Poetry competition CLOSED 18th June 2022 00:20am
WINNER
Bluevelvete
Bluevelvete
Platonic
Something about the boy
We grew too teenage for our emotions,
mastered by the need to mate.
I was in the back seat, unable to speak
too shy for eye contact, only watching
beyond the long bonnet of 2 Litre Capri,
he would always have someone on his knee.
I would listen to his confidence
as it slowed down, open-windowed to talk.
His words could sweep away
loose strands of hair,
press a cool palm
to a reddening cheek,
slowly convince the, I'm not sure
and quickly lift up the hem
of the come on then.
It takes a certain type
to keep a body so tight
that it looks good in any light.
I get to ride shotgun now
with opening lines like my wife and I.
He became a melted medallion
with slightly graying side burns.
His body still looks great
but the lines are shaded,
food traded for red wine
and credit cards that get declined.
I used to see all his first steps
before they fell down his stairs
but that house is empty now.
Still I have to shake my head
and acknowledge, that when
his eyes found a way inside
and his words dressed you up
in clothes never worn before,
then there would be a moment,
a primitive moment,
when even I would have opened my door.
mastered by the need to mate.
I was in the back seat, unable to speak
too shy for eye contact, only watching
beyond the long bonnet of 2 Litre Capri,
he would always have someone on his knee.
I would listen to his confidence
as it slowed down, open-windowed to talk.
His words could sweep away
loose strands of hair,
press a cool palm
to a reddening cheek,
slowly convince the, I'm not sure
and quickly lift up the hem
of the come on then.
It takes a certain type
to keep a body so tight
that it looks good in any light.
I get to ride shotgun now
with opening lines like my wife and I.
He became a melted medallion
with slightly graying side burns.
His body still looks great
but the lines are shaded,
food traded for red wine
and credit cards that get declined.
I used to see all his first steps
before they fell down his stairs
but that house is empty now.
Still I have to shake my head
and acknowledge, that when
his eyes found a way inside
and his words dressed you up
in clothes never worn before,
then there would be a moment,
a primitive moment,
when even I would have opened my door.
Written by Razzerleaf
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Tattoo
Chased down by the allure
Badgered by our past
Who is gonna love us now
Needles start to puncture
Conscience in the trash
Who are we without us now
Faces start to fester
Playgrounds fade to black
Enlightened by our self doubt
Should have died here after
Courage we both lack
Halls where demons aren't allowed
Stare into our poison
Lap up every drop
Look at how the tattoo sings
Adorned by a pattern
Promises forgot
This is what obsession brings.
Badgered by our past
Who is gonna love us now
Needles start to puncture
Conscience in the trash
Who are we without us now
Faces start to fester
Playgrounds fade to black
Enlightened by our self doubt
Should have died here after
Courage we both lack
Halls where demons aren't allowed
Stare into our poison
Lap up every drop
Look at how the tattoo sings
Adorned by a pattern
Promises forgot
This is what obsession brings.
Written by Fishmander
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Filet Mignon
There are photos
everywhere
framed in walnut
you
laughing with your
best friend, a cigarette
dangles from
your mouth
shy of
falling into
gin you
embraced those
moments, I know
Another photo
your arm rests
on mom’s shoulders
tugging her hair,
I think
though I wasn’t there
or anywhere then
both of you poised
on long tree
branches, waiting
for the shutter to
harness a whisper
my favorite photo
is of you with
your grandson,
drawing out plans
for a dog house,
or deck, or
putting up shelves,
offering his first beer ever,
while barbecuing
filet minion
that only you have
perfected, of course
I stop myself before I
ruminate on this
last one
knowing this pain
far too well
knowing
this photo I want
of you framed
In my mind is
not here in my
home
or anywhere
knowing that all
I have now is these
slow fading photos
and this last moment
happens after
these moments
stop happening
too early, and
too long ago.
Written by ursa
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our mischievous kinship
You loom.
Palpable in presence,
mischief that almost permeates,
so thick it lays
in laughter's swirling air
I only hear
Just those things needed
No longer plagued
with those cold disassociated ends.
Horrific dark, abated
Ohh, how fortunate
to a mind's unusual quirk
I actively listen,
at last, ready to ingest
all that was longed for
and only now, realized was missing
Love of forceful piercing
so very much like my own,
sounding of our mischievous laughter
hilarity of passionate hijinx
True booming laughs
that is the indescribable love
from deep in my chest
I unleash
and unbury
Today...
Yes, today
You do loom.
It's been here ... I believe
That love.
It's forever.
I think I now know
how you've always been there
[here]
ever since then
now today
tomorrow and ever after.
Like you promised
you would
in those harsh
so loving, gruff, melancholic whispers;
How they reassured
as much as they could
O' my kindred of my very start
heal the hurts
of this child's grown up broken heart
pieces, finding full in whole.
You loom, yes.
Still.
More than likely always will.
Yet, to loom
was never
your typical style
Maybe you do
because of what's so sorely needed
A gifting,
perhaps a cosmic delivery
of that unleashed, unburied,
freed or whatever it is
I've made myself believe
I'm me-just now
In all that you did teach,
I'm. Me.
Relentless , mischievous
and
with a belly booming laugh
all my own
I myself, now loom.
Ready to flaunt
all those vibrant inherited colors.
Lost, small and broken
eventually I could see
a me that your looming helped set free
to flourish all my own
in each and every hard discovered tone.
Written by Bluevelvete
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PLATONIC PAPI'S
𝑨 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆
𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒆
𝑻𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒄𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒎𝒆
𝑺𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒔 𝒊𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒂𝒚
𝑻𝒓𝒖𝒍𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒖𝒍𝒅 𝒍𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝑰 𝒂𝒎 𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒐𝒏𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝑩𝒆𝒉𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂 𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒔𝒂𝒚
❞𝑩𝑬𝑨𝑼𝑻𝑰𝑭𝑼𝑳 𝑳𝑨𝑫𝒀❞
𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒈𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒎𝒆𝒕 𝒄𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒚
𝑺𝒐 𝒚𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒚....
𝑨𝒏 𝒂𝒅𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒆𝒓 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒎𝒆
𝑨 𝑫𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒇𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆
𝑫𝒂𝒓𝒌 𝒓𝒆𝒅 𝒅𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒕 𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒈𝒓𝒐𝒘𝒔
𝑨𝒎𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒊𝒕 𝒉𝒂𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒆
𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒂𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒂 𝒊𝒕 𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒖𝒓𝒆❜𝒔
𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒎 𝒂 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒐 𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒐𝒄𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒚 𝒔𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒔
𝑨 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒂𝒏𝒅
𝑬𝒙𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒐 𝒖𝒏𝒅𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒗𝒂𝒍𝒊𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒂 𝒈𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒍𝒆𝒎𝒂𝒏
𝒂𝒔 𝒊𝒏 𝒇𝒓𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒆 𝒉𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒔
𝑯𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓....
𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒕𝒓𝒖𝒕𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒐𝒏❜𝒕 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒃𝒆
𝑷𝒓𝒐𝒎𝒑𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝑰❜𝒎 𝒏𝒐𝒕 𝒇𝒓𝒆𝒆
𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒌𝒏𝒐𝒘𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒚 𝒅𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒊𝒏𝒚
𝑨 𝒇𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔𝒉𝒊𝒑 𝒐𝒓 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓 𝑰 𝒐𝒇𝒇𝒆𝒓 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒍𝒚
𝑻𝒂𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒎𝒐𝒎𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒆
𝑾𝒊𝒕𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒎𝒚 𝒌𝒆𝒚𝒔
𝑼𝒏𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒍𝒐𝒄𝒌𝒆𝒕𝒔 𝒃𝒖𝒕 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒄𝒂𝒏 𝒃𝒆
𝑶𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆 𝒑𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒄𝒆
𝑨 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒍𝒆 𝒌𝒏𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕
𝑶𝒏𝒆 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒈
𝑺𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒂 𝒎𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒗𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒊𝒓𝒆 𝒃𝒊𝒕𝒆
𝑰𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒄𝒍𝒂𝒎 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕❜𝒔 𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕
𝑻𝒐 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒎 𝑰 𝒘𝒊𝒍𝒍 𝒘𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈
𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒉𝒐𝒎 𝒎𝒚 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒊𝒏𝒈
𝑺𝒐𝒍𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒂 𝒍𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒛𝒊𝒏𝒈
𝑻𝒐 𝒎𝒚 𝒑𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒐𝒏𝒊𝒄 𝒑𝒂𝒑𝒊❜𝒔...
𝑰 𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒅 𝒃𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒂 𝒌𝒊𝒔𝒔
𝑺𝒐 𝒑𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒏❜𝒕 𝒎𝒊𝒔𝒔
𝑴𝒚 𝒄𝒓𝒖𝒔𝒉𝒆𝒔 𝑰 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒐 𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒔𝒆𝒆
𝑰 𝒄𝒂𝒓𝒗𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒏 𝒎𝒚 𝒔𝒑𝒆𝒄𝒊𝒂𝒍 𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒆
𝑻𝑶 𝑵𝑬𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑭𝑶𝑹𝑮𝑬𝑻 𝑻𝑯𝑬𝑬...
Written by NANCY_RDZ_STORIES
(WRITER LYRICIST ARTIST)
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MY BLACK HEART VALENTINE 🖤
IN A DARK PLACE. . .
Shaped to fit in a form in which the body owns...
No distance or a face. . .
Marooned in what emptiness zones. . .
No time that can race. . .
Many obscuring in replica clones. . .
ALL ALONE. . .
IN A TEMPLE ASYLUM OF SADNESS. . .
MY SENTIMENTS TO NO ONE I HAVE SHOWN. . .
NOT EVEN IN A WORLDS TRUE MADNESS. . .
EXCEPT. . .
Only one. . .
I have in long days in the past. . .
Written letters to the beauty of someone. . .
Who my breath longing to wait for and last. . .
Always hoping you could spare me a little stare...
A smile I could see from a mile. . .
A million years I would even then still share. . .
My simple foggy black heart still bedims a glare...
That lights only in between of its core. . .
On what's left merely for you to repair. . .
With the Simplicity of your touch,
Not so much. . .
Just enough. . .
Helping then to blaze more. . .
🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤
WHAT A BLACK HEART BESTOWS INSIDE ME
A sanctuary of roses. . .
Where I'm waiting for you there
A path of butterflies to you then coaches. . .
Your amazement to see loveliness everywhere...
As the princess approaches. . .
Fireflies start glowing, conveying radiance. . .
upon her hair. . .
The wind blows a fragrance. . .
being so unique and rare. . .
That's how you will know how much I care. . .
In all, I rest in my humble chest. . .
My true feelings and all its bleedings. . .
I bury in a sacred crest. . .
Hiding it from family and friends. . .
And from all the rest. . .
Solely for thee that can unlock the sealed ends...
A key that will be found as you truly quest. . .
MY REALITY NOW
The truth that your eyes would not see who I
am...
The truth that you see me as just a plain man...
Nothing popular as all who you around stand...
I just wish to even hold your lovely hand...
BUT...
I'm just an emo--
A creep--
A weirdo--
Stays up late hardly any sleep
Sleeping beauty is on my mind
Dreaming if one day I'll ever keep
Stars guiding me in darkness so to you I can find
A guy in all black
That carries very little in his backpack
Always checking watching my back
Haters scorn me and try to attack
BUT...
Above all that...
I maintain my dark side...
A little to the light side...
For only one thing keeps me going...
Keeps me showing...
Keeps me growing...
YOU...
Hope and believing in your heart...
That one day it'll be for me...
I'd promise that never would I break it apart...
To know what I mean, I'll help you see...
Here I enclosed a marble black heart for you...
It is small...
Not much is it,
As it is, how it is and true...
It holds my massive love and all...
A faded low light in between it...
it's the little bit...
That still stays lit...
My heart is your heart to fit...
Your aroma that would give it a token glint...
So I dismiss, dear miss...
Leaving you my last crush letter...
As many you ignored to your convenience...
My writings to you with a black swans feather...
A kiss I wish from those beautiful lips...
But instead here's this...
My friendly gesture here it is...
"HAPPY VALENTINE'S DAY"...
WILL YOU BE MINE?...
WHAT WILL THY RED HEART SAY?...
FROM YOUR BLACK HEART VALENTINE 🖤...
Written by NANCY_RDZ_STORIES
(WRITER LYRICIST ARTIST)
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Stirring a Memory
Standing over the stove
sauteeing this
simmering that
mostly from memory
but she keeps the notes nearby
her handwriting slow, careful
his less so
sometimes barely legible
He provided bits and pieces
adding emphasis
to what she'd written while watching
It wasn't the only meal he made for them
but the one best-loved
because it took time and always came with stories
as he stirred
They played on her mind
like his sauce on her tongue
Sometimes she'd cry making it alone
never tasting quite the same
only close enough
to touch
This recipe preserved on paper years ago
was the only tangible gift
he'd given her
Written by paperstains
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The winner of this competition and any runners up were decided by public vote.
Thank you to the following members for voting:
AspergerPoet56, Billy_Snagg, SweetOblivion, paperstains, KristinaX, PoetSpeak, Indie, Wafflenose, Phantom2426, Marks, zinnzinn, b_a_dise829, Miss_Haides, javalini, lepperochan, MadameLavender, Razzerleaf, Nevermindthegaps, James_A_Knight
Thank you to the following members for voting:
AspergerPoet56, Billy_Snagg, SweetOblivion, paperstains, KristinaX, PoetSpeak, Indie, Wafflenose, Phantom2426, Marks, zinnzinn, b_a_dise829, Miss_Haides, javalini, lepperochan, MadameLavender, Razzerleaf, Nevermindthegaps, James_A_Knight
