Sunday, 1 April 2012

Some of the Best Tennyson Challenge Entries Thus Far (Thus sounds so nice, doesn't it?!)

Hi everyone! I was flicking through the challenge entries when I saw the amazing amount of talent and inspiration that was put into these poems you were all sending in - I'm so happy I could hug everyone of you! These poems are a reflection of how true literature and poetry especially can inspire and ignite that spark within us all. I am so proud of those who entered and, even with some doubts! still put together some amazing poems!

So here is my extra prize: There is, of course, Shatter Me as the prize for the whole challenge, but for the best poem I am going to give away A copy of My Fair Godmother by Janette Rallison or Angel by LA Weatherly (their choice of)!!

The entries: (all are copyright of the original creators. Unless they have been dead 50-100 years, these are not yours for the taking!!!)

Guinevere's Heart By Lucinda F.:

(1) A look that pierces her very soul. stabbing, 
A hole shaping a window into her heart, 
The Lady Guinevere longing for an end of woe, 
Willing him to endeavor to aquire her love, 
His presence awaking all conciousness and emotion, 
A heightened awareness inciting all senses, 
As Sir Lancelot passes by, 

(2) My Lady clasps a quill coveying thoughts into words, 
That form depictions and interpretations, of concepts and notions, 
Heartfelt feelings pour out from her very being, 
Bleeding ink onto vellum as a fountain overflows, 
Uncontrollable longing and dispair floods in, 
Suffocating all hope, choking, restricting happiness, 
Glimpsing thoughts that are cherished to her heart, 

(3) A blanket covers the sky, 
Engulfing all below in shadow and gloom, 
Deepening all vibrant, brilliant color, 
Despair and hopelessness penetrates ones soul, 
The shrill piercing cry of a crow, 
Death welcoming broken souls with open arms, 

(4) Sir Lancelot's return to Camelot. awoke, 
A dead heart that had ceased to beat, 
Too late to awaken the fair Lady from her slumber, 
A look that once touched her heart will no more, 
A soul at peace, free from turmoil and restlessness, 
To die for love is the meaning of sacrifice, 

(5) Comprehension and understanding now clear, 
Sir Lancelot clasps her final letter, 
Knuckles visualise bone as his grip tightens, 
The Lady Guinevere's heart in his hands, 
Dripping blood trickles down his armor, 
Scorching blackened shards of metal dripping off, 
Penetrating his very being. burning, 
Camelot smoulders under a shroud of sorrow. 

Untitled By Jennifer A:

"Sorrow and love, both mix and merge, 
Within my heart, as my emotions surge."

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