Poetry competition CLOSED 10th August 2014 3:24pm
WINNER
KittyFromHell
KittyFromHell
RUNNER-UP:
jemac
Childhood Home
Unforgettable memories
I wish I can undo what got done to me
In that NH, red brick apartment building
Living in fear
Staying awake at night
It wasn't even the monsters in the closet, I fright
It was my mothers king at night
I couldn't even eat without feeling uptight
School was my get away to life
I remember walking the train tracks
With my brother by myside
Mother walked around blindly at times
Until that day came, to say goodbye
To that king that took my childhood away from me, since I was five
As my mother watched onsite
I was finally granted to the state
Mother did not fight
That building still stands today
But I'll rather stay away
Its bad enough the memories haunts me day by day
I wish I can undo what got done to me
In that NH, red brick apartment building
Living in fear
Staying awake at night
It wasn't even the monsters in the closet, I fright
It was my mothers king at night
I couldn't even eat without feeling uptight
School was my get away to life
I remember walking the train tracks
With my brother by myside
Mother walked around blindly at times
Until that day came, to say goodbye
To that king that took my childhood away from me, since I was five
As my mother watched onsite
I was finally granted to the state
Mother did not fight
That building still stands today
But I'll rather stay away
Its bad enough the memories haunts me day by day
Its Not Much but Its Home
Gray like overcast skies
Old wooden kindling
On dull red sand it lies
Through knock down wars of will
And devastating tornadoes
There it stands valiant and still
Echoes of our voices and laughter
The purr of a contented cat
Freshly cut aromas from the push mower
Familiarity in the very existence of it
The place I've always called my home
I dream of wandering far away... Yet
My roots will always be planted
In this red Mississippi sand
Gray like overcast skies
Old wooden kindling
On dull red sand it lies
Through knock down wars of will
And devastating tornadoes
There it stands valiant and still
Echoes of our voices and laughter
The purr of a contented cat
Freshly cut aromas from the push mower
Familiarity in the very existence of it
The place I've always called my home
I dream of wandering far away... Yet
My roots will always be planted
In this red Mississippi sand
Anonymous
Thank you Mischief and Kitty for joining the comp and sharing your memories.
Bramford Road
The dial up tone plays on repeat
while she holds down my little body
on Egyptian, white sheets
until I bleed, little spots, red.
I stay,
wet on the pillow my left cheek is squashed against until she is finished,
until she is sure I am clean, she says.
The curtains have holes in them. She calls them vintage as she relaxes into a chair near the bed, lights a roll-up and rocks. She never relaxed, not truly.
How I wanted to run, from the long mirrored wardrobe, the line of china dolls, the nights spent hiding beneath the dining room table
to make sure she was okay sat downstairs with insomnia
on the computer, with dial up, or the TV.
It was never a home but felt like a cage for a feral animal, her as much as me.
We struggled by together, almost killing each other frequently, stumbling half exhausted home from joint counselling sessions. We wasted each other and our time in the living room with red walls going round in circles about her home and her childhood. It was waste.
The dial up tone plays on repeat
while she holds down my little body
on Egyptian, white sheets
until I bleed, little spots, red.
I stay,
wet on the pillow my left cheek is squashed against until she is finished,
until she is sure I am clean, she says.
The curtains have holes in them. She calls them vintage as she relaxes into a chair near the bed, lights a roll-up and rocks. She never relaxed, not truly.
How I wanted to run, from the long mirrored wardrobe, the line of china dolls, the nights spent hiding beneath the dining room table
to make sure she was okay sat downstairs with insomnia
on the computer, with dial up, or the TV.
It was never a home but felt like a cage for a feral animal, her as much as me.
We struggled by together, almost killing each other frequently, stumbling half exhausted home from joint counselling sessions. We wasted each other and our time in the living room with red walls going round in circles about her home and her childhood. It was waste.
love-horror home; no truce
Love wasn't enough to be the truce
I drowned in my hopeful thoughts
Darkness was the norm through my windows
Alone with myself, kevin had more fun.
The Love-house of horror
Love couldnt be the truce
All I saw was reflection of pains on my shadow
Only God and my room understood what i was going through
It no longer was a home
The ones who should have made it a home dispised me
A house of horror it was
Love came, but it wasnt enough to convict me.
All i saw was scary images
Next, I became wrapped in love.
Love unimagined, swept me of my feets
Still yet, all i yelled for never came.
All I prayed for died, I strongly believe, it will never ressurrect.
I get consoled by the love i've got, but where is the truce.
Horror, pains stained my heart with everlasting tears
I thought Love cleanses all stains
The stains are more like scars of tears
I had no home as a child, but i got adopted by love
All i ever imagined was, the peaceful lovely home i missed as a child
I'm grown now, thenk God for Love...
Love wasn't enough to be the truce
I drowned in my hopeful thoughts
Darkness was the norm through my windows
Alone with myself, kevin had more fun.
The Love-house of horror
Love couldnt be the truce
All I saw was reflection of pains on my shadow
Only God and my room understood what i was going through
It no longer was a home
The ones who should have made it a home dispised me
A house of horror it was
Love came, but it wasnt enough to convict me.
All i saw was scary images
Next, I became wrapped in love.
Love unimagined, swept me of my feets
Still yet, all i yelled for never came.
All I prayed for died, I strongly believe, it will never ressurrect.
I get consoled by the love i've got, but where is the truce.
Horror, pains stained my heart with everlasting tears
I thought Love cleanses all stains
The stains are more like scars of tears
I had no home as a child, but i got adopted by love
All i ever imagined was, the peaceful lovely home i missed as a child
I'm grown now, thenk God for Love...
Anonymous
Thanks LA and S8 for your entries.
The Brick House
everything meticulously kept
beautiful trees and gardens enveloped the
hard exterior
everything always looked
good from the outside
we were the perfect
white middle class family
it was the times
that what happened
inside, stayed inside
yes, we had the perfect white picket fence
to the back yard
the gate that squeaked whenever
you tried to sneak in late
hop scotch in the driveway
kickball in the street
all the neighborhood kids
somehow ended up in our yard
the beautiful dogwood trees I was
not allowed to climb
but what my parents
did not know couldn't hurt them
or me, a lesson i managed to learn
on a frequent basis
i got my first kiss in that dogwood tree
i said my first swear word there
when a small chunk of bark fell
off and landed in my eye as i swung from
it's branches
the green lush lawn that we would
do cartwheels on
and play tag, hide and seek
my older sister and her friends
not wanting me to tag along
had me be "it" in hide and seek
so they could sneak away into town
leaving me to hunt for them longer
than I'd care to mention
the five brick stairs that went up to the house
that my mom fell down one day in anger
when my sister and I did not answer the
dinner bell to come inside
cutting her leg open and leaving a scar
she still has today
the hard lesson we learned
when those infamous words were spoken
wait till your father comes home
meant a serious punishment
and one that was carried out
without hesitation
it was the first and last time
my father ever had to spank me
i was six
after that any punishment
was dutifully carried out by my mother
whose favorite tool was her wooden spoon
i was hit with that more than I'd care to mention
in her eyes I was always her trouble
with a capital "T"
so I learned to stay away
and hide away where she could
not reach me
my sisters room on the top floor
had a door that opened up to the
balcony that was actually the roof
to our garage
it was surrounded by a low fence
and covered in black tar
in the summer months you could fry an
egg out there or ourselves which
happened quite often
none of our friends were allowed
up there, but as I said what my parents
did not know…
i often climbed out the bedroom window
and rested against the wall, listening to music
or reading out there staying out of sight
being all girls how much trouble
could we possibly get in?
I was daddy's girl through and through
and I had him wrapped around my pinky solid
which put even more of a strain on my
relationship with my mom
who got it in her warped head
that at the age of 15 I must be a slut
which she brought to my
attention when she learned a boy had
asked me out…i got the double barrel of her anger then
tongue and hands as soon as I walked in the door
because I came home one minute over curfew
after that she seemed to find any excuse
to get physical with me
i learned when to come and go
to avoid her wrath
hanging out in large groups of friends
going to school and being the dutiful daughter
following all the rules as far as my parents knew
that is
by the time I turned 17
I was quite finished with
the whole scenario
our family was an illusion
the perfect lie
i moved half way through my senior year
of high school to live with my aunt
because anything had to be better than this
so many memories, but not all of them bad
the best years of my childhood
happened before the age of ten…
those are the ones I prefer to remember
I walked away and never looked back
everything meticulously kept
beautiful trees and gardens enveloped the
hard exterior
everything always looked
good from the outside
we were the perfect
white middle class family
it was the times
that what happened
inside, stayed inside
yes, we had the perfect white picket fence
to the back yard
the gate that squeaked whenever
you tried to sneak in late
hop scotch in the driveway
kickball in the street
all the neighborhood kids
somehow ended up in our yard
the beautiful dogwood trees I was
not allowed to climb
but what my parents
did not know couldn't hurt them
or me, a lesson i managed to learn
on a frequent basis
i got my first kiss in that dogwood tree
i said my first swear word there
when a small chunk of bark fell
off and landed in my eye as i swung from
it's branches
the green lush lawn that we would
do cartwheels on
and play tag, hide and seek
my older sister and her friends
not wanting me to tag along
had me be "it" in hide and seek
so they could sneak away into town
leaving me to hunt for them longer
than I'd care to mention
the five brick stairs that went up to the house
that my mom fell down one day in anger
when my sister and I did not answer the
dinner bell to come inside
cutting her leg open and leaving a scar
she still has today
the hard lesson we learned
when those infamous words were spoken
wait till your father comes home
meant a serious punishment
and one that was carried out
without hesitation
it was the first and last time
my father ever had to spank me
i was six
after that any punishment
was dutifully carried out by my mother
whose favorite tool was her wooden spoon
i was hit with that more than I'd care to mention
in her eyes I was always her trouble
with a capital "T"
so I learned to stay away
and hide away where she could
not reach me
my sisters room on the top floor
had a door that opened up to the
balcony that was actually the roof
to our garage
it was surrounded by a low fence
and covered in black tar
in the summer months you could fry an
egg out there or ourselves which
happened quite often
none of our friends were allowed
up there, but as I said what my parents
did not know…
i often climbed out the bedroom window
and rested against the wall, listening to music
or reading out there staying out of sight
being all girls how much trouble
could we possibly get in?
I was daddy's girl through and through
and I had him wrapped around my pinky solid
which put even more of a strain on my
relationship with my mom
who got it in her warped head
that at the age of 15 I must be a slut
which she brought to my
attention when she learned a boy had
asked me out…i got the double barrel of her anger then
tongue and hands as soon as I walked in the door
because I came home one minute over curfew
after that she seemed to find any excuse
to get physical with me
i learned when to come and go
to avoid her wrath
hanging out in large groups of friends
going to school and being the dutiful daughter
following all the rules as far as my parents knew
that is
by the time I turned 17
I was quite finished with
the whole scenario
our family was an illusion
the perfect lie
i moved half way through my senior year
of high school to live with my aunt
because anything had to be better than this
so many memories, but not all of them bad
the best years of my childhood
happened before the age of ten…
those are the ones I prefer to remember
I walked away and never looked back
Anonymous
SOUTHERN DEBTS
Is this the house
that my father bought, on credit,
from the First National Bank of Boston
(which begat Bank of Boston,
who seduced BayBank, and begat BankBoston,
who then was raped by Fleet,
who had also taken Shawmut, and they begat
FleetBoston Financial, who ravaged Summit
when it brought troops to Boston,
before the invasion by
Bank of America)?
Is this the debt
my family holds – owed
to some strangers from the South,
who’ve never
even come to supper?
Is this the house
that my father bought, on credit,
from the First National Bank of Boston
(which begat Bank of Boston,
who seduced BayBank, and begat BankBoston,
who then was raped by Fleet,
who had also taken Shawmut, and they begat
FleetBoston Financial, who ravaged Summit
when it brought troops to Boston,
before the invasion by
Bank of America)?
Is this the debt
my family holds – owed
to some strangers from the South,
who’ve never
even come to supper?
Anonymous
This comp is getting better and better, thanks JeJe and Moe for joining the comp.
Mysterious family house "Les Cases"
Mysterious house in the middle of fields
Where I was born. But many ancestors died
Like my great-uncle Etienne and his wife Sarah.
Beautiful lady! In my memories always in her armchair.
Many rooms. No electricity. Only candles at night.
No water in the bathroom; We had to bring it from the garden well.
At sunset in the darkness of the garden, the bucket came back from
The moaning wheel, full of fresh pure water.
One night when I was nine years old, I had to sleep
In the attic under the roof, because many cousins were here.
With an older cousin sleeping among the old furniture of our family
Near the famous armchair of our great-aunt Sarah.
And my cousin told me about Sarah, her life, her illness
And how she died after long time of pain in this very armchair!
Suddenly as he told me about her death a strange light appeared
On the armchair. Surely I saw my great-aunt within!
It was only the light of the moon, which had suddenly appeared
On the armchair, but I was sure to have seen my great-aunt!
And my cousin was laughing at me; Even he never imagined
How I could have been afraid. I had many nightmares after that!
Anonymous
I would like to thank the amazing and talented judges on this panel for their time and input.
Ms. Magdalena Mr. Chris Whitenack (Chriswwriter) Ms. Pishashee
Each poem was rated according to the 3 categories (guideline borrowed from Rain)
Creativity, Fluidity and Xfactor, 1-5 points for each category, total of 15 points (highest) per judge for each poem.
The scores were tied with highest rated poems and the decision came down to how 2 out of 3 judges rated that particular poem, highest numbers were pushed forward.
Congratulations to:
1. Kittyfromhell 35+
2. Miki 35 -
3. Jemac 34+
4. Moe 34-
Thank you to each and every one of you for your participation with your amazing ink and sharing parts of your life in this comp.
Ms. Magdalena Mr. Chris Whitenack (Chriswwriter) Ms. Pishashee
Each poem was rated according to the 3 categories (guideline borrowed from Rain)
Creativity, Fluidity and Xfactor, 1-5 points for each category, total of 15 points (highest) per judge for each poem.
The scores were tied with highest rated poems and the decision came down to how 2 out of 3 judges rated that particular poem, highest numbers were pushed forward.
Congratulations to:
1. Kittyfromhell 35+
2. Miki 35 -
3. Jemac 34+
4. Moe 34-
Thank you to each and every one of you for your participation with your amazing ink and sharing parts of your life in this comp.
Congratulations KittyFromHell !!! 
Congrats Miki !!!
Thank You Rina, always the impeccable host !!
Moe !!! (you gave me a run for the money, I enjoyed your poem very much!)
Thank You Judges for the recognition!!!
Lots of Great Stories Here !!
Congrats Miki !!!
Thank You Rina, always the impeccable host !!
Moe !!! (you gave me a run for the money, I enjoyed your poem very much!)
Thank You Judges for the recognition!!!
Lots of Great Stories Here !!
Anonymous
Thanks judges and congrats to kitty and Jemac...lots of talent from so many on here
