Poetry competition CLOSED 23rd April 2024 1:55pm
WINNER
Beholder
Beholder
RUNNERS-UP:
CasketSharpe
and BurntCanary
SKELETONS IN THE CLOSET
Poetry Contest Description
So in this competition, it will be unique. It'll be dark and eerie. We all have story and we all have a dark one too. We also have skeletons hidden in a closet somewhere. Skeletons with so much to say. A darkness kept for so long. Would you dare share?
Would you share your dark secrets to the world? Is it driving you crazy to just release and free your soul from all the trash you accumulated with time? Are you ready to open your dark closet filled with lots of skeletons that never saw the light?
Write a poem or story well detailed any length is ok. Write about what color is your skeletons in your closet and why. There's no judgement here other then to judge the best work written. Make the closet amusing. How big is that closet? Does it lead to something so wicked ? Is it a maze of no exit? Or a maze that ends to a whirl of huge surprises. What is it like your skeletons in that closet? Do they talk or no? Be creative in such a way never done.
You can use images, impress me if you dare....
I will judge at the end.
I'll choose 2 extra writers that I felt did great as well.
Two can be done per person but not necessary.
Good luck to all
Write a poem or story well detailed any length is ok. Write about what color is your skeletons in your closet and why. There's no judgement here other then to judge the best work written. Make the closet amusing. How big is that closet? Does it lead to something so wicked ? Is it a maze of no exit? Or a maze that ends to a whirl of huge surprises. What is it like your skeletons in that closet? Do they talk or no? Be creative in such a way never done.
You can use images, impress me if you dare....
I will judge at the end.
I'll choose 2 extra writers that I felt did great as well.
Two can be done per person but not necessary.
Good luck to all
Darkest Secrets
dark secrets, not one or two
but a hundred or more
shall I tell or let it go
I think I may just ignore
their gibbering to be told
was it the boy under the linden tree
who wanted more than a little kiss
I don't know if that's a dark secret
or a teeny bit grey
but I won't say what he did afterwards
it could be the time I plonk
two chocolates laxative
in my father's coffee
so he wouldn't go out that night
it was my mother's birthday
but no one cared not even him
many dark secrets of a strange life
dancing around egg shells
and tip toeing down creaky stairs
struggling to breathe in air
choked by un-loveliness
dark secrets yes I have so many
nothing I could tell to anybody
a hair breath to drunk oblivion
a step away from diving
or cutting someone's throat
It was a long tired road
before becoming Grace.
Written by Grace
(IDryad)
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Lamb in sun
You can't forget
that dreadful look
or hard swallows
kicking the back
of your throat
and excuses
that serve well
searing your skin
like branded
animals.
It was always
quiet moments
that rang loudest
don't get me
started on cars,
lottery tickets
newspapers
buying milk
each evening
swimming lesson
I had undertaken,
how the weather
never mattered
whatsoever
not to a being
that's lesser
than human
unable to
think or see
rain or sun
just spring
lambs taken
off to the
abattoir.
Written by neves
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Confessing Tongues.
Should I speak out against indignities
perpetrated on me in my childhood?
Nah, because folk might think I'm but a tease
bringing salaciousness to adulthood.
The power of one's peers, to me it seems,
stills the righteousness of confessing tongues
but " confess " is not the right word, in dreams
I'm there, as they hang, you, perverted ones...
Will I find, on dread retribution day,
those selfsame jobsworth petty officials?
whom, themselves, abuse in their silent way,
over these, I scribble, my initials.
So, abide still, you strange creature, you thing,
As I do mortal ill, we'll both sing, hymns?
perpetrated on me in my childhood?
Nah, because folk might think I'm but a tease
bringing salaciousness to adulthood.
The power of one's peers, to me it seems,
stills the righteousness of confessing tongues
but " confess " is not the right word, in dreams
I'm there, as they hang, you, perverted ones...
Will I find, on dread retribution day,
those selfsame jobsworth petty officials?
whom, themselves, abuse in their silent way,
over these, I scribble, my initials.
So, abide still, you strange creature, you thing,
As I do mortal ill, we'll both sing, hymns?
Written by Rew
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(My very own) Personal Hell
Morning began as any other,
straightening up my small room,
followed by
a marlboro red 100, skillet hash,
coffee.
Cherries and Berries
in my window
while simultaneously a youth and future squandered
pool at my feet
to the tune of cacophonous
wailing sirens.
"Sean Pokorney? Sean Pokorney? Sean..."
They
always told me I was built to race the clock
—trouble
is,
The clock got something of a head start.
I awake the next morn.
a small room smaller
in spite of its newfound emptiness; life, being
rendered vacuous, hollow in like fashion.
Broken- clothed in nothing but a cloud of shame and
bruises from last night's battery,
"You tore this family apart"
—my stepmother's accent cuts through the tension like a searing knife:
I appear to look at her, but my eyes hold nothing.
I say nothing-
as any shitbag might.
straightening up my small room,
followed by
a marlboro red 100, skillet hash,
coffee.
Cherries and Berries
in my window
while simultaneously a youth and future squandered
pool at my feet
to the tune of cacophonous
wailing sirens.
"Sean Pokorney? Sean Pokorney? Sean..."
They
always told me I was built to race the clock
—trouble
is,
The clock got something of a head start.
I awake the next morn.
a small room smaller
in spite of its newfound emptiness; life, being
rendered vacuous, hollow in like fashion.
Broken- clothed in nothing but a cloud of shame and
bruises from last night's battery,
"You tore this family apart"
—my stepmother's accent cuts through the tension like a searing knife:
I appear to look at her, but my eyes hold nothing.
I say nothing-
as any shitbag might.
Written by Alois_inwriting02
(Alois Cyprien d Bayeux)
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Unexpected
I feel so happy
that someone should hit me,
so completely happy
that someone should hurt me.
I drag myself pseudopodically
into the abyss of the ocean,
I dedicate myself to omphalopsy,
to the psychography
of what will never be proven.
I baptize as Nietzsche
all the worms that emerge
from the rotten flesh
that covers the skeleton
that inhabits my closet.
...............................................................
Happy like Proust,
the spider that watches me
from a corner on the ceiling
of the room.
that someone should hit me,
so completely happy
that someone should hurt me.
I drag myself pseudopodically
into the abyss of the ocean,
I dedicate myself to omphalopsy,
to the psychography
of what will never be proven.
I baptize as Nietzsche
all the worms that emerge
from the rotten flesh
that covers the skeleton
that inhabits my closet.
...............................................................
Happy like Proust,
the spider that watches me
from a corner on the ceiling
of the room.
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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Still Life
If we broke it down
into palatable pieces
I’d of said something
about Jackson Pollock
and the colour of blood
how I’d never seen red
roll down glass outside
of movies.
Perhaps there’d be
the part where your spit
hit a cheek. How it burned
with the fury of lava—
this skin, a village
waiting for destruction
all terror,
all terror in the flood.
Some days, I float above fists
thinking of them as canvasses
on crooked easels. Blots
on fingers, feet & face.
I’d call it art
if it wasn’t a bastardised
version of events, but there
are hours, some hours
where pain blurs seamlessly
with watercolour shades
skeletons itching in wet earth
where they silently decompose
some nights,
those corpses
are so moist,
so bare,
I dress them
in paint-stained
clothes.
Written by Northern_Soul
(-Missy-)
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3 years a stalker
Waiting, watching, preying, stalking.
You had me in your clutches
You had me in your trap
No matter which route I head
There’s no way getting back
Chasing, coursing, tracking, hunting.
You broke me just as you wished
You broke me beyond repair
However I try to fix this
Forever in your lair
Taunting, teasing, crushing, squeezing.
Wanted me all to yourself
Wanted me as your slave
Well you’ve chosen the wrong girl
I’ll never be yours babe
Grabbing, choking, screaming, hushing.
Won’t let you do it to me
Yet I already did
Actions that are always forbid
Please do not do this any more
You had me in your clutches
You had me in your trap
No matter which route I head
There’s no way getting back
Chasing, coursing, tracking, hunting.
You broke me just as you wished
You broke me beyond repair
However I try to fix this
Forever in your lair
Taunting, teasing, crushing, squeezing.
Wanted me all to yourself
Wanted me as your slave
Well you’ve chosen the wrong girl
I’ll never be yours babe
Grabbing, choking, screaming, hushing.
Won’t let you do it to me
Yet I already did
Actions that are always forbid
Please do not do this any more
Written by Kinkwizard_95
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