Poetry competition CLOSED 14th October 2024 2:44pm
WINNER
Wafflenose (Ellie)
Wafflenose (Ellie)
Page:
Make it Real & Surreal
The reflections of A lost Goodbye (white lines on the bitumen)
I have driven this road so many times before in the past
I will drive this road so many more times in the future
The rout that I drive never held any further significance for me until .... well
Until I met you.
I remember driving this road for our first encounter
A full tank of anxiety fueld excitment as ,
I drove with you by my side , loving memories of our banter, driving late at night finding comfort in one another's silent presence
I remember driving that road alone , empty in my heart as I manuvered into the worst crash I have ever experienced ...
I still have to drive that road , and to me it will always be a constant reminder of you , to you it's just white lines on the bitumen .
-Grifta
I will drive this road so many more times in the future
The rout that I drive never held any further significance for me until .... well
Until I met you.
I remember driving this road for our first encounter
A full tank of anxiety fueld excitment as ,
I drove with you by my side , loving memories of our banter, driving late at night finding comfort in one another's silent presence
I remember driving that road alone , empty in my heart as I manuvered into the worst crash I have ever experienced ...
I still have to drive that road , and to me it will always be a constant reminder of you , to you it's just white lines on the bitumen .
-Grifta
Written by u53l355
(The_Real_Grifta)
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Daily Black and White
The man opened the newspaper
To see how the world had changed
Since yesterday's newspaper
The paper wrapped round his face
Filled his ears
Covered his eyes
Silenced his mouth
Read his mind
Suffocated him until
He forgot his name
He turned black and white
Written by James_A_Knight
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"Anti-Schema"
I woke this morning to a sky of glass
The sun was cracked, leaking golden spills
I thought of how last night, time seemed to pass
So slowly, like the turning of rusted mills
The coffee tasted like forgotten dreams
Each sip a memory that slipped away
And the kitchen clock whispered its schemes
While the fridge hummed a song from yesterday
The sidewalks were soft beneath my feet
Like walking on words that were never said
The trees leaned in, murmuring bittersweet
Branches tangled with the thoughts in my head
I passed a man with a face like rain
His eyes were puddles reflecting the street
He smiled at me, but it felt like pain
As if he knew the end we all would meet
At work, the papers flew like birds
Filing cabinets opened with a sigh
Phones rang not with voices, but with words
That folded into paper planes to fly
By evening, the city had turned to smoke
Buildings drifted off into the sky
I watched as each conversation broke
Scattered like dust when the wind passed by
I got home, but the door was gone
Just an empty frame where it used to stand
So I walked right through and carried on
Fingers tracing invisible strands
The moon hung low, close enough to touch
But I knew that if I reached, it’d fall apart
And as I lay down, it all felt too much
The world, my mind, the weight of my own heart
I woke this morning to a sky of glass
The sun was cracked, leaking golden spills
I thought of how last night, time seemed to pass
So slowly, like the turning of rusted mills
The coffee tasted like forgotten dreams
Each sip a memory that slipped away
And the kitchen clock whispered its schemes
While the fridge hummed a song from yesterday
The sidewalks were soft beneath my feet
Like walking on words that were never said
The trees leaned in, murmuring bittersweet
Branches tangled with the thoughts in my head
I passed a man with a face like rain
His eyes were puddles reflecting the street
He smiled at me, but it felt like pain
As if he knew the end we all would meet
At work, the papers flew like birds
Filing cabinets opened with a sigh
Phones rang not with voices, but with words
That folded into paper planes to fly
By evening, the city had turned to smoke
Buildings drifted off into the sky
I watched as each conversation broke
Scattered like dust when the wind passed by
I got home, but the door was gone
Just an empty frame where it used to stand
So I walked right through and carried on
Fingers tracing invisible strands
The moon hung low, close enough to touch
But I knew that if I reached, it’d fall apart
And as I lay down, it all felt too much
The world, my mind, the weight of my own heart
The raven and the peacock
Smothered in melancholy,
words left unspoken—
a stillness so sullen
as if blackness was all that I stood for
And the colours;
the ones that sting my iris
are the lifeblood of the audience
in unrelenting ovation
and the colours started streaking
The streaks formed opinions
Opinions formed persuasion
And I just stood there— blunted
A pinch of crimson introduced itself to my dark—
as a reminder of a lost abundance
the flair of my youth
where audacity painted each quip
I tread boulevards that stretched yonder;
climbed mountains to every apex
I had an attachment
to the spirit quivering—
once
before the red turned black
I spent years in the emerald sward
I was a raven crowing at peacocks
their mottle inspired me;
in the shroud
within a rainbow
in the pause
of a storm
In the marble
of bliss
Where the desire of the colours
was to bleed out the blackness
to spread life to the languid;
to embellish their whitewashed feathers
Where lament influences
so much less than not at all
in this vivid portrait
as my world fades to autumn
Saffron and chestnut
paints the sentiment
before the snow—
subtle shades gently introduced
leaf by leaf
until their release
where their bodies blanket the fade of the flowers
I prayed their ambiance would linger—
that aura in crimson
and it would paint the coat
of every rose
words left unspoken—
a stillness so sullen
as if blackness was all that I stood for
And the colours;
the ones that sting my iris
are the lifeblood of the audience
in unrelenting ovation
and the colours started streaking
The streaks formed opinions
Opinions formed persuasion
And I just stood there— blunted
A pinch of crimson introduced itself to my dark—
as a reminder of a lost abundance
the flair of my youth
where audacity painted each quip
I tread boulevards that stretched yonder;
climbed mountains to every apex
I had an attachment
to the spirit quivering—
once
before the red turned black
I spent years in the emerald sward
I was a raven crowing at peacocks
their mottle inspired me;
in the shroud
within a rainbow
in the pause
of a storm
In the marble
of bliss
Where the desire of the colours
was to bleed out the blackness
to spread life to the languid;
to embellish their whitewashed feathers
Where lament influences
so much less than not at all
in this vivid portrait
as my world fades to autumn
Saffron and chestnut
paints the sentiment
before the snow—
subtle shades gently introduced
leaf by leaf
until their release
where their bodies blanket the fade of the flowers
I prayed their ambiance would linger—
that aura in crimson
and it would paint the coat
of every rose
Written by Everavalon
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A Night, A Soul, A Death
When heavy midnight drapes a silent street,
And stars retreat behind a cloudy curtain,
They rise anew—emerge from the abyss,
Bring countless questions, answers yet uncertain.
Freed from the frail, decaying shells of old,
With piercing gaze and steps which echo faintly,
They creep within; their darkened tales unfold
And shatter his mind’s refuge built so saintly.
A glance through hazy glass is unavailing;
His muffled scream allures a ravens’ flock.
They stare with glee at his unnerving wailing,
While cawing out of rhythm:
Croak,
Croak,
Croak.
The fleeting glow of day is long forsaken,
A distant dream no longer in his sight.
With every breath, the pain within awakens,
And binds him tighter to eternal night.
His soul—devoid of light and steeped in sorrow—
Decays under the burden of regret,
Finds no resolve, nor hope to greet the morrow—
As nightfall reigns, with darkness overhead.
So many sacred thoughts remained unspoken,
Stuck in his throat—a crimson wretched gush.
They're futile now; the seal will stay unbroken,
Apologies are pointless, hopes are crushed.
His head now pounds, a bittersweet sensation.
How many nights has he arisen still,
With no escape, nor chance for yearned salvation?
His fate is sealed, they’re opting for a kill.
The night’s abyss, with shadows thick and drear,
Shall claim him whole—a verdict crystal clear.
And stars retreat behind a cloudy curtain,
They rise anew—emerge from the abyss,
Bring countless questions, answers yet uncertain.
Freed from the frail, decaying shells of old,
With piercing gaze and steps which echo faintly,
They creep within; their darkened tales unfold
And shatter his mind’s refuge built so saintly.
A glance through hazy glass is unavailing;
His muffled scream allures a ravens’ flock.
They stare with glee at his unnerving wailing,
While cawing out of rhythm:
Croak,
Croak,
Croak.
The fleeting glow of day is long forsaken,
A distant dream no longer in his sight.
With every breath, the pain within awakens,
And binds him tighter to eternal night.
His soul—devoid of light and steeped in sorrow—
Decays under the burden of regret,
Finds no resolve, nor hope to greet the morrow—
As nightfall reigns, with darkness overhead.
So many sacred thoughts remained unspoken,
Stuck in his throat—a crimson wretched gush.
They're futile now; the seal will stay unbroken,
Apologies are pointless, hopes are crushed.
His head now pounds, a bittersweet sensation.
How many nights has he arisen still,
With no escape, nor chance for yearned salvation?
His fate is sealed, they’re opting for a kill.
The night’s abyss, with shadows thick and drear,
Shall claim him whole—a verdict crystal clear.
Written by nocturnalecho
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It doesn't add up!
There's a topsy-turvy place
where time runs backwards,
numbers aren't what they seem;
logical rules apply,
but not the logic we're used to.
There's a wonderful place
where I've just aged backwards
because forty-seven is less than forty-six.
Nothing is something,
zero is bigger than one million,
yet the best gift
turns out to be worthless.
In this place,
women are valued more highly than men,
but children are valued most of all.
The greatest rewards
come from working with those that seem,
on first glace,
to be difficult, awkward or spiky.
With patience, they pay dividends—
a life lesson for us all.
Where are we?
where time runs backwards,
numbers aren't what they seem;
logical rules apply,
but not the logic we're used to.
There's a wonderful place
where I've just aged backwards
because forty-seven is less than forty-six.
Nothing is something,
zero is bigger than one million,
yet the best gift
turns out to be worthless.
In this place,
women are valued more highly than men,
but children are valued most of all.
The greatest rewards
come from working with those that seem,
on first glace,
to be difficult, awkward or spiky.
With patience, they pay dividends—
a life lesson for us all.
Where are we?
Written by Wafflenose
(Ellie)
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Pigs-in-Banquets
Fat Pigs-in-Banquets
behind gilded doors
decided my fate
and probably yours.
They sent us all out
to deal with lambs bleating
and fight a new virus,
while they kept on eating.
Among us were wise owls
with helpful suggestions,
and loyal dogs and horses
who served without question.
The worker bees buzzed around
making our honey
while fat Pigs-in-Banquets
collected the money.
If one asked for help
entertaining the mobs,
the pigs told us firmly,
"we're busy with JOBS!"
Slowly but surely,
the herd was persuaded
to find pastures new—
we'd begun feeling jaded.
The fat Pigs-in-Banquets
did what was most sensible;
recruited more staff
"for you're not indispensible!"
In spite of their wealth,
those fat pigs were mistaken;
they lost many pearls
while just saving their bacon.
behind gilded doors
decided my fate
and probably yours.
They sent us all out
to deal with lambs bleating
and fight a new virus,
while they kept on eating.
Among us were wise owls
with helpful suggestions,
and loyal dogs and horses
who served without question.
The worker bees buzzed around
making our honey
while fat Pigs-in-Banquets
collected the money.
If one asked for help
entertaining the mobs,
the pigs told us firmly,
"we're busy with JOBS!"
Slowly but surely,
the herd was persuaded
to find pastures new—
we'd begun feeling jaded.
The fat Pigs-in-Banquets
did what was most sensible;
recruited more staff
"for you're not indispensible!"
In spite of their wealth,
those fat pigs were mistaken;
they lost many pearls
while just saving their bacon.
Written by Wafflenose
(Ellie)
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ON THE GO
…and she came into town with a late summer breeze
Like something so retro but never seen before
Setting hearts afire bringing them to their knees
With a glimpse of heaven leaving them wanting more
It was in the look and how they breathed this dream
Lost in the secret of her windows to the soul
They could be easily carried away downstream
Into vivid fantasies that can take their toll
She carried herself with an energetic style
A bright future of endless possibilities
And they’d surrender to that contagious smile
Like a trail of stardust gifting abilities
But they knew that entities like her never stay
They stop to rest as they wait for their lucky star
Once the fates come together they go on their way
With the recollection clinging once they are far
And so she left town with that same late summer breeze
Like the one that brought her in all those years ago
Because a bright future will set the mind at ease
For admiration of a spirit on the go…
Like something so retro but never seen before
Setting hearts afire bringing them to their knees
With a glimpse of heaven leaving them wanting more
It was in the look and how they breathed this dream
Lost in the secret of her windows to the soul
They could be easily carried away downstream
Into vivid fantasies that can take their toll
She carried herself with an energetic style
A bright future of endless possibilities
And they’d surrender to that contagious smile
Like a trail of stardust gifting abilities
But they knew that entities like her never stay
They stop to rest as they wait for their lucky star
Once the fates come together they go on their way
With the recollection clinging once they are far
And so she left town with that same late summer breeze
Like the one that brought her in all those years ago
Because a bright future will set the mind at ease
For admiration of a spirit on the go…
Written by wallyroo92
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some white dreams
songs got lost somewhere,
verses became slaves of someone,
the gatekeepers of despair
started guarding the door
of self-respecting imagination,
art lost its synonyms,
winds became still and calm,
sand started forming foam in the blue ocean,
young flowers fell to the ground at a young age,
Gulmohar-like houses turned into wax overnight,
burning lamps became dim,
youth lost its passion,
emotions lost their enthusiasm,
tangles tied the feet of the soft creepers of life,
when the clouds of blackness covered the pink world...
Written by dimpy
(dimpsmoon)
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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:
Grace, DarkPopPrincess, Rew, fianaturie8, Marks, lepperochan, moon_bather, u53l355, JiltedJohnny, Shilohverse, ReggiePoet, Anne-Ri999, Sappho, Phantom2426, MadameLavender, Tallen, DamianDeadLove, James_A_Knight
Thank you to the following members for voting:
Grace, DarkPopPrincess, Rew, fianaturie8, Marks, lepperochan, moon_bather, u53l355, JiltedJohnny, Shilohverse, ReggiePoet, Anne-Ri999, Sappho, Phantom2426, MadameLavender, Tallen, DamianDeadLove, James_A_Knight
