# November Challenge: "First Light"



## Chesters Daughter (Nov 1, 2018)

*AS PREVIOUSLY ANNOUNCED, IF YOU ENTER THE CHALLENGE, YOU MUST CAST AT LEAST ONE VOTE IN THE POLL. FAILURE TO COMPLY WILL RESULT IN YOUR ENTRY BEING DISQUALIFIED.

*The prompt for this month's challenge, as chosen by TL Murphy is: *First Light*

ou are free to interpret the prompt in any way you wish, though of course, site rules apply. If you are unsure of the challenge rules please read the 'stickies' at the top of the board. *Please note that all entries* *are eligible to receive critique in the voting thread.* 

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*As previously announced, anonymous entries have been abolished, therefore, entrants must post their own entries in this thread, or if you desire to protect first rights, please post your entry in the [URL="https://www.writingforums.com/threads/180459-November-Challenge-quot-First-Light-quot?p=2189785#post2189785"]*secure*[/URL][URL="https://www.writingforums.com/threads/180459-November-Challenge-quot-First-Light-quot?p=2189785#post2189785"]* thread*[/URL], and then post a link to it here in the public thread. *Failure to do so runs the risk of your entry being disqualifie**d*, so if you require assistance with the task, please PM *me*, and I will gladly help you.

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*
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This challenge will close on the 15th of November at 7pm EST.



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## Pelwrath (Nov 3, 2018)

*Seeing Things in Dawn's First Light*

*Seeing Things in **Dawn’s First Light*



Another dawn’s light breaks
upon my minds prism.
Seven colors vividly bright
The deaf tell the blind about beauty
Who tell the rest what we don’t see.
Prisoner’s cage;
Creation’s rage!
Nobles who pass the baton
Of slavery’s collar,
rescued from history’s scrap heap.
Hard work and failure’s blood
grows few crops
Success is food on the table
My laughter sounds like a Lycan’s howl
Carni music make painted horses ride
Like serfs tilling the nobles fields.
Life’s wheel and Death’s scythe
Do the same thing to different tunes.
Lords and Ladies fear
The peasants revolting
stealing the spot light.
Note this, dawn’s first light
allows you to see.
Your minds freedom
determines what you see.
Let not the illusion
of life’s enemy and leaders
determine what you see!


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## apple (Nov 3, 2018)

*Morning*

Morning

China raises its sun
to push the night ahead
and unveil its masterpiece.

Sung Li stirs.
Warmth cradles his cheek,
the cock crows
and old tree scratches gently
on the roof.

Morning light streams through the window.

Sung Li awakens
and for a moment, dreams
on the tiny, golden, flecks of dust
that waft in the beams.

He puts out his tongue to taste the beauty.

After prayer,
he prepares tea,
and unfolds the faded carpet
that still hints of birds and dragons
and flowers.

From a special place
he takes delicate white plates 
and teacups
painted with blue fishes.

Beneath old tree,
he sets place for two 
and breakfasts with the morning.


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## Chesters Daughter (Nov 4, 2018)

*Forsaken by Witness Protection (Language)*

My cocoon,
as warm and safe as any womb,
is slightly lit nightly
by an empathetic moon
but burned away
by the first rays
of an unforgiving star 
intent on spotlighting
dastardly drama 
both near and far.

Dawn dissolves
the peace of a lulled mind
gratis of sleeping eyes blind 
as inch by inch
my sheltered sheath of dark
steathily unwinds
allowing a sinister solar whisper
[FONT=&Verdana]
[/FONT]“Awake
and smell the coffee...
[FONT=&Verdana]
[/FONT]tainted by the scent of bullshit
that’s threaded through
[FONT=.SFUIText]everything[/FONT]
[FONT=.SFUIText]everywhere[/FONT]
[FONT=.SFUIText]every day;
perpetual black and blue”.[/FONT]
[FONT=&Verdana]
[/FONT][FONT=&Verdana][FONT=&Verdana]So rouse I do,
[/FONT]my motions impeded[/FONT]
by savvy glue 
born of the wisdom
that with the cessation of night
thus begins the fight
to make it through another day
fraught with finaglers
and fruitless attempts 
to keep incidents of being
an unwilling witness
to iniquity 
at bay. 
[FONT=&Verdana]
[/FONT]Malevolent clocks
[FONT=.SFUIText]tick-tock[/FONT]
in what seems to be reverse
their sun-drenched faces
[FONT=.SFUIText]smiling[/FONT]
for their sloth-like pace
is clearly my curse
[FONT=&Verdana]
[/FONT]agony elongated
[FONT=&Verdana]
[/FONT]until the promise
made by cotton candy skies
[FONT=&Verdana][FONT=&Verdana]comes to fruition
[/FONT]and twilight knits[/FONT]
my shawl of anti-shit.
[FONT=&Verdana]
[/FONT]I number the hours
‘til I’m extorted to rise,
the summer solstice
without a doubt
is worst despised.
[FONT=&Verdana]
[/FONT]Twinkle twinkle
respite’s a blast
but, of course,
will never last
and even in slumber
I curl my fists
[FONT=&Verdana]
[/FONT]for I own the top slot
on Sol’s hit list.
[FONT=&Verdana]
[/FONT]


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## toddm (Nov 4, 2018)

*In the beautiful first light*

The sun was bright, the colors wild,
the balloons disheveled in the wind. 
A storm had passed in the night and now, 
amid scattered leaves and flower-wreaths,
the children were lost in their joy.
There was a noticeable lack of warmth 
in the false morning. We showed ourselves 
to the sincerity of many faces, the open arms,
the wide windows, the circles of offered
moments, the mints and painted almonds,
the lights behind the latticework,
and the peculiar way the glass would shake
when the wind blew. The roar of many voices 
and musical selections blended with the trill 
of waters rushing headlong to somewhere else. 
The mountains could be seen from the doorway, 
down the winding way along the shining stream 
which never freezes in the long winters
but laughs and sings the same bright song.
The day was a deep draught of golden wine,
potent and sweet - and the fountain-head was you.
Yet in the beautiful first light of those after-days
we discovered many things too late:
the sweeping of the hour-hands; the traversing 
of the foreign lands between our eyes,
perplexed by the world and the patterns in the sky:
the clouds and trees and disheveled balloons
which shadowed our gladsome feet, blurring
the dream-waltz of memories, rivers seeking a distant sea, 
and the uncoupled steps pursuing with native rhythms
the patient and painful mending of our lives.


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## Phil Istine (Nov 4, 2018)

*Entrenched in Decorum

*​  Wilfred digs a shallow grave
  in which his fallen friend would lie
  forever in a fallow foreign field.

  A eulogy he reads out loud,
  commits his spirit to the gods
  recounts the moment comrade’s blood was spilled.

  First light, sniper’s eye widens.
  Second light, takes aim.
  Third light, bullet to the brain.

  Smoking kills.

  Happy anniversary, Wilf.


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## TuesdayEve (Nov 6, 2018)

*Cast*

Secret words whispered
warm breathe through a veiled ear
a fading candles soft shine 
shadow enlaced arms forbidden touch
solicit nights passion
to resist first light


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## Darkkin (Nov 10, 2018)

*The Dame Light*

The Dame Light


Follow it back, along a path of sand,
a tangled tendril amid maple stands.
Go when the last sugar ray is flown,
as autumn fades, the milkweed sown.
—Seek the soft prism of cold fae hands.

As the season breaks, it reveals lands
veiled from covetous eyes and hands.
Marvels forbidden, secrets unknown.
--Follow along a path of sand...

From the veil she comes, prism in hand,
as autumn dies, crimson ‘cross the land.
And with it she comes, prisms sown,
the first light of winter, tyrian blown—
soul of the Dame Light unseen by man.
--Follow, footprints cast in sand...


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## ned (Nov 15, 2018)

*First Light*

.
a fallout of summer blossom
when the wind blows
on this bustling street

a rickshaw weaves
tween trundling trams
as it goes ever east

taking a silkened lady
fluttering fan
shades her painted face

past the castle garrison
boy-soldiers thrust and parry
clattering wooden swords

to where yoked men carry
bamboo cages
enclosing bright songbirds

first light

lit up these dark ages
until...

the second light of overkill


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## Chesters Daughter (Nov 15, 2018)

This challenge is now closed.


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