Poetry competition CLOSED 18th February 2023 4:05pm
WINNER
PAR (PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
PAR (PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
RUNNER-UP:
Razzerleaf
Me
Poetry Contest Description
I challenge you to write a poem about yourself. It can be you as a poet, a mother, a father, a friend etc. Let’s get to know who we really are
It may just be the hardest poem you’ll ever write
Poems up to 50 lines
No porn please
Poems up to 50 lines
No porn please
21st Century Spastic
I am 21st century spastic
No window licker
More a window smasher
Don’t believe the hype
No sweet thing here
Caustic through and through
Science put me in a box
The label doesn’t describe accurately
What’s inside
That’s the trouble
Perception breeds contempt
Assumptions mark the signposts ahead
If you look in my eye
I break the stereotype
A little more dangerous
Intelligence and anger
A combustible mix
Don’t dare feed the animal
No window licker
More a window smasher
Don’t believe the hype
No sweet thing here
Caustic through and through
Science put me in a box
The label doesn’t describe accurately
What’s inside
That’s the trouble
Perception breeds contempt
Assumptions mark the signposts ahead
If you look in my eye
I break the stereotype
A little more dangerous
Intelligence and anger
A combustible mix
Don’t dare feed the animal
Written by AspergerPoet56
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Anonymous
Fat ballerina
I have a tear
caught in the eyes
and abandoned poems
at the bottom of the drawer
between crepe ribbons,
mothballs, rose petals,
droughts
and mildew.
I have such old things
as mismatched scribbles:
Pieces of yellowed papers
and undated
numbers, accounts,
frayed collars,
cracked saucers.
So I have a taste
of time stuck in
papillae
and dull mornings
of clotted blood,
face marks,
scars and rust
in some cotton sweater.
I have an affection
hidden under the mattress,
an unknown passion,
ancient and subconscious,
which in this today becomes
the presence
then disappears
like a smoke
in front
of the mirror
of loneliness.
I want to feel whole
like the eternal truths
which touch me:
the picture of a life
in the fragments of memory,
moments of laughter,
moments of glory
on a big stage
to tell one
story.
PAR
caught in the eyes
and abandoned poems
at the bottom of the drawer
between crepe ribbons,
mothballs, rose petals,
droughts
and mildew.
I have such old things
as mismatched scribbles:
Pieces of yellowed papers
and undated
numbers, accounts,
frayed collars,
cracked saucers.
So I have a taste
of time stuck in
papillae
and dull mornings
of clotted blood,
face marks,
scars and rust
in some cotton sweater.
I have an affection
hidden under the mattress,
an unknown passion,
ancient and subconscious,
which in this today becomes
the presence
then disappears
like a smoke
in front
of the mirror
of loneliness.
I want to feel whole
like the eternal truths
which touch me:
the picture of a life
in the fragments of memory,
moments of laughter,
moments of glory
on a big stage
to tell one
story.
PAR
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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Me
I am pretty
I am gritty
I am deep and defined
I’m like a locust
I’m sharply focussed
But I need my wings to unwind
I’m like a flower
Sometimes I sour
Trimmed vexation
Not out of line
I am a mother
Sometimes I smother
He’s been shipped and he is mine
I’m a lover
Under the covers
Sometimes I’m naughty and unlined
I’m impassioned
Never rationed
Less impurities; more refined
But I’ve been shattered
That I never mattered
To the people whom I am tied
I’ve been hardened
I’ve never pardoned
Those who’ve hurt me;
Those who’ve lied
I’m a survivor
An acclaimed arriver
The stars are teeming and have realigned
I am a loner
An established owner
I now have contentment in my rind
I am gritty
I am deep and defined
I’m like a locust
I’m sharply focussed
But I need my wings to unwind
I’m like a flower
Sometimes I sour
Trimmed vexation
Not out of line
I am a mother
Sometimes I smother
He’s been shipped and he is mine
I’m a lover
Under the covers
Sometimes I’m naughty and unlined
I’m impassioned
Never rationed
Less impurities; more refined
But I’ve been shattered
That I never mattered
To the people whom I am tied
I’ve been hardened
I’ve never pardoned
Those who’ve hurt me;
Those who’ve lied
I’m a survivor
An acclaimed arriver
The stars are teeming and have realigned
I am a loner
An established owner
I now have contentment in my rind
Written by Everavalon
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Hello Me
A son, a brother, a father, a lover,
an uncle, a friend, a novice with pen
sinner whose forgiven, Jesus my king
worshiping with poetry, cause I can not sing
an uncle, a friend, a novice with pen
sinner whose forgiven, Jesus my king
worshiping with poetry, cause I can not sing
Written by TIG
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I'm soft hearted but firm...
My hubby despite our marriage of 20 years
still loves me perfectly, expertly
both verbally and physically
Then had come on my scene again
an admirer who created as if a void
and filled it with his love letters and love poetry.
But whenever an admirer
creates love's vacuum in my lovelife
that was non existent before
I've always managed to brush it aside
with chastity's vacuum cleaner lol.
Or I sweep it under the rug ,
can't get stuck in the dirt of the flirt😉
Only marital love can sweep me off my feet.
His poetic charm created in me love poetry's chasm
and I tried awhile to be a balm to his obsession's spasm .
Yet my wedlock is a high walled fortress
even if I'm no crowned regal princess
So while my hubby still bills and coos in love
this admirer inked me his billet doux
What a batter, what a roux!
I'm softhearted but not towards soft porn
Thank God its over, phew!.
still loves me perfectly, expertly
both verbally and physically
Then had come on my scene again
an admirer who created as if a void
and filled it with his love letters and love poetry.
But whenever an admirer
creates love's vacuum in my lovelife
that was non existent before
I've always managed to brush it aside
with chastity's vacuum cleaner lol.
Or I sweep it under the rug ,
can't get stuck in the dirt of the flirt😉
Only marital love can sweep me off my feet.
His poetic charm created in me love poetry's chasm
and I tried awhile to be a balm to his obsession's spasm .
Yet my wedlock is a high walled fortress
even if I'm no crowned regal princess
So while my hubby still bills and coos in love
this admirer inked me his billet doux
What a batter, what a roux!
I'm softhearted but not towards soft porn
Thank God its over, phew!.
Written by Lunaah
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Outdated Reflex
That was the way
that I had to know them,
taking that root
vulnerable in my body,
the way a child
so small puts everything:
pebbles, keys, plastic cars,
in his mouth.
I slipped them in,
one after another like a gardener
who plants wild tulip bulbs
to see each hybrid flower,
its glossy vibrant petals.
I wanted to learn about love
and how would I transform
my skin that I rubbed
against his skin,
his eyes like the earth
trembles in its depths,
a fortune in raw diamonds.
Though I was often selfish
and averse to such waking chaos,
I adhered to the only science I knew.
The crude oil…
because it was there, in the cold night,
as the first man to discover fire,
to growl, insistently hitting the rock
against the rock, bent on that spark.
I'm glad to have myself
redone with all that.
more than half a century,
the same faces greet each other
every gray morning
like hungry cats.
You think you are you.
But soon death will seize them
by their wide waists
to push them one by one out of the house,
turn off the gas and water switch,
will turn down the lights,
boards over the windows,
those locked French doors,
and then, just when you thought
that this was a home
death turned the slender key
of gold in the lock.
PAR
that I had to know them,
taking that root
vulnerable in my body,
the way a child
so small puts everything:
pebbles, keys, plastic cars,
in his mouth.
I slipped them in,
one after another like a gardener
who plants wild tulip bulbs
to see each hybrid flower,
its glossy vibrant petals.
I wanted to learn about love
and how would I transform
my skin that I rubbed
against his skin,
his eyes like the earth
trembles in its depths,
a fortune in raw diamonds.
Though I was often selfish
and averse to such waking chaos,
I adhered to the only science I knew.
The crude oil…
because it was there, in the cold night,
as the first man to discover fire,
to growl, insistently hitting the rock
against the rock, bent on that spark.
I'm glad to have myself
redone with all that.
more than half a century,
the same faces greet each other
every gray morning
like hungry cats.
You think you are you.
But soon death will seize them
by their wide waists
to push them one by one out of the house,
turn off the gas and water switch,
will turn down the lights,
boards over the windows,
those locked French doors,
and then, just when you thought
that this was a home
death turned the slender key
of gold in the lock.
PAR
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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Me
I am a mess
Convoluted and warped mind
Working at warp speed
And going nowhere
Trying to do a bit of good
Mostly trying to avoid pitfalls
Reading tons of murder mystery novels
To see how far Bad can go
And how easy it is to go that way.
Convoluted and warped mind
Working at warp speed
And going nowhere
Trying to do a bit of good
Mostly trying to avoid pitfalls
Reading tons of murder mystery novels
To see how far Bad can go
And how easy it is to go that way.
Written by robert43041
(Viking)
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