POTM #4 Voting


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Staff member
Dec 14, 2006
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Thanks to those who participated! We've got fantastic entries this month. Voting will end on February 6. The theme is "Personification" or "Anthropomorphism".

For this particular set of entries, I will allow members to vote for 2 poems. This is an option.


The Admirer

Blue-eyes beckon me with great intensity
And I am caught in a daze as I skitter
To and fro, my mouth gaping open
Awed behind these magic glass mirror

What creature is this that holds my attention?
White whiskers and stripes, such beautiful paws
Sharp, sheathed claws that hides underneath
What ever could those be of much use to him?

It’s an exciting day for once in my life
To see such a sight amidst this enchanted world
My castle radiates such beautiful calmness
The soft hums on the surface as my sweet lullaby

I turn away for a minute as I hunt for food
Sent from above, the blinding light my own tiny heaven
Back to the shimmering glass to see the other world
The creature walks away as if to shrug my existence


Tough Guy

I am the one who sneaks through the woods at night
And fills the farmers’ thoughts with fright
I am the one who is always on the run
Because they are after me with a gun
Upon sight they’ll release the dogs on me
For I’m the fastest catch you see

If they’ll ever get me, they’ll eat me limb by limb
But I’m not scared, I’m a badass and no wimp
I ‘m hard to catch, I’m hard to be found
Because I like to hang in my crib, deep and profound
Farmers heed your carrots and mothers watch your crops
This rabbit is not afraid of hunters nor cops!



The green-eyed woman beckons me
With a subtle crook of her finger
Her voice, like a satin glove sliding over silk sheets,
Whispers into my waiting ear
She has everything I desire, she says.

Wealth, fame, power,
Influence, respect

It’s so simple, she says.
All I have to do
Is succumb to her will
Ignore my own, and follow her.
Follow her, she says, and it will all be mine.
Whatever I want.

She will take care of everything, she says
Pulling my soul towards her deadly soft embrace.

But at what cost?

Will I lose myself?
Will I become a servant of the green-eyed woman?
Just this once? Or over and over again?

I sit on the edge of a knife.
A slight nudge either way
And I am become
One or the other.



I sit on a stand, waiting for the next sets
Temperature change may alter the sound
Master then takes me off the stand and re-tunes
It is now time to burn the frets

My volume is turned up to test the sound
Then my strings are struck, creating vibrations
These vibrations are captured with hum bucker pickups
Sounds are captured through a connected amplifier
A great amount of distortion comes through the amp
The deafening noises have now been found

My strings are first struck for multiple strings
Then a series of blues riffs are sounded through the amp
Followed by a hard press of my whammy bar, into silence
Then a quick return of speedy string strikes
Master then presses frets using two hands, instead of one
The sound of my vibrations vividly sings

My accessories are the birth of new musical evolutions
One that changes the way an instrument can be played
With the vast abilities of my masters creation
Eruption, one of the greatest guitar compositions


The Burning Hoop

Pacing back and forth in my small cage
I can hear the voices of the excited crowd.
Daisy’s standing on that ball again.
I can almost see their awed expressions.
They stuff their fat faces full of popcorn,
craning their necks to get a better view.
“Mommy, look at all the pretty animals.”
We’re always pretty while doing their bidding.

I trot behind the master until we reach the gate.
We all shudder nervously. It’s coming.
The loud bang rings through the air behind.
We scramble over each other trying to get away,
knowing that sound all too well.
The crowd cheers as he steps into the spotlight.
“And now,” he says, “My terrific tigers.”
He’ll never settle for anything less.

The hoop is lit and the stools are set out.
One by one we are stripped of our dignity.
Through the burning hoop, on top of the stools
Through the burning hoop again and again.
He even puts his head in Tommy’s mouth.
The crowd goes wild at this incredible feat.
“Bite it off!” I shout. We all chuckle at that.
We’re always making jokes to lighten the mood.

But the hoop is nothing compared to his fiery eyes.
Or the fire in his hands when we’re being punished.
And we all remember what happened to Arnie.
Five loud bangs near Arnie’s cage in the dark.
We haven’t seen him since and his cell is gone.
The burning hoop is put out and we are led away.
“Mommy did you see all of the pretty animals?”
We’re always pretty while doing their bidding.



Apr 30, 2009
Warwick, Rhode Island
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I'm going to read the poems now and then cast my vote. But by the looks of things, this is going to be very interesting, nice work everyone! :ryan:

EDIT: I went with The Admirer and The Burning Hoop. I thought The Admirer was very well written. I do admit that I have a tough time figuring out what The Admirer is, I think its description was very detailed. The Burning Hoop got my imagination rolling. I can picture being one of those kids in the circus with my parents. Well done!
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Apr 30, 2009
Warwick, Rhode Island
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Thanks a lot for the votes everyone! :ryan: I've never won a contest before, this is exciting! Great job on the poems everyone! It was a tight race, definitely the tightest we've had since beginning this contest. I'm proud of everyone for making this such a tight competition!
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