Poetry competition CLOSED 7th April 2024 7:12am
WINNER
Anonymous
Anonymous
RUNNERS-UP:
Isgyppie_
and Anne-Ri999
Prisoner
Grace
IDryad
Forum Posts: 17044
IDryad
Tyrant of Words
126
Joined 25th Aug 2011Forum Posts: 17044
Poetry Contest Description
Only the man who has known freedom Can define his prison.
The quote above is by Catherine Fisher. What is your prison? How did you enter it? It can be any kind of prison.
No extreme contents
No collaborations
No chatting in comp thread
Any Length
Two poems per poet
No AI generated Poem
Judge Me+2
Anonymous
Grace
IDryad
Forum Posts: 17044
IDryad
Tyrant of Words
126
Joined 25th Aug 2011Forum Posts: 17044
Thank you for your entry Missy
Jordan
D.O.C.
Forum Posts: 245
D.O.C.
Twisted Dreamer
13
Joined 4th May 2022Forum Posts: 245
Related submission no longer exists.
Razzerleaf
Forum Posts: 525
Fire of Insight
27
Joined 15th Sep 2019 Forum Posts: 525
August Rain
Begging for sleep, his eyes roll again,
pain keeps them from slumber.
She washes cups in the kitchen,
what else can she do?
He did ask for something,
when his voice could be heard,
a prayer for August rain.
Heat brings a bad day for being caged this way
but she recalls the whispered last request
and meets me on the lawn.
Me, a simple hosepipe,
my snake belly, needing to be filled
so water can become my tongue.
holding my head in her hand,
she looks to his bedroom
and turns the tap.
My inside fills to burst,
and answers his prayer,
pounding on windows
belting down gutters
rhythm of first drops
rain dance on roof tops.
I carry the drums of droplets,
his tranquility comes tapping on tiles,
coolness calms his condition
smiling at the August rain.
Finally sleep swings open his cell door;
We hang our heads in the garden,
clothes and hair soaked,
she lets me fall to the grass,
I feel empty, spent, I can only watch,
as the rain maker mixes tears in the mud.
pain keeps them from slumber.
She washes cups in the kitchen,
what else can she do?
He did ask for something,
when his voice could be heard,
a prayer for August rain.
Heat brings a bad day for being caged this way
but she recalls the whispered last request
and meets me on the lawn.
Me, a simple hosepipe,
my snake belly, needing to be filled
so water can become my tongue.
holding my head in her hand,
she looks to his bedroom
and turns the tap.
My inside fills to burst,
and answers his prayer,
pounding on windows
belting down gutters
rhythm of first drops
rain dance on roof tops.
I carry the drums of droplets,
his tranquility comes tapping on tiles,
coolness calms his condition
smiling at the August rain.
Finally sleep swings open his cell door;
We hang our heads in the garden,
clothes and hair soaked,
she lets me fall to the grass,
I feel empty, spent, I can only watch,
as the rain maker mixes tears in the mud.
Written by Razzerleaf
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Grace
IDryad
Forum Posts: 17044
IDryad
Tyrant of Words
126
Joined 25th Aug 2011Forum Posts: 17044
Thank you Jordan and Razzerleaf for your entry
bookrabbit
Lu
Forum Posts: 6
Lu
Lost Thinker
1
Joined 13th Feb 2023Forum Posts: 6
An Island in Time
An Island in Time
I am a prisoner
A trapped person
A homeless person
A package passed about
Unwanted
Washed up here
In this room in the air
Only the view of the clouds
Keeps me sane
As I wait
For my release
For the resumption of time
For my descent
Back into life
Back among people
Back out under the sun
And the rain
And into the wind
To be blown along
As time passes
Restlessly flowing
Around my prison
My island in time
I am a prisoner
A trapped person
A homeless person
A package passed about
Unwanted
Washed up here
In this room in the air
Only the view of the clouds
Keeps me sane
As I wait
For my release
For the resumption of time
For my descent
Back into life
Back among people
Back out under the sun
And the rain
And into the wind
To be blown along
As time passes
Restlessly flowing
Around my prison
My island in time
Written by bookrabbit
(Lu)
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Isgyppie_
L.C. McQuillen
Forum Posts: 63
L.C. McQuillen
Thought Provoker
5
Joined 17th Dec 2015 Forum Posts: 63
My Body is A Prison.
My body is a prison.
Pale, blemished wallpaper.
Muscle insulating cold.
Bones trapping
The assembly
Of organs.
My body is a prison.
My heart pounding
For release.
Lungs expanding
To break free
Yet, they are too weak.
My body is a prison.
My soul looming
Within.
A self sustaining
Corridor with
Windows exploiting
Corruption.
My body is a prison.
The echos
Told me so.
The irony is
The only rule:
I cannot free myself.
Pale, blemished wallpaper.
Muscle insulating cold.
Bones trapping
The assembly
Of organs.
My body is a prison.
My heart pounding
For release.
Lungs expanding
To break free
Yet, they are too weak.
My body is a prison.
My soul looming
Within.
A self sustaining
Corridor with
Windows exploiting
Corruption.
My body is a prison.
The echos
Told me so.
The irony is
The only rule:
I cannot free myself.
Written by Isgyppie_
(L.C. McQuillen)
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Grace
IDryad
Forum Posts: 17044
IDryad
Tyrant of Words
126
Joined 25th Aug 2011Forum Posts: 17044
bookrabbit and Isgyppie thank you for your participation
PAR
PAULO ACACIO RAMOS
Forum Posts: 324
PAULO ACACIO RAMOS
Dangerous Mind
20
Joined 26th May 2022Forum Posts: 324
Abstraction
I was so distracted by the tremor of your skin
my fingers sipping goosebumps
distracted
distracted
distracted from the cries of war
from the silence of hunger
of the breeze that whispers deadly plagues
Distracted like the seagulls high in the masts
distracted from the insects that go against the street lamps
simply distracted by the microscopy of your skin
distracted
distracted
distracted from the morning murmurs
of children in the afternoon
and the creatures of the night
my fingers distracted pretending they don't touch you
They don't let you know when they're going to touch your skin
and your skin becomes distracted, concentrating on my fingers.
my fingers sipping goosebumps
distracted
distracted
distracted from the cries of war
from the silence of hunger
of the breeze that whispers deadly plagues
Distracted like the seagulls high in the masts
distracted from the insects that go against the street lamps
simply distracted by the microscopy of your skin
distracted
distracted
distracted from the morning murmurs
of children in the afternoon
and the creatures of the night
my fingers distracted pretending they don't touch you
They don't let you know when they're going to touch your skin
and your skin becomes distracted, concentrating on my fingers.
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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Grace
IDryad
Forum Posts: 17044
IDryad
Tyrant of Words
126
Joined 25th Aug 2011Forum Posts: 17044
Thank you for your entry PAR
wallyroo92
Forum Posts: 1873
Tyrant of Words
154
Joined 11th July 2012Forum Posts: 1873
Grace
IDryad
Forum Posts: 17044
IDryad
Tyrant of Words
126
Joined 25th Aug 2011Forum Posts: 17044
Thank you Wally for your entry
Duende
Forum Posts: 68
Tyrant of Words
13
Joined 24th July 2016Forum Posts: 68
#Prisoner#
i am a prisoner
of my mind who
craves control
over my soul
& my thoughts
Over my belly
i let her in gave
her a home of
which She is
now the owner
it's lonely here
cold & hopeless
She won't let me
listen to my needs
won't give me the
proper nutrients
i'm stuck in this
prison and i can't
seem to break free
am i sentenced to life?
of my mind who
craves control
over my soul
& my thoughts
Over my belly
i let her in gave
her a home of
which She is
now the owner
it's lonely here
cold & hopeless
She won't let me
listen to my needs
won't give me the
proper nutrients
i'm stuck in this
prison and i can't
seem to break free
am i sentenced to life?
Written by Duende
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Grace
IDryad
Forum Posts: 17044
IDryad
Tyrant of Words
126
Joined 25th Aug 2011Forum Posts: 17044
Duende thank you for your entry