*peterdawes

as you may or may not know, i am the club owner of *VampireWriters and have been given the duty to do such things as conduct contests within the community. as i am yet new to this, i thought maybe you kind folks might help me with a bit of a conundrum.

one contest recently concluded and i wish to initiate another contest of the poetic flavor, as most of the club's previous contests were more conducive toward prose.

but what would an appropriate theme be for a 'vampire poetry' contest?

the previous contest was 'victorian vampire'. they have done 'luck of the vampire' and 'vampires in love' before.

that brings up another question.

my co-moderator and i would judge this one (previous winners have been decided by peer voting). would any fellow poets care to assist?

and finally, what are standard prizes for contests? merely gift subscriptions or are other things offered typically as well?

thank you for your assistance.

features have been updated below.

be well, dear friends,
peter


p.s. - to my dearest,
asking you the question again.
you know which question, i'm sure.
your birthday is around the corner.

consider my invitation.
it has been far too long.

"to the centre of the city
where all roads meet
waiting for you.
to the depths of the ocean
where all hopes sank
searching for you. . ."

- "shadowplay" by joy division

many thanks to dear *Destinyfall for the commission.

as for you, dearest. . .

three thousand miles
countless days
hours long enough to fill the expanse
of forever within a void.

more years spent
away than together
for far too long, two separate lives
which should have reunited
a very long time ago.

i wait for you
with heart sewn onto
the sleeve of my black suit jacket,
standing in the midst of this city
wanting to take your hand again.

a dance awaits us
on the other side
and i look forward to the feel of
your dress
your skin
underneath my fingertips again.

forever yours, nocturnal me.
peter

deviantART seems to be experiencing a few quirks in its new system.

there have been the minor irritations of posts which did not wish to be deleted or ones that did not wish to go through. any time a new system is implemented, one can anticipate a few problems. one of the "bugs", however, has me a trifle more irate than the others.

it appears they have remedied the problem of responses appearing in one's message center. it does not appear that they have restored the ones that did not go through, though. as such, i've no idea if anyone attempted to reply to a comment.

if i've failed to respond to you, do not hesitate to point this out to me. i do not have the time to scan through all of my submissions at the moment.

speaking of websites.

this past march, i started a weblog on wordpress, but failed to do much with it past the first two posts. i decided recently, however, that i might as well do something with it.
scraps of stories. impromptu poems. other stuff of the like that i do not necessarily wish to litter your deviant watch lists with (and some i do submit) will find their way onto the weblog. if you have any interest in following it:

here it is.

and as a word of closing. . .
thank you to *lelioimmortalIS for the feature on his journal today.

do be sure to visit his page and examine his gallery. here are a few examples of his artwork:


warmest regards, dear friends,
peter


"things get damaged
things get broken
i thought we'd manage
but words left unspoken
left us so brittle
there was so little left to give"

- "precious" by depeche mode

i am certain it occurs with all writers, that they assemble incomplete thoughts and have chance to peruse them from time to time. call it a writer's sketchbook of sorts, but i carry a notebook that houses complete and incomplete poems alike.

you see the completed ones. (mostly completed. i often go back and fiddle with them later.) i often lose the drive to complete the others, though.

thought i might share a few poetic sketches.

last evening, i penned these lines in sixty seconds, to the prompt "sombre". ([link] is an occasional temptation, especially when *YouInventedMe submits his results.)

the melancholy rhythm of nothingness
the nights are always so dark
and the days are far too bright
the years pass by, each turn of the calendar
bringing with it nothing but the solitude
the empty whisper of eternity
spinning into headlong into oblivion

jotted these down while thinking darker thoughts, i am certain:

hold still, precious
arms wrapped around your body,
nose pressed against your neck.
the perfume of inner self
drifts into my consciousness
as eyes drift shut
to savor the aroma.
you had no way of knowing
no way of realizing
the stranger you danced with
sought more than a tango.
as he slid the rose
across your cheek, you blushed
and he, in turn,
studied the warm palette
of your flesh.

another musing, perhaps one of my coffeeshop thoughts. i often toy with bits of poetry while hiding amongst humanity:

i'll behold you in the night
watch the soft glow of stars
as they kiss your cheeks
and light up your eyes.

the sun
in all its garish foolishness
only blinds the eyes
to the beauty that is you

and this, i jotted down the day before last to attempt warming up the brain, so to speak. was going to post this on a journal then, but i saved it. might as well show it to you now, to demonstrate what i play with to jog my thoughts into action:

too tired to sleep.
it's too bloody hot outside.
listening to joy division
attempting to pick through prose,
but i'm too bloody tired
to do that, too.

smoke wafting from a cigarette.
at least i had the chance
to determine what i wished to do
with a website yesterday.
not that i have much motivation
for fiddling with that either.

still, it at least feels good
to make progress on that matter.

what are the lot of you up to?
what has you preoccupied these days?
what would you rather be doing
if you do not enjoy what has you busy?
and what are you reading these days
that is worth mentioning?

i purchased an album by a band
calling themselves the 'editors'
and i rather enjoy it.
are you listening to anything
interesting these days as well?
precious few modern bands interest me.

but making new discoveries
helps keep one from growing too bored.

whatever the matter
i thought i would
kill a few moments
speaking to you all.
i should possibly brew some coffee
and get back to fiddling with prose.

have a pleasant day, friends
stay creatively active.
regale me your stories and poems
i look forward to reading
each of them
as time allows.

i shall allow that to be my parting thought.

warmest regards, dear friends,
peter


"i can't shake this feeling i've got
my dirty hands, have i been in the wars?
the saddest thing that i'd ever seen
were smokers outside the hospital doors "

- "smokers outside the hospital doors" by editors