Poetry Competition Ends 26th January 2025 11:21pm
Page:
Detour Ahead
Poetry Contest Description
When your musing starts one way...& your muse has other ideas
Sometimes we think we know where a poem is going but it takes an unexpected left turn on us. Begin a write & let it go where it goes. I know we have some great musers here...& some great muses. Show us what you've got!
*Any genre, any layout
*50 lines or less
*3 weeks
*New writes only
*Competition will be voted on by myself & 2 others
*Any genre, any layout
*50 lines or less
*3 weeks
*New writes only
*Competition will be voted on by myself & 2 others
"Dance of A Diamond"
Refractions of celestial light
Translucent sparkles dance and play
Each plane bends photons in flight
Born from earth's fiery, ancient fray
A mystery carved with divine intent
A brilliance forged in hidden embrace
Turning like a ballerina’s ascent
Lifted from the dark to reveal its grace
Prisms unfold a kaleidoscope's gleam
A spectrum alive in its fractured hue
Each shard reflects a forgotten dream
A fragment of creation, eternally new
A timeless beauty craft by no mortal hand
Its form speaks of patience and fire
From shadow to glory in untamed lands
Shaped by the earth’s eternal desire
The stone is a hymn, silent yet bold
A relic of chaos, now poised with shine
In its depths lies a story untold
A universe captured in crystalline divine
Refractions of celestial light
Translucent sparkles dance and play
Each plane bends photons in flight
Born from earth's fiery, ancient fray
A mystery carved with divine intent
A brilliance forged in hidden embrace
Turning like a ballerina’s ascent
Lifted from the dark to reveal its grace
Prisms unfold a kaleidoscope's gleam
A spectrum alive in its fractured hue
Each shard reflects a forgotten dream
A fragment of creation, eternally new
A timeless beauty craft by no mortal hand
Its form speaks of patience and fire
From shadow to glory in untamed lands
Shaped by the earth’s eternal desire
The stone is a hymn, silent yet bold
A relic of chaos, now poised with shine
In its depths lies a story untold
A universe captured in crystalline divine
Little spring-lamb...
I remember being a new-born lamb
kicking my heels high, high, with joyful bleats,
bah, bahing, at tuts and frowns from my dam
needing me to hide mid the bleating sheep.
But I sought answers, chewed the hows and whys,
among the grass-nibbling, nose-down, docile flock
my eyes searched for fields higher in the sky
where grass must be greener but, just got mocked...
Time passed and winds blew a sense of unease
old ones seemed to roam off, new ones were born,
but I knew my ma's love would never cease
I turn to her for comfort but, she's gone.
Ma! Ma! I had a Ma! I bleat, I did!
Nose down, I search cropped grass for where she's hid...
I started a hard hitting political satire, as we do,
using sheep as illustration but my pen turned left. They do that, sometimes.
kicking my heels high, high, with joyful bleats,
bah, bahing, at tuts and frowns from my dam
needing me to hide mid the bleating sheep.
But I sought answers, chewed the hows and whys,
among the grass-nibbling, nose-down, docile flock
my eyes searched for fields higher in the sky
where grass must be greener but, just got mocked...
Time passed and winds blew a sense of unease
old ones seemed to roam off, new ones were born,
but I knew my ma's love would never cease
I turn to her for comfort but, she's gone.
Ma! Ma! I had a Ma! I bleat, I did!
Nose down, I search cropped grass for where she's hid...
I started a hard hitting political satire, as we do,
using sheep as illustration but my pen turned left. They do that, sometimes.
Written by Rew
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Eternal Gates
Dear Poets,
I hope I find you in a pensive state for by such a mood we might relate from our true desires to create,
I’ve enclosed some words in a celestial cipher that I can only hope you might help me decipher,
It comes thereafter at the descent of where death awaits and ends at the brink of life’s eternal gates.
I come from where there’s no substance as light, but only spawns of fire,
Strings of hope lie not in seeing and seeing is void of any known frequencies,
I need not to see but to only dine with energy and eat the matter of darkness swallowed,
If by this I’m reborn, then from tumultuous wombs, I might forget and beget life’s sullen tombs,
Mighty daggers do cut the tongues of angelic beasts, but mute is not this creatures voice,
I’ve nested in the twisted ladder that is me opening the entanglements to an intricate key,
Dear Poets,
I pause for a moment to show you a slice of the gate we are in,
Wherein lies the secrets to where we might begin,
Dead stars have ignited the particles that make the light within,
Whereas ancient creatures extinguish it and feast with their mortal sin,
Elemental bodies orbit sporadically with broken calculations,
Ill theories attempt to pierce poison plunder and patch broken foundations,
And bloody ink drips from painful pens that permeate broken nations.
A raspy whispering whimpering wandering sound,
Warns and wages worlds with waste and wealth unfound,
Whose unworldly wisdom weaves the weight and worth I confound,
To dare to dream and defeat the blackness to which I’m bound,
I know a tale of an artist alike, and this I’ll tell you straight,
Of fair outcome although I wish, I cannot on this occasion equate,
Her bright voice collided with monsters of a monstrous hate,
And the poetry of her life was stricken to a gateless estate,
This clever girl saw a crack in the fabric of this enduring fate,
As she discovered this ability, somehow within, to create her own gate,
But to cross the threshold of this success, a monster she’d have to imitate,
And of her own self sadly in sacrifice would forever dissipate,
Just before her gate closed a seed was planted, and of her plans she would then orchestrate,
I tell you, Dear Poets, with heavy heart that of her I dearly venerate,
To give oneself for a greater good is a worthy act to recapitulate,
Such a gesture, so be it, perhaps in reading, you just might regenerate,
Dear Poets,
Behind her gate, locked and sealed, laid rest a tulip in isolation,
And so did the same in each cosmological incarnation,
She reaches for us as a strange apparition building some form of liberation.
Imagine a tulip with only one strand of light,
Has the power to grow in despite an evil blight,
Imagine its seeds and what they just might incite,
This in thought, is much more than what I can write,
Neighboring tulips transformed into a tree, which then multiply therein…
Causing eternal gates to open and transpire herein...
The spirit of a clever girl can be heard wherein…
Barriers come down, so now let’s begin...
Dear Poets,
I leave with you in pen, from my mind and heart, poetry of my adoration,
In hopes that we come together in exchange of admiration,
As my only wish is to inspire now and for the next generation.
Written by divaD
Dear Poets,
I hope I find you in a pensive state for by such a mood we might relate from our true desires to create,
I’ve enclosed some words in a celestial cipher that I can only hope you might help me decipher,
It comes thereafter at the descent of where death awaits and ends at the brink of life’s eternal gates.
I come from where there’s no substance as light, but only spawns of fire,
Strings of hope lie not in seeing and seeing is void of any known frequencies,
I need not to see but to only dine with energy and eat the matter of darkness swallowed,
If by this I’m reborn, then from tumultuous wombs, I might forget and beget life’s sullen tombs,
Mighty daggers do cut the tongues of angelic beasts, but mute is not this creatures voice,
I’ve nested in the twisted ladder that is me opening the entanglements to an intricate key,
Dear Poets,
I pause for a moment to show you a slice of the gate we are in,
Wherein lies the secrets to where we might begin,
Dead stars have ignited the particles that make the light within,
Whereas ancient creatures extinguish it and feast with their mortal sin,
Elemental bodies orbit sporadically with broken calculations,
Ill theories attempt to pierce poison plunder and patch broken foundations,
And bloody ink drips from painful pens that permeate broken nations.
A raspy whispering whimpering wandering sound,
Warns and wages worlds with waste and wealth unfound,
Whose unworldly wisdom weaves the weight and worth I confound,
To dare to dream and defeat the blackness to which I’m bound,
I know a tale of an artist alike, and this I’ll tell you straight,
Of fair outcome although I wish, I cannot on this occasion equate,
Her bright voice collided with monsters of a monstrous hate,
And the poetry of her life was stricken to a gateless estate,
This clever girl saw a crack in the fabric of this enduring fate,
As she discovered this ability, somehow within, to create her own gate,
But to cross the threshold of this success, a monster she’d have to imitate,
And of her own self sadly in sacrifice would forever dissipate,
Just before her gate closed a seed was planted, and of her plans she would then orchestrate,
I tell you, Dear Poets, with heavy heart that of her I dearly venerate,
To give oneself for a greater good is a worthy act to recapitulate,
Such a gesture, so be it, perhaps in reading, you just might regenerate,
Dear Poets,
Behind her gate, locked and sealed, laid rest a tulip in isolation,
And so did the same in each cosmological incarnation,
She reaches for us as a strange apparition building some form of liberation.
Imagine a tulip with only one strand of light,
Has the power to grow in despite an evil blight,
Imagine its seeds and what they just might incite,
This in thought, is much more than what I can write,
Neighboring tulips transformed into a tree, which then multiply therein…
Causing eternal gates to open and transpire herein...
The spirit of a clever girl can be heard wherein…
Barriers come down, so now let’s begin...
Dear Poets,
I leave with you in pen, from my mind and heart, poetry of my adoration,
In hopes that we come together in exchange of admiration,
As my only wish is to inspire now and for the next generation.
Written by divaD
