Poetry Chess Game -- Brandon vs. Todd

[Todd]

Brandon, I haven't checked the form yet, but in my opinion this is your best poem yet. Need some sleep, be back tomorrow with my move.

[brandontoh]

Thanks Todd! =D By the way I edited it some, do tell me if it works better or not.

In the stale couch, stare on old fire.
Worries overflow, a sigh escapes.
Imposing statue of damaged presence;
The flicker pensive, ran out of passion.
For what is a man to do, to build a man?

This fighter is beat, by time, by life.
Losing is a habit, and so is irony.
This single dad protects, but doesn't guide.
Loser raises losers, so it's best to let go.
A love so awkward, the loved doesn't know.

[Todd]

Hi Brandon, this is just an opinion I mostly like the first one better. On is better than in for the couch preposition. I like leading with damaged and ending with imposing for the stature. I do however like fighter more than warrior. I think I would make losers singular. That's it.

I love the title. The first one had more power for me. Many might disagree, but those are my thoughts.

Here's my Sonnetina Cinque and my move.

More Than What Glitters

Qe7

The little man will often deign
to spin coarse straw in gilded braid,
and at the feet of vapid maid
the pyrite of his heart is laid.
But will she delve the hidden vein?

I am a queen without a crown.
Frogs are not due a lady’s word.
Your name itself is darkness slurred.
I see no debt that’s been incurred.
My first born son I’d rather drown.

[brandontoh]

Thanks Todd! =D I'll be editing it soon. Yours I find is rather abstract, and kind of morose. The abstract part may be due to my huge headache though. I like the rhyme scheme, and especially the first stanza. Will be back with my poem and move once I've done my morning workout! =D

[Todd]

Cool looking forward to it. Can't wait to see what's on tap next.

[brandontoh]

This one took awhile. I had a lot of trouble with it, and it shows. Inspiration is running kind of low again. =x It's a Tritina. =)
http://bensonofjohn.co.uk/poetry/formsse...ox=Tritina

Lucid
0-0

There’s no need to rush.
Nothing here is real, after all.
Deep breaths, take it slow, till you wake up.

So let it slowly rise up,
And feel your blood rush.
Relax yourself, but give it your all.

Pull them in, let them all
enjoy you, feel you up.
You’re in charge, so don’t rush.

Don’t rush, but when it all ends, you wake, and it’s still up. Darn.

[Todd]

Inspiration is overrated. Think marathon. You are creating poem after poem here. When everything is done you'll assess what gets worked on. Save it all, but you may pull a line out here a line there. You may choose to workshop four or five of these. The issue is to do what you're doing and keep writing.

Here's my attempt at a Tritina, and my move. They relate in my mind even if it isn't always obvious in the poem.

The Climb

c6

The mountain is a meditation;
oily granite pocked by pale light.
Silence has weight, cold as gray stone.

Hands crimp in this ascent of stone,
becoming my meditation,
breath, a contrast of fog and light.

At the summit is there a light,
an end to that tunnel of stone—
a lone voice my meditation?

Struggle is a form of meditation, where light dapples stone.

[brandontoh]

I see. That makes sense. =) Oh, and the next one has no specific form. It's free verse. Time to take a little break from writing in forms.

False Intellectual
Nd6

Stuck in a liquidity trap,
No fiscal stimulus or aid.

Everything is fluid,
But nothing is moving.

Little do we know
That the pipes are clogged up.

Demand, supply, elasticity be damned.
To be free, we need to bleed a little.

[Todd]

Brandon, if I can't duel with form. I'll go with a similar content, and since I'm moving the bishop. Really, liked your poem. Its a keeper to workshop.

Here's mine:


Tetzel's Economics of Indulgences

Be6

When supply expands
into a broad superhighway,
many are those who find it.

Demand remains a one lane dirt road
with traffic backed up
and few live through it.

The externalities are not captured
at the intersection
of lane and highway.

Purgatory is a booted wheel
in an underground parking garage.
Ticket lost

to the metal ring of all eternity.

[brandontoh]

I don't really get the metaphor in yours. =/ Maybe I'm too tired. Anyways, here's my next move and poem, which I came up with at the peak of my fatigue.

One
Qb1

One poem,
One novel,
Just one line
For fireworks.

Seconds or years,
Splurge or thrift,
One oasis
For hope.

One memory,
For waterfall of tears,
For smiles in full blossom.

[Todd]

I liked your last line quite a bit. Here's my move and poem:

Two

b5

In this yellow wood,
with its frost-lined path
and barren trees, hands reaching.
It is no longer the time
for green steps.
The leaves now sting
in wind-whipped spinning.

Can footsteps untrace
on a trail of dying blossoms?

[brandontoh]

Oh wow, I really like this poem. It's got a sort of haiku feel to it, but it's more fleshed out. I like the second stanza especially. A very nice link to the move too. I'm still really tired, not being able to get a nap in. Sucks. Anyways, here's my move and poem.

12am-4am
Qe4

It's the last train.
An empty vessel
Steaming through,
Speeding past
The frozen world.

I can't move.
Icy breath
My life sign.

Watched it pass;
The last action
Of the night.
The final sound
Still echoes.

Apathetic,
Or a little
Depressed.

Reality
A standstill,
I own this void.
Let the moon
Swallow me.

----------------------------
Seems like a tired mind goes to the abstract huh.

[Todd]

That's a gorgeous poem Brandon. While I see some tweaks you could make, it seems you write well when exhausted. I know the move I'm going to make. I'm working on the poem.

[brandontoh]

Thanks Todd. =) Funny how the more negative one's state is, the better one writes. Yeah, I do find some of the line breaks and imagery quite weak. I'll be trying to get myself to sleep now. There's work tomorrow, so I'll be inactive for around 8 hours I guess.

[Todd]

Yeah I like the signature. Throw rocks at Taylor Swift something all of us can get behind.

When the media tells us Taylor was stoned, we'll see past the headlines and know the truth.

[Todd]

Here's my next move.

On Sad Movies

a6

The world has been bleached
to an old sepia photograph.
A man’s dark overcoat billows
to the wind of cello music.
Eyes fixed on a small casket,
or a young wife in a hospital bed.
Unimportant details
blur into what we imagine
are tears under the soft focus.
The face slowly darkening
into sharp contrast.

[brandontoh]

Nice word choices there. It's a nice imagery, but for some reason it feels a little weak. I don't know why. Maybe it's because your poems before this are just better in my opinion? Anyways, here's my move.

Lancelot & Guinevere
Rd3

Love that never should have been,
Brings kingdom down into has-been.

[Todd]

Well your content got stuck in my head. It has little to with a rook except as a riff off of your poem. I kept thinking of your subjects turning a circle (round table) into a triangle (love triangle). I moved to the Geometry of Adultery and got here:

The Science of Adultery

Ra7

It starts with chemistry,
an illicit exothermic spark.

Then there is geometry.
One shape's relative position
to another, the point
of intersection.

Biology being
an applied science comes
much later.

[brandontoh]

Way to go Todd, you successfully perverted the sciences. Engage nerd pick-up mode. Also, you're a very good player. Any lesser player would've taken the a2 pawn already. This time, I think I'll go with a clerihew.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Clerihew


Nh4

Robert James Fischer
Chess master gone bonkers
Yet he departed
In his mind champion undisputed.

[Todd]

Well I'll settle for still being in the game. Clerihew huh...another new one for me. Here goes:

Bd5

Aimee Semple McPherson
was thought to be a dead person.
Though baptized and drowned,
she rose to fool around.