Poetry competition CLOSED 19th August 2021 00:24am
WINNER
Anonymous
Anonymous
Page:
13 ways of looking at anything
Poetry Contest Description
Write a poem consisting of 13 short pieces each containing a different view of your muse
The Original idea was written by Wallace Stevens titled- Thirteen Ways of Looking at a Blackbird?
As the title suggests, the poem is about different ways of seeing and perceiving the world—with the blackbird being the specific point of focus. In fact, Stevens himself called this poem a group of “sensations”—fleeting experiences that don't necessarily have an obvious meaning. so go ahead and write your own version of Stevens's Blackbird.
Rules
• Just 1 entry please
• Audio / visual / video accepted
• collabs not accepted
• New writes only
• No word limit
• No erotica
• Comp judged by myself
As the title suggests, the poem is about different ways of seeing and perceiving the world—with the blackbird being the specific point of focus. In fact, Stevens himself called this poem a group of “sensations”—fleeting experiences that don't necessarily have an obvious meaning. so go ahead and write your own version of Stevens's Blackbird.
Rules
• Just 1 entry please
• Audio / visual / video accepted
• collabs not accepted
• New writes only
• No word limit
• No erotica
• Comp judged by myself
Anonymous
Anonymous
Related submission no longer exists.
My Coffee
That alarming sound signals a new day.
I stumble through the darkness
to get the coffee maker on its way
She sets the coffee machine at night.
I set hers in the morning.
No wonder we never fight
Slip a coffee cup in the flow,
outside for a smoke,
and I'm patient to go
The time begins to bode,
fill my coffee thermos,
and a mug for the road
After a coffee leak I set out.
Traffic moves on most days.
I prefer a scenic route
Coffee break has an unusual time.
It depends on assigned tasks;
there's no reason or rhyme
Pour coffee into my refill,
and I eat a muffin for breakfast.
I'm often hungry still
Co-workers make a coffee purchase,
Spend a thousand a year
that they can't use at Christmas
I head out to the smoke tract.
Smokes are better with coffee,
and I think that's a fact
I skip coffee at lunch because I'm full.
Afternoon break,
I take another pull
Thursdays, I drive-thru a coffee shop;
large, one cream, no sugar,
and double-check the top
If the evening is getting on,
I'll make an instant coffee,
so I'm not awake at dawn
Saturday mornings are great!
My wife and I relax,
on a long, coffee date
I stumble through the darkness
to get the coffee maker on its way
She sets the coffee machine at night.
I set hers in the morning.
No wonder we never fight
Slip a coffee cup in the flow,
outside for a smoke,
and I'm patient to go
The time begins to bode,
fill my coffee thermos,
and a mug for the road
After a coffee leak I set out.
Traffic moves on most days.
I prefer a scenic route
Coffee break has an unusual time.
It depends on assigned tasks;
there's no reason or rhyme
Pour coffee into my refill,
and I eat a muffin for breakfast.
I'm often hungry still
Co-workers make a coffee purchase,
Spend a thousand a year
that they can't use at Christmas
I head out to the smoke tract.
Smokes are better with coffee,
and I think that's a fact
I skip coffee at lunch because I'm full.
Afternoon break,
I take another pull
Thursdays, I drive-thru a coffee shop;
large, one cream, no sugar,
and double-check the top
If the evening is getting on,
I'll make an instant coffee,
so I'm not awake at dawn
Saturday mornings are great!
My wife and I relax,
on a long, coffee date
Written by Mastersensation
(Pent)
Go To Page
The oak (chopped into thirteen parts)
one
In it's conception the brown egg sits fast, within the cup
two
Nature spring the acorn, to germinate each seed
the golden yoke of verdancy released
three
Innocuous, with its tender bud,
but hardy, no season can disrupt
four
Sinew's bent in wind and storm
wide roots, protecting it from harm
five
Harbour just how many friend's? insects buzz, birds that sing
surviving, in their own biome
six
A squirrel scampers. startled by a snapping twig
and comes to rest, to sunbathe prone
seven
Shelter, food and shade, a grandiose establishment.
A welcome for the eye and beating heart
ground cover for the mouse that darts
eight
That gift was granted, built with grace,
an individual character that stood.
Each, has it's inestimable strength,
deep ingrained within the wood
nine
Industry, and perhaps a little leisure
a world in microcosm.
The carpenter stands waiting, with his measure
and artisan, to fill our house from top to bottom
ten
How long ago, Initials carve into its bark,
and swore,
for fidelity, as long as it remained.
Steadfast grow, sit at its base, to whisper sweet amour's
eleven
With forest's drying, like a tinder box,
all it takes is a careless spark
as all that majesty could soon be lost
left with a skeleton, black and stark
twelve
Don't teeter on the edge of doubt
as in its aura. we sign the unwritten contract
to soon, barren ground, where it stood stout
preserve and protect, this resource so vast
thirteen
Respect and affection, be a permanent hug
the arboretum's best show , its strength never flop
benefits it brings, its value never misjudged
the oak leaves, waved heartbeat, may never stop
Seedlings and saplings, that wait to enthral
will anyone heed this tutorial?
the Broadleaf, hear its clarion call,
not leave a bare memorial.
In it's conception the brown egg sits fast, within the cup
two
Nature spring the acorn, to germinate each seed
the golden yoke of verdancy released
three
Innocuous, with its tender bud,
but hardy, no season can disrupt
four
Sinew's bent in wind and storm
wide roots, protecting it from harm
five
Harbour just how many friend's? insects buzz, birds that sing
surviving, in their own biome
six
A squirrel scampers. startled by a snapping twig
and comes to rest, to sunbathe prone
seven
Shelter, food and shade, a grandiose establishment.
A welcome for the eye and beating heart
ground cover for the mouse that darts
eight
That gift was granted, built with grace,
an individual character that stood.
Each, has it's inestimable strength,
deep ingrained within the wood
nine
Industry, and perhaps a little leisure
a world in microcosm.
The carpenter stands waiting, with his measure
and artisan, to fill our house from top to bottom
ten
How long ago, Initials carve into its bark,
and swore,
for fidelity, as long as it remained.
Steadfast grow, sit at its base, to whisper sweet amour's
eleven
With forest's drying, like a tinder box,
all it takes is a careless spark
as all that majesty could soon be lost
left with a skeleton, black and stark
twelve
Don't teeter on the edge of doubt
as in its aura. we sign the unwritten contract
to soon, barren ground, where it stood stout
preserve and protect, this resource so vast
thirteen
Respect and affection, be a permanent hug
the arboretum's best show , its strength never flop
benefits it brings, its value never misjudged
the oak leaves, waved heartbeat, may never stop
Seedlings and saplings, that wait to enthral
will anyone heed this tutorial?
the Broadleaf, hear its clarion call,
not leave a bare memorial.
Written by slipalong
Go To Page
Related submission no longer exists.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Submission Twelve - Your Worship
If we wrote addiction
you'd be first
above Cocaine
nicotine
or vivid history
Stories
heard
understood
vividly expressed
in silence
are honest
I've awoken
more mornings
fantasized in my head
dressed in your legs
than pajamas
Having seen black birds
transform into canaries
Coffee perculated into
tea bags
with milk
Like life
Critique only helps when
delivered from the heart
or in stilettos
and suspenders
The clock in the top of the steeple stopped
the sanctuary is silent
in the rocks that held it
I had a son
which doesn't make sense
we only ever birthed
girls
Did you know
eight
was significant
I saw it in her cheeks
Man made dimples are
a delight
We wrote sonnets
Until
the jester died
At his funeral
it was announced
love letters killed him
music fills the mornings
like
stardust and galaxies.
I have an efection for
tattoos
piercings
white panties
and spankings
Sometimes there is more poetry in a title
than a verse.
He said
If it doesn't just pour out of you
don't do it
then he
Dropped me to the floor
Written by Peanut
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Anonymous
Surprised by this one! Thanks for a thought provoking comp (more please!) and congrats to all 😃
