Poetry competition CLOSED 4th February 2016 2:00am
WINNER
Anonymous
Anonymous
RUNNER-UP:
Kou_Indigo
.Bizarre.Planet.
Anonymous
Poetry Contest Description
~Write.a.rhyme.about.a.fictious.planet~
<you pick>
<the.details>
>the.more.bizarre<
>the.better<
<eye>
<want.to.see>
<brains.smoldering>
>with.electricity<
<the.details>
>the.more.bizarre<
>the.better<
<eye>
<want.to.see>
<brains.smoldering>
>with.electricity<
- Space Graveyard -
In the void of space, betwixt the lights,
Of stars and planets in their turnings…
There is a place blacker than any nights.
A place of hunger and awful yearnings!
Once a temple where knowledge bore,
To a kindred ancient, secrets like fire…
But it became a husk, a haunted core.
A mockery of its’ builders’ true desire!
Shunned by its’ makers for a millennia.
Opened by none, lest the evils within…
Be loosed once more in a bacchanalia,
Of blood and horrors, beyond any sin.
The rocks of that place are blackened,
And the skies are filled with thunders…
In remembering of what had happened.
How ancients paid for grand wonders!
But they are gone, their doom enacted.
I cannot speak of what befell them all…
But the gods in their terror, so reacted:
Abandoning those ancients to their fall.
If man ever ventures to that graveyard,
Tread carefully, lest you wake ghosts!
For beyond where the gate is barred…
They hunger, seeking fresh living hosts.
Bones of fallen gods lay there in state,
Not in tombs, but where they chose…
For eons, to slumber and to thus wait!
Their sleep, led them to a final repose.
Machines dormant since time’s dawn,
Still hum with the energy that dies not.
They played their parts, like a pawn…
Growing cold with an unborn thought.
How fallen is that domain, from glory!
Pray man finds it not, whilst seeking…
Lest humanity learns the horrid story,
Of what causes the ghosts’ weeping.
In the void of space, betwixt the lights,
Of stars and planets in their turnings…
There is a place blacker than any nights.
A place of hunger and awful yearnings!
Once a temple where knowledge bore,
To a kindred ancient, secrets like fire…
But it became a husk, a haunted core.
A mockery of its’ builders’ true desire!
Shunned by its’ makers for a millennia.
Opened by none, lest the evils within…
Be loosed once more in a bacchanalia,
Of blood and horrors, beyond any sin.
The rocks of that place are blackened,
And the skies are filled with thunders…
In remembering of what had happened.
How ancients paid for grand wonders!
But they are gone, their doom enacted.
I cannot speak of what befell them all…
But the gods in their terror, so reacted:
Abandoning those ancients to their fall.
If man ever ventures to that graveyard,
Tread carefully, lest you wake ghosts!
For beyond where the gate is barred…
They hunger, seeking fresh living hosts.
Bones of fallen gods lay there in state,
Not in tombs, but where they chose…
For eons, to slumber and to thus wait!
Their sleep, led them to a final repose.
Machines dormant since time’s dawn,
Still hum with the energy that dies not.
They played their parts, like a pawn…
Growing cold with an unborn thought.
How fallen is that domain, from glory!
Pray man finds it not, whilst seeking…
Lest humanity learns the horrid story,
Of what causes the ghosts’ weeping.
I thought I had a couple poems which suited this theme but some of those were either more set on Earth involving alien things or they were not works of fiction but of fact... so methinks my Space Graveyard poem will do for my entry to this contest. If I find any others of mine though which are like that I'll post them as well. *Smiles* :)
Anonymous
That.computes
Can you cry in space?
Once you venture into the jar
there's no place left to go
as planets recede into dark matter.
Light years close in on me.
Ev'ry vein restricts, the heart
beats backwards, hair snaking
choking, floating beads of tears
quivering in the vacuum reflected
in visor and iris,
as eyes bulge and bleed,
turning to ruby gems,
glinting, and sharp-angled
threading with tears, coiling
around my neck and hands,
trying to fend them off.
Am I in a clinical waiting room
in a hell adrift, which has already
seen and been the death of me...
Through a portal, solar flares
rotating as the capsule
slowly tumbles, baseless.
As horizons slip away,
the only sound left:
the broken static from Houston.
Once you venture into the jar
there's no place left to go
as planets recede into dark matter.
Light years close in on me.
Ev'ry vein restricts, the heart
beats backwards, hair snaking
choking, floating beads of tears
quivering in the vacuum reflected
in visor and iris,
as eyes bulge and bleed,
turning to ruby gems,
glinting, and sharp-angled
threading with tears, coiling
around my neck and hands,
trying to fend them off.
Am I in a clinical waiting room
in a hell adrift, which has already
seen and been the death of me...
Through a portal, solar flares
rotating as the capsule
slowly tumbles, baseless.
As horizons slip away,
the only sound left:
the broken static from Houston.
Capture
My terror heartbeat movement
Was enough to catch the corner
Of his bloody red eye..
His body oozed black seep..
As his creep made long freakish
Strides towards my frozen body.
Iron skeletal ribs heaved..
In-out- in-out exhales of dusty thrusts
All dark air...and Stomp Stomp Stomp..
This nightmare being was dark ruler
On this depraved planet i crashed into.. And i am stuck Froze...holding breath...
He hovers over me..swaying head
Leans in drips inky sweat on my nose..
Opens cavernous jaw exposing rows..
And rows of razor teeth...
Laced with morning snack of putrid
Breath stank with decay and in a rush..
A rush of furious inhale ..
A totaling foul rush of suck breath...
He inhales and swallows...death..?
Unconscious but alive i ride
In second tummy of my Alien captor..
And am spat out to a rolling wake...
In a trembling ball in a corner eyes focus to a scream..a scene so obscene
Spreads..dark alien's slaves in torture..
I am jerked up and stripped..touched
By tentacle fingers probing my holes
Stickying my body in slug like trails
Background wails with pain of beings
I shiver my doom heart and eyes beating out of myself...
A fear unknown spreads through me like a flesh eating Disease
I am bent and taken..a sacrafice prick
My terror heartbeat movement
Was enough to catch the corner
Of his bloody red eye..
His body oozed black seep..
As his creep made long freakish
Strides towards my frozen body.
Iron skeletal ribs heaved..
In-out- in-out exhales of dusty thrusts
All dark air...and Stomp Stomp Stomp..
This nightmare being was dark ruler
On this depraved planet i crashed into.. And i am stuck Froze...holding breath...
He hovers over me..swaying head
Leans in drips inky sweat on my nose..
Opens cavernous jaw exposing rows..
And rows of razor teeth...
Laced with morning snack of putrid
Breath stank with decay and in a rush..
A rush of furious inhale ..
A totaling foul rush of suck breath...
He inhales and swallows...death..?
Unconscious but alive i ride
In second tummy of my Alien captor..
And am spat out to a rolling wake...
In a trembling ball in a corner eyes focus to a scream..a scene so obscene
Spreads..dark alien's slaves in torture..
I am jerked up and stripped..touched
By tentacle fingers probing my holes
Stickying my body in slug like trails
Background wails with pain of beings
I shiver my doom heart and eyes beating out of myself...
A fear unknown spreads through me like a flesh eating Disease
I am bent and taken..a sacrafice prick
ODE TO THE MEN WHO SOLD THE WORLD
The tenth planet came
With 2XS as its name
Further back behind the Duke
Land that looked like it'd been nuked
All the tests were quickly done
Far from light of our dear sun
Leading congress to declare
We could store toxic waste there,
Which we've done for many years now
Never thinking it could be how
To complete the perfect brew
That would yield a people new
(Maybe people's the wrong term
Since they're shaped like giant sperm)
Who were happy to provide
A swift ending to our ride
<gulp>
There- you can see them entering
Our planet's fertile atmosphere
Growing stronger from our smog
<shrug>
They should in truth do quite well here
The tenth planet came
With 2XS as its name
Further back behind the Duke
Land that looked like it'd been nuked
All the tests were quickly done
Far from light of our dear sun
Leading congress to declare
We could store toxic waste there,
Which we've done for many years now
Never thinking it could be how
To complete the perfect brew
That would yield a people new
(Maybe people's the wrong term
Since they're shaped like giant sperm)
Who were happy to provide
A swift ending to our ride
<gulp>
There- you can see them entering
Our planet's fertile atmosphere
Growing stronger from our smog
<shrug>
They should in truth do quite well here
http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f248/jadepandora/quantum-robo00.png
PARALLEL
The ghostly sightings of space rats,
elusive in the passages of wormholes,
and the portal of trees lit by the lunar rings
in a constant curling of echoes,
and the rare exchange--
gulls, reversed mutations to pterodactyl,
drift inland like mega spores from the
hyperbaric void that cosmic storms leave
behind, gravitate, where static crackles
as you seek shelter:
territorial, from the cellular towers,
nuclear isomers foraging between bomb bays,
while drawn to this molecular lyric by chance
in the outback, where time stands still
from the pull of our Precambrian dance.
Mid-air, our thrall becomes a menace
to the silence of a sibling planet.
These ironic feathers fluting
from our cage of arboretums;
they have no quantum, no beginning.
Notes found swirling in atomic maps
of interstellar anatomies, like
ineffectual miracles.
Our winged egression into acidic skies
herald the chorus of our crossing
through a multiverse of vastitudes
to settle into a grume of loess,
a sandstone listening to our conversation,
scattered soliloquies of light skeletonized
in afternoons of intermittent duets,
where leaves, long dead,
are still devoted to forgotten roots.
PARALLEL
The ghostly sightings of space rats,
elusive in the passages of wormholes,
and the portal of trees lit by the lunar rings
in a constant curling of echoes,
and the rare exchange--
gulls, reversed mutations to pterodactyl,
drift inland like mega spores from the
hyperbaric void that cosmic storms leave
behind, gravitate, where static crackles
as you seek shelter:
territorial, from the cellular towers,
nuclear isomers foraging between bomb bays,
while drawn to this molecular lyric by chance
in the outback, where time stands still
from the pull of our Precambrian dance.
Mid-air, our thrall becomes a menace
to the silence of a sibling planet.
These ironic feathers fluting
from our cage of arboretums;
they have no quantum, no beginning.
Notes found swirling in atomic maps
of interstellar anatomies, like
ineffectual miracles.
Our winged egression into acidic skies
herald the chorus of our crossing
through a multiverse of vastitudes
to settle into a grume of loess,
a sandstone listening to our conversation,
scattered soliloquies of light skeletonized
in afternoons of intermittent duets,
where leaves, long dead,
are still devoted to forgotten roots.
http://i48.photobucket.com/albums/f248/jadepandora/Robert-S-Connet-MICROVERSE-II%2001.png
ESCAPE FROM PLANET MICROVERSE
Its porous surface of all-seeing eyes
with volcanic sties at polar ends,
from the erratic tug of satellites that scan
across the static of elliptical rings,
when spirit had released its
circle into a sea of impetus--
the will of force, to start and end
a journey past, and then begin again.
Traditional spells aside,
with much to abort and to abide,
to assuage the widow moon's bridge-keeper
with bribes of all that you promised her,
Lest you wade the murky depths in the
guise of an albino salamander,
avoiding consumption while traversing
the oily maze of surface fires
that block the way, and flotillas of
man-o-war jellyfish,
their tentacles rife with voltage
to your slithering genitalia.
And from the mantle of your blindness
you sense amid the current
a jagged danger on the far side
where brittle struts from bone of baleen
threaten to sabotage the integrity
of your shape-shifting escape.
Little-known the consequences.
No book of shadows to guide us,
nor the written divination of runes, or
reed scriptures from the after world.
The encryption simply reads that
there is nothing more, once it is begun.
ESCAPE FROM PLANET MICROVERSE
Its porous surface of all-seeing eyes
with volcanic sties at polar ends,
from the erratic tug of satellites that scan
across the static of elliptical rings,
when spirit had released its
circle into a sea of impetus--
the will of force, to start and end
a journey past, and then begin again.
Traditional spells aside,
with much to abort and to abide,
to assuage the widow moon's bridge-keeper
with bribes of all that you promised her,
Lest you wade the murky depths in the
guise of an albino salamander,
avoiding consumption while traversing
the oily maze of surface fires
that block the way, and flotillas of
man-o-war jellyfish,
their tentacles rife with voltage
to your slithering genitalia.
And from the mantle of your blindness
you sense amid the current
a jagged danger on the far side
where brittle struts from bone of baleen
threaten to sabotage the integrity
of your shape-shifting escape.
Little-known the consequences.
No book of shadows to guide us,
nor the written divination of runes, or
reed scriptures from the after world.
The encryption simply reads that
there is nothing more, once it is begun.
Anonymous
Sector 84
The temporary place
a library of living lessons and testament
to things we'd rather dismiss
hybrid remnants of fallen angels
bastards of the gods
the lost race
running out of time
the first computers
organic laborers
left like cattle in their garden of serfdom
until the reptiles landed
and gave too much away
now they've created replicas
mastered the art of failing at genetics
damning the odds
of rising above their own code
it seems secondary to contemplate reason
when the end is sure and uncertain
no doubt death is underestimated here
where everything is so fleeting
yet thought to be infinite
a place overcrowded
with loneliness
full of emptiness and hope
The temporary place
a library of living lessons and testament
to things we'd rather dismiss
hybrid remnants of fallen angels
bastards of the gods
the lost race
running out of time
the first computers
organic laborers
left like cattle in their garden of serfdom
until the reptiles landed
and gave too much away
now they've created replicas
mastered the art of failing at genetics
damning the odds
of rising above their own code
it seems secondary to contemplate reason
when the end is sure and uncertain
no doubt death is underestimated here
where everything is so fleeting
yet thought to be infinite
a place overcrowded
with loneliness
full of emptiness and hope
Jupiter.
Underneath the red eye,
through heavy haze,
down to a single, metallic sea.
Wobbly and reflective; think liquid mercury.
A wet shroud over a star.
It's liquid helium,
pure proton and its electron.
(So ok) the star shroud is two shrouds,
but woven into one,
shiny ocean.
Pulsating heat beneath.
Clockwork-moon tides. Pull push.
Washing and flowing. Conducting. Throbbing.
Chaotic, electric skaters begin to ebb and flow in time.
Organization is born.
Pretissimo to vivace: chaos to life,
the ocean finds rhythm
of information flow.
An echo to echo.
A perfect moon reflection.
Tiny skaters begin a ‘line’
it grows and grows,
troupe upon troupe.
And from the weave, an Ocean.
Underneath the red eye,
through heavy haze,
down to a single, metallic sea.
Wobbly and reflective; think liquid mercury.
A wet shroud over a star.
It's liquid helium,
pure proton and its electron.
(So ok) the star shroud is two shrouds,
but woven into one,
shiny ocean.
Pulsating heat beneath.
Clockwork-moon tides. Pull push.
Washing and flowing. Conducting. Throbbing.
Chaotic, electric skaters begin to ebb and flow in time.
Organization is born.
Pretissimo to vivace: chaos to life,
the ocean finds rhythm
of information flow.
An echo to echo.
A perfect moon reflection.
Tiny skaters begin a ‘line’
it grows and grows,
troupe upon troupe.
And from the weave, an Ocean.
Anonymous
That's the spirit here....keep.them.coming.poets.
Anonymous
^Buzz.
