Poetry competition CLOSED 3rd February 2014 6:15am
WINNER
pseudonymous
pseudonymous
RUNNERS-UP:
JohnFeddeler
and LobodeSanPedro
Opposite Categories
http://digital-art-gallery.com/oid/35/r169_457x256_7557_Forest_2d_fantasy_forest_magic_magical_picture_image_digital_art.jpg
A Pretty Cloudy Sky
A cloudy sky today, sunrays peeking softly
between gaps, looking a little shy
they wait for the clouds to go away
that they again may shine through
clouded are our path in life
at times uncertain are our steps
walking through light or darkness
hampered by sorrow, pain and grief
there are butterflies fluttering by
with rainbow coloured dragonflies
perhaps to sample nodding blooms
in the forest’s secret meadows
Sorrowful soul departing sadly see
these beauty of nature once unnoticed
Now he woefully prepares his spirit travel
To where he was before his birth
the autumn leaves in colourful cascades
path the road with vibrant hues
birds a-twitter among the trees
surf and swoop with falling leaves
The spark in his eyes now all gone
Pale the face all dressed for ground
His soul free to flee to nether lands
leaving behind dirges and sad refrains
It’s a cloudy day today, it drizzles
The plants all bushy with flowers
They do seem to nod in happy bliss
At the garden of our little graveyard.
*Upbeat & Dark categories*
A Pretty Cloudy Sky
A cloudy sky today, sunrays peeking softly
between gaps, looking a little shy
they wait for the clouds to go away
that they again may shine through
clouded are our path in life
at times uncertain are our steps
walking through light or darkness
hampered by sorrow, pain and grief
there are butterflies fluttering by
with rainbow coloured dragonflies
perhaps to sample nodding blooms
in the forest’s secret meadows
Sorrowful soul departing sadly see
these beauty of nature once unnoticed
Now he woefully prepares his spirit travel
To where he was before his birth
the autumn leaves in colourful cascades
path the road with vibrant hues
birds a-twitter among the trees
surf and swoop with falling leaves
The spark in his eyes now all gone
Pale the face all dressed for ground
His soul free to flee to nether lands
leaving behind dirges and sad refrains
It’s a cloudy day today, it drizzles
The plants all bushy with flowers
They do seem to nod in happy bliss
At the garden of our little graveyard.
*Upbeat & Dark categories*
Anonymous
Thank you Grace for your entry!!!
A Soldier Returns
I remember the day as if it were yesterday.
It was only a second.
A moment that flashed by my eye, only because turned my head slightly to the left, rather then the right.
And a saw a man, in army fatigues walking up the driveway of an apartment house.
Carrie Underwood's "Just A Dream" playing somewhere in the back of my mind.
As a mother, sister, wife or daughter answers this door to this man.
And he hands them a letter saying their father, brother, husband, or son has died while in battle.
That he will be remembered.
That he was a good man, good soldier, good friend.
That he fought for his country and that he, the messanger gives his deepest apologizes.
Tears break from my eyes: Those poor people. . . I pondered and leaned back in my seat.
That night as I wrote down my observation in my journal, more thoughts and words came out.
As I realized that maybe he wasn't a breaker of bad news, a messanger of disasters.
But what if he was the husband, son, brother, father returning from his duties.
Returning home to his family.
As they open the door and fall back a step, open arms and tears cry for the joy of him being back.
Being alive, their love, their son, their boy.
He has returned to them and their lives be may be revived.
Bring back from the stillness they have lived in since he was gone.
I smile at this new found thought.
Realizing that there were two outcomes to the man walking up the drive.
The man returning from war.
Or the messanger telling them their family member had died.
Either way, both start the same.
Ending in tears anyway.
Darkness reigns over one.
And happiness and new dawn shine from the other one.
And to think I wouldn't have thought of that.
I wouldn't have had this story to tell.
If instead of looking to the right.
I looked left.
And saw it with my own eyes.
Of how a solider returning can have such a huge impact on my mind.
A man I do not know.
Delivering horrible news of a friend and fellow comrade in battle that he has died while serving for his country.
Or returning from that war torn nightmare to his smiling and happy family.
Bring him back to childhood days long ago of innocence and things I'll never know.
I do not know this man, if he lived or died.
But I thought of him all the same.
He still crosses my mind, this moment, this glimpse to my left in time.
Passing by a house just down the street from mine.
I guess it shows me to look with my heart instead of my eyes.
Because I did for second and this story has stayed with me for some time.
Filling my heart with sorrow or joy.
It's been years since that day.
And the journal is lost with my words of that moment in time.
I don't live in that house no more.
And I never found out who that man was, that one that I saw.
I never knew by I imagined it all the same.
Whether it is sad or happy.
Whether the truth is comforting or burns.
I thought of the story all the same.
About when a soldier returns.
"Observational & Story" Catergories
I remember the day as if it were yesterday.
It was only a second.
A moment that flashed by my eye, only because turned my head slightly to the left, rather then the right.
And a saw a man, in army fatigues walking up the driveway of an apartment house.
Carrie Underwood's "Just A Dream" playing somewhere in the back of my mind.
As a mother, sister, wife or daughter answers this door to this man.
And he hands them a letter saying their father, brother, husband, or son has died while in battle.
That he will be remembered.
That he was a good man, good soldier, good friend.
That he fought for his country and that he, the messanger gives his deepest apologizes.
Tears break from my eyes: Those poor people. . . I pondered and leaned back in my seat.
That night as I wrote down my observation in my journal, more thoughts and words came out.
As I realized that maybe he wasn't a breaker of bad news, a messanger of disasters.
But what if he was the husband, son, brother, father returning from his duties.
Returning home to his family.
As they open the door and fall back a step, open arms and tears cry for the joy of him being back.
Being alive, their love, their son, their boy.
He has returned to them and their lives be may be revived.
Bring back from the stillness they have lived in since he was gone.
I smile at this new found thought.
Realizing that there were two outcomes to the man walking up the drive.
The man returning from war.
Or the messanger telling them their family member had died.
Either way, both start the same.
Ending in tears anyway.
Darkness reigns over one.
And happiness and new dawn shine from the other one.
And to think I wouldn't have thought of that.
I wouldn't have had this story to tell.
If instead of looking to the right.
I looked left.
And saw it with my own eyes.
Of how a solider returning can have such a huge impact on my mind.
A man I do not know.
Delivering horrible news of a friend and fellow comrade in battle that he has died while serving for his country.
Or returning from that war torn nightmare to his smiling and happy family.
Bring him back to childhood days long ago of innocence and things I'll never know.
I do not know this man, if he lived or died.
But I thought of him all the same.
He still crosses my mind, this moment, this glimpse to my left in time.
Passing by a house just down the street from mine.
I guess it shows me to look with my heart instead of my eyes.
Because I did for second and this story has stayed with me for some time.
Filling my heart with sorrow or joy.
It's been years since that day.
And the journal is lost with my words of that moment in time.
I don't live in that house no more.
And I never found out who that man was, that one that I saw.
I never knew by I imagined it all the same.
Whether it is sad or happy.
Whether the truth is comforting or burns.
I thought of the story all the same.
About when a soldier returns.
"Observational & Story" Catergories
As of today, my number is 9 (erotic & anger)
the myth of beauty
who is the fool who would put you on a pedestal?
or worship at your bare feet?
such feet should be made to crush rojo grapes:
wine for the satyrs.
come with the mystery of your eyes,
your lush arrogance, your fragrance stolen
from vanillin & coumarin, or the flowers
that die for your vanity.
come with the curving & full temptation of your
flesh, smooth & soft; un-muscled arms,
legs not made for marching, but for dancing.
challenge the desire of the male beast, hard & hairy.
make a pretty bed, & lay waste to the mightiest
warriors, who crumble like children
under the feather of your touch.
shear the dark locks of Samson.
am I the cuckold, that I must sacrifice my lust
at the altar of your corrupted temple?
men have made songs of it. drunk & rowdy,
they scandalize it in redlight taverns.
you ascend to the tenuous threads of goddess
by the myth of your own beauty –
but I am the savage who swings the blade
of your demise, & I cut the strings…
I would bruise your body first, woman,
then suck the pain from each blue scar.
the myth of beauty
who is the fool who would put you on a pedestal?
or worship at your bare feet?
such feet should be made to crush rojo grapes:
wine for the satyrs.
come with the mystery of your eyes,
your lush arrogance, your fragrance stolen
from vanillin & coumarin, or the flowers
that die for your vanity.
come with the curving & full temptation of your
flesh, smooth & soft; un-muscled arms,
legs not made for marching, but for dancing.
challenge the desire of the male beast, hard & hairy.
make a pretty bed, & lay waste to the mightiest
warriors, who crumble like children
under the feather of your touch.
shear the dark locks of Samson.
am I the cuckold, that I must sacrifice my lust
at the altar of your corrupted temple?
men have made songs of it. drunk & rowdy,
they scandalize it in redlight taverns.
you ascend to the tenuous threads of goddess
by the myth of your own beauty –
but I am the savage who swings the blade
of your demise, & I cut the strings…
I would bruise your body first, woman,
then suck the pain from each blue scar.
#9 (Erotic & Anger)
- Last Chance for the Little Blue Planet -
Punch the clock
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Feel the sweat sting my eyes
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Clutch the handle
Make off like vandal
Stealing what's yours
Stealing what's mine
Eyes fixed, Teeth grinning
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Harder and harder, No remorse here
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Stabbing, ripping, raping for more
Do with her as if she's a whore
A hollow shell
And none to tell
A sigh of pleasure
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Turn off the light, shut the door
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Leave her bleeding, battered and bruised
Give her a day off
You'll be back for more
Punch the clock
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
- Last Chance for the Little Blue Planet -
Punch the clock
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Feel the sweat sting my eyes
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Clutch the handle
Make off like vandal
Stealing what's yours
Stealing what's mine
Eyes fixed, Teeth grinning
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Harder and harder, No remorse here
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Stabbing, ripping, raping for more
Do with her as if she's a whore
A hollow shell
And none to tell
A sigh of pleasure
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Turn off the light, shut the door
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Leave her bleeding, battered and bruised
Give her a day off
You'll be back for more
Punch the clock
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
Tick Tok
[Observational and Story]
Tate Mortem: A picture of no one hang up on a wall.
It hang on a wall,
distorted and heavily brush-stroked
A monotonous piece of shit
supposedly represents Odyssey
- a piece of map to the jewels
of Atlantis.
I've just realised my entry is not quite the story! Can I still get away with it or should I withdraw?
Tate Mortem: A picture of no one hang up on a wall.
It hang on a wall,
distorted and heavily brush-stroked
A monotonous piece of shit
supposedly represents Odyssey
- a piece of map to the jewels
of Atlantis.
I've just realised my entry is not quite the story! Can I still get away with it or should I withdraw?
Anonymous
Magdalena said:[quote-251111-sw9618]
For example, if you have been a member for 921 days
Take 9+2+1 = 11+1 = 12 = 1+2 = 3
Great comp idea SW. Mine would be number 2 today but I will use the number on the day I write something, if I write something.
Just wanted to point out why some may be getting confused with the math of this. Above you have "9+2+1 = 11+1" when it should read (9+2+1 = 12) or (9+2 = 11 then 11+1 = 12)
I will delete once read.
[/quote]
Yes you're right Mag, my blunder...Thank you!
And thank all of you for posting your entries so far!!!!!!!!!!!
For example, if you have been a member for 921 days
Take 9+2+1 = 11+1 = 12 = 1+2 = 3
Great comp idea SW. Mine would be number 2 today but I will use the number on the day I write something, if I write something.
Just wanted to point out why some may be getting confused with the math of this. Above you have "9+2+1 = 11+1" when it should read (9+2+1 = 12) or (9+2 = 11 then 11+1 = 12)
I will delete once read.
[/quote]
Yes you're right Mag, my blunder...Thank you!
And thank all of you for posting your entries so far!!!!!!!!!!!
Anger & Erotic
You have wronged me and don’t seem rueful
The story you told was anything but truthful
Are you surprised I am angry
I am inclined to chastise you amply
Instead of love making
I might fuck you to breaking
Strip off your clothes and open your thighs
My penis ready to intrude your inside
None of our usual kiss and caressing
Straight to a fuck no more messing
I could fuck till I’m done then fuck you some more
You lay there submissive on the hard floor
I would not care if you do not come
I'd fuck until your cunt is numb
I am reluctant to take this path
Please say something to calm my wrath
You have wronged me and don’t seem rueful
The story you told was anything but truthful
Are you surprised I am angry
I am inclined to chastise you amply
Instead of love making
I might fuck you to breaking
Strip off your clothes and open your thighs
My penis ready to intrude your inside
None of our usual kiss and caressing
Straight to a fuck no more messing
I could fuck till I’m done then fuck you some more
You lay there submissive on the hard floor
I would not care if you do not come
I'd fuck until your cunt is numb
I am reluctant to take this path
Please say something to calm my wrath
Anonymous
Ok SW--confession time for me....since my topic is "Self/Songs", I'll say that songwriting actually does come quite easily for me, and I have written about 20 of them so far, with more to come, as I get melodies popping into my head, often. I've also co-wrote on a couple of songs with a friend of mine, who was a fairly well known name on the alternative music scene back in the 1980's, is still doing music, and will be at some point, releasing an album of new material.
That said, every time I went to post something from my song-stash, something held me back, and I'm going with the thought that it's not the right time yet, to release that part of my writing to the world, publicly.
So! For my entry into this comp, I'm going to scratch, and post a parody song I wrote for Halloween, just so I have an entry where I signed up to do this one.
Here you go:
Without Candy
(Set to the tune of Harry Nilsson’s “Without You”)
Though I tried to keep the candy
For the trick or treaters, handy
But it called to me
And then before you know—
I went and dove within my stash
Of chocolate gold.
That’s how it goes.
Yes I opened up the Reeses
Ate up all their little pieces
Now there’s nothing left to give on Halloween.
My chocolate smile shines in my eyes
I won’t deny.
Oh yes it shows.
I can’t live,
If living is without Reeses Cups.
I can’t give,
I just can’t give them up.
I can’t live,
If living is without Reeses Cups.
I can’t give,
I can’t give up no more.
That said, every time I went to post something from my song-stash, something held me back, and I'm going with the thought that it's not the right time yet, to release that part of my writing to the world, publicly.
So! For my entry into this comp, I'm going to scratch, and post a parody song I wrote for Halloween, just so I have an entry where I signed up to do this one.
Here you go:
Without Candy
(Set to the tune of Harry Nilsson’s “Without You”)
Though I tried to keep the candy
For the trick or treaters, handy
But it called to me
And then before you know—
I went and dove within my stash
Of chocolate gold.
That’s how it goes.
Yes I opened up the Reeses
Ate up all their little pieces
Now there’s nothing left to give on Halloween.
My chocolate smile shines in my eyes
I won’t deny.
Oh yes it shows.
I can’t live,
If living is without Reeses Cups.
I can’t give,
I just can’t give them up.
I can’t live,
If living is without Reeses Cups.
I can’t give,
I can’t give up no more.
Anonymous
No problem ML, I understand, thank you for your entry!
Dark and Upbeat- I had a difficult time trying to make it both, I hope that you can consider it upbeat, even through all its darkness.
Slip Through
He slithered through the carpet,
And I knew what he wanted to take.
He tossed them around like a puppet,
I knew he wanted them to break.
He licked his toy, shiny and silver.
Stained a sickening red.
My cold body tenses and shivers,
Bodies lay before me dead.
I opened my heavy, dread filled eyes,
Wishing it was but a dream.
But dreams are nothing but lies.
I fill the room with my scream.
The room is empty, where is he?
My heart beats at a fast pace.
I try to look, but cannot see,
Anything but my mother's blank face.
Birds chirp at my ears,
Soon drowned out by sirens.
The room crowded with people's fears,
As they look in with silence.
This wasn't yesterday,
It was a long time ago.
I live every day, in this new age.
I live my life, just to show,
Though tragedy may hit,
And misery may threaten you,
Forgive the small shit,
And learn not to slip through.
Slip Through
He slithered through the carpet,
And I knew what he wanted to take.
He tossed them around like a puppet,
I knew he wanted them to break.
He licked his toy, shiny and silver.
Stained a sickening red.
My cold body tenses and shivers,
Bodies lay before me dead.
I opened my heavy, dread filled eyes,
Wishing it was but a dream.
But dreams are nothing but lies.
I fill the room with my scream.
The room is empty, where is he?
My heart beats at a fast pace.
I try to look, but cannot see,
Anything but my mother's blank face.
Birds chirp at my ears,
Soon drowned out by sirens.
The room crowded with people's fears,
As they look in with silence.
This wasn't yesterday,
It was a long time ago.
I live every day, in this new age.
I live my life, just to show,
Though tragedy may hit,
And misery may threaten you,
Forgive the small shit,
And learn not to slip through.
