Poetry competition CLOSED 28th November 2011 00:40am
WINNER
666gothchick (Paulina Dionne)
666gothchick (Paulina Dionne)
Different and unusual
this is probably the most unusual i have.
A prayer for the dying
God,i know i asked you to smite me with lightening
and then changed my mind`truth is i lied
i never made the donation to the sisters of mercy
nor put a penny in the cup of a hobo
i did however covet my neighbors oxen
at least thats what my neighbor called her
it was then i took your sons name in vain
well so did she if i am honest
so i have a new request to behest
and i don't say this in light or jest
can you make my skin like a bullet proof vest.....
A prayer for the dying
God,i know i asked you to smite me with lightening
and then changed my mind`truth is i lied
i never made the donation to the sisters of mercy
nor put a penny in the cup of a hobo
i did however covet my neighbors oxen
at least thats what my neighbor called her
it was then i took your sons name in vain
well so did she if i am honest
so i have a new request to behest
and i don't say this in light or jest
can you make my skin like a bullet proof vest.....
Uncle
My squidgy banana
slipped into your lap
I was hoping you'd peel it
before Mommy comes back
You can bounce on my knee
stare into my eyes
I know you'll just love it
when things start to rise
Let me stuff you with sweeties
to make you taste good
such fun here with uncle
polishing wood
It's great we're related
we have family ties
they may call me a paedo
but that's only lies
Just slip off your panties
unbutton your blouse
what a big girl you are
now uncle's aroused
We'll say nothing to Mommy
so our secrets stay safe
and I'll see you next week
same time, same place
My squidgy banana
slipped into your lap
I was hoping you'd peel it
before Mommy comes back
You can bounce on my knee
stare into my eyes
I know you'll just love it
when things start to rise
Let me stuff you with sweeties
to make you taste good
such fun here with uncle
polishing wood
It's great we're related
we have family ties
they may call me a paedo
but that's only lies
Just slip off your panties
unbutton your blouse
what a big girl you are
now uncle's aroused
We'll say nothing to Mommy
so our secrets stay safe
and I'll see you next week
same time, same place
Cthonian said:[quote-50414-siphondarkness]I have the perfect poem for this...to bad I can't post it
Why?[/quote]
ah, i think i know this one.
He is afraid his poem will be stole before he gets a chance to submit it into a literary program he has applied and been accepted to.
(i spend far too much time here)
Why?[/quote]
ah, i think i know this one.
He is afraid his poem will be stole before he gets a chance to submit it into a literary program he has applied and been accepted to.
(i spend far too much time here)
- The Snowglobe -
A tiny snowglobe in a child's hand, to them a universe holds,
Where snow falls upon a land untouched by time and age...
And in that instant, imagination's power ever swiftly enfolds,
Entrapping us in a fairytale world, like birds in a gilded cage.
Happy to be held by the spectacle before us, we do not care,
About the worries of life around us, which towards us stare.
Similarly, I long to be held by the eyes of a beloved lady fair,
Who would have the power to captivate me beyond compare.
Am I, then, like a child for my blind faith in the power of love?
Let it be so, for in my innocence my spirit soars like a dove.
Shall my wings enfold her, when she comes unto my side...
Into the world of my snowglobe, where a castle does abide.
What lies within that castle, are the delights of every era...
And nothing of the evils, which have befallen across all time.
So unlike the world we live in, this sadly tormented Terra...
More like unto a line of poetry, some very treasured rhyme!
I see it in my soul, as I hold the sphere and gaze within it,
A world all our own, to which we can fly and, together, flit.
Perhaps only in imagination this world can exist this real...
But it can live forever in our hearts if, therein, we do seal.
Thus locked away inside our souls, the magic shall endure,
And we can go there anytime, winged, to that kind shore.
Like angels we can sing the praises of the love we know,
If you would love me, despite wither the wind might blow!
Let the winds of the world blow as they may: they are little,
Merely phantoms without form, compared to mortal hearts!
Like words without meaning, or an answer without a riddle,
They cannot touch us, falling like so many arrows and darts.
When we shake the snowglobe, it causes the snow to fall...
So who shakes the world, toppling those who stand so tall?
Trust in the hand that made all things, and in love believe...
That such a power will not offend, but every trouble relieve!
Every world is a snowglobe and every god the holding hand;
Each dwelling is a castle, as the universe was first planned.
We have the power to make it magical so why not use it so,
To build a greater dawn for all, a fantasy where all may go!
A tiny snowglobe in a child's hand, to them a universe holds,
Where snow falls upon a land untouched by time and age...
And in that instant, imagination's power ever swiftly enfolds,
Entrapping us in a fairytale world, like birds in a gilded cage.
Happy to be held by the spectacle before us, we do not care,
About the worries of life around us, which towards us stare.
Similarly, I long to be held by the eyes of a beloved lady fair,
Who would have the power to captivate me beyond compare.
Am I, then, like a child for my blind faith in the power of love?
Let it be so, for in my innocence my spirit soars like a dove.
Shall my wings enfold her, when she comes unto my side...
Into the world of my snowglobe, where a castle does abide.
What lies within that castle, are the delights of every era...
And nothing of the evils, which have befallen across all time.
So unlike the world we live in, this sadly tormented Terra...
More like unto a line of poetry, some very treasured rhyme!
I see it in my soul, as I hold the sphere and gaze within it,
A world all our own, to which we can fly and, together, flit.
Perhaps only in imagination this world can exist this real...
But it can live forever in our hearts if, therein, we do seal.
Thus locked away inside our souls, the magic shall endure,
And we can go there anytime, winged, to that kind shore.
Like angels we can sing the praises of the love we know,
If you would love me, despite wither the wind might blow!
Let the winds of the world blow as they may: they are little,
Merely phantoms without form, compared to mortal hearts!
Like words without meaning, or an answer without a riddle,
They cannot touch us, falling like so many arrows and darts.
When we shake the snowglobe, it causes the snow to fall...
So who shakes the world, toppling those who stand so tall?
Trust in the hand that made all things, and in love believe...
That such a power will not offend, but every trouble relieve!
Every world is a snowglobe and every god the holding hand;
Each dwelling is a castle, as the universe was first planned.
We have the power to make it magical so why not use it so,
To build a greater dawn for all, a fantasy where all may go!
There's Grace in All God's Creations
He stands as if uncertain, that ornate ballerina
awkwardly clad in flak jacket and tights.
Lifts one arm to hail the other end
of what now passes for his world.
The zebra demigods
(who, though omnipotent on this plane,
still abide by higher laws)
signal their assent.
The flak-jacketed ballerina lowers his hand
and looks about his comrades.
They ready to charge
though no battle cry is issued;
the fickle many-headed beast fringing his world
takes care of that.
Whipped to a blood frenzy, its heads cry out
sixty thousand strong for the inevitable crush.
Our protagonist returns his gaze to the rock.
His livelihood depends on this move,
this one he has been trained his entire life for.
What an odd-shaped thing,
perched precariously like an egg on end...
The ballerina begins the charge.
Slow at first, then gaining steam,
the ragtag band moves forth,
downhill towards the enemy.
It was not always about killing:
once upon a time, the battle was a graceful thing.
But now the intent is fatal
to sate men's egos
and of course that many-headed beast
with its Roman blood-lust.
The fickle creature roars its approval.
The ballerina keeps his eye on the prize
as he tiptoes toward it. Faster and faster,
closer and closer, then smooth and fluid
plants the left foot
and swings the right,
air-mailing the most prized possession
to the enemy's rear guard.
The force of his own pirouette
arcs his leg to meet his face;
the shock runs through his body
as muscles recover from their own violence.
He flops awkwardly back to human angles,
watching his airborne handiwork,
this battle begun, his part complete.
And his comrades race downhill
with the killing lust in their eyes,
clad in their gaily-colored livery.
And the fickle beast roars above it all.
He stands as if uncertain, that ornate ballerina
awkwardly clad in flak jacket and tights.
Lifts one arm to hail the other end
of what now passes for his world.
The zebra demigods
(who, though omnipotent on this plane,
still abide by higher laws)
signal their assent.
The flak-jacketed ballerina lowers his hand
and looks about his comrades.
They ready to charge
though no battle cry is issued;
the fickle many-headed beast fringing his world
takes care of that.
Whipped to a blood frenzy, its heads cry out
sixty thousand strong for the inevitable crush.
Our protagonist returns his gaze to the rock.
His livelihood depends on this move,
this one he has been trained his entire life for.
What an odd-shaped thing,
perched precariously like an egg on end...
The ballerina begins the charge.
Slow at first, then gaining steam,
the ragtag band moves forth,
downhill towards the enemy.
It was not always about killing:
once upon a time, the battle was a graceful thing.
But now the intent is fatal
to sate men's egos
and of course that many-headed beast
with its Roman blood-lust.
The fickle creature roars its approval.
The ballerina keeps his eye on the prize
as he tiptoes toward it. Faster and faster,
closer and closer, then smooth and fluid
plants the left foot
and swings the right,
air-mailing the most prized possession
to the enemy's rear guard.
The force of his own pirouette
arcs his leg to meet his face;
the shock runs through his body
as muscles recover from their own violence.
He flops awkwardly back to human angles,
watching his airborne handiwork,
this battle begun, his part complete.
And his comrades race downhill
with the killing lust in their eyes,
clad in their gaily-colored livery.
And the fickle beast roars above it all.
A Guitar Girl (SP Summerscales)
I would play , you
my sweet
all the way , to
an offbeat
any day , or
any night
to a chord
solo in flight
Rhapsodic , melodic
tuned tight , white light
song perfection
no conjection
a musical
of love projection
a lyrical
gesticulation
the pinnacle
of times
gestation , elation
to betrothe
a coronation , mixed nation
a radiation , modulation
a centre station
for our love
I would play , you
my sweet
all the way , to
an offbeat
any day , or
any night
to a chord
solo in flight
Rhapsodic , melodic
tuned tight , white light
song perfection
no conjection
a musical
of love projection
a lyrical
gesticulation
the pinnacle
of times
gestation , elation
to betrothe
a coronation , mixed nation
a radiation , modulation
a centre station
for our love
A Thorned Knight (SP Summerscales)
A rose by a graveside
a lament to all who passed by
Its scent
of old summer gone skies
all rich
resplendant
and naturally high ,
It stands
defendant
petal lids
a sentry
to a pollen eye ,
thorn bodied
till the day it dies
the rose a guardian
in floral disguise
the thorned warrior
by your graveside ,
a carrier to the other side
the lioness that jumps the barrier
to protect her pride
theres no tongue
so theres no lies .
The orbicular , battered stone of white
shows its face to the roses plight .
Angellical gangways
a cellestial new wave ,
a salutational
gateway ,
rosebud studded
with a lunar DJ
all dead stars
are rocking from a spent heyday
the thorned knight
is ready to pave the way .
A rose by a graveside
a lament to all who passed by
Its scent
of old summer gone skies
all rich
resplendant
and naturally high ,
It stands
defendant
petal lids
a sentry
to a pollen eye ,
thorn bodied
till the day it dies
the rose a guardian
in floral disguise
the thorned warrior
by your graveside ,
a carrier to the other side
the lioness that jumps the barrier
to protect her pride
theres no tongue
so theres no lies .
The orbicular , battered stone of white
shows its face to the roses plight .
Angellical gangways
a cellestial new wave ,
a salutational
gateway ,
rosebud studded
with a lunar DJ
all dead stars
are rocking from a spent heyday
the thorned knight
is ready to pave the way .
Dearest Kitty
Show me loving concern
show me compassion
Oh yes, love me, hold me
Hug me tight, don't leave me
Oh my dear, I am wet
everything is sticking to my body
Patiently, waiting here, I sit
waiting for you to stroke me
Please hold me closer
to your warmth
Smell me, my steamy odour
touch me, hold me in your arm
Stroke the length of my body
Please..I really love that
I feel like a baby
being pampered and petted.
Listen to me purr
that shows I am pleased
I love you mister
this pussy is pure happiness!
Show me loving concern
show me compassion
Oh yes, love me, hold me
Hug me tight, don't leave me
Oh my dear, I am wet
everything is sticking to my body
Patiently, waiting here, I sit
waiting for you to stroke me
Please hold me closer
to your warmth
Smell me, my steamy odour
touch me, hold me in your arm
Stroke the length of my body
Please..I really love that
I feel like a baby
being pampered and petted.
Listen to me purr
that shows I am pleased
I love you mister
this pussy is pure happiness!
Hang on
Baby, hang on there
Momma is coming
Oh yes, she is coming
and you will feel better
when she comes
because she will hum
when she comes
and she will moan
when she comes
and then she will scream
a little when she comes...
cos baby, you pee'd
on her best carpet...
Go back to your bassinet!
Baby, hang on there
Momma is coming
Oh yes, she is coming
and you will feel better
when she comes
because she will hum
when she comes
and she will moan
when she comes
and then she will scream
a little when she comes...
cos baby, you pee'd
on her best carpet...
Go back to your bassinet!
Mrs.Unknown
I live in a house which have no walls
I have a telephone that receives no calls
I speak a language that I don't understand
so I try to read the walls
I can understand the walls
I have a friend that I've never met
I have a name that I forget
he lives with a woman that he's never spoken to
so I spend my time with my friend
I confide In him
I am married to man I've never seen before
I have never walked through my own front door
I see through eyes that are not my own
so I meet eyes with him
I obey him
I wonder around a house that's not my own
I cry though a heart that has no feeling shown
I talk to people that are not there
so I wonder around the unknown house
and make It my own
but my name Is still unknown
I live in a house which have no walls
I have a telephone that receives no calls
I speak a language that I don't understand
so I try to read the walls
I can understand the walls
I have a friend that I've never met
I have a name that I forget
he lives with a woman that he's never spoken to
so I spend my time with my friend
I confide In him
I am married to man I've never seen before
I have never walked through my own front door
I see through eyes that are not my own
so I meet eyes with him
I obey him
I wonder around a house that's not my own
I cry though a heart that has no feeling shown
I talk to people that are not there
so I wonder around the unknown house
and make It my own
but my name Is still unknown
Flood
And her hallway
moves
like the ocean
at the head of the river
at the source of the sea
sitting here now in this bar for hours
trying to write it down
into words
fitting in hard with harder to come
trying to fight it
down the river the ship will carry you
down river, down stream
down the river there's a ship , will carry the dream
dream of the flood
and her hallway...
as the water came rushing over
as the water came rushing in
flood, flood...
push the glass, stain the glass
push the writer to the wall
it may come but it will pass
some say we will fall
dream of the flood...
maybe in terms of surrender
on a blackcloth of lashes and eyes
in a flood of your tears, in sackcloth
and ashes
and lies
and her hallway...
like...
as the water came rushing in
as the water came rushing over
sitting here now in this bar for hours
while strange men rent strange flowers
i'll be picking up your petals in another few hours
in the metal and blood, in the scent and mascara
on a blackcloth of lashes and stars
in a flood of your tears, in sackcloth
and ashes and secondhand passion
and stolen guitars
and her hallway...
as the water came rushing in
like the sea
as the water came rushing over
dream of the flood
in a flood of your tears, in sackcloth
and ashes
and lies
as the water came rushing in
at the end of the river
at the source of the sea
and her hallway...
like...
flood...
And her hallway
moves
like the ocean
at the head of the river
at the source of the sea
sitting here now in this bar for hours
trying to write it down
into words
fitting in hard with harder to come
trying to fight it
down the river the ship will carry you
down river, down stream
down the river there's a ship , will carry the dream
dream of the flood
and her hallway...
as the water came rushing over
as the water came rushing in
flood, flood...
push the glass, stain the glass
push the writer to the wall
it may come but it will pass
some say we will fall
dream of the flood...
maybe in terms of surrender
on a blackcloth of lashes and eyes
in a flood of your tears, in sackcloth
and ashes
and lies
and her hallway...
like...
as the water came rushing in
as the water came rushing over
sitting here now in this bar for hours
while strange men rent strange flowers
i'll be picking up your petals in another few hours
in the metal and blood, in the scent and mascara
on a blackcloth of lashes and stars
in a flood of your tears, in sackcloth
and ashes and secondhand passion
and stolen guitars
and her hallway...
as the water came rushing in
like the sea
as the water came rushing over
dream of the flood
in a flood of your tears, in sackcloth
and ashes
and lies
as the water came rushing in
at the end of the river
at the source of the sea
and her hallway...
like...
flood...
Anonymous
Love Is A Murderer
My heart
elusive, on the shelf
where a dust mite tells
me things I do not know;
like how to
kill a witness.
My heart
elusive, on the shelf
where a dust mite tells
me things I do not know;
like how to
kill a witness.
