Poetry competition CLOSED 3rd January 2019 4:25am
WINNER
gothicsurrealism (Daniel Long)
gothicsurrealism (Daniel Long)
RUNNERS-UP:
Jade-Pandora
and LunasChild8
Natural Proofs of God
Poetry Contest Description
Write poems that pose reasoning for God's existence by using nature.
This competition is for poetry that can harmonize the spiritual and the natural in a way that highlights spiritual existence.
The winning poem wont be argumentative because poetry that harmonizes between the two schools of thought is the goal.
2 poems are allowed by each person.
The winning poem wont be argumentative because poetry that harmonizes between the two schools of thought is the goal.
2 poems are allowed by each person.
Quantum Law of Souls
The rooster crept around the tree
from shadow
it seemed as the canopy spread its bushel.
When I saw the rooster cross the bark,
the head emerged traverse the shade of the third cosmos.
And at the witching hour,
the animalist creatures set sail their offering by the third raft, by the third ocean that concludes to swirl and hydrate from distance of its perceptual dock.
As it begun above observation,
neither that conclusion defined the smoke-colored water,
but exploding from starless form
in the full spread dark
the name of the ruler spoke he himself
and tossed forward a galley of eyes for the realm
aside the spirits of the first evening
that swelled over into the peripheral blot of visions.
I cannot speak for the worship
that permeates the spots of our sun,
nor can I deny that the rules set forth by the mist that levels mountains of sophist quantum fields
diverges with the recognition of the brain
of a young empirical that spans only what is grooved, not an other isle by the rooster marched
when I saw solely a beak, then a neck and never outside said order.
Neither chemicals nor organ and fruit, but recipe has been conversed since such age
that brains rose from holes of space repressively called our cave by causal associative learnings
after, by Pavlov, I thought I knew
in allegory paintings of a priori knowledge.
If a voice were to speak across a wind that stays blind as the line of the crepuscule
and now the eyes are so populous as to catch hold many nooks of the tree and not falter at the emergence of a neurological order from incorporeal musings,
logic is that the words are old and our tradition
from border that excels
as far as Hubble
at the gravity of few ten thousand years of categories of a bundle of catatonia,
to re-collapse on three-dimension reality,
unmapped — the probable reason of zero unto its hundred,
when the cast eyes swell from beneath the hood that once endured eons without a single dawn.
from shadow
it seemed as the canopy spread its bushel.
When I saw the rooster cross the bark,
the head emerged traverse the shade of the third cosmos.
And at the witching hour,
the animalist creatures set sail their offering by the third raft, by the third ocean that concludes to swirl and hydrate from distance of its perceptual dock.
As it begun above observation,
neither that conclusion defined the smoke-colored water,
but exploding from starless form
in the full spread dark
the name of the ruler spoke he himself
and tossed forward a galley of eyes for the realm
aside the spirits of the first evening
that swelled over into the peripheral blot of visions.
I cannot speak for the worship
that permeates the spots of our sun,
nor can I deny that the rules set forth by the mist that levels mountains of sophist quantum fields
diverges with the recognition of the brain
of a young empirical that spans only what is grooved, not an other isle by the rooster marched
when I saw solely a beak, then a neck and never outside said order.
Neither chemicals nor organ and fruit, but recipe has been conversed since such age
that brains rose from holes of space repressively called our cave by causal associative learnings
after, by Pavlov, I thought I knew
in allegory paintings of a priori knowledge.
If a voice were to speak across a wind that stays blind as the line of the crepuscule
and now the eyes are so populous as to catch hold many nooks of the tree and not falter at the emergence of a neurological order from incorporeal musings,
logic is that the words are old and our tradition
from border that excels
as far as Hubble
at the gravity of few ten thousand years of categories of a bundle of catatonia,
to re-collapse on three-dimension reality,
unmapped — the probable reason of zero unto its hundred,
when the cast eyes swell from beneath the hood that once endured eons without a single dawn.
Written by DecipherMe
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Ancient Instincts
The passing ages raise mountain ranges
To lofty heights beyond memory,
Making greater the distance between
River and lake and honored pastures.
And every year the geese fly across the
Deep blue morning of a dying autumn.
Hunters in the bulrushes blinded by
The airless sun hearing them pass overhead
Where the seasons await the spirit flute
Of their calling, that knife a brilliant sky,
Following the ghosted pull of fate
Approaching cliffs split fine as hair
Of the agile mountain goats who leap
The narrowing gap that grinds closer,
Siphoning winds of the ancient instincts
With their irrepressible forces,
Or so the abandoned totems
Of talking trees have always shown.
As tribal shaman teach that it is the
Noble way of their kind; a thousand-mile trip
In an unrelenting, unchanging migration,
Where only the bravest will find their way
Through the eye of that mist-filled needle,
To arrive safely home on the other side.
Copyright©️2018 Jade Pandora. All Rights Reserved.
NaPo/GloPoWriMo 2018
Written by Jade-Pandora
(jade tiger)
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When I was small, I heard an ancient North American tribal story about migrating geese who, over thousands of generations, never varied the path they flew no matter how the land changed, increasing the danger of the journey. Then later as an adult I watched a TV documentary about the migratory habits and patterns of various creatures such as sea turtles whose length of migration over possible millions of years had grown from mere hundreds of miles to thousands due to continental shifts and the broadening of the ocean. It was what I learned about this particular species of sea turtle (which, I think, live somewhere off the coast of western Africa), coupled with the old legend about geese, that has coalesced into this poem.
It's a beautiful display. I really like the integration of historical religion that has blurred the line between the natural and divine.
Your lyricality with a pattern of short lines allows the poem to subtly weeve together a exposition. Your word choice rallies older concepts in our lexicon that give the piece a nostalgic aesthetic and authenticity.
Great poem to help start the competition 😊
Your lyricality with a pattern of short lines allows the poem to subtly weeve together a exposition. Your word choice rallies older concepts in our lexicon that give the piece a nostalgic aesthetic and authenticity.
Great poem to help start the competition 😊
The Ancient Language
I've come from far away
traveled the cosmos
just to reach you
endless journeys
to touch your soul
do you feel the rain
as it kisses skin?
ever so tenderly
washes away the ashes
of yesterday
everyday born anew
death but a doorway
to your next chapter
I've sent you messages
have you read them?
they are deeply etched
on every living thing
the bark of the trees
in the the gush of the wind
the crash of the waves
it's an ancient language
are you listening?
it's written in the constellations
my deep love for you
all nature bares witness
to the truth
have you seen me today?
as I lit on a blossom
humming bird thirsts
do you also thirst for knowledge?
follow the stars home
they will light your way
*Author's Note this is unusual for me but my muse leads and I follow
Copyright © 2017 Crimsin. All Rights Reserved
Written by crimsin
(Unveiling)
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Read the Writing on the Wall
That God created nature
Can be proven by her anger
Feel the heat of her temper
See the firestorm tornado
Hear the hurricane thunder
God is furious for what
We have done to this Earth
A creation she provided for us
A gift wonderful and precious
We've polluted the rivers
Seas and inland waters
Turning them into
Gigantic putrid sewers
We have even corrupted
And contaminated
Her fertile terra firma
And life sustaining atmosphere
We've defiled and desecrated
God's emerald cathedrals
By clear cutting forests
And burning the jungles
Read these signs of nature
And know that God is angry
She is so very angry
That God may replace us
With stewards that are more worthy
For just as the prophet Daniel
Begged King Nebuchadnezzar
To Read the Writing on the Wall
Like the Kingdom of Babylon
Our shining city on a hill
Will certainly fall
Can be proven by her anger
Feel the heat of her temper
See the firestorm tornado
Hear the hurricane thunder
God is furious for what
We have done to this Earth
A creation she provided for us
A gift wonderful and precious
We've polluted the rivers
Seas and inland waters
Turning them into
Gigantic putrid sewers
We have even corrupted
And contaminated
Her fertile terra firma
And life sustaining atmosphere
We've defiled and desecrated
God's emerald cathedrals
By clear cutting forests
And burning the jungles
Read these signs of nature
And know that God is angry
She is so very angry
That God may replace us
With stewards that are more worthy
For just as the prophet Daniel
Begged King Nebuchadnezzar
To Read the Writing on the Wall
Like the Kingdom of Babylon
Our shining city on a hill
Will certainly fall
Written by snugglebuck
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Founding Fathers
I have flashbacks of you, from when I was so young
i thought you left me, to explore this vast galaxy, for mankind
You taught us how to survive on this big banged up, revolving planet
Leaving your footprint for us to use and making us all very bemused
Is that you our founding fathers, in the bright night sky?
Are you coming home, just to check on us or for a final goodbye?
Show us your calling card, but don't let us all lose our mind
Tell us where you went and why you left us all behind
You made structures out of large stones and pointed bricks
Black and white men from all over, have drawn images on their wall
We study lost language that we can't truly understand, at all
Heavy hauling and perfect angles, were they done using a bag of tricks?
Is that you our founding fathers, in the bright night sky?
Are you coming home, just to check on us or for a final goodbye?
Show us your calling card, but don't let us all lose our mind
Tell us where you went and why you left us all behind
Moe's lambs and Chris's hens always fighting over their goods
While those wandering dews, slip through to form geometric cracks
The worlds weak, struggle for food and carry their beds on scorched backs
as the Earls and Dukes, live behind security gates, in phoney neighbourhoods
Is that you our founding fathers, in the bright night sky?
Are you coming home, just to check on us or for a final goodbye?
Show us your calling card, but don't let us all lose our mind
Tell us where you went and why you left us all behind
i thought you left me, to explore this vast galaxy, for mankind
You taught us how to survive on this big banged up, revolving planet
Leaving your footprint for us to use and making us all very bemused
Is that you our founding fathers, in the bright night sky?
Are you coming home, just to check on us or for a final goodbye?
Show us your calling card, but don't let us all lose our mind
Tell us where you went and why you left us all behind
You made structures out of large stones and pointed bricks
Black and white men from all over, have drawn images on their wall
We study lost language that we can't truly understand, at all
Heavy hauling and perfect angles, were they done using a bag of tricks?
Is that you our founding fathers, in the bright night sky?
Are you coming home, just to check on us or for a final goodbye?
Show us your calling card, but don't let us all lose our mind
Tell us where you went and why you left us all behind
Moe's lambs and Chris's hens always fighting over their goods
While those wandering dews, slip through to form geometric cracks
The worlds weak, struggle for food and carry their beds on scorched backs
as the Earls and Dukes, live behind security gates, in phoney neighbourhoods
Is that you our founding fathers, in the bright night sky?
Are you coming home, just to check on us or for a final goodbye?
Show us your calling card, but don't let us all lose our mind
Tell us where you went and why you left us all behind
Written by Fetchitnow
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
The Elegance of Our Sunset
Death shall have a dominion.
Dawn’s birth to day’s life,
Dusk’s decay to the death of night:
Tis’ not our mortal decision.
Youth’s innocent juvenility,
Vitality’s vibrancy,
The elegantly decaying morbidity,
A corpse in the clay of its grave perishing –
The funeral of darkness at moonset.
Morning’s nativity bears us,
Afternoon’s perennial years,
Evening’s eve of death,
Night’s mortality.
Our flowering... we beautiful cherry blossoms!
The senescent years of our ripening,
The weathering of our childhood babyface,
The decay of our innocence,
The maturation of our witticism.
Oh, the serenity of the eventide.
Now our setting, crimson sun
Trickles hue of gold onto our long-trodden path.
Oh, how immortal is the hand of the clock
That shining ball in the sky run.
Tis’ the hour of nightfall, twilight in our shutting eyes.
…And soul’s fresh, immortal rebirth.
Dawn’s birth to day’s life,
Dusk’s decay to the death of night:
Tis’ not our mortal decision.
Youth’s innocent juvenility,
Vitality’s vibrancy,
The elegantly decaying morbidity,
A corpse in the clay of its grave perishing –
The funeral of darkness at moonset.
Morning’s nativity bears us,
Afternoon’s perennial years,
Evening’s eve of death,
Night’s mortality.
Our flowering... we beautiful cherry blossoms!
The senescent years of our ripening,
The weathering of our childhood babyface,
The decay of our innocence,
The maturation of our witticism.
Oh, the serenity of the eventide.
Now our setting, crimson sun
Trickles hue of gold onto our long-trodden path.
Oh, how immortal is the hand of the clock
That shining ball in the sky run.
Tis’ the hour of nightfall, twilight in our shutting eyes.
…And soul’s fresh, immortal rebirth.
Written by gothicsurrealism
(Daniel Long)
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The Damned Light
Tis’ mortal to say where life ends,
The threshold of death carrying us begins.
Within this darkness await the plagues of our mortal sins
The eternal punishments we so fear hath scorched our prideful wings.
Frigid, terrifying screams deafen our ears
that which brings us to tears.
No blast of light shall skewer this darkness!
Tis’ of the faithful to believe no punishment can invade their brightness.
Somewhere within the threshold of purgatory
The holy light is damned, and thus begin our hellish story.
Tis’ the false saint that plungeth into this black pit
Since no mortal can the Lord outwit!
Tis’ mortal to not see the moonlit hypocrite!
The threshold of death carrying us begins.
Within this darkness await the plagues of our mortal sins
The eternal punishments we so fear hath scorched our prideful wings.
Frigid, terrifying screams deafen our ears
that which brings us to tears.
No blast of light shall skewer this darkness!
Tis’ of the faithful to believe no punishment can invade their brightness.
Somewhere within the threshold of purgatory
The holy light is damned, and thus begin our hellish story.
Tis’ the false saint that plungeth into this black pit
Since no mortal can the Lord outwit!
Tis’ mortal to not see the moonlit hypocrite!
Written by gothicsurrealism
(Daniel Long)
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I really enjoyed the catalogue verse of the poem. It creates a great melody and subtlety as it presents symbols of mortality in nature pushing toward an immortality.
Really amazing work. I'm glad to have gotten to see it since it's a form I'm not as versed in and was performed so craftily and fresh
Really amazing work. I'm glad to have gotten to see it since it's a form I'm not as versed in and was performed so craftily and fresh
Let Nature, Let Go, Let God
In my disinterest to travel and roam,
And locked up inside and between, alone;
Disabilities within my own head
Keep me from setting foot outside of home
I rail in my chair, I sweat from the dread.
The nights are no better, tossing in bed.
Try not to think that I wish I were dead.
Attempt to be what I should be instead.
For rainy days and weeks, the sun and moon,
All rise and setting, and always too soon.
I watch the window, the shadows that cast,
And hear the wind blow, but seasons don't last.
When fingers of sleep at last touch my brow,
Instead of a dream, I hear Him somehow.
It's not of a voice we've all heard before,
That seems to slip underneath my front door.
It starts with a touch, a word to receive,
Laying myself back with eyes closed: "Believe."
Written by Heaven_sent_Kathy
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The Incomprehensible
I found God not merely in the scripture, but in the beauty and complexity of nature and the universe.
From the compound eye to the camera lens,
the natural shape of the circle to the wagon wheel,
from the flight of the bird to the creation of the plane.
Just as the camera, the wheel, and the plane were crafted by their creators, did not the eye, the first forms of the universe, and the bird require such craftsmanship?
Can evolution not explain away these complex creations? Evolution is thought evoking, but it leaves one burning question to remain. What created evolution, and everything else we see today?
Even now, as the most evolved species on the planet contemplates its existence, the answer lies somewhere just beyond its comprehension.
From the compound eye to the camera lens,
the natural shape of the circle to the wagon wheel,
from the flight of the bird to the creation of the plane.
Just as the camera, the wheel, and the plane were crafted by their creators, did not the eye, the first forms of the universe, and the bird require such craftsmanship?
Can evolution not explain away these complex creations? Evolution is thought evoking, but it leaves one burning question to remain. What created evolution, and everything else we see today?
Even now, as the most evolved species on the planet contemplates its existence, the answer lies somewhere just beyond its comprehension.
Written by NewBeginnings
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