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LeBlanc is a recipient of the poemWanker award:
The Poet (Free verse) by wLeBlancw
He smithed the words from The anvil of his pen Like coins spilling in piles of thought. His dog lay at his feet In deep, regular breaths Of contentment. The sun was setting and rising On his life in shortening Sentences of people who Came and went through decades and minutes. All things had become music In notes only he could hear And see as folly and love. Death, then, was no longer The dreaded machine Coming, always coming. But, rather, a sweet darkness Like the dog sleeping at his feet Pulling him into the eternity of his life.

Up the ladder: Artistry in Motion
Down the ladder: make me smile

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Arithmetic Mean: 5.3333335
Weighted score: 5.0397344
Overall Rank: 6979
Posted: March 9, 2003 7:42 PM PST; Last modified: March 9, 2003 7:42 PM PST
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[8] horus8 @ | 9-Mar-03/8:54 PM | Reply
It was great up until the last line.

You weren't suppose to delete the poem (fetus) Brandon. You were suppose to debate the opinion of felled fetus' everywhere and why they matter too. That is what a poet would have done, and also; he or she would not of erased it. Because then i would of told you a secret, and you would of went ohhhhhhhhhh, and we would have been friends. Forever. P.s. the activity above seems strange for a male model. It sound more like something a teacher would write. You lied to me professor, shame on you! I'm sure she was hot when she was younger though and still is. What makes you think i don't like old people?
[n/a] LeBlank II @ > horus8 | 9-Mar-03/8:58 PM | Reply
I am 30 and a male model. Does it shock you that someone attractive can be educated and attractive? I erased my poem so I could post another one, but then I figured out that I could just create a different user id. If you want the poem, I can re-post it. You seemed really bothered by it. It's one of my most personal ones and that's why I posted it first.
[8] horus8 @ | 9-Mar-03/8:59 PM | Reply
See this is more your speed a little counter culture jazz baby, yeah diggit.
[n/a] Nanshe @ | 11-Mar-03/10:03 PM | Reply
Your syntax is awkward: his dog lay in breath? No.

Permit me:

He had smithed the words;
his anvilled pen spilled coins of thought
that piled like riches at his feet.
His dog lay at his feet, content;
its deep, regular breaths bespoke no other need.

The sun set and rose, rose and set
as he shortened the sentences of people
whose decades fell like minutes,
mindless of his own.

All things became music
whose notes he alone could hear:
folly and love played melodies
he kept to the rhythm of his heart.

Death soon lost its thrall:
no more the dreaded machine, advancing, merciless.
A sweetened darkness, empty,
honest as the dog sleeping at his feet
urged him on toward eternity.
[n/a] wLeBlancw @ > Nanshe | 11-Mar-03/10:07 PM | Reply
Wow. I like your version much better than mine. You're a master of the english language indeed.
[n/a] Nanshe @ > wLeBlancw | 11-Mar-03/10:17 PM | Reply
No. One too many 'at his feet"s.

Try to wean out the things that sound poetic; focus on the idea that inspired the poem instead. this could be cut in half, and be better still. Besides, you are just responding to my voice. You like it. No one likes their own, at first. Remember the first time you heard yourself recorded? How strange it sounded? How you cringed? It is much like that. Be certain. Fill nothiung. Pare away. Marianne Moore said that poetry is about real frogs in imaginary gardens. Show me warts and mucous! I want to smell the musk, the mud.
I have looked at your other poems, and I am not certain what you were trying to do with them, so I shall leave them un-commented-upon.
[n/a] Sawa @ | 24-Mar-03/9:22 PM | Reply
No wonder this one stood out to me. It's worse than the others, and probably because you DID write it.
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