Poetry competition CLOSED 19th February 2021 2:46am
WINNER
Razzerleaf
Razzerleaf
RUNNER-UP:
The_Silly_Sibyl
Old Rice in an Empty Church
Anonymous
unrecognized within a glimpse of familiar
I've been mulling over an idea
while reading
always incessantly reading
which leads to writing,
of course
There's a quote
a mantra, maybe
that i came across
i loosely remember—
"It should be about being fearless,
and bravely exposing your humanity
on the page. You'll know it when you see it."
How ironic,
me, brave?
Well, just maybe.
................
My palms are instant flopsweat at even the hint of true soul sharing...
What's worthy?
i am not that interesting
my inner secret self sits crossed legged
'fingers plugged in ears'
while singing an annoying song--
and ignoring
NOT wanting to be cracked open
but knowing
There's a bagel cooking now
right now
i love that smell of it toasting
and i love cream cheese,
more than i should
perhaps more than life itself?
i try not to pile it on
yet i always do
it's a reaction to not being able to have it
not when you're a (former) fat kid
it was (is?) taboo
a hard smack across the face
(one of many)
is the answer
when you schmear the "wrong amount"
if you ever had a mother like my own
In fact-any bread version
outside the listed options, really
(Note: the list was displayed on the front of the fridge and entitled
"Susan's allowed foods " --i was 8 years old)
much less 'too much' cream cheese
'behavior' that usually left my face stinging red
with cheeks trailed in teary
not sure whether it was a slap
or my usual humiliation
that caused blistering face glow
"You're NOT eating THAT...
i won't have any daughter of mine embarrass me with her fat ass"...
Close up,
peering into the lion's den
it was worse
much worse.
The harshest damage done is usually that of the unseen. No physical marks? Then no harm no foul....
By thirteen
i was the lone survivor
the youngest of three daughters
left to my own defenses
alone and much too aware
of the wrath upcoming
i had watched for years
the worst (or so i thought) soul crushing
self esteem annihilation
an obliteration
forever an insecurity creating
persons ruined, for all intents and purposes
two older sister's were unfortunate
within their joint victimization
at least they had each other
and since they usually weathered together
I thought I was
for the most part
considering
and in comparison
left alone - psyche wise
(except the publicity displayed humiliation
of the fridge list)
until i wasn't
i watched and heard everything
the internal household anguish ran visceral
day to day of only surviving
my eighty to ninety an hour
work week father
was in perpetual hiding
which allowed for zero cover
of a child's delicate emotional guiding
already scarred deeper than
any tender child of that age
should ever have to stand;
i was all alone
no one to help me defend
so, i was the brunt
of all her known own self hate
inflicted via transference
a verbal bloody non-stop hate-filled occurrence
not a day went by
that i wasn't reminded of weight, fit or food
often it was only water
and a Flintstones children's chewable vitamin
that sustenance provided
my sisters were gone
dad didn't think anything was ever wrong
so, i just lived it.
over and over
tears, hunger, ridicule
a daily tiny death of my real self's worth
There's nothing that tastes as good as skinny feels...
A lie that i tried desperately to become...
to be all, to be real
i did finally
i became that longed for ideal
everything was supposedly better
when that pressure
and iron fist was now all clear
Right?
Yeah, not even close to being right
I realized on the cusp
of my own grown up life
that she's her own worst punishment
her and just her
all alone with her own mind
As for myself
I'm forever scarred
but I get glimpses
of a hoped for familiar
I recognize it clearly
"you'll know it when you see it..."
... that fearless humanity
Written by Bluevelvete
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A Minor Memory
It’s the little things
that get to you somehow.
Like my stepmother,
years before she killed herself,
standing in a field
at a church event
as a small group of ladies
chattered nearby.
It was summer, shady refuge
contrasting with blinding
basting
yellow light on manicured grasses.
My stepmother smiled at the group,
unaware that she was being watched
by me or anyone,
and the smile seemed to express a longing,
a yearning to share in the joke
and be social and pleasant and whole
within oneself. The ladies were laughing,
talking about “reinforcements”
(one of them had brought snacks).
I’ve probably given the scene
too much emotional weight.
It may have been
just an absent-minded grin,
expressing nothing but
mild amusement at most,
acknowledgement at least.
But when somebody dies
the little things swim up,
grow legs and walk on land,
engender ghosts that haunt
in their strange way.
that get to you somehow.
Like my stepmother,
years before she killed herself,
standing in a field
at a church event
as a small group of ladies
chattered nearby.
It was summer, shady refuge
contrasting with blinding
basting
yellow light on manicured grasses.
My stepmother smiled at the group,
unaware that she was being watched
by me or anyone,
and the smile seemed to express a longing,
a yearning to share in the joke
and be social and pleasant and whole
within oneself. The ladies were laughing,
talking about “reinforcements”
(one of them had brought snacks).
I’ve probably given the scene
too much emotional weight.
It may have been
just an absent-minded grin,
expressing nothing but
mild amusement at most,
acknowledgement at least.
But when somebody dies
the little things swim up,
grow legs and walk on land,
engender ghosts that haunt
in their strange way.
Written by The_Silly_Sibyl
(Jack Thomas)
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Wounds May Heal but Scars Run Deep
I used to recall
How “empathy” felt
Spring was in my heart without fall
Winter wrapped around my belt
Summer was my season
Free of hatred’s treason
My love became a blossomed rose bed
Petaled with bouquets free of vines
Butterflies haloed about my head
My personality had no confines
The sun was free to shine
While the rain would troll away
Robins nested where I’d lay
As their songs
Delightfully encouraged my hammock to sway
Until that dark and stormy day
When you introduced me to your wrongs
They shadowed my reflection
Like an inebriated spy
A branded silhouette of rejection
Breaking down the me, myself and eye
The rainbows subjugated by the sun
Didn’t sprinkle skittles above the bridge
Alien nation brought forth its gun
A solo Russian roulette
Loaded with bullets from the fridge
My old self I’d soon forget
Old man winter laid out his hand
The moon was just right for its set
A new me paralleled twin took its stand
Outspoken on demand
Ready to humiliate and reprimand
A savaged heart
Depressed and torn apart
Self-molding and birthed from my wound
A territorial fortress to start
A shield and sword I’ll come to understand
A magnetic sutured scar soaking up its hatred to groom
Written by Sex_on_the_Joe
(Joe-D)
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Penny for your thourght . . .food for thourght
The Pastor sings in notes quite high.
Hymns that the crowd dare not pass on by.
They sway in unison transfixed in Sunday bliss.
Hands clasped as upon their troubles they silently lament and reminisce.
Whilst mothers and fathers frown, eyes closed in undulated devotion.
Children scatter to wooden floors, imagination and wonder in motion.
Tracing make believe pictures with chubby fingers
and exploring every nook and cranny for lost treasures.
Little eyes in various colors of splendor
Grow wide with sparkling wonder.
As Godly hymns fuse with innocent plunder
In secret grandeur they scrape old rice from within wooden cracks and forgotten corners.
Silent specters to tears of joy and perhaps some sorrow.
Inanimate to the reality of tomorrow.
As they could have remained . . .
Old rice trapped within cracked (wood) floors
Never to be found
Never to be swept out the doors.
Hymns that the crowd dare not pass on by.
They sway in unison transfixed in Sunday bliss.
Hands clasped as upon their troubles they silently lament and reminisce.
Whilst mothers and fathers frown, eyes closed in undulated devotion.
Children scatter to wooden floors, imagination and wonder in motion.
Tracing make believe pictures with chubby fingers
and exploring every nook and cranny for lost treasures.
Little eyes in various colors of splendor
Grow wide with sparkling wonder.
As Godly hymns fuse with innocent plunder
In secret grandeur they scrape old rice from within wooden cracks and forgotten corners.
Silent specters to tears of joy and perhaps some sorrow.
Inanimate to the reality of tomorrow.
As they could have remained . . .
Old rice trapped within cracked (wood) floors
Never to be found
Never to be swept out the doors.
Written by poeticfool
Go To Page
Confessions Of The Heart
During this month I should be happy
But I keep going back to the fact that you're not here with me.
Everyday I should wake up ready to celebrate.
Yet everyday I've been waking up with tears running down my face.
How can I get all dolled up and party everyday?
When you weren't able to grow and stay.
This month should be full of joy
Yet I'm just missing you even more
This month would have revealed who you would have been
A boy, a girl, maybe even twins.
I wanted this month to go by smoothly
That's all just hope cause this month fooled me.
I wish things were different
I wish you could have stayed with me.
Written by Poems4me
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orange
the corpse of a leaf succumbs to frost.
deciduous graveyard.
christingle in the clutches of a duplicitous child.
on the ____ day of christmas
another memory
there was the dress that you wore in summer.
neon eyeshadow.
skies might still look that way sometimes.
the hallway walls of the old house.
disgusting.
those flowered curtains.
the ancient sofa.
the kitchen laminate -
or: golden raisins soaked in brandy.
salty lucozade slipped over the lump in your throat.
nothing i did was good enough
even giving up, but it’s like that.
deciduous graveyard.
christingle in the clutches of a duplicitous child.
on the ____ day of christmas
another memory
there was the dress that you wore in summer.
neon eyeshadow.
skies might still look that way sometimes.
the hallway walls of the old house.
disgusting.
those flowered curtains.
the ancient sofa.
the kitchen laminate -
or: golden raisins soaked in brandy.
salty lucozade slipped over the lump in your throat.
nothing i did was good enough
even giving up, but it’s like that.
Written by anna_grin
(ANNAN)
Go To Page
Thank you everyone for your awesome entries. It has been a pleasure reading all your entries and quite difficult to judge the winners. All entries should be given a mention at least. As it is, non-DU friends have assisted and here are the results.
1. Innocence returning by Razzerleaf
2. Sentimental Artifacts by cloventongue89
3. A Minor Memory by The_Silly_Sibyl
Thank you again for being with me in this competition, please be with me again in my next competition.
1. Innocence returning by Razzerleaf
2. Sentimental Artifacts by cloventongue89
3. A Minor Memory by The_Silly_Sibyl
Thank you again for being with me in this competition, please be with me again in my next competition.
