Poetry competition CLOSED 10th February 2019 5:59am
WINNER
Anonymous
Anonymous
RUNNER-UP:
Ahavati
Poem of the Month - February 2019
Poetry Contest Description
Yes, the worm is late ... but the writing here is still stellar, so ...
Greetings, Fellow Poets! It's time for our "Poem of the Month" to be featured in the DUP 'Poem of the Month Hall of Fame' and on the official facebook page for FEBRUARY 2019!.
You have three weeks to nominate no more than two of you favorite poems from another DUP poet!
Please note the following when making nominations:
1. Self nominations are not accepted. The great majority of the competitions here are about spotlighting one's own work on a particular topic or theme. This is a chance to nominate that poem that you wish you had written but some other great talent here beat you to it.
2. Please limit your nominations to TWO poems. You can nominate a single poem for two different poets; but the nomination maximum remains at TWO (no matter how many pseudonyms they have). The majority of competitions on DUP cap nominations at one or two poems so there's no need to go beyond that.
No DUPLICATES. If someone nominates the same poem the entry will be deleted. If you like it that much wait and vote for it!
Any genre except erotica or pornography. This is a Facebook feature and we must adhere to their guidelines.
BIG CHANGE:
ALL POETS ARE ELGIBLE AT THIS TIME, INCLUDING PREVIOUS WINNERS!
Any member who is banned or disables their account PRIOR to the win will be automatically disqualified.
Any nominated member who wishes to opt out of the competition may do so by messaging me ( Poem-Worm ). I will contact the person who nominated you and request an alternate nomination.
Nomination Duration is three weeks followed by a week of site voting!
Running list of winners:
January 2019 ... DANIELCHRISTENEN
November 2017 ... NAAJIR
December 2017 ... POETSPEAK
January 2018 ... LADY_OF_THE_QUILL
February 2018 ... LEPPEROCHAN Craic in a Box
March 2018 ... TINABUBUYA (Tee Mali)
April 2018 ... CROWFLY
May 2018 ... ATOMIKBOMB
June 2018 ... MISS_SUB (Missy)
July 2018 ... MEADOWSWEET
August 2018 ... LAYLA
September 2018 ... COLD FUSION
October 2018 ... TODSKI28
November 2018 ... TheMUSE22
December 2018 ... BENDER
... So, what have you read that's incredible!?
You have three weeks to nominate no more than two of you favorite poems from another DUP poet!
Please note the following when making nominations:
1. Self nominations are not accepted. The great majority of the competitions here are about spotlighting one's own work on a particular topic or theme. This is a chance to nominate that poem that you wish you had written but some other great talent here beat you to it.
2. Please limit your nominations to TWO poems. You can nominate a single poem for two different poets; but the nomination maximum remains at TWO (no matter how many pseudonyms they have). The majority of competitions on DUP cap nominations at one or two poems so there's no need to go beyond that.
No DUPLICATES. If someone nominates the same poem the entry will be deleted. If you like it that much wait and vote for it!
Any genre except erotica or pornography. This is a Facebook feature and we must adhere to their guidelines.
BIG CHANGE:
ALL POETS ARE ELGIBLE AT THIS TIME, INCLUDING PREVIOUS WINNERS!
Any member who is banned or disables their account PRIOR to the win will be automatically disqualified.
Any nominated member who wishes to opt out of the competition may do so by messaging me ( Poem-Worm ). I will contact the person who nominated you and request an alternate nomination.
Nomination Duration is three weeks followed by a week of site voting!
Running list of winners:
January 2019 ... DANIELCHRISTENEN
November 2017 ... NAAJIR
December 2017 ... POETSPEAK
January 2018 ... LADY_OF_THE_QUILL
February 2018 ... LEPPEROCHAN Craic in a Box
March 2018 ... TINABUBUYA (Tee Mali)
April 2018 ... CROWFLY
May 2018 ... ATOMIKBOMB
June 2018 ... MISS_SUB (Missy)
July 2018 ... MEADOWSWEET
August 2018 ... LAYLA
September 2018 ... COLD FUSION
October 2018 ... TODSKI28
November 2018 ... TheMUSE22
December 2018 ... BENDER
... So, what have you read that's incredible!?
Anonymous
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Anonymous
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Related submission no longer exists.
Anonymous
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
The Heart Is Searching
I’m within a fingertips distance
From touching a beautiful soul
Then just as the tide recedes from the shore
You are gone
Again to the place where you shut yourself away
Shut me out from your thoughts
I have faith in you
What is in your heart
Pure and simple but bound
By ties you cannot shake
Let me in
Let me help you untie them
Be free my lovely
Should that not mean with me
Then that is the way
I want you to know what freedom is like
For you see my darling
I crave it too.
From touching a beautiful soul
Then just as the tide recedes from the shore
You are gone
Again to the place where you shut yourself away
Shut me out from your thoughts
I have faith in you
What is in your heart
Pure and simple but bound
By ties you cannot shake
Let me in
Let me help you untie them
Be free my lovely
Should that not mean with me
Then that is the way
I want you to know what freedom is like
For you see my darling
I crave it too.
Written by RahRah
Go To Page
Reading You
It’s not that I’m not listening
when my eyes seem far away;
I’m listening to everything about you
except for the words you say.
The who-did-what-when-where-with-whom --
those details never stick,
But how you feel lodges in my heart
and I hear what makes you tick.
If you’d rather I remember
about your uncle’s cousin’s girl
or your neighbor’s dog-sitter
or that movie about the squirrel,
I’ll take notes – I’ll learn the details...
but you're the friend I want to read!
I can’t get enough of your forest
but don’t care much about the trees.
So, sorry if I’m weak on the setting and the plot --
characters are always where I focus all my thought.
when my eyes seem far away;
I’m listening to everything about you
except for the words you say.
The who-did-what-when-where-with-whom --
those details never stick,
But how you feel lodges in my heart
and I hear what makes you tick.
If you’d rather I remember
about your uncle’s cousin’s girl
or your neighbor’s dog-sitter
or that movie about the squirrel,
I’ll take notes – I’ll learn the details...
but you're the friend I want to read!
I can’t get enough of your forest
but don’t care much about the trees.
So, sorry if I’m weak on the setting and the plot --
characters are always where I focus all my thought.
Written by brokentitanium
(k.)
Go To Page
The Gifts
How keen the voice that bears the song and fire,
Of Muse’s gusto’d lines in poet’s soul.
To hear its raise in rush of pure desire,
I offer gift to honor such extol.
Across a colored field I saw you first,
In huntress robes with bow and bardic spell.
A land where light and words, not wine, quell thirst,
With lovers’ vow and spill, I drank and fell.
But dark the night when lights and words would fail,
Slow did the land dissolve as windows close.
And falls of day as black as silenced tale,
As lost as Muse without the poets’ odes.
But true hearts know their truest lovers’ arts,
And give the gifts that other gifting starts.
Of Muse’s gusto’d lines in poet’s soul.
To hear its raise in rush of pure desire,
I offer gift to honor such extol.
Across a colored field I saw you first,
In huntress robes with bow and bardic spell.
A land where light and words, not wine, quell thirst,
With lovers’ vow and spill, I drank and fell.
But dark the night when lights and words would fail,
Slow did the land dissolve as windows close.
And falls of day as black as silenced tale,
As lost as Muse without the poets’ odes.
But true hearts know their truest lovers’ arts,
And give the gifts that other gifting starts.
Written by Hepcat61
(geoff cat)
Go To Page
Related submission no longer exists.
Anonymous
The Retreat
The exterior distractions...
horns beeping
dramas unfolding
to hijack the serene state
of being among my people
delighting me
in richly, layered fantasies
embracing my need
to cruise this syllable-driven countryside
These exteriors seem so disinterested
in the result of these threaded sentences
or the vibrant canvas
we splash our colours on
to show a little skin
this interior passion...
shields me
in a roster of heavyweights
pens worked dry;
daily snippets
of intrigue
catalogued
and expanding
by the day.
horns beeping
dramas unfolding
to hijack the serene state
of being among my people
delighting me
in richly, layered fantasies
embracing my need
to cruise this syllable-driven countryside
These exteriors seem so disinterested
in the result of these threaded sentences
or the vibrant canvas
we splash our colours on
to show a little skin
this interior passion...
shields me
in a roster of heavyweights
pens worked dry;
daily snippets
of intrigue
catalogued
and expanding
by the day.
Written by Tenderloin
Go To Page
Anonymous
Grunge
In eighth grade, she nailed on a pink shirt, a pale pastel
and felt exposed to the future. It had been years pulling it out
of the drain. She tied off a knit around the mess
borrowed from her mother’s narnia. The wrapping and knot
with limp arms like a lioness carrying her cub. Her idol
graduated and visited, opened her flannel podshell:
“Look at these things!” Unripe cheeks, a glance
at the eyes in the plank, at slivers and cracks.
She felt as if I could pass through them, in the uncertain gait
of going backwards. Address it; the room that was pink.
A dream dollhouse after the hurricane of limbs,
teddybear called Queen, gum popping
walls, roses without thorns claiming the daybed,
Barbies given spikes, and dancing uniforms
stuffed at the top- stretching to the toes,
a dress of remains. It ran down the leg,
the tenth not-birthday; heart dropping, pinking at the drain.
They say grunge started with Cobain; it was us,
the ones who could feminize, pinken, and demystify blue.
and felt exposed to the future. It had been years pulling it out
of the drain. She tied off a knit around the mess
borrowed from her mother’s narnia. The wrapping and knot
with limp arms like a lioness carrying her cub. Her idol
graduated and visited, opened her flannel podshell:
“Look at these things!” Unripe cheeks, a glance
at the eyes in the plank, at slivers and cracks.
She felt as if I could pass through them, in the uncertain gait
of going backwards. Address it; the room that was pink.
A dream dollhouse after the hurricane of limbs,
teddybear called Queen, gum popping
walls, roses without thorns claiming the daybed,
Barbies given spikes, and dancing uniforms
stuffed at the top- stretching to the toes,
a dress of remains. It ran down the leg,
the tenth not-birthday; heart dropping, pinking at the drain.
They say grunge started with Cobain; it was us,
the ones who could feminize, pinken, and demystify blue.
Written by yelluw_always
(Haley Quaquaversal)
Go To Page
Related submission no longer exists.
