finals, prior contests he’d won
Sam’s lifelong bout with muscular dystrophy
Generated sadness and much empathy
He shook and stammered as he started to speak
Competitors thought his composure he’d breach
“Stage fright is shared by many,” the boy explained
And as he began, his eye contact seemed strained
We wanted to rush to his side, offer aid
Little did we know Sam’s point was being made
He’d soon have us laughing at the “crutches” WE use
To gain courage when stage fright ensues
“I’m picturing you all naked,” he laughed, smiled
Soon his sharp wit had us rolling in the aisle
His strength and confidence built fast as he spoke
Sam finished up with a memorable poke:
“You thought I would fail; I read it in your eyes
Seeing only my handicap, I realize.
Those who can’t see beyond disabilities
Are mired in self fear; YOU have MY sympathy.”
Out of four thousand entrants, Sam took first place
Impressing us all with his wisdom and grace
Today Sam coaches a college debate team
Having mastered the art of building esteem
*September 8, 2020
For Chantelle’s “Courage” Poetry Contest
Midnight of October thirty first
I jumped out of bed to quench my thirst
As I groped my way down the huge kitchen
An eerie coldness crept on my skin and then...
When I fumbled the light’s switch on the wall
I was frozen to hear deep whispering calls
Echoing laughter followed my repeated name
I couldn’t move back, I felt completely lame.
I tried to turn on my mini-flashlight
But I’ve felt numbness as I gripped it tight
Darkness was a vast monster devouring me
But I tried to compose myself so I won’t pee.
White figures of entrants slowly passed by
I couldn’t believe, I tried to rub my eye
They were in pairs while holding hands
Looked as if they were all going to dance.
White glowing shapes of women in gowns
Infront of men as white smoke blurred around
Spanish waltz played in haunting sound
When a man’s figure came, seemed I lost pounds.
The man was wearing formal suit in white
In front of me, His skull smiled so bright
I lost control and dropped on the floor in fright
And I slept in the kitchen that spooky midnight.
My landlady woke me up in the morning
With boarding mates all laughing
I told them of the ghosts in our boarding school
Everyone believed my story, that was so cool.
There's an excercycle race on
Down at the local gymn
One guy's clearly out in front
But others closing in
All are pedalling frantically
They like to win these races
Each one with a determined look
As sweat pours down their faces
There's an exercycle race on
Down at the local Gym
This one's for ladies only
It's part of keeping trim
Each one of them has extra fat
A reservoir in case
Additional energy's required
To make the finals race
There's an exercycle race on
Down at the local gym
Vast calories are burning off
A race for life and limb
The mirrors on the wall will show
A worthy use of time
As most entrants likely should admit
They're more than past their prime
In the exercycle races
Down at the local gymn
At least one person's thinking on
What it is that's asked of him
All this time and money spent
Just maybe could be making power
To put on to the national grid
Then charged out by the hour
If we could store this energy
For use in something good
Like the greening of the planet
Then we probabubbly should
In some big battery somewhere
Or tank or holding pond
And draw on it when lakes are dry
Next summer and beyond
Form:
There's a passport I would like to revoke
from one person who thinks it's a joke
to repeatedly make fun of fellow writers.
Like a pugilist, she calls us 'prizefighters.'
What harm if we enjoy entering contests?
That doesn't prove whose poetry is best
because one person's opinion has weight
and another says it's open for debate.
If she's trying to deflate anyone's intellect,
she won't do it with a weapon of disrespect.
I applaud people who bravely try a new form
They're not afraid to write out of the norm.
She stabs with a pen, trying to draw blood
while sitting on her toosh like a couch spud.
We don't write to be popular. She's wrong,
but lord, she keeps howling the same ol song.
She claims we want attention and a high profile,
but her posts draw attention in words that defile.
I've never understood why her eyes get glazed
over contest entrants who should be praised.
She dares write of grace and having humility
but complains vehemently, and with hostility.
Her PS passport should be revoked & shredded
as punishment for being rude and hardheaded.