The Sonnet Contest is over, and the results are in. I received a total of nineteen entries. Let me say that picking just three winners out of these nineteen was a challenging task. Y'all obviously put a lot of thought into this, and I was forced to make some hard choices. In particular, I was impressed with the number of entrants who said that English was not their native tongue. Entering a poetry contest in a second language is a move that requires, ahem, cojones.
(In the future, I'll try to avoid using "tongue" and "cojones" in the same paragraph - I promise.)
So, here we go: the winners. And if you entered but your poem doesn't appear below, just remember, you still got the greatest gift of all: the brief and derisive attention of the Dark Titan.
HONORABLE MENTION
As I was reading through the entries, this sonnet caught my eye at once for its spot-on perfect meter and lyrical language. Thought it didn't quite have that little je ne sais quoi it needed to make it to the top three, it flows so well and demonstrates such intelligent word choices that I had to at least give it a mention.
Of Titan’s Fall
by Arallion
With steady care, his hand swept chaos smooth,
Yet still resurgent evil fostered strife,
And flames of torment wreathed his heart with truth:
Order herself maintained this farce of life.
The Champion of Titans marked his course,
His weapon cracked in twain and forged anew
The Titans’ worlds fell ‘neath demonic force,
Chaotic flaming bronze their dying view.
Yet Azeroth, with lissome tempting wiles
Did thrice withstand corruption in her heart
Rebuffing banal chaos she beguiles
With bright caprice to balance order’s art.
O Sargeras! Tho powerful you reign
In shades of grey do Titans’ works remain.
THIRD PLACE
This one is a sad, contemplative piece that uses simple language to evoke thoughtful images. Multiple readings may be necessary to get the full effect.
Night before the last dawn
by Kristof
A long day it was, even stars seems languid,
As they glimmer, like mourning candle-light.
Mourning the fallen and the living alike:
They know, if he arrives, all will be ended.
No, don't fear now, friend, you shall be safe tonight.
He creases the nether, he knits his eyebrows,
As he is forced to hear the scream of the souls.
Dreams, and memories, even titans cannot fight.
Tomorrow, he will travel the space again.
When he arrives, you will be the one to blame,
If your life is empty, if you live it in vain
Just lie down and trust, the Universe is vast,
Don't crease your blanket, don't look into your past.
I wish you a nice dream. This might be your last.
SECOND PLACE
This sonnet is lively, with complex rhythms and a crisp volta. It also demonstrates a working knowledge of classical mythology, which is just too rare these days.
The Highest Art
by Craig
I was about to challenge You to a duel,
Lord Sargeras, a little competition
full of planetary demolition,
screaming, and sundered stars, with just one rule:
poetry would have been our only tool
of mass destruction, for the immolation
ignited by the pen wipes out creation
more surely than the sword, so I learned at school.
Then I recalled those who have challenged gods
and what became of them: turned into birds
or dolphins or a spider, or torn apart
by drunken women or a hunter’s dogs.
Not wanting such an end from impious words,
I realized that silence is the highest art.
FIRST PLACE
The winning sonnet isn't especially artistic, lyrical, or evocative, but it is by far the funniest entry I received. And really, amusing the Dark Titan - isn't that what it's all about? Yes. Yes it is.
(Untitled)
by Scott
An idyllic world with fields of flowers strewn
Peacefulness aside, it shan't be spared
Its mantle from its very core is hewn
You disagree? Your judgement is impaired.
He does it not to punish us for sins,
Nor does he do it to acquire riches;,
He doesn't even do it for the grins -
He does it just because it's *there*, bitches.
Some will try to flee his brand of fun
By offering to serve as his left hand,
But when he says "I DEFET EVERONE!!!1!!11"
What part of that do you not understand?
You think he'll let you live? He won't.
"EVERONE" means we all get pwnt.
Well, that's that. Congratulations to the winners! Each of you will be receiving something from the store. I'll be sending you an e-mail shortly to talk about the details of your prizes.
Thanks to everyone who participated!
Showing posts with label sonnets. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sonnets. Show all posts
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Monday, April 20, 2009
Patch 3.1 Sonnet
One of the great things about life in the Twisting Nether is that it leaves an awful lot of time for writing poetry.
Patch 3.1 Sonnet
Yea, Blizzard hath released point one and three
And many changes doth this poet find:
Thy mount can swim without dismounting thee;
And thou canst play, though thou art color-blind.
In Wintergrasp, now fishing is allow'd
And First Aid's learnt from men as well as print
The Argent Tournament will draw a crowd
And mana is more slow from heaven sent.
The noble Noblegarden lasts a week
The Stoneform Dwarf from poison doth feel pain
The camping man need no more tinder seek
Where once the spec was one, it now is twain.
And if you seek adventuring afar
Ye seek the lair of Yogg in Ulduar!
Patch 3.1 Sonnet
Yea, Blizzard hath released point one and three
And many changes doth this poet find:
Thy mount can swim without dismounting thee;
And thou canst play, though thou art color-blind.
In Wintergrasp, now fishing is allow'd
And First Aid's learnt from men as well as print
The Argent Tournament will draw a crowd
And mana is more slow from heaven sent.
The noble Noblegarden lasts a week
The Stoneform Dwarf from poison doth feel pain
The camping man need no more tinder seek
Where once the spec was one, it now is twain.
And if you seek adventuring afar
Ye seek the lair of Yogg in Ulduar!
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Sentience Cessation Sonnet
Perhaps it will be Tuesday, and the sun
Will just have peeked above the Starbuck's roof
You'll glance up, munching on a Cinnabon;
You'll note a momentary breeze - and poof -
Ten thousand thousand thousand demon-lords
Machete-clawed, unclean in wing and face
Will overrun your city with their hordes
Emerging from the hole they've rent in space.
"The end of times!" Wolf Blitzer will intone.
"No we cannot!" Obama will proclaim.
And as I rise from my unholy throne
The trembling thunderclouds will spell my name.
Relax! Inhale deep. (Just be aware
You'll be inhaling fire instead of air.)
:-)
Will just have peeked above the Starbuck's roof
You'll glance up, munching on a Cinnabon;
You'll note a momentary breeze - and poof -
Ten thousand thousand thousand demon-lords
Machete-clawed, unclean in wing and face
Will overrun your city with their hordes
Emerging from the hole they've rent in space.
"The end of times!" Wolf Blitzer will intone.
"No we cannot!" Obama will proclaim.
And as I rise from my unholy throne
The trembling thunderclouds will spell my name.
Relax! Inhale deep. (Just be aware
You'll be inhaling fire instead of air.)
:-)
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