The 2013 Summer Poetry Contest

Shrine of Sobriety, Trammel, Chesapeake (PaxLair Times) – August 19, 2013 – by Ashlynn – The annual Summer Poetry Contest was held at the weekend (or should that be “first annual”?) with aspiring poets coming from across Britannia to recite words both moving and profound in a fierce battle of literary prowess.

So determined were the people of our fair land to prove their skill that hordes of wordsmiths descended upon the Shrine of Sobriety, filling the shrine’s nave to capacity and leaving long lines of people waiting for hours, books clutched in hand. As the hours moved into days the throng of people began to grow restless and guards had to be called in to maintain order. All the while was a constant stream of words from poet after poet who stood before the shrine’s old ankh.

What I actually mean to say is that we had six entries all of high quality, and prizes for three of them. This season’s poets were an interesting bunch and included two goblins, a pirate, and an exotic dancer but in the end only one could reign supreme as the Poetry Champion of Summer.

And it wasn’t Ozog.

• 1st Place – The Necromancer’s Woe by Holly Bloodhand
• 2nd Place – Seasons by Perkie Pixel
• 3rd Place – Icky’s Summer High-koo

All poems are reprinted below for the benefit of those who missed this wonderful event!

Fish – They are a Wonderful Thing – by Winfield

Fish – they are a wonderful thing.
Fish – some can even sing.
Fish – they are of all kind.
Fish – some are hard to find.

Fish – in the morn they come down.
Fish – at noon they swim around.
Fish – come out in the day.
Fish – some go and swim away.

Fish – they are a delicate treat.
Fish – we really like their meat.
Fish – we cook on a fire.
Fish – they are good for any Sire.

Fish – Summer is fishing season.
Fish – we go out for one main reason.
Fish – to be caught on our line.
Fish – so we can all smile when we dine!

Summa High-koo – by Icky Rotblossom

Fyrefliez atz daze ends.
Memaries ub sumers pasts
en mees ferst ternup.

Sumer en Fyrefliez bees magick
en fulls ub lite.
Dey lubs ta shines en singy.

Dey bof hab voyces.
Da yung at hart rememburs
dere sweete happi songz.

A Minoc Love Story – by Victor Speranza

M is for the mountains we mined together.
I is for the inn we want to build together.
N is for the number of days we spent in each other’s arms this summer,
O is for the Oceans we caught our last dinner in,
C is for the caress I will miss when we part ways

The Necromancer’s Woe – by Holly Bloodhand

When the spring winds grow warm and the days grow long
And the season of summer arrives,
The sails will unfurl
All over the world
And the whole world–save for one man–thrives.

In a peaceful small town by a gentle blue bay,
A dark necromancer resides…
Like a fungus, a blight,
He waits for the night–
All day by the graveyard he hides.

His eyes appear hollow and his heart is cold stone,
For ’tis death and decay that he loves,
But summer means life,
And he only finds strife
With everything six feet above.

Like sweet summer berries ripe on the vine,
The merchant ships oft pass him by.
He wants not their wares
For he only cares
When a sailor should happen to die.

The brighter the sunlight, the deeper the shadow,
And the summer sun dark shadows casts.
It is there that he waits
‘Til the living he hates
Have moved on from their grim, mournful task.

The mourners have left and the graveyard stands still
And the night is beginning to fall.
In the dark he emerges–
His dark magic surges,
And the dead rise to answer his call.

His unholy rapport with the walking undead
And his blasphemous use of remains
Goes unnoticed by those
Who live near, in the cove,
But this day, by one sailor, he’s seen.

She’d watched her friend fall off the mast of the ship,
His broken corpse pulled from the sea,
And now watched with dread
As her recently dead
Former shipmate rose at the man’s plea.

Now she was no saint; her crimes weren’t few
But her loyalty was to her mates–
She could not tolerate
For one to violate
Those she’d served with, nor toy with their fates.

So she sneaks up behind this deplorable man,
Slits his throat ‘fore he knows that she’s there,
And with deepest regret
She destroys what is left
Of her friend, and inters him with care.

The sorcerer’s spellbook she takes from his corpse
And peruses it ’til she has found
The reprisal most fit
For the foul, evil git
Who lies dead at her feet on the ground.

She casts a new spell, rather inexpertly,
But she finds on that day she’s a gift
For the dark arcane arts–
As the sorcerer starts
To arise, and among the dead drift.

And to this very day she has never forgot
What she learned that night in the dark grove–
And she prospered, ‘came rich
While he’s the only lich
In the graveyard just outside of Cove.

Summa Time – by Ozog

SUMMERTIMES BEES HOT AN STICKY
YOOS NECK GETS GRITTY
YOOS SHOULS TAKE A BAFT ALOT
OAR YOOS BEEES STINKY

Seasons – by Perkie Pixel

Seasons, changing in a day.
Touching, pleasing, yet they never stay.
Holding, molding all I thought was true,
and I know one day the seasons will change you.

Hear the lonely waves kiss the shore.
Young hearts don’t walk there anymore.
Summer’s passed and autumn’s last breath
soon will lose its hold, for the days are growing shorter, turning cold.

Summer dreams have turned to misty shadows of the mind,
and promises are drifting in the wind.
Last goodbyes are over and the flowing tears have dried
and we’re left to think of things that might have been.

I’m no fool to cling to golden leaves that kiss your hair,
nor to savour starlit nights from glowing eyes.
I’ve seen too many seasons and I know they leave you when
you think they’ll never pass you by again.

Seasons, changing in a day.
Touching, pleasing, yet they never stay.
Holding, molding all I thought was true
and I know one day the seasons will change you.