Poetry competition CLOSED 20th January 2013 1:33pm
WINNER
Magdalena
Magdalena
RUNNER-UP:
souladareatease
Dreamscapes and Ghost Towns
DreamScape
I'm tryin' to balance out this madness, while patchin' a broken dreamscape
The callousness is passive, but activists hope to clean slates
Listen to life.. Sing it like you knew it's song
Set it free, it centers me, like sleepin' with the music on
Rest in peace, let it be, a legacy we knew is gone..
Thought you'd never see this century, but you were wrong
Scowered a wasteland, chasin' an opportunity..
Power done changed hands.. Not to you or me
We focus on rebuildin' a nation and changin' politics..
But the children are faceless, and face apocalypse
And every time I reach the end, I find another fake beginnin'..
Like I make mistakes, every time I make decisions..
Miniscule, how we live our usual lies
And it's true, I've been a fool, so I'll split our mutual ties
Though it's a beautiful sky.. Watch when it falls
It's irrefutable, our rise 'll put a stop to us all..
So the part of me that wanted death, didn't need a reason to
The part of me that didn't did; which is more believable
The silence or the shame..? Violence or the pain..?
Tryin' to keep it equal, but the sirens and the chains
Keep the science and the faith.. Tryin' to get a taste
But our freedom isn't feasible when tyrants are in place
I'm just tryin' to make a difference.. Be my accomplaces..
Told you I was leavin', and I keep my promises
So heed my accomplishment.. Be my strength
You can see my astonishment, exceed my length
You could breathe that freedom.. Seize that hope..
Bring back reason to all those dreams that broke
And get 'em workin' again.. A chance to rise..
Chance at definin' a surface, stranded in time
And give it purpose again.. A reason to thrive
He set his dream aside; me? I try to keep it alive..
Copyright © 2010 Travis J Gibbs, The Ant1-Her0 Project
I'm tryin' to balance out this madness, while patchin' a broken dreamscape
The callousness is passive, but activists hope to clean slates
Listen to life.. Sing it like you knew it's song
Set it free, it centers me, like sleepin' with the music on
Rest in peace, let it be, a legacy we knew is gone..
Thought you'd never see this century, but you were wrong
Scowered a wasteland, chasin' an opportunity..
Power done changed hands.. Not to you or me
We focus on rebuildin' a nation and changin' politics..
But the children are faceless, and face apocalypse
And every time I reach the end, I find another fake beginnin'..
Like I make mistakes, every time I make decisions..
Miniscule, how we live our usual lies
And it's true, I've been a fool, so I'll split our mutual ties
Though it's a beautiful sky.. Watch when it falls
It's irrefutable, our rise 'll put a stop to us all..
So the part of me that wanted death, didn't need a reason to
The part of me that didn't did; which is more believable
The silence or the shame..? Violence or the pain..?
Tryin' to keep it equal, but the sirens and the chains
Keep the science and the faith.. Tryin' to get a taste
But our freedom isn't feasible when tyrants are in place
I'm just tryin' to make a difference.. Be my accomplaces..
Told you I was leavin', and I keep my promises
So heed my accomplishment.. Be my strength
You can see my astonishment, exceed my length
You could breathe that freedom.. Seize that hope..
Bring back reason to all those dreams that broke
And get 'em workin' again.. A chance to rise..
Chance at definin' a surface, stranded in time
And give it purpose again.. A reason to thrive
He set his dream aside; me? I try to keep it alive..
Copyright © 2010 Travis J Gibbs, The Ant1-Her0 Project
( dreams and fallen leaves)
I sauntered in the old place
Looking about for that familar face
Thrice I had screamed
"I AM HERE,PLEASE DONT TEASE"
wind whistled through the old windows
Dust and despair filling this old soul
Drops from the cherry tree pound the roof
Echoes of Her reverberate living proof
"Whatchya doing buddy,write anything new?"
"Sure did Mum,something for You"
Silent strings no songs heard here
Just my shuffle and the flowing tear
Still the images
Remembering lineage
I am the ghost in the hall
Watching leaves fall
Their color Her color the hue
Spirit of love the one giving me view
Where was She this house these rooms
Cannot stay in this erected tomb
Turning around to make my escape
I stopped knowing what She'd say
" with you always,this you know"
"You are of my skin,carry my glow"
"Magic stays even as you grow"
"Footsteps,in the snow"
"your colors within"
"Touches ,the visiting kin"
"The amble of your carry"
"To loves that are very"
"The way you go on"
"The perpetual Mothers son"
Knowing that and making my leave
I walk out the door seeing the trees
I am that becuz of the She
Waking and being living and dream
I sauntered in the old place
Looking about for that familar face
Thrice I had screamed
"I AM HERE,PLEASE DONT TEASE"
wind whistled through the old windows
Dust and despair filling this old soul
Drops from the cherry tree pound the roof
Echoes of Her reverberate living proof
"Whatchya doing buddy,write anything new?"
"Sure did Mum,something for You"
Silent strings no songs heard here
Just my shuffle and the flowing tear
Still the images
Remembering lineage
I am the ghost in the hall
Watching leaves fall
Their color Her color the hue
Spirit of love the one giving me view
Where was She this house these rooms
Cannot stay in this erected tomb
Turning around to make my escape
I stopped knowing what She'd say
" with you always,this you know"
"You are of my skin,carry my glow"
"Magic stays even as you grow"
"Footsteps,in the snow"
"your colors within"
"Touches ,the visiting kin"
"The amble of your carry"
"To loves that are very"
"The way you go on"
"The perpetual Mothers son"
Knowing that and making my leave
I walk out the door seeing the trees
I am that becuz of the She
Waking and being living and dream
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
"These Citys"
Wait,
here come's a reaction
walking through wastelands
with no boredom
with no action.
"When's a building not a building?"
she riddled.
"when its a wall" i replied.
i like riddles, it passes the time.
our house was made from bricks and mortar
and the odd drop of cement
made by cowboys and rogue traders
will we ever escape from this industrialized tomb?
If this city was a photograph
it would be presented in black and white
If this city was a record it would be recorded in mono
the air tastes like static
the atmosphere smells like sulfur or some other
unidentified chemical element.
meanwhile the surrounding Chimneys
vomit's dark matter in to the stratosphere.
"if you look at the top of the buildings
past the decay and the grey skies
they look like teeth"
you didn't have to be high on peyote
to know what she was taking about.
"We are indeed in the mouth of the whale"
i muttered.
i enjoy reading her "Moby Dick"
at least i did before they turned the city library
into a another Tesco.
we turned and looked away
we never shred a tear
i interlocked my fingers with in hers
we held hands, swaying in a lonely place.
there was nothing to fear but fear itself
the smell of decay and corrosion
wind patterns and sea life
move silent in motion.
the pavements are devoid of cement
instead composed of needles
and houses infested with mutant beetles
and kids with measles.
These city's loose translation in sound
maybe we are better off
living underground?
in these city's
its a pity
we will never be free
here we live and die
and we can never go home.
Wait,
here come's a reaction
walking through wastelands
with no boredom
with no action.
"When's a building not a building?"
she riddled.
"when its a wall" i replied.
i like riddles, it passes the time.
our house was made from bricks and mortar
and the odd drop of cement
made by cowboys and rogue traders
will we ever escape from this industrialized tomb?
If this city was a photograph
it would be presented in black and white
If this city was a record it would be recorded in mono
the air tastes like static
the atmosphere smells like sulfur or some other
unidentified chemical element.
meanwhile the surrounding Chimneys
vomit's dark matter in to the stratosphere.
"if you look at the top of the buildings
past the decay and the grey skies
they look like teeth"
you didn't have to be high on peyote
to know what she was taking about.
"We are indeed in the mouth of the whale"
i muttered.
i enjoy reading her "Moby Dick"
at least i did before they turned the city library
into a another Tesco.
we turned and looked away
we never shred a tear
i interlocked my fingers with in hers
we held hands, swaying in a lonely place.
there was nothing to fear but fear itself
the smell of decay and corrosion
wind patterns and sea life
move silent in motion.
the pavements are devoid of cement
instead composed of needles
and houses infested with mutant beetles
and kids with measles.
These city's loose translation in sound
maybe we are better off
living underground?
in these city's
its a pity
we will never be free
here we live and die
and we can never go home.
hello! i'm new and really liked this topic...so well here's my poem...
The man
had been ruminating
in
my head
Over
his own loveliness
And pondering thus
had become
preposterously
beautiful
He lived
in a
lively street
situated in my head
that danced on yellowing sunshine
As blazing cars
passed by
ancient bookshops
He lived in a
lively street
where out of tune tragedies
Sang duets.
And he just
lived there.
And I could have said
about him
that he is an
artist from paris.
Where he lived inside my head
in that lively street
where people wore golden hats
And never went away, he was like an
artist from paris.
Who could paint portraits,
of words that had
never
seen their glorious forms
When the real
man came again
he was not the
same
My head was a
fanatical,
fantastical,
feverish
festival of
frightened fellows
Who said that the
real man was not the
painter of portraits,
He was not aware of my
out of tune
tragedies
But was just
some man
who was
standing outside my
head
And the windows
of my head
rattled and the shutters broke
And
all the portraits of
all the words
became pale
and would not talk.
The man
had been ruminating
in
my head
Over
his own loveliness
And pondering thus
had become
preposterously
beautiful
He lived
in a
lively street
situated in my head
that danced on yellowing sunshine
As blazing cars
passed by
ancient bookshops
He lived in a
lively street
where out of tune tragedies
Sang duets.
And he just
lived there.
And I could have said
about him
that he is an
artist from paris.
Where he lived inside my head
in that lively street
where people wore golden hats
And never went away, he was like an
artist from paris.
Who could paint portraits,
of words that had
never
seen their glorious forms
When the real
man came again
he was not the
same
My head was a
fanatical,
fantastical,
feverish
festival of
frightened fellows
Who said that the
real man was not the
painter of portraits,
He was not aware of my
out of tune
tragedies
But was just
some man
who was
standing outside my
head
And the windows
of my head
rattled and the shutters broke
And
all the portraits of
all the words
became pale
and would not talk.
My utmost thanks to all of you who participated in this poem competition. You have entered fantastic works, and I am humbled with the talents shown here. I have picked the winner and I congratulate Magdalena for entering a superb poem. I felt the disillusionment of seeing a time and place that is less than perfect as this is the thrust of the competition. I have adjudged Missy as the first runner up, as you have presented a dreamscape that is surreally eerie. The second runner up is Souladaretease; you gave me thoughts about visiting someone who is no longer there. Room for improvement though:
… I would like to mention here that MaggieG had entered a beautiful poem as did Jessica: wow girl! Kitty I always love your work.
Ant1-Her0-Project, your poem is superb and Strider, you are a story teller. The Marcus De Sade rendered a beautiful poem, as did Gabriel. Guys, I salute you. Orangesun, that was a commendable piece of work. Thank you for giving me the honour to read it in my competition. I would like to mention here that some work did not actually adhere to the competition rules; however the quality of the works were not diminished. I would like to stress here that I judged the poems according to my understanding and interpretation. Thank You, I hope to see you in my other competition.
… I would like to mention here that MaggieG had entered a beautiful poem as did Jessica: wow girl! Kitty I always love your work.Ant1-Her0-Project, your poem is superb and Strider, you are a story teller. The Marcus De Sade rendered a beautiful poem, as did Gabriel. Guys, I salute you. Orangesun, that was a commendable piece of work. Thank you for giving me the honour to read it in my competition. I would like to mention here that some work did not actually adhere to the competition rules; however the quality of the works were not diminished. I would like to stress here that I judged the poems according to my understanding and interpretation. Thank You, I hope to see you in my other competition.
