Poetry competition CLOSED 27th May 2024 8:38pm
WINNER
DampKitten
DampKitten
Moonbeam Eyes
Poetry Contest Description
Nature poem, 15 lines or less. One poem per of non erotica. No AI.
Not for competition.
Nature's misty teardrops
from shoes worn in soil
classic winds and tides
running down my cheeks
From a watermill compass
beneath moonbeam eyes
and stars of Roman Numerals
in illustration of love's imagination
Inspiring the willow to weep
listening to sheaves
of what nature breeds
with acorn hearts
Moonbeam Eyes
moonbeam eyes where dreams linger
they dance on the walls gently
reflections of what her hearts hear
hearts to love's pure light, softly
his eyes blue like the sky
framed by rainbow hues
twinkles with love desires
love that's eternally shown
moonbeam eyes where her world unfold
where all secrets she held for him are told
his eyes in beauty ever shining bright
embracing her beam with eternal light
an enchantment silently bestowed
his love is hers eternal, profound
they dance on the walls gently
reflections of what her hearts hear
hearts to love's pure light, softly
his eyes blue like the sky
framed by rainbow hues
twinkles with love desires
love that's eternally shown
moonbeam eyes where her world unfold
where all secrets she held for him are told
his eyes in beauty ever shining bright
embracing her beam with eternal light
an enchantment silently bestowed
his love is hers eternal, profound
Written by Grace
(IDryad)
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Taken for granted?
Taken for granted?
As you stand and hold your trowel
Comes weariness, released in moans
She whispers sweet in a greener vowels
Rest a while and tasks postpone
A motherhood in verdant dance
The seasons rituals turn, lion to lamb
Harmony of cadence in broad enhance
In forest lush or deserts barren sands
She reaches out to heal in quiet grace
Mental strife, all left behind
Calms life’s frantic pace and find solace
In natures balm be intertwined
A matriarch with womb replete
Germ not chaff, a gift complete
As you stand and hold your trowel
Comes weariness, released in moans
She whispers sweet in a greener vowels
Rest a while and tasks postpone
A motherhood in verdant dance
The seasons rituals turn, lion to lamb
Harmony of cadence in broad enhance
In forest lush or deserts barren sands
She reaches out to heal in quiet grace
Mental strife, all left behind
Calms life’s frantic pace and find solace
In natures balm be intertwined
A matriarch with womb replete
Germ not chaff, a gift complete
Written by slipalong
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Arrival of Summer
The summer comes steadily forward over lush fields
Coming my way like a guaranteed car crash
The summer rises in the sky like an incinerating beast
Breeding sleepless nights, sweat and madness
I sit in my hole and await the collision
Coming my way like a guaranteed car crash
The summer rises in the sky like an incinerating beast
Breeding sleepless nights, sweat and madness
I sit in my hole and await the collision
Written by Vision_of_insanity
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Zephyr
Passing through a bed of flowers
The gentle wind here blows
Ruffling petals in the breeze
With a sweet scent that flows
Wherever the current takes it
From this river to the meadow
Blossoms dance with vibrance
A breezy ambiance grows
The posies are an assortment
Some red, some pink, some yellow
Grateful for mother nature’s gifts
All that I can see from my window
Written by nightbirdblue
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The Fiddler
A flock of sailing fiddlers fly
Down flowing fountain in the sky
Seven-fold they fair my eye
As life so faintly passes by
Seven-fold the fearless fliers
Finger through the fiery breeze,
Symphonic plumage ever whiter
Feathered phantoms through the trees
Flying, flying, never dying
To each, the cool breeze pacifying
Fearless flying flocks of yore
Hear echoes off a fading shore
And tumble down as raindrops pour
Fearlessly flying never more.
Down flowing fountain in the sky
Seven-fold they fair my eye
As life so faintly passes by
Seven-fold the fearless fliers
Finger through the fiery breeze,
Symphonic plumage ever whiter
Feathered phantoms through the trees
Flying, flying, never dying
To each, the cool breeze pacifying
Fearless flying flocks of yore
Hear echoes off a fading shore
And tumble down as raindrops pour
Fearlessly flying never more.
Written by DampKitten
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Garden of Weeds
Beautiful flower amongst a garden of weeds
Often ridiculed for having a heart that bleeds
Seeds feeding the rest, it refuses to consume
The vivid colors of Spring, its trying to exhume
Daily gloom & doom causes its petals to wilt
As it yearns for the Sun that's taller than Wilt
Higher than steel stilts built to help it to rise
May's clouds of dismay hides it from its eyes
Disguised by veils of darkness during storms
Contemplations of transitions becoming norms
Yet it will not conform, while using the pain of the rain
To aid in its growth despite of growing disdain
It doesn't feign immunity from life's destruction
As it reigns, it transparently tells tales of depression
Using poetic expression to convey its struggles
Learning to persevere while planted in the jungles
Often ridiculed for having a heart that bleeds
Seeds feeding the rest, it refuses to consume
The vivid colors of Spring, its trying to exhume
Daily gloom & doom causes its petals to wilt
As it yearns for the Sun that's taller than Wilt
Higher than steel stilts built to help it to rise
May's clouds of dismay hides it from its eyes
Disguised by veils of darkness during storms
Contemplations of transitions becoming norms
Yet it will not conform, while using the pain of the rain
To aid in its growth despite of growing disdain
It doesn't feign immunity from life's destruction
As it reigns, it transparently tells tales of depression
Using poetic expression to convey its struggles
Learning to persevere while planted in the jungles
Written by da_poetic-edifier
(Damon)
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The Folklore of the Starry Web
In archaic lore,
bold spiders rise and fall.
Her web woven in flamboyance,
then at her leisure,
she feasts each day
on fools she tempted as her prey.
So, it was the end of the moth.
Her delicate wings flailed,
she was nearing the end of her life.
Her struggle to stay alive,
then the beauty the moth had
in admitting her inescapable death.
bold spiders rise and fall.
Her web woven in flamboyance,
then at her leisure,
she feasts each day
on fools she tempted as her prey.
So, it was the end of the moth.
Her delicate wings flailed,
she was nearing the end of her life.
Her struggle to stay alive,
then the beauty the moth had
in admitting her inescapable death.
Written by gothicsurrealism
(Daniel Long)
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