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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 31, 2009 21:41:40 GMT -6
Obviously, any critiques of the judging are welcome, too! I'm only one reader.
And Talossa would be sensible to look forward to more of your poems, David! Wonderful stuff.
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 31, 2009 20:12:56 GMT -6
English Language Section, Winner
It is my pleasure to present "El Pretz 'Per Tomás'" to the winning poet. This prize is awarded in honour of all purple-tongued Talossans, most especially the granddaddy of them. I've named it this to represent my hopes that Talossa will continue to seek to understand its past, with its turmoils and tragedies, whilst working for a better, more beautiful future. So without further ado...
*****
Two things put this poem at the top of the pile for me: layers, and sensuality. I don't mean sensuality in a physical sense; that would be a good quality too, though not in THIS poem. No, I mean a gentle spiritual love that is the chief topic, and chief strength, of the poem. As for layers, I mean that this poem makes me think, reflect, consider - it makes me try to find inspirations, references, ideas and so forth to a greater degree than any other poem in the section (indeed, in the whole contest).
There is the fine, angry language railing against disease, promising aid, demanding action - "Walk tall and brave through pain/ Beside your little boy’s tenuous walking" - with the underlying exhortation to joint action. There are the influences from performance poetry (or perhaps conscious rap), with particular styles of repetition and alliteration throughout the poem. "Philadelphia", depending on its precise focus, can refer to the mutual aid besought (for the writer needs the subject far more than the subject needs the writer, helpful as the writer may prove to be); it might refer to a film; it might refer to the city (or rather, cities - whilst the author may well not know the history of Byzantine Philadelphia, that city's heroic resistance echoes for me).
It certainly is a poem that proves that the author-reader relationship can, in some ways, be symbiotically meaningful - that is to say, meaning is rendered at both ends by both participants. This poem then, is an effective side of a dialogue with the reader - or so I feel.
A few niggles - not a fan of starting every line with a capital regardless of context. Sometimes the rhythm seemed to go from the poem, and without a strong regular form, the rhythm was what kept the poem going. But as I say - niggles.
That is why I am proud to announce it as the winner of the English Language Section of the 1st Talossan Poetry Contest, and award its author El Pretz "Per Tomás"! Hurrah!
The Lantern by Breneir Tzaracomprada I want to fade into your essence And fight this turmoil intimately To transfer my life force Onto the plains of Philadelphia While I know you are possessed of stern stuff Watching from afar is not enough
Graduate into each day stronger To see your daughter graduate Vanquish despair in the long nights To witness the dark plague vanquished Realize all your reservoirs of inner strength So that family can see your salvation realized Walk tall and brave through pain Beside your little boy’s tenuous walking
Disassemble my marrow To reassemble your health and carry you into tomorrow I will rail against statistics Trusting the advice of Twain As the spirit becomes atavistic And as your family’s determined will is your gain
Carry a lantern within Hanging on strands of gossamer Shining inside, illuminating an architects Manifestations of metal and steel So that I can see where to deconstruct the annihilation Making the darkness reel
The genesis of one cell’s dysfunction Is not your destruction
I want to fade into your essence And fight this terrible knowledge intimately To deploy my lifeforce Onto the plains of Philadelphia Because while I know you’re made of stern stuff Watching from afar is not enough
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 31, 2009 18:26:18 GMT -6
I hereby declare TYCHO VAN DIE duly elected as SENESCHAL OF CÉZEMBRE! Huzzah! You'll find the office in good shape, ignore the wine bottles... And to you, my dear, fair isle, a fond farewell!
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 31, 2009 17:41:03 GMT -6
English Language Section And welcome back. I hope your bathroom break was relaxing, your tea/Miller Lite/microbrew/fine Mosel Riesling is well poured, and you're prepared for a FREAKIN' PRIZE TO BE AWARDED.
I have picked one winner for our special prize. I will first introduce the three runners-up, with a couple of comments of my own on each comment. Don't take me too seriously, and if the poet or any reader disagrees with me, good! Literary criticism, and the development of good literature, is all about bouncing off one's inspirations, one's peers and one's self, with hefty amounts of disagreement involved.
******
Our first runner-up is small, funny, and perfectly formed. It is probably the "purest" of our English entries in form (as a 5-7-5 haiku, though maybe the dipthonic 'what's' is to be eyed up suspiciously), though also the slightest. It's pithy, to the point and Talossan in style: irreverent and unserious about Talossan pride.
TalossaFest by Eoin Ursum What’s that over there? People waving two-tone flag; They must be crazy.
Our second runner-up poem is a heartfelt poem that really gets across, to me, the sense of wintertime ruminations on the past. That's stating the obvious, perhaps, but I mean I got a real FEEL for the conflicted feelings in the poet's heart, the confusion over how to handle certain situations and the resolution to push forward. It is not technically polished; there are some "old-fashioned" rhymes, some "dull" word choices, and the form is all over the place (though frankly, form isn't a worry if the poet carries the emotion through, and this one does). Despite all that, I really liked this. I think with a little more practise, a slight freshening up of certain poetic skills, this poet could be very, very good.
poem by Éovart Grischun Wintertime and the wind is blowing, and I don't know what I'm supposed to do, in my mind, thoughts are flowing, but I don't know how to put them to you, each time is another lesson, it's just expressing what I think of you, and every tiny thing that you do. In this life there is hate and anger, brought to us on a silver platter, Evertime I see you, the feelings come back through, the feelings I felt when I was younger, Still as strong, just not as often. I have some sense now that I'm older, now I know what i'm supposed to do, feelings are still strong on my side, I hope it's mutual when our worlds collide, each time is another lesson, it's just expressing what I think of you, and every tiny thing you do. Wintertime is almost over, but these feelings here still remain, in the cold is where my thoughts are of you, the heat inside helps them all break through.
Our final joint runner-up is really different again. Mythic in style, with some obvious influences and relations: Irish ballading, Ted Hughes (both with crows and with narrative biographies), and some ancestry from the Romantics and Bill Shakespeare (no, not the Earl of Oxford). Really good little yarn, good humoured yet a little ethereal, mysterious, dangerous. Jack Crow is a rogue, loveable perhaps, but with more than a hint of the Morningstar about him. Some of the rhymes are a little recycled, though others, whilst simple, get away with it due to style; the scansion is, in places, sloppy (for instance, lines 3-5 of stanza 2 require a real stretch in the rhythm of the piece to keep going). I wouldn't mind seeing more of poet's work, to see if he reaches beyond the fantastic and merges it into "reality". This style, coupled with "universal concerns" (what a horrid phrase that is, though!), could really make a splash.
"The Pearly Prince: Song of Jack Crow" by Daviu Dréwith Who nicked the ruby gem of an Irish king? Lone-Crow, who views the value not the price, And pinched with snatch, hid beneath that darkened wing… Who perched upon a Dragon’s nest yet thrice? Subtle stealth of ‘Crook-Claw’; theft’s his thing. ‘Pick-a-Lock’ of quick tricks, a well turned vice, Virtue veiled, Master Villain of chance and gain. Who guards the jewels and crown in Royal guise? Good and bad to Mr. Crow are all the same, Then shadow-flies the crooked night with prize… Hallowed booty-bird of the Death-Harvest Dame.
But…
Who loves Sir Jack, criminal with coal-hard eyes? That petty-pecks at chaos, as if a silly game; Pearly Lord, swift trickster of diverse skies He who shuns good innocence and seeks the Devil’s flame; With a burial ‘caw’ that duets the funerary cries?
And…
Where the hidden, twisted hoard of stolen gold… Of ill-gotten wealth? Perhaps, Beneath the dream-bed of Crow the Bold,
And…
With that, I bid you good health.
******
Another short break here, before the prize winner is announced!
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 31, 2009 17:11:57 GMT -6
Prefatory Remarks I'll preface this "ceremony" with a few, hopefully brief, remarks. It's cliché to say how impressive the entrants are, but when I launched this contest I expected there to be one or two entered poems that were absolute duds. I just KNEW I'd have to turn round, to my friends and countrymen, and tell them "Thanks, but no thanks". That is, alas, my experience in literary contests in the past, even in dedicated writing groups and online forums.
But Talossa proved me wrong, and I am chastened suitably. I genuinely thought there was real quality in each poem submitted: 4 English poems by 4 poets, and 3 Talossan poems by 2 poets. Of course there were bits I wasn't so keen on; but I didn't read any real dross. Bravo!
Talossan Language Section
First we'll start with the Talossan Language Section. No prize is awarded this time round, alas; I considered three poems from just two poets too few to really turn into a "contest". However, I will post them all here, because they were all very good. We even got a new poetic form for Talossan!
To quote Eoin Ursum, the bard of two of these poems: "For the Poetry Contest, I have decided to enter two Talossan language poems in a new measure called the 'Talossan Englyn'. It is based off the Welsh englyn, but it doesn't have the Cynghanedd, or 'sound-harmony' traditionally associated with the measure. They are written in Talossan of the pre-Arestadâ tradition. I have also provided translations, in which the poetry gets lost and the words sound sappier than they should. "
El Lapì by Eoin Ursum El Lapì perschít çerça – El caçéir Sieu treisoûr desira; Ospréi pláins mïuts, o trova, La phü fráisch lactü dal vercáriâ. (Rabbit by Eoin Ursum The clever Rabbit searches – the hunter Desires his treasure; After long minutes he finds, The freshest lettuce of the field.)
L’Ërxhënt by Eoin Ursum L’Ërxhënt, la Crastiun së foct – ça niúra La mál és la sventürâ; Àl fîm si realiça, El amôr tent la phü grült valutâ. (Money by Eoin Ursum Money, Man’s mistake – it nurtures Evil and Ill-temper; In the end one realised, Love has the greatest value.)
Our other Talossan poem needs to be read out loud, in our tongue, to be fully appreciated. And think...fairy tales, and literary pranks.
"Barbar, barbar..." by Sir C.M. Siervicul "Barbar, barbar, c'e va pic - Homenac'ha tomba, covì!": Vür entoneu del Senat. Givla barbar pensa es snuf'. (Barbarian, barbarian... by Sir C.M. Siervicul "Barbarian, barbarian, 'tis my peak - Memorial falls, young man!": Wistful man of the Senate. Barbarian pinnacle thinks and punches.[/i])
Guesses as to the inspiration for Sir Cresti on a postcard to...well...this thread.
Really wonderful additions to our nation's poetic and linguistic heritage, I'm sure we can all agree!
I'm going to end this post here, and return next post with the English Language Section.
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 28, 2009 6:57:54 GMT -6
I'll count this as a vote thread, too, then. All votes to be on the forum by 11.59pm BST on the 31st July.
The vote count currently stands at:
Tycho van Die: 4 Ian da Bitour: 1
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 18, 2009 14:43:26 GMT -6
I just read what I had in my inbox - it is different, you're quite right, though superficially similar. I'm sure Dreu will post it if needed. He or Eddie can tell me what's needed, if anything, from party leadership.
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 18, 2009 14:36:33 GMT -6
If that's the plan, Forestal to receive 5 seats and Ursum 4.
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 18, 2009 14:28:09 GMT -6
Wasn't there a draft constitution roughly matching this floating about, in Dreu's hands last I saw it?
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 18, 2009 14:24:22 GMT -6
With that edit, hereby countersigned.
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 18, 2009 14:22:15 GMT -6
I hereby nominate Tycho van Die, and give notice that nominations shall run until 11.59pm on the 24th July.
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 18, 2009 14:17:39 GMT -6
"If the King neither signs nor vetoes a Bill before the last day of the month in which it was passed by the Ziu, he shall be deemed to have signed it." For Ziu, replace with "Chancellery".
Once that's done, I'll be happy to countersign this; it accords with the legal theory that I have argued for before that there is implied consent in a Cunstaval's silence (except where explicitly stated, of course), and that in the absence of a Cunstaval, the Monarch is directly responsible for the role's responsibilities.
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 17, 2009 11:40:19 GMT -6
3 to Breneir Tzaracomprada 1 to Sten Larsen
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 17, 2009 10:43:44 GMT -6
From our electoral list:
Tim Asmourescu (PP-RDP) 9 Eovart Caceir 5 Tycho van Die 3 Danihel Forestal 9 Dreu Gavartgich (PP-CRO) 9 Iac Marabuérg 5 Breneir Tzaracomprada 9 Eoin Ursum 5 Joseph Walkland 5
plus:
Mataiwos Vurinalt 8 Eddie Grice 1
68 seats.
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Post by Owen Edwards on Jul 17, 2009 10:39:57 GMT -6
Two seats to Tim Asmourescu, two to Mataiwos Vurinalt.
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