WOLOP for November

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Dzien dobry folks!  We have come to that popular time of the month again where everyone gets to know just who won the most coveted prize on WOL ��" of course, Write Out Loud Outstanding Poem of the Month!

November saw the posting of some 352 blogs ��" a fascinating mixture of prose, advertising, pornography and arguably - some poetry…

 

Thirteen people voted and happily some even managed to agree.  First place goes jointly to Marianne Daniels for her poem ‘The Sons’ and to Augusta Darling for her poem ‘Love me until Morning’.   Both received 2 votes each, which is something of a miracle given the low numbers ��" well done girls!

 

I have compiled a list of all the nominations below and will be asking nominees to tag their poems with WOLOP.nov  in case any enthusiastic WOLOPers should like to read them as a group.  If anyone is curious as to why the maths doesn’t add up (and there is always one) that is because one poet gave me a few of his favourites.  I included them because his reasons were interesting and it had no effect on the overall winner.

 

I feel I cannot let the month of November pass without making some concluding commentary on a poem that attracted 36 comments ��" surely a record for a blogged poem.  Even October’s poem of the month only collected 53 before dwindling as angst ridden poets switched allegiance with the wind…  

 

I refer of course to Augusta Darling’s Voyeur on the Wall (Date Rape) which nobody has yet commended for its beautiful and understated expression of the subject matter…. Maybe that had something to do with its steamy nature ��" it certainly got one or two people hot under the dog collar.  I initially saw it as light hearted piece of work, since I’ve never been averse to reading saucy material.  Having discussed it further with an ex member of the law, I see that there are deeper implications to associating rape with pleasure, that should not be skipped over so lightly.  Augusta, darling ��" do stick to less controversial subject matter in future ��" frigidity, promiscuity, buggery, necrophilia ��" so long as it’s consensual or at least not non consensual, you’ll be OK.  Even better if some narrow minded, opinionated, uptight poet gets you censored  ��" you’ll have the whole site singing your praise….

 

I am really enjoying running this competition.  I love to reward poets with praise for their hard work and there is nothing better in my books, than knowing that others have genuinely enjoyed your work.  I do hope that more of you choose to get involved next month.  Thanks to all who have voted and a very Merry Christmas to you all. xx

 

 

Nominated Poems ��" In no particular order

(Comments added, are those made by nominating poets)

 

“Winter coming, do you want to have a warm boots.”

 

“Men just go here order top quality and lowest price nike shoes.”

both by linfp2009

 

(Simply because their unexpectedness and naiveté made me smile on a dull day!)

 

Dark Art” by Barrie Singleton  (For its joyous, cerebral and very effective manipulation of visual imagery.

 

 drenched” by John Darwin

(For succinctly creating a mood of utter desolation and loss).

 

“Under the Wire” by John Aikman

(For its beautifully understated expression of extreme emotional pain in relationships)

 

“Ignition Disaster”  by Winston Plowes

 

“….”   By Jessie

 

“Shapeless and Transcendent” by Wytchewoode

( For its wow and gulp factor)

 

“Kilim”  by Deborah Jordan

 

“The Taking Away of a Lady’s Tear”  by Stefan Wilde

 

“Human”  by Emma McCourty

 

“Those Ever Neglected Friends”  by Pete Crompton

 

“New Brighton Lament”  by Steve Regan

( On steve’s profile, not a blog but I couldn’t wait for a replacement…)

 

 

 

Winning Poems

 

 

 

The Sons                                                                   by Marianne Daniels

 

The coil of summer is spent, and we bruise in the cold

like litmus papers, with ogres scowling in our bellies

and death knuckling our jaws. We repent

 

our steadfast boots, our gallant wooden toys, our rampant

springs of duty, swallowing hard, and tasting theft

with every buckle around our waist

 

and every scar stitched on our coats. We slide the reds

around our mud veins, our slug trails of war, like draughts

on boards littered with graves - all names

 

lost in the futile stretch of an atlas on earth ripe

with decomposition -  and we bury our heads, our souls,

our friends, in the glacial silence.

 

Our love is home but home is dead; a compass

in No Man’s land, roused by the shivers of the shredded

iris that has sped our youth,

 

the enlisted mothers, propping each other up

to save the face from the puddle. We do not trust sleep

in it’s comfort and our fear is a walking wound to save

 

Our sons that leap into action

Like hares into the jaws

of a trap.

 

 

 

Love Me Until Morning      

                                                                                    by  Augusta Darling

 

Love me until the morning

 

Love me through the easel and canvas of your day

Love me to your everywhere

Love me into the singsong of your smile

Treasure my moments

Moments of madness

Given up like a child

Love me through my kissing

Kisses that fall to you like mist stingle hangs upon a leaf

Kisses like two swans upon still water

Wear me close to your dream

Watch the which way of my going

 

Love me until the morning 

 

 

 

WOLOP.nov

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Comments

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Emma McCourty

Sun 13th Dec 2009 21:24

Hi Isobel, I posted the HUMAN poem for you to see. Thank you for nominating it in to the competition! please let me know if i posted it in the right place for you. take care. em.

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Emma McCourty

Sun 13th Dec 2009 21:23

HUMAN-3

Feelings piercing skin
Tensing bone
Nothing stored for yourself
control stolen, hope lost
the 5am struggle to sleep
Not a speck of time
to breath

Head space packed and swelling:
abusive ideas with heavy fists
bashing fragile flesh and tender mind
damaging and destroying
assembling self doubt
feeding insecurity
starving souls

Struggling to like yourself,
lie to yourself
and paint the world positive
cope with the shape of existence
cringing at lifes texture
And dreading!
the colour of tomorrow

Desperately Seeking logic
in rubble of feelings
miss-spelling life as 'shit'
searching and searching
for hope

rawness, tenderness on skin
pores constrict, hairs curl up
pain laqueres skins surface
expecting, anticipating
injury

until you are a shaking tiny ball
defenses finely tuned
and you sleep and dream
and hope and pray
not to wake

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Marianne Louise Daniels

Tue 8th Dec 2009 17:48

Thankyou.
To quote the snowy famous pixie, Bjork:
"I am a grateful grapefruit" x

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Isobel

Tue 8th Dec 2009 17:37

Thank you Anthony and John - comments like those make it so worth while. I love John's description of how Marianne's poetry makes him feel - that sounds a lot like love to me - she isn't the inspiration for your drenched poem by any chance? tee hee. Despite all our maligning of WOL, there are some wonderful poets on here. I am hopeful that WOLOP popularity will spread a little, as people start to enjoy the benefits of it themselves. If not, then tomorrow is another day... xx

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John Darwin

Tue 8th Dec 2009 15:38

Congratulations to Marianne and Augusta. I have tried to explain how I feel when I read Marianne Daniels' poetry. The nearest I can come is to say it feels like laughing and crying at the same time while being at the point of falling off a very high stool. I hope Ms Daniels realises this is a compliment :-)

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Anthony Emmerson

Tue 8th Dec 2009 13:17

Congratulations to all the worthy winners and runners-up this month. Also thanks to Isobel for her efforts in collection and collation of the votes.

And to all those apathetic and cynical souls who couldn't be bothered to vote, an early Christmas present of raspberries and humbugs!

Regards,
A.E.

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Isobel

Tue 8th Dec 2009 12:58

Who deleted the sausage comment? I rather liked it. And there was I, thinking we might get together to play football, have a threesome under the mistletoe... or make a collaborative poem...subject matter to be thrashed out... Tis the season to be merry, tra la la la la, la la la la

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Augusta Darling

Mon 7th Dec 2009 21:16

I am so so delighted, I am goin to celebrate right now with some Chablis, apples and cheese.

I do believe you've made my day.

Thank you for reading and voting, who ever you may have been
Augusta xx

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Isobel

Mon 7th Dec 2009 17:06

And I can hear imagine your chest heaving and drenched - racked with such obvious emotion...
If anyone is struggling to tag a poem - all you have to do is edit your blog and add the tag at the bottom, then press update....

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John Aikman

Mon 7th Dec 2009 15:38

I'd like to thank my mother and father, who are no doubt looking down proudly through the holes in the floor of heaven, my brothers for their ceaseless encouragement, my wife, who has stood by me through the dark years and my children whose pride shines through their eyes. My agent, Lenny, for putting me forward for this award and my OU tutor and mentor for his guidance and kind words, but, most of all I would like to thank you, the voting public, for this recognition of the toil and effort, and sheer blood sweat and tears that is this thing that we all love...poetry.

'Ere, hang on, whaddaya mean I came equal third?

: )

Thanks Isobel for all your efforts and your ceaseless good humour. I can see the twinkle in your eyes from here!

: )

Jxxx

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