A C P C - 2015/03 New Challenge Poem/Title Contest - Vote Here Poem by Brian Johnston

TO VOTE: SIMPLY ADD A COMMENT ONTO THE END OF THIS 'CONTEST COMPILATION OF ENTRIES.

Choose the poem you like best and if you would be so kind give all the gladiators who entered the arena some feedback as to why you either liked or did not like their entry. The reasons why you chose your winning title would also be appreciated. Enjoy!


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NEW CHALLENGE POEM/TITLE CONTEST
- - - - -TITLE FOR MARCH 2015- - - -
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The March contest will again take place on my site. Other poet's who are interested in hosting this ongoing PoemHunter contest please let me know. The new title for this month is to write a poem introducing yourself, an Echo/Response Poem to John Westlake's Poem 'HOW I WOULD DESCRIBE ME' which along with my own response as the first published competing poem is my take on what I am looking for, though PH members themselves will of course be the final judges of the contest entries.

NOTE: Participation in this contest does not necessarily mean that you have permission to publish both John's and your poem together on your own site. Permission to do this will be granted by John only on an individual basis. Participation in this contest does not grant you that right automatically. Thanks for understanding.


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What is an Echo Poem?
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Originally I thought of an echo poem as being a poem that represents a change of perspective on another author's work. The original author releases a poem into the world and the world echoes it back with some changes, perhaps gently critical or even subtly supportive of the original poet. As with a real echo there may be some lost words that change the meaning, the echo poem may be colored by the personality and philosophy of the new poet as well, but the subject should stay pretty much the same.

I am publishing my own response to John Westlake's poem here as an example of my personal take on an echo poem. This months contest requires not only a poem written by you with its own title but a title for the new Echo poem that results if you use that format as well. Don't forget the new title with any Echo Poem entry.

Previous rules published will be adhered to. Only one entry per poet unless you co-author a poem with another poet. In such a case the major and minor roles must be clearly discussed in poet's notes.

Any poem received before midnight on March 31,2015 will be considered a valid entry. Late entries may be posted but no votes for them will be counted.


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POEM TO BE ECHOED/RESPONDED TO
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HOW I WOULD DESCRIBE ME

People often say to me
“What can you tell me about yourself”
guess it’s my duty to explain to them
and so I look them in the face and reply

My eyes are deep like two tiny oceans
just be careful you don’t drown in them
you’ll never reach the bottom
and there’s not a beach in sight

My arms and legs are a library
ruined by several scars
each one tells its own story
of how it came to be
but none can be bothered to read it

My mind is a battle field
full of the tangled wreckage of ancient conflicts
parts of it are like covered with mines
each one a painful memory
every now and then a fresh war will start
bringing new carnage and suffering
the remains they leave are left to rot in the sun
only to be consigned to the past

My personality is a broadsword
razor sharp and straight to the point
it only can be wielded by me
the blade is often glowing
letting you know how genuine I am

My honesty is a radiant beacon
shining like a miniature sun
it helps my truth stay pure through this life
never dimming or even going out

My truth is a shotgun
let me give you both barrels
a useful weapon in this life of deception
because I have no space for lies or cheating
no bull trash will ever stand in for it

My patience is a tranquil lake
surrounded by many beautiful trees
every tree is in full bloom in a variety of colours
yet when the leaves and petals fall
they make not even a ripple on the water
there's always time in this peaceful place
and none of it can be wasted by those who deserve it

Yet my temper is a volcano
often smoking as a warning to others
sometimes it will blow its top for a while
but its often short lived unless the lava runs
in which case be somewhere else

My happiness is a meadow on a summer’s day
full of millions of flowers
each one living in harmony
the stems bowing slightly in the gentle breeze

My love is like a huge blanket
soft and comforting to those who feel it
let me wrap it round your shoulders
and it will keep you safe and warm

My loyalty is a lovable dog
always faithful always there
as long as you stay true it'll love you
but it will turn on you if you abuse it

I have described myself as best I can
now you know a little about me
it’s time for the favour to be returned
what will you tell me about you

John Westlake
April 11,2014


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Competition Poems Begin Here
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ASKED AND ANSWERED
An Echo Poem by John Westlake and Brian Johnston

HOW I WOULD DESCRIBE ME by John Westlake
[Text of John's Poem]

WHO I AM - An Echo Poem by Brian Johnston

I wish I could be clearer too
But when a mirror comes to view
I find reflections blur the tons
Of promises I've yet to keep.
The virtues to which I aspire
Just kindling in God's cleansing fire
A testament to what I've spent
In daytime dreams before I sleep.

At times my eyes are shallower
Than tadpole bog from summer shower
But there’s a depth in self-less mirth
That fathoms ocean’s honesty!
I have my scars and injuries
Reminders that I sometime please
With sad stories and past glories
For which there is no amnesty.

I don’t take pride in vanquished foes
Or stealthy night walks on my toes,
The charges led, the grateful dead,
Aren’t bullet marked on résumé.
Yes, memories of past wars hurt
And new one's benefits seem curt,
The battles won, the killing done
And winning joy's naiveté.

In personality a spark
Of servanthood, like Noah’s ark,
Yet to serve God, His judgment odd,
World lost to save humanity.
And honestly how can this stand,
This horrifying reprimand
Where saints all fail and demons wail,
Is Justice too insanity?

But Bible’s truth is Parable
And God’s Love not unbearable
Though we may fret, bemoan our debt,
God's Justice earned, but Grace God’s gift.
Though truth may not be found in me
In loving God I can be free,
My sails are full, sin’s lost its pull,
My restless heart no more adrift.

Direction comes with good intent,
And peace the fruit of time well spent,
Green pastures call, demand my all,
My patience ripples on a lake.
For service is a restful noise,
Like one the wind in leaves employs
Ripples caress, service redress
Wounds of a soul lost on the take.

Sure I’ve a temper, hear me roar,
But keep your gun locked in its drawer
My passions vent, my anger spent,
I’ll soon be sleeping like dead tree.
My happiness the world of Pooh
With flowers that are meant for two,
Or three or four, open the door,
Here friendship has no enemy!

My love a cloud embracing all
Its form envelopes like a shawl,
With scent of earth, infusing worth,
Dew drops condensing on a rose.
I’m loyal like no one you’ve seen,
Like color in an evergreen,
Put doubt aside, embrace the pride
Of emperor without his clothes.

I’ve tried to do sir what you asked
But you did set me quite a task
Hope that you see, something of me,
In my poor effort at this verse.
And now as I am close to done,
I swear it’s been a lot of fun,
Though poetry’s not rocketry,
Well, hell, my friend, it could be worse!

Brian Johnston
March 3,2015

Poet's Notes:
With John's permission I am now able to use his original poem as the poem to be echoed by everyone which means I get to enter my poem now too. What fun!

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JOHN & ME<<<<<<New Title
An Multiple Echo Poem by John Westlake and Bri Edwards

Combined and Interlocked Original Poems:
HOW I WOULD DESCRIBE ME by John Westlake
ALL ABOUT ME by Bri Edwards

[[My Friend “P”, aka John Westlake,
has set the bar for me, for goodness sake!
I’ve got poems ‘bout me, Bri, on this site,
but, for an “echo” to John, more I’ll write.]]

J: People often say to me
“What can you tell me about yourself”
guess it’s my duty to explain to them
and so I look them in the face and reply

B: People RARELY say to me
“What can you tell me about yourself”,
but look me in the eye (not for real)
and I’ll now give YOU my reply.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

J: My eyes are deep like two tiny oceans
just be careful you don’t drown in them
you’ll never reach the bottom
and there’s not a beach in sight

B: My eyes are hazel? and, in number,2;
yes, I’ve got two eyes, like most of YOU.
Not much is behind them, so the doctor said;
with NO brain, she thought I should be dead.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

J: My arms and legs are a library
ruined by several scars
each one tells its own story
of how it came to be
but none can be bothered to read it

B: My arms and legs are big and hairy.
When women see them, they think they’re scary.
One leg used to have giant varicose veins;
they’re gone now, though they caused no pains.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

J: My mind is a battle field
full of the tangled wreckage of ancient conflicts
parts of it are like covered with mines
each one a painful memory
every now and then a fresh war will start
bringing new carnage and suffering
the remains they leave are left to rot in the sun
only to be consigned to the past

B: Unlike the Englishman, Profanisaurus,
(J’s alias) , in life I guess I’ve been victorious.
Sure I’ve had my share of wars in my life;
most all have been with my poor wife.
“Wives” I should say, as from 3 I’ve resigned;
Those 3, to my past, I’ve now consigned.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

J: My personality is a broadsword
razor sharp and straight to the point
it only can be wielded by me
the blade is often glowing
letting you know how genuine I am

B: My personality, if I may call it mine,
is a bit rusty, and sometimes bitter like too-old wine.
NO! I’m kidding now. I’ll match John tit for tat.
Tell me, Readers, what do you think of that? !
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

J: My honesty is a radiant beacon
shining like a miniature sun
it helps my truth stay pure through this life
never dimming or even going out

B: I too am honest, though at times I tell a fib;
if I didn’t, my wife would poke me (MORE) in my rib.
There have been a few times, though very few,
when a fib (or omission) helps to see one through….
the day!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

J: My truth is a shotgun
let me give you both barrels
a useful weapon in this life of deception
because I have no space for lies or cheating
no bull trash will ever stand in for it

B: Truth be told, some of my poem is a lie.
I tell the truth usually, but I’m a weak guy.
It is sometimes hard to be funny with the truth,
so I might twist Truth, like a dentist twists a Tooth.
[I hope YOU don’t think “less of me”]
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

J: My patience is a tranquil lake
surrounded by many beautiful trees
every tree is in full bloom in a variety of colours
yet when the leaves and petals fall
they make not even a ripple on the water
there's always time in this peaceful place
and none of it can be wasted by those who deserve it

B: John’s first line, like his name, ends with “lake”;
with his poems he sometimes “great pains” does take!
I’ve got patience galore; my wife doesn’t agree.
But MY patience is stout like a great big oak tree! ,
[surrounded by water, which soaks my poor roots,
and causes poor growth for my leaves and shoots.]
Away from home, my patience is much, much better!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

J: Yet my temper is a volcano
often smoking as a warning to others
sometimes it will blow its top for a while
but its often short lived unless the lava runs
in which case be somewhere else

B: My temper also can sometimes erupt,
but, with lava, our home, I rarely disrupt.
Ok! Don’t ask my “home boss”. Don’t you dare!
Or after you DO, she’ll pull my hair! OR worse! !
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

J: My happiness is a meadow on a summer’s day
full of millions of flowers
each one living in harmony
the stems bowing slightly in the gentle breeze

B: I never use “happiness” to refer to me,
but I’m pretty darn “content”; can’t YOU see?
Flowers are pretty and smell so yummy, but
from them come bees which sting my tummy.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

J: My love is like a huge blanket
soft and comforting to those who feel it
let me wrap it round your shoulders
and it will keep you safe and warm

B: I’ve given love to many a gal, but
to be “returned in kind” does sometimes fail.
My love comes in four distinct varieties:
“wives”, “mom”, “daughter”, and “pizza-with-cheese”.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

J: My loyalty is a lovable dog
always faithful always there
as long as you stay true it'll love you
but it will turn on you if you abuse it

B: John’s got the right idea of loyalty,
whether it be to a pet or to royalty.
I’ll gladly continue to be a good friend,
until YOU ignore me! Then my loyalty must end.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

J: I have described myself as best I can
now you know a little about me
it’s time for the favour to be returned
what will you tell me about you

B: Well, John’s poem was nice; they usually are.
High, for MY poem, was where HE “set the bar”.
I hope you’ve enjoyed this little Bri-fun romp;
please don’t (on my “echo”) too harshly stomp.

(March 2015)

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THIS IS HOW WE THINK
An Echo Poem by John Westlake and Diane Hine

HOW I WOULD DESCRIBE ME by John Westlake
[Text of John's Poem]

WHICH REMINDS ME - An Echo Poem by Diane Hine

Curiosity is fossicking on Mars. Doctors ordered rest
after February’s little spill (of current) but it’s doing
okay now. Curiosity’s sucky percussion drill assays
bits of Mars in a buzz-boing-sniff-slurp kind of way.
Which reminds me…

In 1972, I was sorting mail in Stoneville’s stamp-
sized post office/general store, and watching a bee
and a blowfly trying to exit through the storefront
window. Boing boing boing boing they went without
knocking themselves out, and buzz buzz buzz buzz,
trying to drill themselves out. They paused now and
then, to probe the solid air under their feet with tiny
probing bits – sniff sniff, or suck it up – slurp slurp.
I wondered which one would dehydrate first. Then
I saw the nice hippy couple (Stoneville’s only hippies)
watching the bee and the blowfly from outside. They
came in, so I found their mail, but they hadn’t come
for that. They fossicked in their fringed bags until
they found what they needed: a little container and
a slip of paper. Ever so gently, they rescued the bee.
While they were releasing the hippy happy bee
outside (what a trippy tale it would tail-waggle back
at the hive) , I swatted the blowfly with their mail. Bye
bye blowfly; some bugs get saved, some get swatted,
some desiccate on windowsills, some serendipitously
bounce through open windows. Lots of them try to
hammer-drill their way through solid glass. They’re
either dumb, or abreast with quantum tunnelling.
Bye bye blowfly, I dug your groovy gyroscopes; you
were prettier than a pale blue aerogram. Bye bye
aerogram too; emails are flightier than you.
Which reminds me…

someone I hadn’t heard from in years sent me an
email the other day. I tried to guess what it would
say but, I didn’t even know what I wanted it to say.
Rare emails are astonishing, like memos from Mars.
Far out Curiosity, I dig your sucky drill. What will you
find? We don’t mind. How about a way out riddle?

(March 29,2015)


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EVERYTHING IS A MYSTERY TO ME
An Echo Poem by John Westlake and Abekah Emmanuel

HOW I WOULD DESCRIBE ME by John Westlake
[Text of John's Poem]

I AM WHO YOU THINK I AM - An Echo Poem by Abekah Emannuel

Having spent years with the chalk and the cane,
I have grown to understand the simplicity
As well as the complexity of human lives,
The blessings we enjoy and the mysterious bane.

Whenever I try to comprehend the actions
And the inactions of people far and close to me,
I always ask who they are, and wonder
What motivates them to in certain ways function.

But in that quest to know them and what they
Actually stand for; I pose to myself the same questions
But always sweats profusely with no definite answer.
So you see, we all might have been born from one vein.

Now you are asking me to describe who I am,
But frankly, this is a huge and cumbersome task
And so will let time to reveal that to you for
I am tempted to say things that will delight your heart.

If I should tell you something about my mind,
I may be tempted to say all kinds of things,
Which I cannot be certain of it myself, for I am quite
Uncertain if such a thing even I can find.

So now you see why I have difficulties describing myself,
I am ignorant of what forms the basis of my decisions
At one time, this becomes good that becomes bad
And in all these I learn from and keep in my life’s shelf.

And so for now, whatever you think about me
Can either be true or false, or even both, therefore,
I partially depend on you to know myself at times,
And so just tell your friend: I am who you think I am.


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END OF COMPETITION POEMS (TOTAL 4)