Weekly Short Stories Contest and Company! discussion

You have until December 13 to post a poem, and December 14-16 we’ll vote for which one we thought was best.

Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a poem previously used in one of this group’s contests.

Your poem can be any length.

This week’s topic is: Copy Machine.

The rules are pretty loose. You can write a poem about anything that has to do with the topic. I do not care, but the poem you post must relate to the topic somehow.

Have fun!

Thank you to Billie Jo for suggesting the topic.

Yessss! I’ve got to go lunch, but I’ll definitely revisit this one.

Oh my, Alex. Ohhhhh myyy. ;)

Don’t look, Hanzle!

hehehe Either Frank wrote this or you've been influenced by M :P

I know nothing about this dirty topic. I will not let you people corrupt me! :O

Influenced by M? I’m shocked. Don’t I look shocked?

Lol! No, you don't.

Yes! I have many directions in which this could go xD

Copy Machine

"You'll never have me." is what she said,
"Not even if every other man were dead."
The words stinging loud and clear,
As she headed for the door.

It was no suprise, she did not want me,
I was as lowly, as low could be.
In twice her age, I had become nothing,
Just a washed up janitor.

Her rebuttal phased me not, have no doubt;
For I had a plan, that was well thought out.
I'd still make her mine, on this night,
To have forever more.

A top scientist, and young prodogy,
She made things happen, that weren't meant to be.
It was her very own creation,
That would give me her, which I adore.

From the back of her office chair,
I plucked the wavy, long blonde hair,
Then headed for her laboratory,
To finish my evil chore.

It was guarded by men, stern and mean,
But was still a place, that needed to be clean.
And so they stepped aside as usual,
As I approached the door.

And once inside, and all alone,
I used her Copy Machine, to make my clone.
'Sucess', I thought as I looked upon,
Her body laying in the floor.

I snuck her out, in my cleaning cart,
This was the only sketchy part.
And once outside, I whisked her away,
For what I had in store.

But in my plan, there was one flaw,
And having her now home, I clearly saw.
The machine had copied only her perfect body,
And this mindless shell, was quite the bore.

So programming her would be left to me,
And as I headed back to work, I turned on the TV.
For watching it would help her learn faster,
I believed it to my core.

Now as I worked, her brain waves were rearranged,
How could I have known, the programming changed.
When I finally made it home that night,
Quite a surprise I was in for.

She had spent all night, watching Honey Boo Boo,
And other reality trash too.
My angel, now acting just like them,
Caused me to let out a vicious roar.

So getting rid of her, became my great plight,
I would make a new copy, some other night.
This one was now ruined,
In ways, I could not ignore.

Now we're to the part, where you came in,
And caught me, disposing of my sin.
Locked away forever, I'm sure to be,
My deeds now nothing more than urban lore.

*I Think Not.*
by Billie Jo Moore

That guilty look
Upon your face
Makes me wonder
Makes my heart race

You turned around all too quickly
And you seem a bit too shy
You cross your arms across your chest
As if there's something to hide

As I look behind you
And I see that slick machine
That blinking beeping object
That never seems to be clean

So many filthy human hands
All covered in various germs
Spread their touch upon the buttons
Shows how much we've learned

Each button pressed so eagerly
Then in expectation we wait
The pages float down freely
Rushing so as not to be late

From head to toe, I take a quick glance
As a question forms on my lips
When you see the look etched my face
You put your hands upon your hips

Your voice is like a knife jabbing through the air
Halting all thoughts and making me feel mean
You say, "I thought it would be simple
But I'm no master with a copy machine"

You push me aside, flipping your hair as you storm away
Just before I lose sight of you, you turn around to proclaim
"I am not the kind of Assisnant you can manipulate in your copy room
And even if I was, you really think I'd go for you?"

carbon life

Like an ill-defined image
from an old copy machine,

my life's ink is running.
Boundaries blurred

and destined to print
over and over and...

~ R ~

any critique welcome

Ryan wrote: "carbon life

Like an ill-defined image
from an old copy machine,

my life's ink is running.
Boundaries blurred

and destined to print
over and over and...

~ R ~

any critique welcome"

Ryan, I love it. Sounds like my life sometimes.

Thank you, Sarah! I'm really happy that you can relate to the poem, that's a big compliment :)

Mandy:

I love how all your poems are in story form. My favorite part is trying to figure out where the plot is going and I thoroughly enjoyed this piece. Remarkable job!

Copyright

Needing a way to multiply my successes and luck
My chances of receiving that final reward among the stars

A device manufactured and cheap
Paying dirt and death for gold and glory
Everything we do, made into fullness
Everything one perfect man did, made into nothingness

After word revealed and conscience confirms
I lower my eyes and release my hold

So I go to the great mechanism found in the depths of the heart and mind
I counterfeit every law and detail set in place by the author of life
I cover my shame the way I disguise the name of the one who offered saving grace

Power comes to life and millions of gears set in motion
False duplicates in the possession of thousands as perceptions blur
Hard copies vanish as unfulfilled hearts are branded
Constantly imprinting on my heart are the lies and distortions

Taking the place of the original and fraudulently using its name
God exists but Love’s name has been lost
The great machine of humanity pushes on towards an overturned paradise



This poem is so messy... Hahaha.

Seeing
By Rachel H.
Copy machines are meant to see
Everything on the outside of me
When I was little I copied my hands
Covering my eyes so I didn’t get blinded too bad

But now I see that copy machines
Aren’t all they are cracked up to be
Because what you see on the outside
Isn’t necessarily what is going to be on the inside

The Day At the Office

In the morning a person pushes a button.
I come to alive at this time.
I hear the music of talking.
A day at the office.

I see what they see.
I make double of what they put in.
When I don't work people kick me.
A day at the office.

I run out of food.
People put more in.
The music dies down and so do I.
A day at the office.

Tell me how you like please.

Mandy your poem was amazing! I missed the last few weeks so this is the first piece I can remember reading by you and it took my breath away. I had to read it twice because I devoured it too quickly the first time so I could see what the ending would be.

Polls will go up in a few hours, Pirates. Last chance if there are any final submissions.

Copy Machine


Her twill skirt showed a lovely knee,
the complex curves of nights to come,
each fused by our xerography,
a charged electrostatic drum.

Her finger, with its polished nail,
would push the key, and in the tray
that jutted by the garbage pail
slid words I hardly knew to say.

I stammered, helpless not to read her
smiles. The evenings I would phone her
soon wore out the docu-feeder
and exhausted all the toner.

Polls are up, Pirates! Please head to the tavern and cast your votes.

Poetry Poll

Mouse #6: Al and Mandy tied for first. (Sighs.) I bet all my M&M’s on Billie Jo.
Mouse #1: (Munching.) They’re good, too, Malcolm! Let’s see. Hanz, Rachel, Robyn, Ryan, and M tied for second.
Ralph: All that flag waving and shouting on the after deck.
Mouse #9: And whoever was blowing that horn.
Mouse #6: They could probably hear us all the way over in the Dry Tortugas.
Mouse #3: Uh, hmm. Billie Jo and Cheyenne tied for third.
Mouse #8: Yep. (He counts his M&M’s, then looks at Earl.) I’ll trade you two green ones for one of your Reese’s Pieces.

Thank you to all who participated in the contest!

Haha! Well said, M!

Congratulations, Al! Congratulations, Mandy!