Inspired by: Lost Girl

Following in the vein of the mighty Crimsin, Madame Lavender, and Lord Viddax, here beginneth my trial of bestowing the torch of words upon another.

I am switching the tone back to dark (who would have guessed?) but perhaps a more nostalgic type of dark. Read the poem below and write a poem inspired by it.

- No rules or constraints
- Enter as many times as you want
- No collabs (not enough experience)
- Two weeks

The winner will host the next competition where they will share one of their own poems for inspiration.

All ye gifted and beautiful souls of DUP, come forward and stake your claim!

_____________________________________________


http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/images/uploads/poemimages/188902.jpg

Anastasia

These images I collect, hoping
to feel. We still believe
in haunted things that prey
upon children. Even the umbrellas
make me sad. I yearn
for diminutive women to help me
cross over to the light. Stand
in shadows, pray for storms
of pebbles. We throw ragged
tennis balls into our closets.
Shrink into mice so the adults
won’t find out. But they’re
too fevered to notice
the stains on our shoes.
The crackling of my bones
as I tumble down the staircase.
Tin foil covers all
the windows, the winter months
transparent as hungry mosquitoes.
I crouch beneath the ledge,
searching for something grotesque.
Something wonderful.
Like monsters.
Like love.

Thank you for your beautiful entry, Vishal, and for kicking things off!

Alone in the darkness

she sings a soft lullaby
holding her doll on her lap
she strokes the knotted hair
trace the grimacing lips

She swings her legs
remembering the swings
the crow squawking
perched on the fence

blood flowing down her legs
making diamond drops on the grass
she's a woman now
she sings to herself

she whispers their names
they who gave her to him
for a few pounds and pence
to feed their cravings for godliness

she sings on cradling her doll
as the men kept passing through her door
her begetors smiling with their money
going into dreamland in ecstasy

she croons on
dancing with her best friend
In her head.

Thank you for your beautiful entry, Grace.

venom

to feel you stong
against my cheek makes
the fact that i have hidden
this monster from you worth it
needing to know the depths of
your acceptance i let
the darkness come
let it drip from my fingers like
seductive honey
to slide into all the places where
men most like to touch

and you did not run

it must have happened somewhere
between that fevered hello and
goodbye that this trust
first bloomed
so much pressed into
sunrises and burning shared stars
but this is mine
my secret

i will let you see
let you hold me in your precious hands
allow your light to shine so bright
that my eyes hurt
i will allow
your clinical magic
and listen to words about re-opening wounds
letting them bleed again to
stimulate healing

but this poison is mine
and it is i who must draw it out
like venom from a snake bite

..........Is it not for a child ?


teach book-reading,
is it not for the child
and in trust you adjust to they their
rhythm of reach
each is temperate,
sunny or mild and some dark make
you smile it seems.
Rolling like thunder,
streams flow unexplained to the sea,
is each.
And working together from different
each familial condition.
Theirs is a pulley,
you will pull as they push at the
center
this your center in order to dance on
the rhythm and rhyme
you the teacher it leads them on like
thus,
watching the sun as it shines, 'it is
nature to us, they are it..
Children of art, playing your parts,
gifted are these of from some whom
can't see
for these are but they,
thy gift to you.
These their worlds entirely from a
seed made by you.
Perhaps from the river of life, comes
each for you
small at the start, sprout up and out,
you their poetry.
In rearranged order are such they
their words like chimes of the wind
their minds changed to each verse is
poetry,
to read the small mind in it/it is as
fluent,
as the equipment inside of they
which by you, the makers of the
technology
the spring of terminology
and thine understanding from this is
each your child, in the child,
although motive is given by you.
If you inspect the method of using
the differences of they,
variations which are you,
They can't being you, but help
themselves
all smile at you.

Fallen photograph


Fallen photograph,in pieces of a memory
Blank pages stare bleakly at me
There,amongst scattered lines
A face I remember so well

The contours of a woman,the shadow of a man
Clean white linen waltzing on the wind
A little girl catching the sun
In an empty jar,in an empty space

There is a solitary tune from a broken toy
A story half written,half told
And the night falls,and the fright
Masks the monsters wear so well

And the fright falls,through the long night
She has closed the blinds,closed her door
To the pieces of memory
Of a fallen photograph

Minerva, Zombie, and Mourganna, thank you so much for your lovely entries. I appreciate all who have entered their participation...

Caroscene annastayshia

Awl dem tingz eye sed
eye reelee didn't meen.
Sahwheat shugar,
lett da gaymez  beeginn.
Eye knead yer luv
hartbraykher.

Hey all. Well, all the entries, as usual, were fantastic. Everyone did an excellent job and I wish I could give more trophies. I again have opted not to justify the reasons I judged as I did, for I do not want to hurt anyone’s feelings or appear to give bias to certain DUP members. Simply in the end, I had to go first with Grace, then Mourganna, then Minerva. Sorry guys, I guess the ladies won out this time. But thank you everybody for participating; it really meant a lot to me.

Congrats to Grace,and Minerva...:)
thank you much for including my poem as runner up
:):):)

thanks for the nod, toni! it was really fun to read and then created something different! congrats to Grace and mourganna!

Thank you for honouring me with the trophy, Toniscales. I am humbled as I pitched with some of the best. Mourganna and Minerva, I am your admirer. You know it. Awesome entries both.