Poetry competition CLOSED 4th February 2020 3:51pm
WINNER
DystopianMelody
DystopianMelody
Purpose Driven Life
Poetry Contest Description
What is your purpose in this life.
Why are you here, in this moment, in this life?
What are you doing, what are you supposed to do, where are you going?
Write a poem.
Title your work.
One entry.
Two weeks duration.
(Not too long, not too short, keep it somewhere in the middle.)
What are you doing, what are you supposed to do, where are you going?
Write a poem.
Title your work.
One entry.
Two weeks duration.
(Not too long, not too short, keep it somewhere in the middle.)
If a Page Falls in the Forest
Try to not speak at all
see what happens
When the words finally fall
did you have to force them?
Try not to to reach another
human being
keep it so no one knows
your doings
Fingers will grasp the paper
at last, seeing
words still tumble out of their
own choosing
Key here
purpose
art
no avoiding
This is life
the meaning
sharing
see what happens
When the words finally fall
did you have to force them?
Try not to to reach another
human being
keep it so no one knows
your doings
Fingers will grasp the paper
at last, seeing
words still tumble out of their
own choosing
Key here
purpose
art
no avoiding
This is life
the meaning
sharing
Written by EdibleWords
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Priorities
Once my priorities of noteworthy centered around success and making money. Till the Grim Reaper, that sneaky shadowy creeper, surrounded my heart with a cancerous tumor.
For nearly a year he tried to drag me through Death's door, across a needle strewn floor, but I resisted his persistence. Finally, the Grim Reaper disappeared but not before saying, "Be rest assured, someday I will return."
Forever after my priorities have changed. Money has become nothing more than an annoying necessity. Success is defined by treating others as I would me.
The most significant change has been my perception of 'Time.' I used to defined Time by numbers posted on a wall that ruled my day. My priorities were confined within the boundaries of a round ticking sign. ⏰
Now, Time, has become abstract. Consequently, I have more of it. So much more, I always can find the time to say 'Hi' to a neighbor or 'Hello' to a stranger. I always have enough time to hug those I love. In fact, I have so much more time, I can't help but pet each and every dog I meet. I've even been known to occasionally take the time the time to scratch an unappreciative wincing arrogant cat.
So, my friends, always know that instantly your priorities will change, once you meet the Grim Reaper and see Death's door. This fact you cannot ignore.
(Non Entry)
For nearly a year he tried to drag me through Death's door, across a needle strewn floor, but I resisted his persistence. Finally, the Grim Reaper disappeared but not before saying, "Be rest assured, someday I will return."
Forever after my priorities have changed. Money has become nothing more than an annoying necessity. Success is defined by treating others as I would me.
The most significant change has been my perception of 'Time.' I used to defined Time by numbers posted on a wall that ruled my day. My priorities were confined within the boundaries of a round ticking sign. ⏰
Now, Time, has become abstract. Consequently, I have more of it. So much more, I always can find the time to say 'Hi' to a neighbor or 'Hello' to a stranger. I always have enough time to hug those I love. In fact, I have so much more time, I can't help but pet each and every dog I meet. I've even been known to occasionally take the time the time to scratch an unappreciative wincing arrogant cat.
So, my friends, always know that instantly your priorities will change, once you meet the Grim Reaper and see Death's door. This fact you cannot ignore.
(Non Entry)
Written by snugglebuck
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YOUR TRUE POTENTIAL
What is love without affection nor the trust of understanding for what is honor without respect nor honesty truth or trust for what is having a heart if one has no soul to feel the heart beat of another living being, for what does it means to be loved if one never knew what real love feels like or looks like to the awakening of the heart and mind as it pulls at the very core of ones inner being. For through this equation of what is life we all will one day experience most if not all of these things during our journey and travel through this cycle of life for we will feel the hurt with the pain as silent tears will run down our face, for we will even begin to even question our own judgement of the choices that we will make along the way that sometimes will lead us astray from what our heart and mind craves from deep within the soul. For we each have our own journeys and travels to walk upon this place called MOTHER EARTH but yet with each experience we should take away from the trails and tribulations some sense of understanding of what is knowledge with wisdom, for life is merely a process of ups and downs with twists and turns and curves for we each have a choice in our destiny for how we live it is our making of our own decisions for you are the driver upon an open road that makes up what is life.
Written by Stoney223
(WOLF BAY33)
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The Poetry of Rain
I’ve always loved the poetry of rain
As such a force of nature I could feel,
In flow of alley creeks, a distant train,
A way of life and loss it would reveal.
I’d run to classes Monday in a storm,
I’ve always loved the poetry of rain.
At night a cold in bed is safe & warm,
One corner of the ceiling with a stain.
I was a tempest toss’d that never came,
Instead, direction was within my pen.
I’ve always loved the poetry of rain,
To never stop, not if I live again.
Today the southland winter sun is gone
To overcast an evening on the wane.
In fact I feel a po’em coming on,
I’ve always loved the poetry of rain.
Written by Jade-Pandora
(jade tiger)
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Purpose
To light a candle
turn out the lights
sip on java
in the flickering night
Soak in a hot tub
splash lavender bubbles
to the floor
gaze at the stars through
the open door
Run through a rose garden
in silence
imaginary feelings
play it back in a colorful
naked science
Stop, stare at Daisies
listen for bees
buzzing towards
the pollen beds;
birds nesting in trees
Free children
from the war
their parents left
embossed in their head
at the foot
of the family bed
Smile
giggle
laugh
while strolling through an autumn
mile
These fill the heart
with joy
to employ
a purpose
I hope you enjoy!
Written by Peanut
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Opus
I have aspirations to become a writer,
But first I have to compose a lot of prose,
Honing in on the craft making it tighter,
And the light will appear on the path I chose.
Though my poetic works may make not reach millions,
I’m OK if it only reaches one soul,
I may not possess the intellectual brilliance,
As long as the words live long enough to be told.
I crunch numbers by day and write by night,
Seeking the meaning of life piece by piece,
It’s like finding answers when the rite feels right
Through self-reflection I feel at ease with peace.
Still I strive to write the poem that says it all,
I look for the words with purpose and focus,
Driven with inspiration I heed the call,
So that one day I’ll write my magnum opus.
But first I have to compose a lot of prose,
Honing in on the craft making it tighter,
And the light will appear on the path I chose.
Though my poetic works may make not reach millions,
I’m OK if it only reaches one soul,
I may not possess the intellectual brilliance,
As long as the words live long enough to be told.
I crunch numbers by day and write by night,
Seeking the meaning of life piece by piece,
It’s like finding answers when the rite feels right
Through self-reflection I feel at ease with peace.
Still I strive to write the poem that says it all,
I look for the words with purpose and focus,
Driven with inspiration I heed the call,
So that one day I’ll write my magnum opus.
Written by wallyroo92
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Making Sense(s) of it All
To see spellbound a sunset in shadows cast on a sunless day
To hear ocean waves echoing through the hollow of a pocketed treasure
To smell detritus and become overwhelmed with the beauty of life
To taste manna flowing freely through throat’s caverns
To touch the hand of the outcast and feel God reaching back
To embody love so profoundly that these senses become limbs for the journey.
R.
Written by Rachelleundrgrd
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