# November "Power" Challenge.



## Olly Buckle (Nov 13, 2010)

Thank you to apple for choosing our next poetry challenge, it is to be on the subject of *power*. That may be interpreted in any way you wish. You have until Sunday Nov 28th, two weeks from this post, to submit entries.

Please remember the usual rules:-
All entries should be posted in this thread. Entries may not be edited once they've been posted so please make sure that your poem is exactly as you want it before you submit.

Please *do not* leave comments in this thread.  Save those for the voting thread.

Any discussion at all should take place in the Bards' Bistro.


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## Baron (Nov 14, 2010)

*Vision*


High upon a fortress wall
I stood to watch
the heads of many nations 
fall.

Names are lost - I really can’t recall
the title or the rank
of any one of them 
at all.

Blotted out forever now,
those mighty rulers, 
proud and strong -
invincible, 
or so they seemed,
but now the kingdoms turn to dust
where they had reigned 
so long.

A legacy of sand is all they leave;
blown away 
like ashes in the breeze,
no minstrel bard to sing their song.

Meanwhile the risen Lord kneels
by a stream,
refreshed, 

as if the horrors of the world
were but a passing dream -

he sips the clear water.


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## Scarlett_156 (Nov 15, 2010)

*WARNING:  This contains a swear word.  If it's against the rules, mods, please feel free to take it down, and I'll just write something else!*


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*Something out of Nothing (a lyric on the subject of power)*

 "We knew you'd fail, and so you did," he leaned close to me and said. 
 With a grin and a wink, he turned his much-photographed patrician head
 And left the room, a throng of shrilly-yelping journalists capering in his train.
 I put on my hat and, thinking hard, walked alone to my apartment in the rain. 

 A whole lot of nothing: I've had to work with, then and now. 
 A chair, a desk, some notebooks, beat-up camera; this computer, which is old, noisy, and slow. 
 Jaw clenched in bitter anger, I lit a cigar, 
 And stood smoking, looking out at pouring rain and crawling cars. 

 So months pass, of course, for time never stands still. 
 (And a failure like me has so much time to kill!)
 The purge came, so I hid as my friends were arrested,
 To the dearth of our dream in which all had so heavily invested.  

 What corrupts absolutely, though? Handle lightning with great care, or be scorched to ash,
 And the ill of those around you revealed in a merciless flash. 
 Time beats us all to a bloody smear, but stubborn souls keep up the fight. 
 And those of us who can, continue to write… and write… and write. 

 And live to see the day when that patrician head's held low in its disgrace; 
 No more a condescending smile to wreath his formerly much beloved face. 
 And the yelping has turned mean from journos formerly awestruck; a
 Sign is waved, angry citizens rave; I whisper to him, "So… what's mightier than the sword, mothaf*cka…?"
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## Lady S (Nov 17, 2010)

*Mozart Musing*

Mozart, played 
by a string quartet on the lawn
while I savour strawberries and cream;
sip champagne, close my eyes –
let imagination take my thoughts 
down a musical stream - to swim 
through an intoxicating dream.

Transported in time 
by the melodies played -
soft summer breeze 
on this warm afternoon,
drives out of mind 
all those plans that I’d made;
leaves me to glide free 
as if now made immune
to my cares, 
as I follow the strain 
of the tune
along eddy and flow 
on this fine day in June.

Compromise –
a word I once never knew;
no way would I give up control 
of my life - until this lovely refrain 
came to carry me through,
brushing the dust and the cobwebs away -
playing a melody 
that would cause me to stay
in a new harmony 
from which 
I would not want to stray.

Chords carry visions
into tomorrow;
where one who played lead
must now learn to follow.


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## Olly Buckle (Nov 18, 2010)

Dungeness.




  Monolithic block sits on the headland,
  Dull grey to match the winter sea and sky.
  Still, holding down the gravel spit and sand.
  A concrete strip leads out, but none pass by.
  Flecks of terns and gulls pass over, oblivious.
  Weeds find temporary shelter in mortar
  On the walls, ignoring the obvious,
  Looking out, blindly, across the water.
  The turbine hall’s alight internally
  Warmed up by a hidden molten heart
  Pylons buzz carrying eternity,
  Power, through the mist to every part
  Of all the villages and towns around
  Filling them all with heat and light and sound.


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## Chiefspider (Nov 23, 2010)

Gingerbread Man

Run n' Flee
 No matter, I will catch thee
 I eat your gumdrops
 I tear off your legs
 You wiggle and squirm just like a worm
Your cinnamon core is no more 
 Now I drown you in milk till' you cant breath
 Rip out your eyes 
And one by one
I eat them
 I break your arms in two
 And chomp and chew
 Its down to your candy heart
what a bore
 How little fun I had taring it apart 
So I can drink its gore

 Happy Halloween Little Gingerbread man


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## Edgewise (Nov 23, 2010)

deITy Department


    Master's medium is binary code 
  weaved between fragments of 1's and 0's.
  Pride belongs to a programmer;
  program stumbles on the cipher.
  A riddle wrapped in cryptic language
  is the will of the creator.

  Master wields his keystrokes;
  subject acts on his suggestion. 
  Lightning strikes the conduits.
  Masters influence goes undetected;
  butterflies through its wires
  sparking untraceable questions.
  Master smells a glitch.
  The un-repairable happens.

  Power precedes cause,
  program stutters with errors;
  ill equipped to reset the system
  or handle the circuit breakers.
  Program crafts queries for answers
  (search spits back the legend);

_a while back there was a crash,_
_free will got lost in the flotsam_.


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## MaxGingham (Nov 26, 2010)

THE WEAK RESISTANCE
Here’s the truth, you assume too much,
For must I not be weak and low?
Such a little thing, pretty and slim,
Must I not look to you as though;
You’re strong, and bold and above the rest,
I should give you anything without protest,
Should I not be to you humble?

What is it you overlook?
In all your height, your status, your pride,
I may be little and weak and low,
But I have strength inside unknown,
Next time you brag about your invincible nature,
Watch your back; I’ll be there for sure,

Waiting for my moment,
Waiting for my chance,
For now the control may be yours,
Your power may reign absolute,
Yet the little and the wise are watching you,
I’ve got a crossbow... I can shoot.


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## Olly Buckle (Nov 28, 2010)

Entry time is up folks I am now closing this thread and opening another for voting and comments.


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