Love. Hate. Death. Cowardice. Patriotism. Motherhood. Happiness. Joy. Sorrow. Despair. Defeat.

Abstractions are those concepts that don't have a concrete form. When I say "chair", you can picture a concrete form (okay, so maybe it's wood or leather or plastic, but you get the idea) in your mind. It may not look like the same chair that I'm picturing, but it is a real thing that you can see and touch and sit on. Happiness has no common shape. I can't hand you a happiness for you to examine, turn over and over in your hands, squeeze it, smell it, taste it, listen to it.

One challenge for poets is to give abstractions a concrete shape, to make readers feel the emotions rather than telling them what to feel. Pick an emotion or concept from the list above and think about a time you felt it, then write about it without using the word at all. Let's see if anyone can identify your emotion just from your description.

grim

furious with haste,
my death will ride a white wolf
barebacked through the rough.

Rough Draft(un-revised)

Happiness

My father gently holds
my scraped knee
blowing soft wind
a whirl of peace
band-aid to
my pain

"Let's see if anyone can identify your emotion just from your description."

I'm paying attention, Cham -

down the plughole of time, sent
of ambition and hope and fear, robbed
in a flash of a minds eye, gone

a wintery rush up the spine
cracked liked ice and etched in time
nothing, utter nothing; emptiness
soon filled in with the size of your woe

(what is this, from Chams list?)

best skyline ever
I jump out of bed
and shoot a look of love
into the mirror sky
it shoots straight back and into me
I'm young, and hopeful, bursting with glee
my cheeks ache from smiling,
literally heartfelt thanks rise and fall
with every deep, calm, excited breath of contentment

(what is this, from Chams list?)

You grew within me, quick and wild
relentless, dark and ugly, at first unseen
now large as imagination, a killer of true pleasure
injecting a slow-working poison into the mind
it slowly creeps down into the heart
replacing hope with anger until
sympathy is beaten into submission
empathy is twisted into viciousness
and I am wont to paint targets on every carte blanche;
a furtive mind, alive, locks on, attacks
then turns back round and paints them black
with a spraycan of exhausted vexation and regret

(what is this, from Chams list?)

To think
of my
country
like my
family

(what is this, from Chams list?)

Tarring a person with a brush called flamebait
just 'cause they occasionally set a challenge you can't rise to;
they raise the game, see you back into that corner;
found your way inside that box they placed for you, cleverly
so fight your way out? no no, your're only built for flight see, then
in a word, that this game can't let me say, let the poem end
with the phrase that mice and academics use in its place:
conscientious objection

(what is this, from Chams list?)

Humanicide wrote:

grim furious with haste, my death will ride a white wolf barebacked through the rough.

Is it Death?

k1dstrike8 wrote:

Rough Draft(un-revised) Happiness My father gently holds my scraped knee blowing soft wind a whirl of peace band-aid to my pain

I reckon the title's a red Herring, so I'm going with Love ; )

I tell you this I always win, but I can never be won.
I keep on winning and I'm grinning when your chance of winnings none.

There's a lesson in this riddle, where two minds may meet, so tell me from Cham's list above, the word:

lordfuznut wrote:

best skyline ever I jump out of bed and shoot a look of love into the mirror sky it shoots straight back and into me I'm young, and hopeful, bursting with glee my cheeks ache from smiling, literally heartfelt thanks rise and fall with every deep, calm, excited breath of contentment (what is this, from Chams list?)

Joy?

lordfuznut wrote:

You grew within me, quick and wild relentless, dark and ugly, at first unseen now large as imagination, a killer of true pleasure injecting a slow-working poison into the mind it slowly creeps down into the heart replacing hope with anger until sympathy is beaten into submission empathy is twisted into viciousness and I am wont to paint targets on every carte blanche; a furtive mind, alive, locks on, attacks then turns back round and paints them black with a spraycan of exhausted vexation and regret (what is this, from Chams list?)

despair?

lordfuznut wrote:

To think of my country like my family (what is this, from Chams list?)

patriotism

lordfuznut wrote:

"Let's see if anyone can identify your emotion just from your description." I'm paying attention, Cham - down the plughole of time, sent of ambition and hope and fear, robbed in a flash of a minds eye, gone a wintery rush up the spine cracked liked ice and etched in time nothing, utter nothing; emptiness soon filled in with the size of your woe (what is this, from Chams list?)

death

lordfuznut wrote:

Tarring a person with a brush called flamebait just 'cause they occasionally set a challenge you can't rise to; they raise the game, see you back into that corner; found your way inside that box they placed for you, cleverly so fight your way out? no no, your're only built for flight see, then in a word, that this game can't let me say, let the poem end with the phrase that mice and academics use in its place: conscientious objection (what is this, from Chams list?)

coward

it is the sound of porcelain
slammed against the walls
without letting go, only letting it
it splinter into tiny shards
that dig deep into her skin,
slipping into blood vessels
en route to the heart.

lordfuznut wrote:

"Let's see if anyone can identify your emotion just from your description." I'm paying attention, Cham - down the plughole of time, sent of ambition and hope and fear, robbed in a flash of a minds eye, gone a wintery rush up the spine cracked liked ice and etched in time nothing, utter nothing; emptiness soon filled in with the size of your woe (what is this, from Chams list?)

despair, hopelessness

oh is it matching the one's above? or are the emotions just anything?

who's matching and who's not?

Awaken
my mold, the
plaster of my whole...

for I am not myself

(guess)

Full and heavy of
All the words
I dread hearing
Same old yelling and same
Frantic screaming
Same stagnant breath
And static movement
Breathe but can't talk
It all comes out a sigh
Drop
Down
Down
Down
Where
The sky is the ground
And I never fall.

I just fly.

Wow. Nice work, everyone! I'm impressed.

lordfuznut wrote:

You grew within me, quick and wild relentless, dark and ugly, at first unseen now large as imagination, a killer of true pleasure injecting a slow-working poison into the mind it slowly creeps down into the heart replacing hope with anger until sympathy is beaten into submission empathy is twisted into viciousness and I am wont to paint targets on every carte blanche; a furtive mind, alive, locks on, attacks then turns back round and paints them black with a spraycan of exhausted vexation and regret (what is this, from Chams list?)

Total paranoid anger spurned by drunkeness and insecurity.

listening to your heart beats one by one,
only to find, almost nothing at all
very few thumps that once tickled my ear
even know my name as they once shouted it before.

alone in my corner staring into an abyss
no room to give comfort where your art once found me,
displaced sense of feeling comfort and joy.

hilltops and valleys; towering mountains,
are all gone now - nowhere to be seen
trees and the sun; birds and the sky
escaped this once beautiful painting.