Poetry competition CLOSED 25th June 2019 6:47pm
WINNER
snugglebuck
snugglebuck
RUNNER-UP:
SmilingAndSeething
Threshold of the Imaginary and Reality
Poetry Contest Description
Describe a moment you've made a crossing at the threshold of reality into your imagination.
Write a poem/prose about any moment in which you've divorced yourself from reality/realism, whether intentionally or not, and became consumed with your wildest imaginations, dreams or, delusions. Use the five senses, what did you see, smell, taste, touch or hear? Can be about a real moment in your life or a psychological or, a metaphorical one.
Poems can be any length. Previous submissions accepted!
Prose from one paragraph to one page max.
Explicit material accepted.
Two entries max for poetry and prose.
PM me for any questions.
One month. Have fun!
Poems can be any length. Previous submissions accepted!
Prose from one paragraph to one page max.
Explicit material accepted.
Two entries max for poetry and prose.
PM me for any questions.
One month. Have fun!
Threshold of Surrealism and Realism
I abide by the lonely confines of the only home I ever knew
That’s only filled with the frigid memories I ever knew,
And ricocheting off the cold, cement walls was a long-ago dream,
In a cellar where rays of daylight never beam.
And awakening aromas of pale-violet lilacs outside my ajared cellar window.
Alongside a ruined childhood were those shielding dreams,
Peering out those dirty cellar windows to a world where nothing is what it seems,
Save those pale tones of the lilac
Of a new world I could never claim I wanted back;
My footpath to the door reached the threshold between surrealism and realism.
I dwelled with eccentricity and a weary heart
In that cursed childhood where things fell apart.
On that well-trodden, poetically-stained footpath,
That adds no dreariness to this memory’s past;
Sunrise came; illumining that cellar window.
The ghosts of the past tap my shoulder to scream
Only for me to hush them and say it was my dream!
And I hear them beg for me to cry
With many stings they shall try,
But I say back to them; it was my time through the threshold to fly!
Quite the contrary, realism is a distant, flickering star,
I know not what the senses of reality are.
Some will share this glimmer sky with me;
And to them, fortunate enough to see
A surrealist star-blanketed day-sky.
We are the realist folk with subconscious minds
And with our poetic vernacular, a dream glides.
With our pen as wings and mouths that sing
And yet, the realist world looks at all our dreams as a thing!
Regimented we are; militias marching to the poetic tune.
That’s only filled with the frigid memories I ever knew,
And ricocheting off the cold, cement walls was a long-ago dream,
In a cellar where rays of daylight never beam.
And awakening aromas of pale-violet lilacs outside my ajared cellar window.
Alongside a ruined childhood were those shielding dreams,
Peering out those dirty cellar windows to a world where nothing is what it seems,
Save those pale tones of the lilac
Of a new world I could never claim I wanted back;
My footpath to the door reached the threshold between surrealism and realism.
I dwelled with eccentricity and a weary heart
In that cursed childhood where things fell apart.
On that well-trodden, poetically-stained footpath,
That adds no dreariness to this memory’s past;
Sunrise came; illumining that cellar window.
The ghosts of the past tap my shoulder to scream
Only for me to hush them and say it was my dream!
And I hear them beg for me to cry
With many stings they shall try,
But I say back to them; it was my time through the threshold to fly!
Quite the contrary, realism is a distant, flickering star,
I know not what the senses of reality are.
Some will share this glimmer sky with me;
And to them, fortunate enough to see
A surrealist star-blanketed day-sky.
We are the realist folk with subconscious minds
And with our poetic vernacular, a dream glides.
With our pen as wings and mouths that sing
And yet, the realist world looks at all our dreams as a thing!
Regimented we are; militias marching to the poetic tune.
Written by gothicsurrealism
(Daniel Long)
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Vertigo Rising
After an accident to my head,
I was taken to hospital
Disappearing in body and mind.
When I finally emerged, pale
And squinting in the sun’s glare,
I hadn’t felt it for months.
The lights of traffic & media,
The bafflement I had in public
Longing to be in my cocoon;
To sleep in a big, clean bed,
To gaze out my own windows
Overlooking the garden & trees.
The long killer summer with its
Triple digits left suddenly,
Follow’d by what I was dying for.
But now I found myself missing
The dreaded heat, insanity.
A siren call of paramedics.
Not of birds who hunted gnats
Down in the quiet garden below;
Jacarandas shake off their lint.
I’m confus’d when scorch’d wind
Pummels the trees, deaf’ning leaves
& feather’d fronds like cloudbursts.
But no rain from streaked skies
Falls, only wind chasing moisture
Of a monsoon where it came from.
These days I’m certain I’ve lost
My mind; can’t tell one season
From another to save my soul.
The nights almost possess it for
Good; as I go fetal to write verse
After I circle the furniture.
Unsure, my balance in vertigo,
Makes the known unexpected
In the cool days of the stillness,
Nonexistent tho’ I breathe deep;
I don’t trust the fresh air as it
Comes in its creep from outside,
It thinks its been invited in.
Gnats from the garden downstairs
Realize too late their mistake.
After my Windex defense,
I awkwardly close the windows
And turn on my new air-con.
I distrust the air from that unit
(I don’t know where it’s been).
I turn off the remote as I shiver.
I’m unworthy to enjoy such
Extravagances, now that
Autumn is trying to encroach,
Giving cool breezes for free.
But they quickly make me cold,
So I can’t trust them EITHER!
Written by Jade-Pandora
(jade tiger)
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Jade, absolutely brilliant! Again you have proven yourself a masterful poetess and this piece you've confided in the world is touching and inspiring! Your ability to write about your observations with such mastery is profound! Bravo tigress!
When Did It All Go Wrong?
In this world
Of alternative facts
Where everything is
Ready to collapse
Where nothing seems
To make any sense
And what it claims to be
Is the exact opposite
Do you ever ask yourself
The same question
What I ask myself
All the day long?
“When in the fuck
Did it all go wrong?”
Of alternative facts
Where everything is
Ready to collapse
Where nothing seems
To make any sense
And what it claims to be
Is the exact opposite
Do you ever ask yourself
The same question
What I ask myself
All the day long?
“When in the fuck
Did it all go wrong?”
Written by snugglebuck
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Visual snow
Moving swirling
seething
winking in and out of existence
More than half transparent
Every color, all at once
tiny dots
pixie pixels
making the world shimmy and flicker
for as long as I can remember.
Eighth grade, French class.
Endless conjugations
that I can ignore because I already know
(passe compose, plus que parfait)
so I press on my eyelids
to pass the time
and I wait
for the world to be covered
in a shimmering dance
Every color, all at once
a kaleidoscope of patterns
suddenly subsumed in flashing op art
grids and lines
warps and bulges
endless
timeless
white and indigo giving way to yellow-brown and lavender
back and forth, back and forth
too fast to track
swallowing sound
slowing thought
passing time.
At every age
I have looked to the sky
blue, blue, blue
a silent canvas
clear but not clear
(every color, all at once)
because my eyes mark out shapes
transparent overlays
square or round
grainy edges
slightly pulsing
ever moving
following stuttering sideways tracks
just like floaters
(but not)
doorways in the air.
Then there are the clock faces
bright lights and signs
afterimages in every direction
afterimages of afterimages
floating, converging, fading
blurring
contrast without sharp lines.
Another sight:
Close my eyes, see my irises
every color, all at once
behind my lids
there they are, right there.
Round, radial, blank spot in the middle
still, constant
but only for a tiny moment
flickering in colored strobe lights.
It's like having another sense,
one there's no name for
one that only shows up in searches as a chromatic aberration
something photographers find (and call a problem)
not people with eyes
the eyes to see
the words of love
given with love
in black square script
(black fire on white fire)
with barely-there blue purple shadows below and to the left
and red-yellow fire blazing up and to the right
every color, all at once.
seething
winking in and out of existence
More than half transparent
Every color, all at once
tiny dots
pixie pixels
making the world shimmy and flicker
for as long as I can remember.
Eighth grade, French class.
Endless conjugations
that I can ignore because I already know
(passe compose, plus que parfait)
so I press on my eyelids
to pass the time
and I wait
for the world to be covered
in a shimmering dance
Every color, all at once
a kaleidoscope of patterns
suddenly subsumed in flashing op art
grids and lines
warps and bulges
endless
timeless
white and indigo giving way to yellow-brown and lavender
back and forth, back and forth
too fast to track
swallowing sound
slowing thought
passing time.
At every age
I have looked to the sky
blue, blue, blue
a silent canvas
clear but not clear
(every color, all at once)
because my eyes mark out shapes
transparent overlays
square or round
grainy edges
slightly pulsing
ever moving
following stuttering sideways tracks
just like floaters
(but not)
doorways in the air.
Then there are the clock faces
bright lights and signs
afterimages in every direction
afterimages of afterimages
floating, converging, fading
blurring
contrast without sharp lines.
Another sight:
Close my eyes, see my irises
every color, all at once
behind my lids
there they are, right there.
Round, radial, blank spot in the middle
still, constant
but only for a tiny moment
flickering in colored strobe lights.
It's like having another sense,
one there's no name for
one that only shows up in searches as a chromatic aberration
something photographers find (and call a problem)
not people with eyes
the eyes to see
the words of love
given with love
in black square script
(black fire on white fire)
with barely-there blue purple shadows below and to the left
and red-yellow fire blazing up and to the right
every color, all at once.
Written by SmilingAndSeething
Go To Page
Love dove
Woman as a gentle blown song
Heard in this fresh morning wind
An aspirant sunrise that travels long
Such a pyramid daylight to never end,
Within this efflorescent passion
Past tenuous heart becomes strong
Possessing the passkey unto salvation
This operative heart now sings her song.
Written by runaway-mindtrain
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Ordo inordinationem
i
Burning inner incense for their delection of gods and men,
ii
Beginning stillness of the void, convoked a deafened rhyme
While this supernal rule withdrew neither moment nor time
Entrance a turning dream, traverse the heart's acumen fear
Apocrypha illusions to dubiously manifest their ancient tear,
iii
Before liquid fractures as a broken vigil far from the stream of care
God giving water to comprise since we can not comprehend the air,
iv
Spins at northern hemisphere's religion of the procession
Held in hand, walking these dim lit temples of meditation
Such a time, envision coupled in another space reflection,
v
Self-picture to mask their unholy temple of worship
Breaking a truth spine, sailing an outward soul ship
Tricked heart broke in two, a mind then to back slip,
vi
Their leviathan conjures a wicked sun to harken day
Rubs soulless eyes as a blurring inside confusion lay
Inevitable decision into judgment lets their mind rip
Occultic sea of change unknown to a common whim...
Burning inner incense for their delection of gods and men,
ii
Beginning stillness of the void, convoked a deafened rhyme
While this supernal rule withdrew neither moment nor time
Entrance a turning dream, traverse the heart's acumen fear
Apocrypha illusions to dubiously manifest their ancient tear,
iii
Before liquid fractures as a broken vigil far from the stream of care
God giving water to comprise since we can not comprehend the air,
iv
Spins at northern hemisphere's religion of the procession
Held in hand, walking these dim lit temples of meditation
Such a time, envision coupled in another space reflection,
v
Self-picture to mask their unholy temple of worship
Breaking a truth spine, sailing an outward soul ship
Tricked heart broke in two, a mind then to back slip,
vi
Their leviathan conjures a wicked sun to harken day
Rubs soulless eyes as a blurring inside confusion lay
Inevitable decision into judgment lets their mind rip
Occultic sea of change unknown to a common whim...
Written by runaway-mindtrain
Go To Page
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Dreamy Tree
I stroll through the forest as I do everyday
Admiring the vibrant colors as Spring arrives
I sit down at my favorite spot underneath the shade
And watch the entire forest sparkle under the sunlight.
The birds chirp to their hearts content
And the deer feed on the grass calmly
This beautiful space seems to be under an enchantment
The absolute peace has my eyes drooping.
Suddenly my eyes snap open as the wind picks up
The sounds of nature have abruptly gone mute
As soon as I reach the next line of trees, the wind comes to an abrupt…
Stop; instead, a gentle breeze teases my hair and carries the sound of an owl’s hoot.
I listen on in confusion; hadn’t it just been noon?
Yet all around I could hear the nightly birds
Through the thick leaves, I can make out the sight of the moon
I can’t help but pause in my tracks as I’m at a loss of words.
I continue on, and at last make it out of the numerous trees
Where normally should have been more trees, I step out onto an open plain
In the middle of the area, I see a lonely oak tree
Yet the sky’s exotic colors and unfamiliar celestial bodies make it strange
Despite the unusual circumstance, I feel giddy.
The warm breeze tickles my face
And I feel an invisible pull urging me towards the tree
My body is paralyzed, yet my mind is wondering about this strange place
And what exactly does it want with me?
What sounds like a chuckle echoes in the wind
Meteor showers light up the sky
The closer I get to the tree, the warmer I feel within
And yet I’m still wondering why…
Am I in this heavenly place?
When mere moments ago I was on Earth
I’m certainly no pure saint
Yet this unknown force assures me of my worth.
On a whim, I sit down underneath the tree
Just like I did mere moments before
Strangely, my soul feels like it wants to burst free
And explore this dimension uncorrupted by war.
Hundreds of tiny star-like orbs
Float down from the heavens
One lands on the palm of my hand, and it’s immediately absorbed
I snicker to myself as this is better than receiving lemons.
All jokes aside, I’m confused about where I am
Yet despite that, I don’t want to disrupt…
The peace I feel thanks to this tree I’ll call Sam
If indeed this is a dream, then don’t wake me up.
Admiring the vibrant colors as Spring arrives
I sit down at my favorite spot underneath the shade
And watch the entire forest sparkle under the sunlight.
The birds chirp to their hearts content
And the deer feed on the grass calmly
This beautiful space seems to be under an enchantment
The absolute peace has my eyes drooping.
Suddenly my eyes snap open as the wind picks up
The sounds of nature have abruptly gone mute
As soon as I reach the next line of trees, the wind comes to an abrupt…
Stop; instead, a gentle breeze teases my hair and carries the sound of an owl’s hoot.
I listen on in confusion; hadn’t it just been noon?
Yet all around I could hear the nightly birds
Through the thick leaves, I can make out the sight of the moon
I can’t help but pause in my tracks as I’m at a loss of words.
I continue on, and at last make it out of the numerous trees
Where normally should have been more trees, I step out onto an open plain
In the middle of the area, I see a lonely oak tree
Yet the sky’s exotic colors and unfamiliar celestial bodies make it strange
Despite the unusual circumstance, I feel giddy.
The warm breeze tickles my face
And I feel an invisible pull urging me towards the tree
My body is paralyzed, yet my mind is wondering about this strange place
And what exactly does it want with me?
What sounds like a chuckle echoes in the wind
Meteor showers light up the sky
The closer I get to the tree, the warmer I feel within
And yet I’m still wondering why…
Am I in this heavenly place?
When mere moments ago I was on Earth
I’m certainly no pure saint
Yet this unknown force assures me of my worth.
On a whim, I sit down underneath the tree
Just like I did mere moments before
Strangely, my soul feels like it wants to burst free
And explore this dimension uncorrupted by war.
Hundreds of tiny star-like orbs
Float down from the heavens
One lands on the palm of my hand, and it’s immediately absorbed
I snicker to myself as this is better than receiving lemons.
All jokes aside, I’m confused about where I am
Yet despite that, I don’t want to disrupt…
The peace I feel thanks to this tree I’ll call Sam
If indeed this is a dream, then don’t wake me up.
Written by LunasChild8
Go To Page
Consumed Delusion
As if
They’d let me
Drive off, Into the sunset
In the car of my dreams.
I am obsessed with it
Unable to wait for it
Researching it, Touching it
Sitting inside of it, It wasn’t it exactly
But I bought it anyway, I had to have it
Deal with the reality of a lackluster decision later
And now it’s too late, I can’t exchange it
They assured me, It was possible
But now I see, I was duped
Into driving an hour and a half
Sitting in a car I didn’t want
Riding around a blue sky parking lot
Passing by those I didn’t want
They told me a 3000 mile search
was unable to find that car
in my obsessive dreams
Of course, That was a lie
Stupid salesmen, Promising hopes
Slashing prices, Pretending to help me
Offered me an incentive
Even their incentives proved futile
Whatever
I wasn’t angry or upset or surprised
I was living a dream In a FIAT 500X
With modern amenities and prestige above Prius.
I imagined myself
Passing others on the road
Hands gripping the soft touch leather
My belongings in the glove box
My radio blaring
My foot off the pedal
It’s driving effortlessly.
Long driving vacations
From Nashville to Maine
For now, just a dim ride
To home, from Jersey.
In a FIAT 2018.
They’d let me
Drive off, Into the sunset
In the car of my dreams.
I am obsessed with it
Unable to wait for it
Researching it, Touching it
Sitting inside of it, It wasn’t it exactly
But I bought it anyway, I had to have it
Deal with the reality of a lackluster decision later
And now it’s too late, I can’t exchange it
They assured me, It was possible
But now I see, I was duped
Into driving an hour and a half
Sitting in a car I didn’t want
Riding around a blue sky parking lot
Passing by those I didn’t want
They told me a 3000 mile search
was unable to find that car
in my obsessive dreams
Of course, That was a lie
Stupid salesmen, Promising hopes
Slashing prices, Pretending to help me
Offered me an incentive
Even their incentives proved futile
Whatever
I wasn’t angry or upset or surprised
I was living a dream In a FIAT 500X
With modern amenities and prestige above Prius.
I imagined myself
Passing others on the road
Hands gripping the soft touch leather
My belongings in the glove box
My radio blaring
My foot off the pedal
It’s driving effortlessly.
Long driving vacations
From Nashville to Maine
For now, just a dim ride
To home, from Jersey.
In a FIAT 2018.
Written by bimbammit
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The Aftermath
In my split second of madness
I gave in to life
Swallowed the pills
Washed them down with pure vodka
Laid my head down
For the last sleep
Suddenly I was awoken
For me It was like a few hours
In reality ten days in a coma
I heard snarling voices
Saw faceless faces
Coming towards me
Couldn’t define reality
The insane hallucinations had taken hold
I was in a moving hospital
Moving beds
Walls painted red with blood
The screams were either imagined or mine
Life had brought me back
Fear kept me in a state of limbo
The voices knew my shame
Kept digging into my soul
The pain wouldn’t let go
Just wanted to die again
The face in the mirror wasn’t mine
It was a stranger with dead eyes
I tried to smash its reflection with my head
All I got was cuts
And a rueful smile from my nemesis
Whispering I’m never going away
I survived to tell the tale
But it haunts me still
The madness the voices
The face in the mirror
They come back from time to time
But I’m strong enough to fight them off
I gave in to life
Swallowed the pills
Washed them down with pure vodka
Laid my head down
For the last sleep
Suddenly I was awoken
For me It was like a few hours
In reality ten days in a coma
I heard snarling voices
Saw faceless faces
Coming towards me
Couldn’t define reality
The insane hallucinations had taken hold
I was in a moving hospital
Moving beds
Walls painted red with blood
The screams were either imagined or mine
Life had brought me back
Fear kept me in a state of limbo
The voices knew my shame
Kept digging into my soul
The pain wouldn’t let go
Just wanted to die again
The face in the mirror wasn’t mine
It was a stranger with dead eyes
I tried to smash its reflection with my head
All I got was cuts
And a rueful smile from my nemesis
Whispering I’m never going away
I survived to tell the tale
But it haunts me still
The madness the voices
The face in the mirror
They come back from time to time
But I’m strong enough to fight them off
Written by AspergerPoet56
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