Poetry competition CLOSED 25th August 2020 2:43pm
WINNER
JetNikolai (Jet Nikolai)
JetNikolai (Jet Nikolai)
Born to be a Poet.
Anonymous
Poetry Contest Description
Write a poem without using informative tools
The September show is coming up folks, and we would like to again offer up the hallowed end spot of the show to feature your poetry on the podcast. The podcast goes out on multiple platforms including Spotify and Apple Podcasts, so it’s great exposure.
If you've not heard the podcast yet you can listen to past episodes here: https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/podcasts/
So for September we have decided to ask you, the people of Deep Underground to dig deep into the conscience of your wonderful brains and produce a poem without any resources such as Google, books, dictionaries, thesauruses, anything that is considered informative, so strip back those minds and dig into the core of your beautiful beings and set it free! of course you have free reign on how the poem is written and what you would like to write about. 😎
Obviously we would really love if you would be able to read and record the poem yourself for us, but please do not feel pressured. We (or a member of the reading team currently being formed) will be able to read the poem out for you if you don't want too. We understand.
Need help with creating a video? Head on over to The Loud-Speaker poetry group for help and advice on your audio / video submissions: https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/groups/loud-speaker-poetry/discussion/
Rules
*You have two weeks
* New poems only
* Audio / video / songs accepted
* Up to 2 entries per human being
* No extreme content / extreme erotica / a little swearing is fine.
* Winner agrees to have their poem read on The Poetcast Project September podcast.
* No word count, just don't go mad
* Any questions, please feel free to ask.
Good luck!
-TPP
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Stirring eyes
Stirring eyes
To my surprise
I don’t recall requesting to rise
Can I speak to someone in charge
Larger than size
A silent Spy
No reply
So I hide inside grand desperation
Imprisoned in this palace station
Kept in translucent skin
Blended in to satin days
Monotony mounting my stay
Sleep
Sexy scene of death
Live to rest
Reaching death which rules the world
Who knows if a certain hotel Sultan lost his lease
Lost interest or control
Or is simply comfort for the holes we fear to be homes
Left alone and provoked to starvation
All weary worlds wind away
To my surprise
I don’t recall requesting to rise
Can I speak to someone in charge
Larger than size
A silent Spy
No reply
So I hide inside grand desperation
Imprisoned in this palace station
Kept in translucent skin
Blended in to satin days
Monotony mounting my stay
Sleep
Sexy scene of death
Live to rest
Reaching death which rules the world
Who knows if a certain hotel Sultan lost his lease
Lost interest or control
Or is simply comfort for the holes we fear to be homes
Left alone and provoked to starvation
All weary worlds wind away
Written by RoboRamZ
Go To Page
The Poet...
Is the title conferred or imposed?
One person steps onto the stage,
in the spotlight, opens his heart and
pours out his inner most hopes and fears.
He craves approval but is guarded
with the courage to accept
that some in the audience may or may not be
receptive to his message. His offering is pure
and will not change regardless of criticism.
Then, there’s the person who
steps onto the stage but the lights are down,
it’s dark and the audience hears his message
but wonders if it’s real as seeing is believing...
Hiding behind anonymity is cowardly.
In the shadows criticism strikes at the heart
of some alter ego and not at the performer himself.
He leaves the stage never knowing if his message
has impacted the souls of the audience
as they know not where to direct praise or criticism.
It’s been said that “life is a stage”.
Can one perform in the dark? Why do we hide?
Is our faith in ourselves and the
empathy of others that weak? OK, turn on the lights...
One person steps onto the stage,
in the spotlight, opens his heart and
pours out his inner most hopes and fears.
He craves approval but is guarded
with the courage to accept
that some in the audience may or may not be
receptive to his message. His offering is pure
and will not change regardless of criticism.
Then, there’s the person who
steps onto the stage but the lights are down,
it’s dark and the audience hears his message
but wonders if it’s real as seeing is believing...
Hiding behind anonymity is cowardly.
In the shadows criticism strikes at the heart
of some alter ego and not at the performer himself.
He leaves the stage never knowing if his message
has impacted the souls of the audience
as they know not where to direct praise or criticism.
It’s been said that “life is a stage”.
Can one perform in the dark? Why do we hide?
Is our faith in ourselves and the
empathy of others that weak? OK, turn on the lights...
Written by anvinvil
(Anvillan)
Go To Page
Inside Of Me
Somewhere deep inside of me
lay the seed of creativity
I somehow knew it was destiny
that I would see things poetically
nothing feels more real to me
then when I'm penning poetry
a dream I had so long ago
has turned into divine reality
what can I do, what can I say
The bug was here from my first day
it's no surprise to me to see
I eat, I sleep, I breathe poetry.
lay the seed of creativity
I somehow knew it was destiny
that I would see things poetically
nothing feels more real to me
then when I'm penning poetry
a dream I had so long ago
has turned into divine reality
what can I do, what can I say
The bug was here from my first day
it's no surprise to me to see
I eat, I sleep, I breathe poetry.
Written by faithmairee
(Faith Elizabeth Brigham)
Go To Page
A Poetry
Would it surprise you
surprise you to know
I began
as a sapling ...
Forever grappling
with the weightiness of word
ducking out of the herd
joining the other shaded willow
Verdant moss as my pillow
my creative roots
reaching ever deep
recomposing in my sleep
As I continued to grow
penning what I know
irregular poetic rings
expanding around my middle
Pursuing life and its riddle
since all the many Sphinx
broke free of their cufflinks
leaving me to reach skyward
surprise you to know
I began
as a sapling ...
Forever grappling
with the weightiness of word
ducking out of the herd
joining the other shaded willow
Verdant moss as my pillow
my creative roots
reaching ever deep
recomposing in my sleep
As I continued to grow
penning what I know
irregular poetic rings
expanding around my middle
Pursuing life and its riddle
since all the many Sphinx
broke free of their cufflinks
leaving me to reach skyward
Written by LilDragonFly
Go To Page
cinnamon..
chocolate sweet,
spearmint too,
all wrapped up
in a cinnamon you
spearmint too,
all wrapped up
in a cinnamon you
Written by OG-Poetry
Go To Page
Landing below
I walked the way with faltered step
in ignorance for years
but there a seed. so deep it slept
dormant so, before it stirred
It held no purpose, served no cause
unattended a hermit in a cave
the rhyming words all fraud
towards that world. never to foray
No drug to ever raise a pen with dripping pros
despoil a naked page
a mind that runs on overflow
was it all just mirage
The fog that clears
if that's not so; what the fuck am i doing here
in ignorance for years
but there a seed. so deep it slept
dormant so, before it stirred
It held no purpose, served no cause
unattended a hermit in a cave
the rhyming words all fraud
towards that world. never to foray
No drug to ever raise a pen with dripping pros
despoil a naked page
a mind that runs on overflow
was it all just mirage
The fog that clears
if that's not so; what the fuck am i doing here
Written by slipalong
Go To Page
I Am So Versed
For my body was always
an awaiting page ...
weathered now as age
brittles yellow the pulp
Every single dint
every rash blemish
like a frayed sticker
on a scuffed steamer trunk
Left there to debunk
any such notions
I have not sailed the oceans
of this blue and green sphere
Marked and forever marred
by a spectrum of invisible ink
each shade makes me think
makes me now feel
The passing of my days
on footpaths or highways
spending this precious time
in the lost pursuit of rhyme
an awaiting page ...
weathered now as age
brittles yellow the pulp
Every single dint
every rash blemish
like a frayed sticker
on a scuffed steamer trunk
Left there to debunk
any such notions
I have not sailed the oceans
of this blue and green sphere
Marked and forever marred
by a spectrum of invisible ink
each shade makes me think
makes me now feel
The passing of my days
on footpaths or highways
spending this precious time
in the lost pursuit of rhyme
Written by LilDragonFly
Go To Page
The Dark and the Light
If I feel it I’ll spill it,
I have to capture the moment before it’s gone,
If I seal it I’ll kill it,
Until it resurrects like it’s a rare phenomenon.
And therein lies the dilemma,
Emotions can suddenly burst out of nowhere,
The heart is like an enigma,
Hiding secrets that suddenly come up for air.
I try to pry the door wide open,
Aiming to see why these demons are hounding me,
Realizing all the thoughts unspoken,
Are notes I wrote long ago now surrounding me.
Perhaps that’s why I love writing,
Something inside me urges me to compose,
The dark and the light are fighting,
To control the lead role of my soul I suppose.
I was born under the sign of a Gemini,
Pensive one minute and optimistic the next,
He and I at times don’t see eye to eye,
Because a dual personality can be complex.
So if I feel it I’ll spill it to help heal and fill it,
This body is just a vessel passing through this realm,
And if something moves me it’s the spirit,
Because poetry and prose are the ones at the helm.
I have to capture the moment before it’s gone,
If I seal it I’ll kill it,
Until it resurrects like it’s a rare phenomenon.
And therein lies the dilemma,
Emotions can suddenly burst out of nowhere,
The heart is like an enigma,
Hiding secrets that suddenly come up for air.
I try to pry the door wide open,
Aiming to see why these demons are hounding me,
Realizing all the thoughts unspoken,
Are notes I wrote long ago now surrounding me.
Perhaps that’s why I love writing,
Something inside me urges me to compose,
The dark and the light are fighting,
To control the lead role of my soul I suppose.
I was born under the sign of a Gemini,
Pensive one minute and optimistic the next,
He and I at times don’t see eye to eye,
Because a dual personality can be complex.
So if I feel it I’ll spill it to help heal and fill it,
This body is just a vessel passing through this realm,
And if something moves me it’s the spirit,
Because poetry and prose are the ones at the helm.
Written by wallyroo92
Go To Page
Related submission no longer exists.
Butterfly Spine
if her spine is the stem
her ribs are the leaves
where insects feed
on her hollow bones
devouring the green
now she is bare and fruitless
with no pollen to offer the bees
bruised and bloody
pale skin eroding
she cries, she tries, she fails
to turn weeds to roses
and grow back the places
where butterflies landed
her ribs are the leaves
where insects feed
on her hollow bones
devouring the green
now she is bare and fruitless
with no pollen to offer the bees
bruised and bloody
pale skin eroding
she cries, she tries, she fails
to turn weeds to roses
and grow back the places
where butterflies landed
Written by Thetravelingfairy
Go To Page
Now
Now.
Everything I thought was true eludes me.
Some.
Somewhere I know I can find my way back,
just don't want to.
Where.
Wherever I run to I can always get lost there,
I'm running now.
Seen.
I can see this scene unraveling too fast
to hold onto anything memorable.
Effort.
All I've tried to become has turned against me.
What.
What I have left is nothing like a happy tune.
Ever.
If ever I find myself in the din of today, I'll
cut the cord.
Reason.
It left my bedside a long time ago,
never returned.
Dark.
It all seems to be in my quiet corner.
Love.
I don't remember how it's supposed to feel
but I seem able to write about it.
Tell.
Tell me how I am.supposed to be
as real as I seem.
Never.
I never wanted things to be this way.
Gone.
Going away with all the things I remember.
Run.
Everything is running past as I simply walk.
Why.
I never seem to know the reason.
.....
Everything I thought was true eludes me.
Some.
Somewhere I know I can find my way back,
just don't want to.
Where.
Wherever I run to I can always get lost there,
I'm running now.
Seen.
I can see this scene unraveling too fast
to hold onto anything memorable.
Effort.
All I've tried to become has turned against me.
What.
What I have left is nothing like a happy tune.
Ever.
If ever I find myself in the din of today, I'll
cut the cord.
Reason.
It left my bedside a long time ago,
never returned.
Dark.
It all seems to be in my quiet corner.
Love.
I don't remember how it's supposed to feel
but I seem able to write about it.
Tell.
Tell me how I am.supposed to be
as real as I seem.
Never.
I never wanted things to be this way.
Gone.
Going away with all the things I remember.
Run.
Everything is running past as I simply walk.
Why.
I never seem to know the reason.
.....
Written by PoetsRevenge
Go To Page
