Poetry competition CLOSED 10th December 2019 1:27pm
WINNER
butters
butters
Re-Sculpturing, the art of driftwood
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Joro
I held roses
for the dying heart
a bruise emblem sleeve to footwear
O Wizened Entity, placed in greatness long may those eyes protect,
bless and save thee.
Gatekeepers watch, awaiting those that book passage
into hidden garden grove
thy wooden wise one we place our faith to Your protection
hearth of spirit, looking glass divine
we Your children,dress Your spritely visage
emblazoned emblem, totem to All Faith
She The Goddess praised within place
No total amnesty Her eyes and Ours belong entwine
sign of time, before... so after
we ride the current of woodland stream
morning dew
evenings dream
the green curls rise
a soft wrap of luxury to the encroach lain empty
Bast of my soul, we are as we are
secure to either side
wild
You are not demure
but vigilant supreme
thine eyes, thine eyes
protections Forever
for the dying heart
a bruise emblem sleeve to footwear
O Wizened Entity, placed in greatness long may those eyes protect,
bless and save thee.
Gatekeepers watch, awaiting those that book passage
into hidden garden grove
thy wooden wise one we place our faith to Your protection
hearth of spirit, looking glass divine
we Your children,dress Your spritely visage
emblazoned emblem, totem to All Faith
She The Goddess praised within place
No total amnesty Her eyes and Ours belong entwine
sign of time, before... so after
we ride the current of woodland stream
morning dew
evenings dream
the green curls rise
a soft wrap of luxury to the encroach lain empty
Bast of my soul, we are as we are
secure to either side
wild
You are not demure
but vigilant supreme
thine eyes, thine eyes
protections Forever
Written by souladareatease
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Cry Of Nature
Shy nymphs nestled in roughened bark their spirits intertwined.
Stroked by breezes and gently hugged by reaching slender vines.
Joined as one the dryad fades should the giant die.
So tied are they to this their home that towers to the sky.
Sadly weep the lone sentinels that dwell in the living wood.
For mortals squander creations secrets before there understood.
The tribes of man no longer know about their ancient past.
Arrogant is their faith in foolish ways and luck that will not last.
Lust and want has cloud their minds reducing life’s true worth.
Destined to relive the ancient lessons once taught by mother earth.
The protective keep of woodland homes feels the growing threat.
Disturbing natures balanced peace the closer humans get.
What was once shall once again return to claim the land.
When no more is left to offer up its reward will be at hand.
The pursuit of fleshed Apollo’s to Daphne’s last retreat.
Shall leave the bitter taste of ashen suffering and defeat.
Written by midevil
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
The resin of empathy
Consider my favorite sculptress
She the famous Barbara Hepworth
From great monoliths of stone
Found a form by bolster draw the hand
To caress its tactile shine
The quartz, that empathy refined
That in gods great pottery
Each identity was true till death
Hand and nature a dormancy to unearth
Figured not always by us
Carved by truth and not distrust
The naked exhibit divested of its crust
They not like we, see those forms so hidden deep
Sleeping beauty awaiting to awake
That undress to bare
Just chip by chip, flake by flake
Is there a kiss so cold defined
The lovers empathy that Rodin found
Some ask us questions
Put the last before the first
A disected pregnancy
Twice life size by Damien Hurst
Where we were and where we be
That outlines pitied empathy
The warmth no words can entertain
From just blocks and logs so plain
The resin there like golden flame
Work and labour and toil sustain
Listen with you heart and soul
Enchantment shape each hammers blow
The resin of true empathy
For tomorrows shapes remain just dreams
She the famous Barbara Hepworth
From great monoliths of stone
Found a form by bolster draw the hand
To caress its tactile shine
The quartz, that empathy refined
That in gods great pottery
Each identity was true till death
Hand and nature a dormancy to unearth
Figured not always by us
Carved by truth and not distrust
The naked exhibit divested of its crust
They not like we, see those forms so hidden deep
Sleeping beauty awaiting to awake
That undress to bare
Just chip by chip, flake by flake
Is there a kiss so cold defined
The lovers empathy that Rodin found
Some ask us questions
Put the last before the first
A disected pregnancy
Twice life size by Damien Hurst
Where we were and where we be
That outlines pitied empathy
The warmth no words can entertain
From just blocks and logs so plain
The resin there like golden flame
Work and labour and toil sustain
Listen with you heart and soul
Enchantment shape each hammers blow
The resin of true empathy
For tomorrows shapes remain just dreams
Written by slipalong
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Please Release Me Let Me Go
Deep in this trunk a maiden sleeps
Awaiting the time she is released
When will the artist let her out
Her body is beautiful without a doubt.
She dreams of the day she's freed
What are her hopes; what does she need?
What is the destiny of a wooden carving,
Is she realistic in what she's yearning.
She wishes for life and love
Just beauty is not enough;
But such a wish is in vain
A wooden figure she will remain
Will she find she is adored
Winning a prestigious art award
But will that satisfy her soul
Or leave her heart with an empty hole
She will join a beautiful throng
To an art lover she will belong
But is this the freedom that she craves
Art works are treated like slaves
Bought and sold to the highest bidder
Put on display for experts to consider
She may be loved from a distance
But what is the meaning of her existence?
Awaiting the time she is released
When will the artist let her out
Her body is beautiful without a doubt.
She dreams of the day she's freed
What are her hopes; what does she need?
What is the destiny of a wooden carving,
Is she realistic in what she's yearning.
She wishes for life and love
Just beauty is not enough;
But such a wish is in vain
A wooden figure she will remain
Will she find she is adored
Winning a prestigious art award
But will that satisfy her soul
Or leave her heart with an empty hole
She will join a beautiful throng
To an art lover she will belong
But is this the freedom that she craves
Art works are treated like slaves
Bought and sold to the highest bidder
Put on display for experts to consider
She may be loved from a distance
But what is the meaning of her existence?
Written by gardenlover
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
The Elements Bring Out The Magic I Seek
( Tanka )
〰️🐚〰️
Mother driftwood sighs—
shaped by Nature’s fickle storm,
yet her insistence
the old Sage whispers to me
as I come to pay respects
〰️🐚〰️
the honor embraced,
I feel the tree within her
alive, evoking—
the gulls soar in with each rush
as she hears my ocean breath
〰️🐚〰️
〰️🐚〰️
Mother driftwood sighs—
shaped by Nature’s fickle storm,
yet her insistence
the old Sage whispers to me
as I come to pay respects
〰️🐚〰️
the honor embraced,
I feel the tree within her
alive, evoking—
the gulls soar in with each rush
as she hears my ocean breath
〰️🐚〰️
Written by Jade-Pandora
(jade tiger)
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
