Poetry competition CLOSED 2nd December 2014 11:06am
WINNER
HadesRising
HadesRising
RUNNERS-UP:
Quill-in-Heart
and RalfTheNose
MÅNE,LA LUNA,LADY MOON
Anonymous
Jake,that was a beautiful journey,thanks for your entry
Anonymous
An enchanting piece,Ralf,thank you for participating
Anonymous
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Anonymous
Vee,thanks for this mysterious piece of work,delighted to see your entry
Anonymous
Roaming Moon
She roamed where I could not
at times forbidden
to rest on pillows I longed to feel
and shine in the eyes that sometimes wept
for me
no matter how long and tedious
the day
to emerge with an indifferent wisdom
that begged spells of the pained
detached and central
an enigma with nothing to explain
so vague the intrusiveness
and intoxicating the disregard
a captivating mystique was birthed
and she roamed where I could not
She roamed where I could not
at times forbidden
to rest on pillows I longed to feel
and shine in the eyes that sometimes wept
for me
no matter how long and tedious
the day
to emerge with an indifferent wisdom
that begged spells of the pained
detached and central
an enigma with nothing to explain
so vague the intrusiveness
and intoxicating the disregard
a captivating mystique was birthed
and she roamed where I could not
Anonymous
Mikki,that was a gracious moon dance,a pleasure to read your entry
Lady Luna, Mistress Moon
Ending day and nearing night
Lady Luna be my beacon,
light,
my way.
Your children, stars will guide me
Through the darkness
Through the night
Lady Luna be my light
Through your garden of shadows.
"Mistress moon,
My lady Nightshade,
Belladonna, be my light,
Watch me, guard me,
Through the night."
Graceful darkness is her all.
Shade and Shadow at her call.
Mystique and Magic her domain.
A Pollock Painting black arcane.
Raging Tides and twinkling skies,
"Mother of the night,
Take me in your embrace.
Show me,
Your garden,
of shadows."
Poem by: Kyle(Kayla) Gower
Ending day and nearing night
Lady Luna be my beacon,
light,
my way.
Your children, stars will guide me
Through the darkness
Through the night
Lady Luna be my light
Through your garden of shadows.
"Mistress moon,
My lady Nightshade,
Belladonna, be my light,
Watch me, guard me,
Through the night."
Graceful darkness is her all.
Shade and Shadow at her call.
Mystique and Magic her domain.
A Pollock Painting black arcane.
Raging Tides and twinkling skies,
"Mother of the night,
Take me in your embrace.
Show me,
Your garden,
of shadows."
Poem by: Kyle(Kayla) Gower
yes it could use some work I know it was only 10 minutes, doing this in English class as I was out of things to do.
(The final version which is there now took a quite while longer so ignore the previous comment. I spent like a day thinking about how to make it better.)
(The final version which is there now took a quite while longer so ignore the previous comment. I spent like a day thinking about how to make it better.)
Anonymous
Thank you for participating,Kayla,and nice to meet you here.
Your poem is magical,and you have only used ten minutes for this?
That seems like a creative stream of thought...
Your poem is magical,and you have only used ten minutes for this?
That seems like a creative stream of thought...
The night is my inspiration for a lot of things and I much prefer it to the day. The lady Luna be my light through the shadows of the night part was something I wanted to use in a poem for a while so it was already there as a base in my head.
Also thanks for the comment.
(poem is edited, final version.)
Also thanks for the comment.
(poem is edited, final version.)
Anonymous
youre welcome
Night is the uncrowned queen
Night is the uncrowned queen
The Wanderlust You Find
Of lonely
wandering souls
there are certain things
that one knows
down
down
concealed
in the deepest depths
are core truths
that
not all who wander
should be considered lost
when who but the feet
walk those rocky paths
So alone
not even the birds song
could silence
the thud
thudding
of the heart drumming
that beat
marching onwards
Home
wherever the heart may roam
be it love
of ever changing sunsets
or in the arms
of the one
together
watching the moon chase the sun
Of lonely
wandering souls
there are certain things
that one knows
down
down
concealed
in the deepest depths
are core truths
that
not all who wander
should be considered lost
when who but the feet
walk those rocky paths
So alone
not even the birds song
could silence
the thud
thudding
of the heart drumming
that beat
marching onwards
Home
wherever the heart may roam
be it love
of ever changing sunsets
or in the arms
of the one
together
watching the moon chase the sun
Anonymous
Thank you,Carpe Noctum,for your soulful entry
Moonlit rooms
Room # 1
Momma’s breathy lullabye
a soft breeze rocking
the bassinet ever so gently
with the moon glow lighting
through Winnie the Pooh
curtains massaging pink
temples till the bawling
breaks into coos like baby
doves staying warm under
mother’s white feathers
Room #2
Bile of rye choking
a tender Adam’s apple
with vinyl skipping
at the end of the dark side
of the moon with the bed
spinning till the light side
of the moon oozes through
the venetian blinds promising
redemption as the eclipse ends
again and again in shine.
Room #3
Even the thought of lifting
ass from the dull chrome
hospital bed delivers pain
like an electric shock from
the edges of white hair
to the core of brittle bone
with only light from the moon
rise through a thick pane of glass
making good on a pauper’s penance
with forgiveness for the ages.
Room # 1
Momma’s breathy lullabye
a soft breeze rocking
the bassinet ever so gently
with the moon glow lighting
through Winnie the Pooh
curtains massaging pink
temples till the bawling
breaks into coos like baby
doves staying warm under
mother’s white feathers
Room #2
Bile of rye choking
a tender Adam’s apple
with vinyl skipping
at the end of the dark side
of the moon with the bed
spinning till the light side
of the moon oozes through
the venetian blinds promising
redemption as the eclipse ends
again and again in shine.
Room #3
Even the thought of lifting
ass from the dull chrome
hospital bed delivers pain
like an electric shock from
the edges of white hair
to the core of brittle bone
with only light from the moon
rise through a thick pane of glass
making good on a pauper’s penance
with forgiveness for the ages.
