Poetry Competition Ends 20th December 2024 4:32pm
Page:
Incense of Insomnia
Poetry Contest Description
The title is the prompt. 10 lines or less of non erotic. One each with no AI.
Not for the competition.
Incense of Insomnia
With the incense of insomnia caffeine
and scorpion grasses of forget-me-nots
listening to the waters of Ticonderoga
and the bones cracking in my sacroiliac
regarding caffe latte tuit suite l'amande
with the incense of insomnia caffeine
Incense of Insomnia
With the incense of insomnia caffeine
and scorpion grasses of forget-me-nots
listening to the waters of Ticonderoga
and the bones cracking in my sacroiliac
regarding caffe latte tuit suite l'amande
with the incense of insomnia caffeine
~awakenings
i solitarily reap the uproarious sulphurous
tides, in childlike earnestness- this helichriss-al
‘now’, in it’s lengthening ever- a budding bitten
musky astringency- a nascent placental ‘time’
drinking down your nightly damp petrichor hop-
slides inner an aromatic bay of crisply sun-dried
throaty hay lands, in ‘musty metallic’ tuning fork
flutters -in sync with woody bittersweet vanilla lips
fuels my midnight, your sillage turpentine spirits
Midnight Tunes
Dancing clouds floated above
Intoxicating smoke curling in the air
From the incense of insomnia
Rose with midnight tunes
A lento slithering from the chime
To fill every hollowed nook
With the sweet-smelling fragments
Of bitter-echoing remnants
Whispering softly to lull me awake
Intoxicating smoke curling in the air
From the incense of insomnia
Rose with midnight tunes
A lento slithering from the chime
To fill every hollowed nook
With the sweet-smelling fragments
Of bitter-echoing remnants
Whispering softly to lull me awake
Written by Lilliputian
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Deep in the galactic sounds
Behold unfinished dreams of a man
without hope.
Sleepless in the swim
of the sweet sweat pillow.
No vision of an own self,
deserted by his outer spiritual awakening.
Unknown pain on the left leg muscles.
Pins and needles across the brain that drains.
The yeast warming in a completely different
way from the original mind.
without hope.
Sleepless in the swim
of the sweet sweat pillow.
No vision of an own self,
deserted by his outer spiritual awakening.
Unknown pain on the left leg muscles.
Pins and needles across the brain that drains.
The yeast warming in a completely different
way from the original mind.
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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Sleepless Longing
- Sleepless Longing -
When Dreams Arise and Memories Return…
Oh, why am I so lost that I am unable to sleep,
For my thoughts of an angel, keep me waking?
Vacant is the sensation of a single tender hand!
And dreams unbidden before my eyes do seep,
They leave me hot for love and fiercely quaking.
Is this how the visions of prophets are planned?
Whilst without my window, I hear a cold wind!
And though it is spring, I feel the solitary chill…
Carried from climes more brutish than my own.
Why cannot the gods, the sweeter dream send?
By which love like fire can burn away every ill!
I am so far from paradise, with so little to atone,
And yet my tears fall unbidden, down my cheek.
How the desires which rule me, centuries span!
Still I remember, though once I tried to forget…
The touch of your embrace that left me as meek,
As a babe in arms though I am a full-grown woman.
Yet naught of our encounter, can my will regret!
Is it so much to ask, is it far too much to expect,
That love be like an art, for two souls to perfect?
Too hotly burns the soul of one divine, fallen…
With emotions beyond the confines of the skin!
Too sweet, the face of a young maid, as pollen;
Shall I play the bee and savor the nectar within?
Love is not evil, and love is not always good...
It is what we want it to be, often misunderstood.
What matter it if the heavens crumble unto dust?
Sister angel, we shall endure forever beyond all,
Until the kin of the ancients are where man rules.
We are the trace of their passing, their mad lust!
And across the gulfs of time we heard their call,
Until for passion’s sake, we are made true fools.
Desolate are the sands where empires rose up…
Which our spirits have outlived, by several eons,
Beyond the life of stars, extinguished in the void!
You were the first maiden to bear the gilded cup,
And the emerald of your crown that sat, upon…
Your platinum tresses, my eyes can never avoid!
In wrath have I loosed: the ire of a lonely search,
For love and passion, for lust and desire fierce…
Amidst cold maids: whose desire is but for things.
Like vultures are the selfish, upon a fading perch,
For time consumes baubles, they fade with years.
Better to desire love itself, and they joys it brings!
Is it so much to ask, or too much to hope strong,
For love to conquer all, so I’ll sing my joyful song?
Too brightly burns the light of stagnant reason…
When what is needed is the instinct we all hide!
Too often does desire commit its’ own treason;
Why not, then, with the winning team thus side?
Passion is not wicked, nor is it righteously pure...
It is what we want it to be, if we no longer ignore.
Sister angel: since you are more in God’s esteem,
Then say that I have never given up my seeking…
Knowing only true love can redeem me in the end.
Let there be sent unto me, one sweet as dream…
A maid of kindness rare whose love is not fleeting!
Only a kiss by her lips can: my painful thirst, mend.
I am a jealous spirit, and will have love for myself!
Too long have I seen others enjoy: what I crave…
I am a generous spirit, and will give all in my heart.
Love me and we shall be one, far beyond the self!
Never have I partaken and not bountifully gave…
Do not fear to love me, nor from that love, depart.
Let a good maid hear those words and be moved,
And, Sister angel, know all my memories return…
Stronger with every passing day do I thus awaken.
What I am, I am and it cannot ever be removed…
Too long have people despised me, love to spurn,
But I shall have my due, the fruit of love unshaken!
Is it so much to ask, is it too lofty to aspire like so,
After ones’ dreams, when the morning wind blows?
Too thickly: are we lost in our complex mores…
Whilst all the gods look down on us, and laugh!
Too harsh the cages that we build of cold force;
But, need the hour of liberation be divine wrath?
Desire is not wrong, but it is not always right...
It is what we want it to be, in the heat of the night.
When Dreams Arise and Memories Return…
Oh, why am I so lost that I am unable to sleep,
For my thoughts of an angel, keep me waking?
Vacant is the sensation of a single tender hand!
And dreams unbidden before my eyes do seep,
They leave me hot for love and fiercely quaking.
Is this how the visions of prophets are planned?
Whilst without my window, I hear a cold wind!
And though it is spring, I feel the solitary chill…
Carried from climes more brutish than my own.
Why cannot the gods, the sweeter dream send?
By which love like fire can burn away every ill!
I am so far from paradise, with so little to atone,
And yet my tears fall unbidden, down my cheek.
How the desires which rule me, centuries span!
Still I remember, though once I tried to forget…
The touch of your embrace that left me as meek,
As a babe in arms though I am a full-grown woman.
Yet naught of our encounter, can my will regret!
Is it so much to ask, is it far too much to expect,
That love be like an art, for two souls to perfect?
Too hotly burns the soul of one divine, fallen…
With emotions beyond the confines of the skin!
Too sweet, the face of a young maid, as pollen;
Shall I play the bee and savor the nectar within?
Love is not evil, and love is not always good...
It is what we want it to be, often misunderstood.
What matter it if the heavens crumble unto dust?
Sister angel, we shall endure forever beyond all,
Until the kin of the ancients are where man rules.
We are the trace of their passing, their mad lust!
And across the gulfs of time we heard their call,
Until for passion’s sake, we are made true fools.
Desolate are the sands where empires rose up…
Which our spirits have outlived, by several eons,
Beyond the life of stars, extinguished in the void!
You were the first maiden to bear the gilded cup,
And the emerald of your crown that sat, upon…
Your platinum tresses, my eyes can never avoid!
In wrath have I loosed: the ire of a lonely search,
For love and passion, for lust and desire fierce…
Amidst cold maids: whose desire is but for things.
Like vultures are the selfish, upon a fading perch,
For time consumes baubles, they fade with years.
Better to desire love itself, and they joys it brings!
Is it so much to ask, or too much to hope strong,
For love to conquer all, so I’ll sing my joyful song?
Too brightly burns the light of stagnant reason…
When what is needed is the instinct we all hide!
Too often does desire commit its’ own treason;
Why not, then, with the winning team thus side?
Passion is not wicked, nor is it righteously pure...
It is what we want it to be, if we no longer ignore.
Sister angel: since you are more in God’s esteem,
Then say that I have never given up my seeking…
Knowing only true love can redeem me in the end.
Let there be sent unto me, one sweet as dream…
A maid of kindness rare whose love is not fleeting!
Only a kiss by her lips can: my painful thirst, mend.
I am a jealous spirit, and will have love for myself!
Too long have I seen others enjoy: what I crave…
I am a generous spirit, and will give all in my heart.
Love me and we shall be one, far beyond the self!
Never have I partaken and not bountifully gave…
Do not fear to love me, nor from that love, depart.
Let a good maid hear those words and be moved,
And, Sister angel, know all my memories return…
Stronger with every passing day do I thus awaken.
What I am, I am and it cannot ever be removed…
Too long have people despised me, love to spurn,
But I shall have my due, the fruit of love unshaken!
Is it so much to ask, is it too lofty to aspire like so,
After ones’ dreams, when the morning wind blows?
Too thickly: are we lost in our complex mores…
Whilst all the gods look down on us, and laugh!
Too harsh the cages that we build of cold force;
But, need the hour of liberation be divine wrath?
Desire is not wrong, but it is not always right...
It is what we want it to be, in the heat of the night.
Written by Kou_Indigo
(Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
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a lucid haze
My bedsheets smell of
lavender and indica
silk pillowcase a cushioned ocean
for my restless mind
that floats through the dark
unseeing and unsleeping
I'm nowhere in particular
if I wait for the dawn I might see it
lavender and indica
silk pillowcase a cushioned ocean
for my restless mind
that floats through the dark
unseeing and unsleeping
I'm nowhere in particular
if I wait for the dawn I might see it
Written by Indie
(Miss Indie)
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Sleepless Lunatic
burnt offerings sacrificed to the full moon
a childhood memory evoked
stepping into Opas study (grandfather for those unfamiliar)
smelling of old musty books and stale cigarettes
a tremendous scent to be sure
his ashtray as piled up as mine is becoming
just thinking about what he saw as a boy during world war two
causes me to light up another burnt offering
even as the last smoulders and dies
Written by Carpe_Noctem
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