Posted: Thu Jun 01, 2017 7:46 am
Many thanks to those who participated in making nominations for our IBPC submissions this month. We thank our nominees for allowing us the pleasure of having them represent WPF in the competition.
To our entrants, please look over the poems. The poems will be submitted on June 3rd, as they appear below. If the entrants have any edits or corrections to the poems, please send them to me at mjm@wildpoetryforum.com by the morning of June 3rd. If you come upon this notice late and you have edits, please send me any edits anyway. I will try to have the submission updated before it's sent to the judge.
As a reminder, if there are no or not enough IBPC nominations in any given month from the membership, we choose from the eligible poems (those poets who gave permission) from the prior month. So, if your poem was not selected in any given month, please know that you still might have an opportunity for it to be submitted the following month.
Congratulations to our entrants and best of luck in the competition!
Love,
M
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
June 2017 IBPC Submissions from Wild Poetry Forum
Poem # 1
Title: New York Moment
Author: Guy Kettelhack
For Franck Danican
The moment you step into this city
you belong to it. You transubstantiate
from body into moment.
You are a New York Moment.
Franck arrived five years ago from Paris,
though only lately saw my creatures
in the Facebook Forest
and decided he felt one with them. Franck
knows Art the way they do: they are it.
They’ve walked the plank
and fallen into it and have become it.
Franck said he’d like to be my model:
maybe hold my violin and strum it.
I said I never work from models
but okay. And so he spent a good part of the day
bestowing what he is, while wryly undergoing
being looked at by an awkward cuss.
I made such a fuss.
I forgot how pencils worked.
I forgot what drawing was.
But then I handed him my violin and watched him
win by doing what does to play his part.
He turned that into art.
And then he turned me into art as well.
For the New York Moments
we perforce will always be,
this, of course,
was swell.
-END-
_______________________________
Poem # 2
Title: I’m His Star
Author: MidnightMoon
I see him casting a black shadow
here in this modern part of town
like a Soviet Block neighborhood
I see him in his priest's hat, his priest's clothes
passing houses like shoe boxes turned upside down
square holes cut out for windows
My Father gave me three gold coins, said I should be good
I know the body underneath
I know his smell
the hairs along his legs
and arms, which hold me
I am the black star, he tells me.
The black star in his forbidden sky
I am the reason he never should have chosen
the priesthood.
My Father gave me three gold coins, said I should be good
Under my dress, under the thinnest lace,
I wear a gold chain,
forbidden because he gave it to me.
I kneel at his feet and say
Father, please forgive the sins of others
and also my own sins, Father, please
My father gave me three gold coins, said I should be good
-END-
__________________________
Poem # 3
Title: Virginia
Author: Ray
This thin white skin is easily burnt
and my head is turned a shade of ginger;
genteel society can no more bear
Virginia. Smoke and mirrors
make them cough, more or less.
But here I’m top dog:
the draw that drags him hither
leaves him gasping for more;
my scent anathema
to her that final winter.
He’s changing colour
to a late afternoon in November.
The icy patches he endures
pack him frozen blue into a posture:
John Wayne with his hand
upon a holster; the polished space
where she will place an Oscar;
he’s only holding breath
until the sex is over -
I make him come, more or less.
Scenes like these together
she will foster, dreams of an
all over tan, tattoos where
she shaved her pubic area.
He’s collected up the cuttings
and rolled them in a paper;
lovingly licking at the edges,
he tucks his lips around the nipple
and sucks until her skin
has turned to ashes.
-END-
_________________
To our entrants, please look over the poems. The poems will be submitted on June 3rd, as they appear below. If the entrants have any edits or corrections to the poems, please send them to me at mjm@wildpoetryforum.com by the morning of June 3rd. If you come upon this notice late and you have edits, please send me any edits anyway. I will try to have the submission updated before it's sent to the judge.
As a reminder, if there are no or not enough IBPC nominations in any given month from the membership, we choose from the eligible poems (those poets who gave permission) from the prior month. So, if your poem was not selected in any given month, please know that you still might have an opportunity for it to be submitted the following month.
Congratulations to our entrants and best of luck in the competition!
Love,
M
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
June 2017 IBPC Submissions from Wild Poetry Forum
Poem # 1
Title: New York Moment
Author: Guy Kettelhack
For Franck Danican
The moment you step into this city
you belong to it. You transubstantiate
from body into moment.
You are a New York Moment.
Franck arrived five years ago from Paris,
though only lately saw my creatures
in the Facebook Forest
and decided he felt one with them. Franck
knows Art the way they do: they are it.
They’ve walked the plank
and fallen into it and have become it.
Franck said he’d like to be my model:
maybe hold my violin and strum it.
I said I never work from models
but okay. And so he spent a good part of the day
bestowing what he is, while wryly undergoing
being looked at by an awkward cuss.
I made such a fuss.
I forgot how pencils worked.
I forgot what drawing was.
But then I handed him my violin and watched him
win by doing what does to play his part.
He turned that into art.
And then he turned me into art as well.
For the New York Moments
we perforce will always be,
this, of course,
was swell.
-END-
_______________________________
Poem # 2
Title: I’m His Star
Author: MidnightMoon
I see him casting a black shadow
here in this modern part of town
like a Soviet Block neighborhood
I see him in his priest's hat, his priest's clothes
passing houses like shoe boxes turned upside down
square holes cut out for windows
My Father gave me three gold coins, said I should be good
I know the body underneath
I know his smell
the hairs along his legs
and arms, which hold me
I am the black star, he tells me.
The black star in his forbidden sky
I am the reason he never should have chosen
the priesthood.
My Father gave me three gold coins, said I should be good
Under my dress, under the thinnest lace,
I wear a gold chain,
forbidden because he gave it to me.
I kneel at his feet and say
Father, please forgive the sins of others
and also my own sins, Father, please
My father gave me three gold coins, said I should be good
-END-
__________________________
Poem # 3
Title: Virginia
Author: Ray
This thin white skin is easily burnt
and my head is turned a shade of ginger;
genteel society can no more bear
Virginia. Smoke and mirrors
make them cough, more or less.
But here I’m top dog:
the draw that drags him hither
leaves him gasping for more;
my scent anathema
to her that final winter.
He’s changing colour
to a late afternoon in November.
The icy patches he endures
pack him frozen blue into a posture:
John Wayne with his hand
upon a holster; the polished space
where she will place an Oscar;
he’s only holding breath
until the sex is over -
I make him come, more or less.
Scenes like these together
she will foster, dreams of an
all over tan, tattoos where
she shaved her pubic area.
He’s collected up the cuttings
and rolled them in a paper;
lovingly licking at the edges,
he tucks his lips around the nipple
and sucks until her skin
has turned to ashes.
-END-
_________________