Poetry competition CLOSED 4th December 2024 6:09pm
WINNER
NP_NP (Nina Persheff)
NP_NP (Nina Persheff)
Page:
Finding My Ego
Poetry Contest Description
Non erotic, 10 lines or less,
Not for the comp.
Finding My Ego
Finding self among woolsy in the pelts of twilight
listening to the echoes of the coyote where the
crickets bow hungering for the flesh of broken-down
old poets dismembering the dawn with another
coyote song lighting the inferno with another
cigarette and a bottle of tequila
Finding My Ego
Finding self among woolsy in the pelts of twilight
listening to the echoes of the coyote where the
crickets bow hungering for the flesh of broken-down
old poets dismembering the dawn with another
coyote song lighting the inferno with another
cigarette and a bottle of tequila
Ego Found
I sought you, looked for you
in strange places, while I decayed
My ego
The wholeness of my self
The fullness of my being
And now, I stride, and sing,
and gaze, chuffed, at mirrors
in strange places, while I decayed
My ego
The wholeness of my self
The fullness of my being
And now, I stride, and sing,
and gaze, chuffed, at mirrors
Written by olliec
(Oliver Cocks)
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Underwater Hug
I see my ego, bold and wild,
getting involved with the world, deceived.
He boasts and brags,
feeds on praise, under the spotlight,
longs and remains.
With each triumph, his stature grows.
A cycle that flows infinitely.
Yet in the mirror I realize,
the fragile core that cannot deceive.
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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Late November
In late November the freezing cold rain remembers
To wash away the dirt and erode the past
So when the fractures in the pavement are watered
They can still grow weeds and flowers
And there, in between imagination and dream
The harshness of reality finally sets in
That amidst the ugly truths and pretty fantasies
I am reminded
I am broken, mended and healing
To wash away the dirt and erode the past
So when the fractures in the pavement are watered
They can still grow weeds and flowers
And there, in between imagination and dream
The harshness of reality finally sets in
That amidst the ugly truths and pretty fantasies
I am reminded
I am broken, mended and healing
Written by wallyroo92
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Finding My Ego
My ego was broken into little fragments
And pieces. How was I even able to find it?
It is only when I started walking again that
Maybe I could find some peace with never
Trying to find my ego again. You walked all
Over my ego and you get to keep it. My pride
Was too wounded to try to reclaim it.
And pieces. How was I even able to find it?
It is only when I started walking again that
Maybe I could find some peace with never
Trying to find my ego again. You walked all
Over my ego and you get to keep it. My pride
Was too wounded to try to reclaim it.
Written by eswaller
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On Life Journey I Keep Trying
Along with my ego side by side walking
Not ego driven on life journey I keep trying
Carried away by its powers soul losing
A risk of the infection of perfection attaining
A beauty in disguise my self I keep reminding
A challenging inner struggle worth leading
Delving into ego complexities soul transforming
In rivers of inner harmony how I long bathing
Not ego driven on life journey I keep trying
Carried away by its powers soul losing
A risk of the infection of perfection attaining
A beauty in disguise my self I keep reminding
A challenging inner struggle worth leading
Delving into ego complexities soul transforming
In rivers of inner harmony how I long bathing
Written by MySmile
(Besma)
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The Unveiling of the Ego’s Awakening
Within the chamber of my unspoken soul,
I meet the specter of myself, whole.
A phantom of pride,
both brittle and vast,
A mirror of echoes from futures and past.
It wears my face, yet it feels so estranged,
A mask I have cherished, though always unchanged.
What is this shadow I’ve called my own,
A throne built on fears I’ve never outgrown?
To find my ego is to let it unfold,
A tempest of ashes birthing something bold.
I meet the specter of myself, whole.
A phantom of pride,
both brittle and vast,
A mirror of echoes from futures and past.
It wears my face, yet it feels so estranged,
A mask I have cherished, though always unchanged.
What is this shadow I’ve called my own,
A throne built on fears I’ve never outgrown?
To find my ego is to let it unfold,
A tempest of ashes birthing something bold.
Written by BeautifulDisaster7
(BreAnna Rickard)
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Step In My Circle
They’ll call me the greatest, and I haven’t even published yet. Fans and critics already circle, craving words that burn with raw, unfiltered passion. Sorry, kids—nothing you’ve got comes close to what I bring. Let me torch the poetry community and rebuild it on my terms.
I’ve been waging a war of words since I was thirteen. Someone once asked if I feared thieves stealing my work. I laughed. Take one, and I’ll write ten more in thirty minutes.
It’s not cockiness—it’s my ego, unapologetic and earned.
NP
I’ve been waging a war of words since I was thirteen. Someone once asked if I feared thieves stealing my work. I laughed. Take one, and I’ll write ten more in thirty minutes.
It’s not cockiness—it’s my ego, unapologetic and earned.
NP
Written by NP_NP
(Nina Persheff)
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Just Nature's Way
Stand with nature's gentle
reminder of life's cycles embrace
from saplings to trees that tower
sun's warmth rain's nurturing touch
from seedlings to blossom
birth growth and decay
reminder of life's cycles embrace
from saplings to trees that tower
sun's warmth rain's nurturing touch
from seedlings to blossom
birth growth and decay
Written by Grace
(IDryad)
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:: quintessence::
minded candy streets mobbed by spongy-tongued
staking robberflies of biggening leverages.. faded
unto the vile frothy filling gonadic vessels..
turning tiresome though, with lying sensual
masks of eating pathogenicities…
until the beckoning death, burying self
births a destined hybrid :: saint * child, in
the refined dripping infinitesimal soul~droplets
of you~me ~ all … in a hyper~ coalesce
this One quintessence. l o v e
minded candy streets mobbed by spongy-tongued
staking robberflies of biggening leverages.. faded
unto the vile frothy filling gonadic vessels..
turning tiresome though, with lying sensual
masks of eating pathogenicities…
until the beckoning death, burying self
births a destined hybrid :: saint * child, in
the refined dripping infinitesimal soul~droplets
of you~me ~ all … in a hyper~ coalesce
this One quintessence. l o v e
