Posted: Wed Nov 01, 2017 8:27 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. Midnight Moon had two poems nominated this month (we cannot send more than one poem per poet per month), so we are holding over the second poem for consideration next month.
To our entrants, please look over the poems. The poems will be submitted on November 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 November 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 (If there are any). 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
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November 2017 IBPC Submissions from Wild Poetry Forum
Poem # 1
Title: Hope Springs Like a Panther from a Large Boulder Overhead
Author: Andrew Dufresne
Drums. More drums. We’re drifting up this lazy river, headed
upstream to kill the king. He’s gone insane. So have we.
We have no friends and our enemies are everywhere. The dreaded
news-borne disease takes hold of us. It’s a misery.
We babble at anyone who will listen, “Darkness, horror, grief.”
But no one will listen. The jungle is full of vanity and death.
We tire of standing guard over valuables, just give them to the thief
who hovers near our shoulder. We smell his fractious breath.
I used to wear clothing made of butterfly wings, a bitch to clean,
but light, you know. Now I wear cast-off skins of the rattlesnake.
I’ve stored my kindness in the mud. In a tortoiseshell canteen.
Maybe I’ll retrieve it when there’s much, much less at stake.
Hope springs like a panther from a large boulder overhead,
spitting joy, clawing happiness, bringing life, and all is well.
There’s bread and there are circuses. Ah me. At least there’s bread.
And always, always, we’re allowed to rot right where we fell.
-END-
_______________________________________
Poem #2
Title: This Day in History, October 21st 2017
Author: Kenny A. Chaffin
Black Lives do not Occupy Wall Street.
Street people abound. Blue Blood runs Red
in the stinking Potomac River. Wealth is in the hands
of the few, the bold, the greedy. Wealth that must
be free like Information. Free to Fuel the ‘merikan
Dream that lies rotting at Standing Rock,
in the landfills, in the cities, in the schools.
Wealth must ‘Live Free or Die’ unshackled
from the surely bonds of Wall Street, unshackled
from greedy hands, unshackled from chains of fear,
fear of sedition, fear of the future, fear of Aliens,
fear of Intelligence, nothing Artificial added. Oh
say, Can you See, Leather-Clad Angels on Harleys
chanting ‘Evolve or Die’ through glass bullhorns
from the charred remains of our western wineries.
-END-
___________________
Poem # 3
Title: Saxophone
Author: Midnight Moon
Your saxophone, located in the hallway closet,
lets out one lonely howl every October 9th
to commemorate the time you left me alone.
Ferris wheels held together by matchsticks,
the early evening hours, turning blue like Paris,
and winter creeping in to frost all the window panes
They all stop to listen to that Guisseppi howl,
that lonesome train whistle sound,
your love leaving me alone in this big world, without light.
When I was just an infant, I would reach my tiny arms out
to the sky, wondering who was there,
and who could love me within the geometric radius
of my heart.
Please travel gently to the land of the far away.
-END-
_____________________
To our entrants, please look over the poems. The poems will be submitted on November 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 November 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 (If there are any). 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
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
November 2017 IBPC Submissions from Wild Poetry Forum
Poem # 1
Title: Hope Springs Like a Panther from a Large Boulder Overhead
Author: Andrew Dufresne
Drums. More drums. We’re drifting up this lazy river, headed
upstream to kill the king. He’s gone insane. So have we.
We have no friends and our enemies are everywhere. The dreaded
news-borne disease takes hold of us. It’s a misery.
We babble at anyone who will listen, “Darkness, horror, grief.”
But no one will listen. The jungle is full of vanity and death.
We tire of standing guard over valuables, just give them to the thief
who hovers near our shoulder. We smell his fractious breath.
I used to wear clothing made of butterfly wings, a bitch to clean,
but light, you know. Now I wear cast-off skins of the rattlesnake.
I’ve stored my kindness in the mud. In a tortoiseshell canteen.
Maybe I’ll retrieve it when there’s much, much less at stake.
Hope springs like a panther from a large boulder overhead,
spitting joy, clawing happiness, bringing life, and all is well.
There’s bread and there are circuses. Ah me. At least there’s bread.
And always, always, we’re allowed to rot right where we fell.
-END-
_______________________________________
Poem #2
Title: This Day in History, October 21st 2017
Author: Kenny A. Chaffin
Black Lives do not Occupy Wall Street.
Street people abound. Blue Blood runs Red
in the stinking Potomac River. Wealth is in the hands
of the few, the bold, the greedy. Wealth that must
be free like Information. Free to Fuel the ‘merikan
Dream that lies rotting at Standing Rock,
in the landfills, in the cities, in the schools.
Wealth must ‘Live Free or Die’ unshackled
from the surely bonds of Wall Street, unshackled
from greedy hands, unshackled from chains of fear,
fear of sedition, fear of the future, fear of Aliens,
fear of Intelligence, nothing Artificial added. Oh
say, Can you See, Leather-Clad Angels on Harleys
chanting ‘Evolve or Die’ through glass bullhorns
from the charred remains of our western wineries.
-END-
___________________
Poem # 3
Title: Saxophone
Author: Midnight Moon
Your saxophone, located in the hallway closet,
lets out one lonely howl every October 9th
to commemorate the time you left me alone.
Ferris wheels held together by matchsticks,
the early evening hours, turning blue like Paris,
and winter creeping in to frost all the window panes
They all stop to listen to that Guisseppi howl,
that lonesome train whistle sound,
your love leaving me alone in this big world, without light.
When I was just an infant, I would reach my tiny arms out
to the sky, wondering who was there,
and who could love me within the geometric radius
of my heart.
Please travel gently to the land of the far away.
-END-
_____________________