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Poetry Competition

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Voting Style: Open Point System: Select Winner
Started: 6/11/2014 Category: Miscellaneous
Updated: 7 years ago Status: Post Voting Period
Viewed: 857 times Debate No: 56443
Debate Rounds (4)
Comments (5)
Votes (1)




This is a poetry competition where both sides will post their original works. These works can be of any length and I repeat must be your original work. These are the themes that are going to be followed:

1. Round 1 = Acceptance
2. Round 2 = Love
3. Round 3 = Epic (As in it should tell a story or a setting)
4. Round 4 = Open


This seems to be rather straight forward and enjoyable. I accept.
Debate Round No. 1


Mourning Dove!
I know not of lapis lazuli much,
for a lover knows not of things such,
to him it appears naught but in the eyes of his love,
beckoning a cry, that of a mourning dove!

That sad rose in his heart that yearns
for the beloved,
grows thorns glazed of blood,
forever unloved!

I am encompassed in madness,
aware of my own sadness,
until the music of our love begins to play,
and we are taken to that land far away!

For in this world it
cannot be,
that I love you and
you love me.

This melody of ours,
does it play in your heart?
It intoxicates me so,
and yet fills me with woe.

For I shall never receive your
true love,
I shall always remain your
a mourning dove!

This is the first poem I wrote in years so I realize it sucks, but I am proud of it. Go easy on me, kay! :)
Over to you!


Hello there, and sorry for the delay. I decided to take a bit darker approach to this, a bit more abstract perhaps?
none the less, here you go. :)

To love, to call.
Cold was in the hallowed hall,
as I leaned against the wall.
Heavy, broken, sold and eerie,
never saw hope, but oh so dreary.
I felt her hand, her hand so small
-yet I had none to love, to call.

Still I sat, I sat and wondered.
Sill I sat and that I pondered
where my life had went and withered.
And as I sat I shook and shivered
as my mind it starts to wander
-why I had none to love, to call.

recall her scent, her touch and colour
her eyes, her smile, her skin and other
senses seemed to dim, to perish
her face is what I yern to cherish
her every 'brace, to feel, to smother
-yet I had none to love, to call.

I looked behind and walked the pathway
to love, my love that's to decay.
As shadows fell upon the ground
the moon me swept and sorrow it found
And I felt I heard it to me say
-Why I had none to love, to call

It placed me there, to mourn the grave
and as it left, it to me gave
a smile, so cold, so long forgotten
a light that never had I gotten
in hallowed love that me had slaved
-for I had none to love, to call.

I walked upon the open ground,
expected her to sleep so sweet, so sound.
But as I looked, I looked to see:
I fell to terror, I wished to flee.
As love was lost, had yet be bound:
why is the corpse the one of me?
-as I had none to love, to call

Debate Round No. 2


Firstly I apologize for the late entry, I was and still am facing writer's block. :P

Of the horsemen I see but four,
their mother besides them, that Babylonian whore,
virtue has gone, illness has spread,
the Antichrist, this Earth has wed!

Lucifer sits, a crown on his head,
proud of the army he so greatly led,
martyrs lie below his throne,
where is the savior man was sworn?

He shan't come, all hope is lost,
such is the result of men like Faust,
God has left us one said with despair,
his eyes had shed, many a tear.

Not in glory, not in white,
but in the hearts of those with light,
came God's artful voice, and they did say
Dominus Illuminatio Mea.


No worries, you are not the only one that is late. Work, soclial responsabilities and such delayed me a lot. But I managed to throw this together, sorry, it is a bit long. I tried to maintain a constant rythm troughout, so if you can find a bard you're welcome to have him sing this. :P

King Liontongue.

Listen, oh listen, to the tale I have sung.
the legend of king and the hero among.
so listen so well to the tale of the one:
the legend, yes legend of king Liontongue.

As king he was loved, his heart oh so brave.
And to all his subjects his love always gave.
But listen, for kings never rule peaceful long:
and little he knew, his life soon turned grave.

For a little down west lived a king on his own.
Atlas the horrid on barbarian throne.
His envy so great of the Liontongue land:
and as years snook him past his anger had grown.

Atlas then sent his messenger down
to deliver a letter to the Liontongue town.
He walked to the King, and spoke out his verse,
that Atlas is great, a man he is lown

Atlas him 'vited to a feast big and great
That Liontongue should come, to feast without any strait.
The king would be praised with gifts and fair love.
And Liontongue ordered the horses collate.

Fortnight that passed, the horses three-ten.
And Liontongue conversed with all of his men.
That maybe Atlas was not what he seemed
But non the less they all went trough to the den.

Atlas them greeted with the bright golden smile
and offered them in to the hall to the isle.
filled with meat, grub and ale, a feast for a king
and Atlas sat down and ate for a while.

But as they all slept, Atlas one only woke
Along with his men, and to them he spoke.
To attack the King's men, none shall then live
soon Liontongue will shiver and croak.

But Liontongue knew, and was he so smart
that always some men woke and watched by the heart.
And when they then came, they where prepared
and Liontongue woke to fight and to thwart.

A battle then came, a battle for life.
Liontongue self, he murdered five.
But many where much, and Atlas was more
and soon they where cornered, in their little hive.

But Liontongue leaped, and charged for the king.
And took down more bearers of iron that sings.
He cracked trough their shields, he broke in their mind
and soon blood was flowing trough the left wing.

A pile so great, of corpses then came
and Liontongue under the soldiers, the same.
And Atlas then saw, that things where too grim
and took down the torch, a Lion to tame.

The embers where wild, the flames grew so large
in desperate attempt to quell Lion's charge.
And soon men of thirty stood there lit in hell
but Liontongue carried, and forth he shall barge

With splinters and logs falling over his head
oh, how he felt death touching his silver thread
and as he broke free from blade from his foes
he felt as this might just be his final bed.

The castle came down, from dust and to dust.
But none knew what, no what had then just
how Liontongue lived, or if he's out cold.
But maybe he's gone, his sword is to rust.

But Atlas, oh Atlas was found by the shore.
His body was bloody, his throne is no more.
The reaper him found, his blade in his life.
But the other side knows, what he has to store.

Now hear me, now hear me, the tale I have sung.
the legend of king and the hero among.
so remember the tale, and remember it well:
the legend, yes legend of king Liontongue.

Debate Round No. 3


I concede your poetry is way better.


All right, but you did a splendid job anyhow in my opinion.

Thank you for the debate, I quite enjoyed it.

Au revoir. :)
Debate Round No. 4
5 comments have been posted on this debate. Showing 1 through 5 records.
Posted by Ajab 7 years ago
I am 17, lol, I used to write wayyy better but then I stopped, this is the first poem in nearly a year. Mourning dove is a type of dove which actually mourns when it meets its beloved.
Posted by Crescendo 7 years ago
Mourning dove or morning dove? Most likely the first, right?
Anyhow, I did not expect such vivid poetry, especially from someone so young (though you and I are probably around the same age).
Posted by oculus_de_logica 7 years ago
aww, that's a shame. My forte style doesn't quite work with English, but oh well. I think I can draft out an English rhyme or two anyhow.
Posted by Ajab 7 years ago
Umm lol I think so because I won't understand it...:P
Posted by oculus_de_logica 7 years ago
Do you mind if I post the poetry in Icelandic? ;)
1 votes has been placed for this debate.
Vote Placed by bladerunner060 7 years ago
Who won the debate:-Vote Checkmark
Reasons for voting decision: An honorable concession by Pro.

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