Poetry competition CLOSED 20th September 2023 2:54pm
WINNER
Grace (IDryad)
Grace (IDryad)
RUNNER-UP:
poetOftragedy
The moment you ''woke up''
עִמָּנוּאֵל
I was hesitant to
step onto the light
I was the fear
itself from within
but I buried it well
with the fearless veneer
and drowned me
in a quicksand
staring at a rope
over my head
time to time
you get a nudge
to your toes
lifting you up
still, you refuse
to grab the rope
because
you tremble at
the voices inside
they try to convince
an escape doesn’t
come this easy
they try to take
you to the bottom
saying the true
escape is there
but it keeps
nudging you
levitating you
and finally, you
grab the rope
with your
brokenness
weakness
wickedness
hopelessness
tiredness
and half closed eyes
and today, I’m not scared
of the darkness that ruined my days
with a strengthened heart, a faithful soul
a righteous spirit and I’m filled with hope
because,
עִמָּנוּאֵל Immanuel
God is with (us) me
_____________
עִמָּנוּאֵל
Immanuel
God is with us
Greek
step onto the light
I was the fear
itself from within
but I buried it well
with the fearless veneer
and drowned me
in a quicksand
staring at a rope
over my head
time to time
you get a nudge
to your toes
lifting you up
still, you refuse
to grab the rope
because
you tremble at
the voices inside
they try to convince
an escape doesn’t
come this easy
they try to take
you to the bottom
saying the true
escape is there
but it keeps
nudging you
levitating you
and finally, you
grab the rope
with your
brokenness
weakness
wickedness
hopelessness
tiredness
and half closed eyes
and today, I’m not scared
of the darkness that ruined my days
with a strengthened heart, a faithful soul
a righteous spirit and I’m filled with hope
because,
עִמָּנוּאֵל Immanuel
God is with (us) me
_____________
עִמָּנוּאֵל
Immanuel
God is with us
Greek
Written by dejure
(vick)
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The Savour of Satire
*
I dream still of thine eggplant-colored eyes,
thy cheeks of bubblegum, thy lips merlot,
thy candied breasts my sweet tooth tantalize --
each nipple tongued a teasing dry Bordeaux!
Desire I hard thy gams long shapely yams,
thy buttocks orbed two buttered cakes chiffon,
thy feet éclairs, thy toes chipotle jams --
which deep my hunger sucks in gorging on!
Thy rich vanilla pudding thighs bewitch,
thy hips of pasty pastries puffed beguile,
thy short and salty curlies raise mine itch --
as yet thy sweetmeat leaves one sated smile!
And stuffed with thee I wake to beg but "More!" --
till straight I full recall thou art a bore.
*
Contest: The Moment You "Woke Up"
Sponsor: robert43041
Form: Shakespearean Sonnet
Major Poetic Technique: Irony Dawning Each Noon
Yet Still on the Wrong Rough Road with Potholes
Theme: Lust's Labour's Lost
I dream still of thine eggplant-colored eyes,
thy cheeks of bubblegum, thy lips merlot,
thy candied breasts my sweet tooth tantalize --
each nipple tongued a teasing dry Bordeaux!
Desire I hard thy gams long shapely yams,
thy buttocks orbed two buttered cakes chiffon,
thy feet éclairs, thy toes chipotle jams --
which deep my hunger sucks in gorging on!
Thy rich vanilla pudding thighs bewitch,
thy hips of pasty pastries puffed beguile,
thy short and salty curlies raise mine itch --
as yet thy sweetmeat leaves one sated smile!
And stuffed with thee I wake to beg but "More!" --
till straight I full recall thou art a bore.
*
Contest: The Moment You "Woke Up"
Sponsor: robert43041
Form: Shakespearean Sonnet
Major Poetic Technique: Irony Dawning Each Noon
Yet Still on the Wrong Rough Road with Potholes
Theme: Lust's Labour's Lost
Written by Jordan
(D.O.C.)
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What is this Life...
Standing it seems on the brink
of the universe, looking out
Into a dirty street I wonder
If my written prayers serve
to stand as a testimony
to my belief
to be truly one of those
saved by the grace of God
The songs wafting from the spires
angelic tunes, don’t really inspire
remind me instead, of dirges
and funeral pyres
of psalms and adorations
sung sad out of life, in the dens
where thieves and whores
rub shoulders in unholy unions
Monsoon drains clogged
with dirt from human bogs
there the filthy gliding swans
show their fading beauty
doesn’t inspire any poetry
just dullness like an old toothache
I should leave life ran with rats…
live sedentary in mountain caves
I walk the street still
hurting my feet on concrete
fall at times, hurting my knees
watched by indifferent eyes
jaded out, bleached by the constant
run on unyielding pavement
aware but not really there
I wish I can go Home, now.
of the universe, looking out
Into a dirty street I wonder
If my written prayers serve
to stand as a testimony
to my belief
to be truly one of those
saved by the grace of God
The songs wafting from the spires
angelic tunes, don’t really inspire
remind me instead, of dirges
and funeral pyres
of psalms and adorations
sung sad out of life, in the dens
where thieves and whores
rub shoulders in unholy unions
Monsoon drains clogged
with dirt from human bogs
there the filthy gliding swans
show their fading beauty
doesn’t inspire any poetry
just dullness like an old toothache
I should leave life ran with rats…
live sedentary in mountain caves
I walk the street still
hurting my feet on concrete
fall at times, hurting my knees
watched by indifferent eyes
jaded out, bleached by the constant
run on unyielding pavement
aware but not really there
I wish I can go Home, now.
Written by Grace
(IDryad)
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Wrong Side of Life
Between the eyes and veil of Twilight's philosophy
in pages of my mind held in escrow. With a scent of
chicanery dripping from the quill playing ink spots
pirouetting like shadows. Sipping slowly from an
Absinthe minuet. Listening to static on the radio
speaking to the chowder. As if scarabs in my dreams
chained to the canes in the cloned fields of
Purgatory. Waiting on Charon's Love Boat. Holding on
to the wrong side of life, gone fishing.
in pages of my mind held in escrow. With a scent of
chicanery dripping from the quill playing ink spots
pirouetting like shadows. Sipping slowly from an
Absinthe minuet. Listening to static on the radio
speaking to the chowder. As if scarabs in my dreams
chained to the canes in the cloned fields of
Purgatory. Waiting on Charon's Love Boat. Holding on
to the wrong side of life, gone fishing.
Written by PaleSkies
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Collectively Dreaming
Some buyers
Others sellers
Selling the bones of it
Slaughteres' sharpend blades
Waiting Sheep
Dutifully line slaughter housing
King's collective crowns
Heavy, heady wine
Eternal fools, ever pointing
Emperors' bare nakedness
Mindless automatons
Zero one(ing) algorithmic
Never thinking
Nor questioning
Sleepwalking through existence
Seldom self-aware
Merrily
Merrily floating down stream
Written by Carpe_Noctem
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At an island of light
Inside
a lamp is lit
it’s night
but the heavens got an idea
out there lies a mad galaxy
the air curves and changes shape
in silence
people swarm the streets outside my window
everyone with their head in the clouds
like out of a dream
I step out of bed and write a poem
that starts with: It’s Saturday, it’s February,
and I don't want to die
Inside
a lamp is lit
it's night
but the heavens got an idea
a lamp is lit
it’s night
but the heavens got an idea
out there lies a mad galaxy
the air curves and changes shape
in silence
people swarm the streets outside my window
everyone with their head in the clouds
like out of a dream
I step out of bed and write a poem
that starts with: It’s Saturday, it’s February,
and I don't want to die
Inside
a lamp is lit
it's night
but the heavens got an idea
Written by luddep
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Happiness isn't made for me
When every decision I make is second guessed at every turn
When I can't say all that I need to say
And be all that I need to be
When my parachute is shot down every time I fly to my dreams
Simply because I don't dream what other kids dream
Then happiness isn't made for me
If I have to tie myself to a book
And live according to some believe
If I have to meet a certain criteria to belong in society
Walk a certain way, act a certain way
To best fit the society
Briefcase and ties
Heterosexual marriages and all the government laws
Then happiness isn't made for me
If I'm labelled for the loud music I listen
If I'm to be criticized for the dark clothes that I wear
Not given any breathing room to be who I'm
Then happiness isn't made for me
In fact happiness isn't made for any of us
Because we're all just living a lie
When I can't say all that I need to say
And be all that I need to be
When my parachute is shot down every time I fly to my dreams
Simply because I don't dream what other kids dream
Then happiness isn't made for me
If I have to tie myself to a book
And live according to some believe
If I have to meet a certain criteria to belong in society
Walk a certain way, act a certain way
To best fit the society
Briefcase and ties
Heterosexual marriages and all the government laws
Then happiness isn't made for me
If I'm labelled for the loud music I listen
If I'm to be criticized for the dark clothes that I wear
Not given any breathing room to be who I'm
Then happiness isn't made for me
In fact happiness isn't made for any of us
Because we're all just living a lie
Written by poetOftragedy
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EXception
It seems that you're happy with me being your beginning and don't seem to mind if I'm involved in your end; but me, I get lost somewhere in the middle, I'm ultimately fulfilled when you're both. Supposedly I was too quick to break the rule went ahead and made you my exception. While you became my unconditional highlight and I remained your conditional selection even then I crave to be your greatest distraction, you were my favorite method of escape.
Written by Asani
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wind from the west, fish bite the best
I was 3 maybe 4 when I caught my first fish
but turned out I was the one hooked
by 12 I knew every bay
cut and oyster reef
between our pier
and the Gulf of Mexico
then life dipped me up
in its slimy dip net
saying, boy you need real learning
to make it in the world
I tried to explain that I already knew
what was being taught
they said, don’t sass your teachers
so I was patient and listened
then life said, son you need to work
none of the jobs
were the ones I wanted
but money being the evil
fed to us to sustain life
I was patient
assholes and elbows as they say
all the while
reverse-engineering my life
the saltwater in my veins
feeling the pull of every full moon
ever leading me still
to my home port
but turned out I was the one hooked
by 12 I knew every bay
cut and oyster reef
between our pier
and the Gulf of Mexico
then life dipped me up
in its slimy dip net
saying, boy you need real learning
to make it in the world
I tried to explain that I already knew
what was being taught
they said, don’t sass your teachers
so I was patient and listened
then life said, son you need to work
none of the jobs
were the ones I wanted
but money being the evil
fed to us to sustain life
I was patient
assholes and elbows as they say
all the while
reverse-engineering my life
the saltwater in my veins
feeling the pull of every full moon
ever leading me still
to my home port
Written by down2dirt
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Living a lie
Keep telling yourself,
"This time will be different,
because its honest"
But how can it be,
When you're lying to yourself?
Old, faithful, denial.
Consider this, friend.
You're worth being honest with,
But truth starts at home.
"This time will be different,
because its honest"
But how can it be,
When you're lying to yourself?
Old, faithful, denial.
Consider this, friend.
You're worth being honest with,
But truth starts at home.
Written by sheepskinxtearaway
(Sheepskin Tearaway)
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The Vultures
They flew in circles, round and round
Waiting for me to slip up or trip again
I could hear their wings soaring over me
Wanting to pick on my bones and flesh
…and I wasn’t even dead
Guilt is a motherfucker and a half to carry
It eats you up inside, alive and deprives you, relentlessly
Like vultures, these strange angels of death
Came to feast on this decomposing corpse, endlessly
And it wasn’t until one day I decided to forgive myself
I unloaded the burden for things I once destroyed
The faults that lingered for a millennia in my heart
Seemed to be swallowed up within its own void
A few days later I began to see things clearly
Understanding sometimes we
Fuck up
make mistakes
and correct the path
But guilt and shame are an awful blame game
That no one should carry like a constant bloodbath
Now whenever the vultures are flying over me
I extend these broken wings and rise above them
And with silence I only smile with jagged teeth
Knowing that for me, there is nothing left to condemn
Written by wallyroo92
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