So I made a comment over at Cocktail Party Physics, which sounded like a really good ending for a poem. I thought about writing one myself, and then I thought I’d like to see what you guys could do.
Your mission, should you choose to accept it, is below the fold.
Write a poem. Here is your ending, adapted from the title of a Robert Heinlein story:
Oh how I long to long,
For the green, green hills of earth.
Have at it, and post your poems here.
We’ll post them all and have a vote, the winner will get a guest post on whatever subject the winner chooses.
Filed under: Literature, Poetry, Poetry Contests
Roses are Red, Violets are blue,
Oh how I long to long,
For the green, green hills of earth.
What?
Formuliac?
Go F#&ck yourselves!
You’re always so sweet, Rich.
“Go F#&ck yourselves!”
um… we just did.
Twice.
Just so y’know.
Poems that rhyme
rhyme all the time!
Yet I promise to write a poem,
sometime.
I promise to scribble
some sentiment/drivel
that may be true
or a little white fibble.
Maybe I should
go work on my finals
instead of surfing Net
to read others’ opinals.
But I promise to visit
and I promise to write,
and I promise to blow you away.
Good-night!
BTW, Blogger crashed
three times as I wrote.
I hope on Glob. Org. Day
Blogger is smote!
We are, in fact, blown away, Mistress Kristine.
We always are when we see your smiling face upon our blog!
But it was supposed to end with
“Oh how I long to long
For the green, green hills of earth.”
Silly girl.
Kisses to you!
Yeah, I’ve been trying to get WordPress to import my blog, but it just don’t want to do it.
That was probably my fault.
Sorry. I’m done now.
The mother ship calls me,
The stars await
the celestial horses are
Out of the gate,
Shimmying with comets
And meteoriting with mirth
Oh how I long to long
For the green, green hills of earth.
Wow, Kristine!
Exactly the feeling!
I like it a lot!
Kisses!
Sorry it’s a tad late, but I’ve been on the road, ya know.
But, now I’m home!!! For 3 days. but here’s my entry:
4° sliver of moon
Rests on red-tint horizon—
Soft blanket of yellow soil
Speaks from eons past—
Wait for blue-orange flare
That whispers of no tomorrow—
Heart rests heavy,
Promises another golden morn,
Another silver moon,
Another yellow bed,
Another empty sky…
Oh how I long to long,
For the green, green hills of earth.
Glad you’re home safe, blipey!
You’re not late at all, we’d never conclude a poetry contest without YOUR entry!
Duh.
And your entry is wonderful. It’s perfectly evocative of the mood I was looking for.
I truly do wish I could be somewhere where I’d miss Earth a little.
Know what I mean?
Wouldn’t it be perfectly, dolefully, forlornly wonderful to be able to say, “Man, I miss Earth. Maybe I’ll head home for Thanksgiving this year.”?
Oh how I do indeed long to long,
for the green, green hills of Earth.
When Man first felled and burned the trees,
I began my rise.
Then coal was king, and chimneys belched
More carbon to the skies.
Along came petrol engines,
And how emissions grew.
(Solar power was in the dark,
And windmills spoiled the view.)
The polar ice-caps melted in a great freshwater dump,
The Gulf Stream slowed and halted as it stopped the saline pump.
The rise in temperature was paused And people thought they’d freeze,
Then tons of melting methane pushed it up by ten degrees.
And now, with agriculture gone,
And arid deserts burning,
My happiness is incomplete,
I still can feel a yearning.
Though I sit triumphant
As the world regrets my birth
Oh how I long to long
For the green, green hills of Earth.
Deacon Barry
Hello Deacon Barry!
Nice new take. I hadn’t even considered that angle.
Good job, and welcome!
Deacon, I must second Janie. Nicely done.
[...] remember back in November when we had that poetry contest? (That contest is still open, BTW. We never got many entries, and none of us ever really voted for [...]
[...] The Green Hills of Earth [...]
The money I’ve made
selling war and disease
Should make me sad
I should not feel pleased.
But the slaves that I own
In this burnt landscape
And a good thing they know it
Taste just like steak.
And seeing the misery
In post-apocolyptic dearth
Oh how I long to long
For the green, green hills of Earth.
Well done, BWE!
Definitely a contender.
Kisses to you!
dam strate
[...] The Green Hills of Earth [...]
[Inspired by my 2nd novel]
They call me alien
and yet I am from birth
as human as you–no, more–
though you think we are no more,
extinct, long past, and somehow not worth
to be called your ancestor…
You call me alien
and yet we’re both from Africa
Look, our hands speak of one birth
and though my home is a galaxy’s girth
and though you’ve forgotten Lake Turkana
and I’ve forgotten our parents’ mirth
Oh how I long to long
For the green, green hills of Earth!
Sweet, Kristine!
Nicely done.
Kisses to you.
[...] The Green Hills of Earth [...]
I really liked Deacon’s.
I’ve enjoyed them all so far, and I can’t wait to see how this vote plays out!
Kisses to you all.
[...] The Green Hills of Earth [...]
Because I’m a lazy procrastinator, it’s still a rough draft, but here’s what I’ve got for the first one:
When the elders speak,
children listen.
“Ages and ages ago,
before your mothers were born . . .”
Eyes glint and ears perk.
A dozen touseled heads still
and turn to the speaker.
“There was an age
when the hour wasn’t told by audiocasts,
when night meant more
that the lights being turned off
when years meant more
than numbers on walls
An age before walls humming with power,
floors thrumming by engine.
When a window say more
than the sparkling void.
When we had a land
The First Mothership,
Earth.
The Ark Ship sails on
to the deepest reaches of space.
I find myself pining
for a piece of our past.
I’ll never see a tree
or a brook, or a bird,
And you can’t really miss
What you’ve not touched, or held, or hear
I will never have a homeworld,
to hold dear to my heart
Oh how I long to long,
For the green, green hills of earth.
Very well done, Brendan!
Kisses to you!
[...] The Green Hills of Earth [...]
[...] The Green Hills of Earth [...]
[...] The Green Hills of Earth [...]