Poetry competition CLOSED 23rd March 2017 2:18am
WINNER
DanielChristensen (The Fire Elemental)
DanielChristensen (The Fire Elemental)
RUNNER-UP:
Jade-Pandora
DUP Poem of the Month - April 2017
Anonymous
his final poem...
he'd put his pen down
for the last time -
it just wasn't prepared to put up
with it anymore...
Written by dartford
(Paul S...)
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Anonymous
Scarlet sash
'She was a thief and a whore and a kept woman,
She was a thing to be used and played with.
She wore an ancient scarlet sash.' (Carl Sandburg)
Why do I chase that which I am not meant to keep?
I found my fate in a dark back alley where the lost
huddle like peasants and the familiar don't want to be.
My home is nowhere, my resolve, a broken
streetlamp in a city with a woman
too much like me on every corner.
I'm not cut out for the harshness that batters
my optimism into a state of sleeplessness
and my tears litter the cracked sidewalk like trinkets
from strangers who knew a girl's mouth could be used
for something other than a kiss.
I stand alone in the dark, hidden from the living,
worried that the drum of my racing heart
will dance me back into primitive arms
that give love a disgraceful name.
(Photo: Eve Southern)
She was a thing to be used and played with.
She wore an ancient scarlet sash.' (Carl Sandburg)
Why do I chase that which I am not meant to keep?
I found my fate in a dark back alley where the lost
huddle like peasants and the familiar don't want to be.
My home is nowhere, my resolve, a broken
streetlamp in a city with a woman
too much like me on every corner.
I'm not cut out for the harshness that batters
my optimism into a state of sleeplessness
and my tears litter the cracked sidewalk like trinkets
from strangers who knew a girl's mouth could be used
for something other than a kiss.
I stand alone in the dark, hidden from the living,
worried that the drum of my racing heart
will dance me back into primitive arms
that give love a disgraceful name.
(Photo: Eve Southern)
Written by Kasai
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Anonymous
Related submission no longer exists.
Anonymous
Lady Ahavati ...
Thank You so much for the Nomination.
I am once again "Honored"
~Devlin
Anonymous
Beauty Wrapped in a Muslim Cry
Listening to "Eastern Sounds" on the turntable
Yusef Lateef
Master of outside jazz gone melodic
Follow me
Your connection, your vessel
To a time long past
Beauty wrapped in a Muslim cry
Long before the hatred began
Entwined piano and flute paradise
Out on the wing in solitude ...
Yusef Lateef
Master of outside jazz gone melodic
Follow me
Your connection, your vessel
To a time long past
Beauty wrapped in a Muslim cry
Long before the hatred began
Entwined piano and flute paradise
Out on the wing in solitude ...
Written by PoetSpeak
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Speeder
The school geek, speed freak
Pressures of an 'A plus' teen,
The jock jerk no homework
No need for those amphetamines.
Study hard, report card
Parents can be very needy,
If you're tardy no party
Think it's time for something speedy.
Getting laid or getting grades?
Gotta focus feeling crabby,
Wars are forming, geo warming
Solve it with a little addy.
Fix my brain, catch the train
Here comes those racing engines,
A Shakespeare play, Hemingway
Finish homework with a vengeance.
Super bright, up all night
Back to school again tomorrow,
Getting wired, feeling tired
Can't keep giving when you borrow.
A piece of cake, you're wide awake
Your life is blinking like a flash,
Now on your back, a heart attack
That need for speed leads to a crash.
The school geek, speed freak
Pressures of an 'A plus' teen,
The jock jerk no homework
No need for those amphetamines.
Study hard, report card
Parents can be very needy,
If you're tardy no party
Think it's time for something speedy.
Getting laid or getting grades?
Gotta focus feeling crabby,
Wars are forming, geo warming
Solve it with a little addy.
Fix my brain, catch the train
Here comes those racing engines,
A Shakespeare play, Hemingway
Finish homework with a vengeance.
Super bright, up all night
Back to school again tomorrow,
Getting wired, feeling tired
Can't keep giving when you borrow.
A piece of cake, you're wide awake
Your life is blinking like a flash,
Now on your back, a heart attack
That need for speed leads to a crash.
A Fantasia of Perfection
Perfection is to realize it's there
Before your very eyes,
To open wide the vista of your mind.
It's not obtained by ownership of Man,
It's given, courtesy
Of Mother Earth & God, to feel & know.
To set aside the pain that wrought the soul
To simply sense the grace
Around you in its aura, raw, untouched.
Because of you who lifts the mental veil,
That all is then reveal'd
When spirit, sight & mind gives of itself.
Perfection is not solid in its sphere,
It cannot be defined
As matter of the planets, stars & us.
It's Man who tries to make an earthly gain
And sell to highest bid
As if it can be purchased for its weight.
Perfection, though, is like the very air;
A precious gift that "is"
To every living thing that knows it's here.
Written by Jade-Pandora
(jade tiger)
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Red Warriors
The beatings, the pain, scars and sears into my head.
Every day, I’m punished simply for existing.
Verbal. Physical. Emotional. Mental. This abuse, I can take it.
But from my own family?
Maybe they’re right.
I lean over the sink with spiteful thoughts thoroughly implanted in my mind.
Maybe I’m worthless.
The knife looks surprisingly sharp
Maybe I should go.
It flickered silver in the fluorescent light.
Maybe I should cry for awhile.
The sink fills a bit with my little red warriors.
Maybe it’s worth it.
I can’t even cry. My eyes are dry and sore as if I’ll never be able to cry again.
Maybe I’ll stay.
I place the knife under the running water.
Maybe I’ll fight the bullies.
I wrap my arm in my sleeve.
Maybe I’m done fighting.
I shake my head and cry silent tears.
Maybe this time they’ll hear me.
I pick the blade up…
Maybe I’ll sleep.
And drill it into my chest.
Maybe they should’ve listened.
The red warriors are free.
The beatings, the pain, scars and sears into my head.
Every day, I’m punished simply for existing.
Verbal. Physical. Emotional. Mental. This abuse, I can take it.
But from my own family?
Maybe they’re right.
I lean over the sink with spiteful thoughts thoroughly implanted in my mind.
Maybe I’m worthless.
The knife looks surprisingly sharp
Maybe I should go.
It flickered silver in the fluorescent light.
Maybe I should cry for awhile.
The sink fills a bit with my little red warriors.
Maybe it’s worth it.
I can’t even cry. My eyes are dry and sore as if I’ll never be able to cry again.
Maybe I’ll stay.
I place the knife under the running water.
Maybe I’ll fight the bullies.
I wrap my arm in my sleeve.
Maybe I’m done fighting.
I shake my head and cry silent tears.
Maybe this time they’ll hear me.
I pick the blade up…
Maybe I’ll sleep.
And drill it into my chest.
Maybe they should’ve listened.
The red warriors are free.
Related submission no longer exists.
My Rock
The voice I heard, not my own
Plunging into madness
Never am I to be the same
Pained and completely restless
Is there a reason to be alive
As scars continue to bleed
Manic mind and tortured soul
Drinking wretched mead
I cried again for help once more
As expected, I was alone
Imagine how dead I felt
To find my rock was just a stone
Plunging into madness
Never am I to be the same
Pained and completely restless
Is there a reason to be alive
As scars continue to bleed
Manic mind and tortured soul
Drinking wretched mead
I cried again for help once more
As expected, I was alone
Imagine how dead I felt
To find my rock was just a stone
Written by mel44
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