Poetry competition CLOSED 23rd July 2019 11:36pm
WINNER
Eerie
Eerie
A Set of Five Short Poems
Poetry Contest Description
5 Short Poems, triggered by mundane everyday events/thoughts
Write five short poems which can be random, or a linked theme.
1). Give each short poem a title (which can be part of the poem).
2). Give the set of five poems an overall title.
3). No erotica or extreme content.
4). New poems; any form.
5). Each poem 3, 4 or 5 lines long.
5). One entry per poet.
6). 2 weeks (I'm going on holiday after that). So comp ends on 23rd July.
7). Sample below (is also posted on my regular timeline on 9th July)
I am looking for succinct use of simple words and images that reveal hidden depths of our humanity - triggered by poetic (self)-observation.
SAMPLE ENTRY
Five Random Shorties from "A Day in the Life of ..."
Masked
Even when you do your best
to present an honest face
the crookéd mask jumps back in front
and smiles precociously.
Blake in a Haiku
Many grains of sand
in the matchbox in my hand.
The matchbox explodes.
Gospel
The bird of prey
glided high …
book, chapter and verse
in its own gospel.
Busy Day
After a busy day
with too many people
I went home, shook off the noise
and drank in the silence.
Broken Poet’s Haiku
Wrote down the first of
many thirsts; watched my tears grow
into a river.
1). Give each short poem a title (which can be part of the poem).
2). Give the set of five poems an overall title.
3). No erotica or extreme content.
4). New poems; any form.
5). Each poem 3, 4 or 5 lines long.
5). One entry per poet.
6). 2 weeks (I'm going on holiday after that). So comp ends on 23rd July.
7). Sample below (is also posted on my regular timeline on 9th July)
I am looking for succinct use of simple words and images that reveal hidden depths of our humanity - triggered by poetic (self)-observation.
SAMPLE ENTRY
Five Random Shorties from "A Day in the Life of ..."
Masked
Even when you do your best
to present an honest face
the crookéd mask jumps back in front
and smiles precociously.
Blake in a Haiku
Many grains of sand
in the matchbox in my hand.
The matchbox explodes.
Gospel
The bird of prey
glided high …
book, chapter and verse
in its own gospel.
Busy Day
After a busy day
with too many people
I went home, shook off the noise
and drank in the silence.
Broken Poet’s Haiku
Wrote down the first of
many thirsts; watched my tears grow
into a river.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Five From Five
Lost and Alone
I'm no ones child
This cross I bear
You always had to wear
I keep around my neck
So God won't forget
Feathers
I’ll pretend to fly with feathers I don’t own
I go back in time
Nothing but you I find
Memories are like stones
They only hurt when you crash on them alone
Tomorrow
To live in a world with peace
Where no one is ever wrong
I’m not promised tomorrow
But I won’t give up on today
Heroes
Where have all my heroes gone
Acting like nothings wrong
With all these voices in my head
I keep seaching for words of red
In hopes I find them in me
Angel
Come with me, to find eternity
Dark angel, I'm lost in your mystery
Her passion fueled by my desire
She took me to a place where angels never fly
I burned to ashes and never felt the fire
I'm no ones child
This cross I bear
You always had to wear
I keep around my neck
So God won't forget
Feathers
I’ll pretend to fly with feathers I don’t own
I go back in time
Nothing but you I find
Memories are like stones
They only hurt when you crash on them alone
Tomorrow
To live in a world with peace
Where no one is ever wrong
I’m not promised tomorrow
But I won’t give up on today
Heroes
Where have all my heroes gone
Acting like nothings wrong
With all these voices in my head
I keep seaching for words of red
In hopes I find them in me
Angel
Come with me, to find eternity
Dark angel, I'm lost in your mystery
Her passion fueled by my desire
She took me to a place where angels never fly
I burned to ashes and never felt the fire
Written by buddydog
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5 Short Poems
Sometimes
Sand slips through my hand;
the sea becomes my marrow,
and I find my soul.
I Think
I am best, alone—
in God, I trust, for this life;
love left me jaded.
Too Much
Seconds seem too long —
what shall be my legacy
when time finally ends?
And Find
Vintage linens—yes!
I am a keeper of time.
My collection, grows .
Everything and Nothing
Patience has a way
of pissing me off, teaching
what I need to know .
Sometimes
Sand slips through my hand;
the sea becomes my marrow,
and I find my soul.
I Think
I am best, alone—
in God, I trust, for this life;
love left me jaded.
Too Much
Seconds seem too long —
what shall be my legacy
when time finally ends?
And Find
Vintage linens—yes!
I am a keeper of time.
My collection, grows .
Everything and Nothing
Patience has a way
of pissing me off, teaching
what I need to know .
Silent Madness
Deception
Looks can be devious
I look strong, balanced, calm
supposedly impervious
Silence and Madness laugh
hysterical at your naivete
Truth
Silence sighs, cries
never lies, never dies
Madness supposedly sets you free
That never happened for me
Reality
Completely unwelcome
I cannot send the shadows away
To banish Silence and Madness
I must exile myself
Submission
It took a while to accept
the frequent visitations
Silent mania suffocating
voiceless misery shrieking
Inevitable
Silence dances with Madness
I’m not them, shadowed fiends
Yet the muted delusion is me
Looks can be devious
I look strong, balanced, calm
supposedly impervious
Silence and Madness laugh
hysterical at your naivete
Truth
Silence sighs, cries
never lies, never dies
Madness supposedly sets you free
That never happened for me
Reality
Completely unwelcome
I cannot send the shadows away
To banish Silence and Madness
I must exile myself
Submission
It took a while to accept
the frequent visitations
Silent mania suffocating
voiceless misery shrieking
Inevitable
Silence dances with Madness
I’m not them, shadowed fiends
Yet the muted delusion is me
Written by inechoingsilence
Go To Page
Simple Thoughts to Self
First
Before the morning quakes I rise
To shake off reservations,
My blurry eyes
To step into the shower,
All steamed, to shave my legs.
Second
I wash my hair and wrap it tight
In spite of the temptation,
Thru’ window’s light
As misty view uplifting,
The perfect weather begs.
Third
A quiet smile that comes to me
In restive contemplation,
What shall it be
My honey currant muffins,
Or coddled soft-boiled eggs.
Fourth
No coffee, no caffeine today
A fruit smoothly libation,
A sunshine’s ray
Is better than anything,
Won’t light up powder kegs.
Fifth
But most of all you will agree
Of all of God’s creations,
It’s love you need
As bells that tolled once upon,
To clothesline wooden pegs.
Written by Jade-Pandora
(jade tiger)
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Thank you Buddydog for your comp entry. Each of the 5 poems should be only 3-5 lines long. If you'd like to edit them shorter to fit the comp rules, and re-post it, that would be great.
Thank you MadameLavender. Nice idea to make the poem titles into a sentence which adds a further angle to your comp entry.
Thank you inechoinsilence. Interesting set of five poems delving into the inner world relating to larger themes.
Thank you Jade for your comp entry. Engaging journey through the morning routine and ending up with the larger perspective.
Thank you MadameLavender. Nice idea to make the poem titles into a sentence which adds a further angle to your comp entry.
Thank you inechoinsilence. Interesting set of five poems delving into the inner world relating to larger themes.
Thank you Jade for your comp entry. Engaging journey through the morning routine and ending up with the larger perspective.
Five Thoughts
Where Light Dies
Frequency of darkness
Tuned in to anger
Vicious vibrations
Reaching out for destruction
This is where light dies
Out Of The Box
The concept of autism
There’s no box
That can hold its diversity
New Town Leper
Don’t come near me
Can’t you hear the bell
I’m autistic don’t touch
I am contagious
The new town leper
Not Dying Today
Not dying today
One more breath
One more heartbeat
One more step
The little things that keep me on the path
Unstitch The Label
A non conformity that won’t change
This identity is me maybe a factory reject
Adapted with what I got
Unstitch the label cause it don’t mean a thing
Intermittent connection Is enough to survive
Frequency of darkness
Tuned in to anger
Vicious vibrations
Reaching out for destruction
This is where light dies
Out Of The Box
The concept of autism
There’s no box
That can hold its diversity
New Town Leper
Don’t come near me
Can’t you hear the bell
I’m autistic don’t touch
I am contagious
The new town leper
Not Dying Today
Not dying today
One more breath
One more heartbeat
One more step
The little things that keep me on the path
Unstitch The Label
A non conformity that won’t change
This identity is me maybe a factory reject
Adapted with what I got
Unstitch the label cause it don’t mean a thing
Intermittent connection Is enough to survive
Written by AspergerPoet56
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Five Folivoras
quotidian
Did I even catch 40 winks
prior to my yawn
before my spilling ink
onset morning dawn?
circadian
Cups – no more,
no less than four
my cockcrow
reanimation!
noctambulo
infomercials
Midnight snacks
time for sleep
or dream walking?
crepuscular
My body and mind
don’t always want
to travel together
before a wee nap
cogitate
mindfulness
astrally in
mindlessness
bliss and rest
Did I even catch 40 winks
prior to my yawn
before my spilling ink
onset morning dawn?
circadian
Cups – no more,
no less than four
my cockcrow
reanimation!
noctambulo
infomercials
Midnight snacks
time for sleep
or dream walking?
crepuscular
My body and mind
don’t always want
to travel together
before a wee nap
cogitate
mindfulness
astrally in
mindlessness
bliss and rest
Written by Tallen
(earth_empath)
Go To Page
Nice set of 5 shorties, AP56; thank you.
You've got me reaching for my dictionary again Tallen :)) we posted at the same time, I just missed it earlier on today. Interesting set of 'shorties'. Judging is getting harder by the minute. Thank you for entering.
You've got me reaching for my dictionary again Tallen :)) we posted at the same time, I just missed it earlier on today. Interesting set of 'shorties'. Judging is getting harder by the minute. Thank you for entering.
Related submission no longer exists.
encamped
after the campfire dies
the forest has a way of baptizing
your thoughts—its obsidian font
revealing you are the captor
of your own shadow world—
your fears a prisoner
5:00 am
we all want a good story to tell—
when dawn illuminates
the foothills of a cook stove
utensil, you'll improvise
the landscape of food
the river
sliding against the bank
its black water a snake—
stealthy; lightning slicing
its underbelly—the rain
shouting, hightail it
origin
we all have a desire
to commune with our origin—
the mountain opens wide its heart
says, enter into this safe cavern—
the one that birthed you first
green thumb
see, we all want our lives
to be immaculate; to communicate
to know how to seed Love—
but, more importantly, how to weed
fear so our roots won't choke
~
the forest has a way of baptizing
your thoughts—its obsidian font
revealing you are the captor
of your own shadow world—
your fears a prisoner
5:00 am
we all want a good story to tell—
when dawn illuminates
the foothills of a cook stove
utensil, you'll improvise
the landscape of food
the river
sliding against the bank
its black water a snake—
stealthy; lightning slicing
its underbelly—the rain
shouting, hightail it
origin
we all have a desire
to commune with our origin—
the mountain opens wide its heart
says, enter into this safe cavern—
the one that birthed you first
green thumb
see, we all want our lives
to be immaculate; to communicate
to know how to seed Love—
but, more importantly, how to weed
fear so our roots won't choke
~
Written by Ahavati
(Tams)
Go To Page
pentametric paradigms @ work
ode to the weekend
Monday
Monday is the day
weekends lose their sway.
what an awful fray,
just to break away
from the cabaret!
Tuesday
Tuesday, gone the edge
of lethargic sledge.
Monday-Wednesday wedge
brings a vibrant pledge
from my lame cortège.
Wednesday
Wednesday, middle week,
perfectly oblique:
come the joys i seek,
with a brief sneak peek
of weekend mystique.
Thursday
Thursday, working late,
too much on my plate.
gosh, how much i hate
this eternal wait.
i should delegate!
Friday
just a few more hours
gets me through these doors.
Friday night for snores,
Sat‘day morn for chores,
then i’m once more yours!
© Copyright 2019 July 11
Monday
Monday is the day
weekends lose their sway.
what an awful fray,
just to break away
from the cabaret!
Tuesday
Tuesday, gone the edge
of lethargic sledge.
Monday-Wednesday wedge
brings a vibrant pledge
from my lame cortège.
Wednesday
Wednesday, middle week,
perfectly oblique:
come the joys i seek,
with a brief sneak peek
of weekend mystique.
Thursday
Thursday, working late,
too much on my plate.
gosh, how much i hate
this eternal wait.
i should delegate!
Friday
just a few more hours
gets me through these doors.
Friday night for snores,
Sat‘day morn for chores,
then i’m once more yours!
© Copyright 2019 July 11
Written by cabcool
Go To Page
