Poetry Competition Ends 15th February 2025 5:01pm
Page:
Writing As Our Armor
Poetry Contest Description
Write a new poem of any length describing how writing fortifies your spirit. Some of us here on DUP suffer from mental health issues as well as addiction. How does poetry or writing in general lift your spirits?
Writing As My Armor
Unsighted eyes these are!
Blind with hallucinations
yet so perceptive of beauty.
I cannot recognize reality,
yet surrealism takes a definite form to me.
I don’t want to live like this forever.
It is not at all what I imagined
when I was very young.
I dreamed of being a soldier.
With an armor of confidence
and a superb IQ and riches.
But I cannot and will not deny reality!
I am mentally ill. I am not without oddities.
All I can do now is wear it as my armor,
or, as my strength in life against judgments!
If I am to rise again from the ashes of this life,
I need to understand I didn’t receive writing talent
as a gift but over my life I built it on my own!
Blind with hallucinations
yet so perceptive of beauty.
I cannot recognize reality,
yet surrealism takes a definite form to me.
I don’t want to live like this forever.
It is not at all what I imagined
when I was very young.
I dreamed of being a soldier.
With an armor of confidence
and a superb IQ and riches.
But I cannot and will not deny reality!
I am mentally ill. I am not without oddities.
All I can do now is wear it as my armor,
or, as my strength in life against judgments!
If I am to rise again from the ashes of this life,
I need to understand I didn’t receive writing talent
as a gift but over my life I built it on my own!
Written by gothicsurrealism
(Daniel Long)
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journey journal...
these pages mark the passing of my life
the lessons & leanings
what I learn about myself
my sanctuary
where I tattoo all my pain in a flood of ink
in this ever growing volume of me
safe to express
without seeing judgment in...
...or rolling of...
...the witnessing eyes
& I wonder sometimes
what will become of these fragile chapters
my thoughts...my aches...my dreams...
when they're all that's left of me
will they read them & finally comprehend
who I really am
or would it be best...
...to simply burn the book
in the way of all truths...
...too painful to accept...
Written by WillowsWhimsies
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"Writsilience"
Ink bleeds slow from hollow veins
A ghostly script of loss remains
Each word a whisper, torn and thin
Etched in silence, steeped in sin
Candles flicker, shadows writhe
Memories wake but not alive
Fingers trace the lines they penned
Yet every sentence meets its end
The parchment wilts, the letters fade
A tomb of echoes, softly laid
No hand to mend and no voice to weep
Just resilience—grief that wilts and creeps
Ink bleeds slow from hollow veins
A ghostly script of loss remains
Each word a whisper, torn and thin
Etched in silence, steeped in sin
Candles flicker, shadows writhe
Memories wake but not alive
Fingers trace the lines they penned
Yet every sentence meets its end
The parchment wilts, the letters fade
A tomb of echoes, softly laid
No hand to mend and no voice to weep
Just resilience—grief that wilts and creeps
Seeking Storm and Stress
We should all be tormented artists,
at least once.
Let everyone feel in heaves, in
impetuous sighs, moans, and odes.
Everyone should paint at least one
messianic vision of homely sunflowers,
compose at least one
tumultuous opera,
harkening to ages of faery,
peasants, and knights.
We ought to all
feel the pressure
of the fall, and
of the call,
and of the then fall,
the next call, another fall,
one last call, if
only to know
what it is to shatter
and rebuild,
learning through splitting and
re-stitching what it is that makes us.
Give seething feeling just one shot,
transmute it into all-enduring art,
and you’ll know how
to adhere to your heart,
why we breathe as we do.
at least once.
Let everyone feel in heaves, in
impetuous sighs, moans, and odes.
Everyone should paint at least one
messianic vision of homely sunflowers,
compose at least one
tumultuous opera,
harkening to ages of faery,
peasants, and knights.
We ought to all
feel the pressure
of the fall, and
of the call,
and of the then fall,
the next call, another fall,
one last call, if
only to know
what it is to shatter
and rebuild,
learning through splitting and
re-stitching what it is that makes us.
Give seething feeling just one shot,
transmute it into all-enduring art,
and you’ll know how
to adhere to your heart,
why we breathe as we do.
Written by olliec
(Oliver Cocks)
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The Royals vs the poet's realm
Of splendid thrones of gold
or treasures manifold
Of jewelled caskets
or lavish banquets
Of Emirs and rajahs
Of Sultan and Shahs
Of kings and queens
Of rulers and emperors
Of sparkling crowns
or flowing gowns
Of their subservient stewards and obedient pages
Of their stalwart squires and servile knaves
Of poor humble, docile minions
who tended to regal pavilions
And obeisantly carried royal palanquins
Oh and some were real life harlequins
Of castles and palaces
of abounding gold and silver
in ostentatious regal splendour
The sidelined fanning maids in waiting
Yet to me only one thing worth noticing
The minstrels who came to sing
from afar for the queen and king
For I'd rather be a poetess for kings
so to my tunes swayed a kingdom
than I be the king of mere subjects
and be filled with regal boredom!
So I could join ranks of
troubadours
and sing for the king
some folklores.
A passion for poesy
For magic of literacy [/b]
Written by Zaynab_kamoonpury
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Pure Dark Love
What pressure the Jack of many trades and master of the unknown?
Son you better know that’s a very risky and dangerous work you are on your own
Only when you can read and write using your forefinger on a colorless board
Who is going to bell me the marauding cat? You will fly at night pollinating flowers like a bat
Then got in the mall in the daytime and use a shopping cart
Should I hold a bat?
Who creates this tennis art?
My opponent is this sumo wrestler I'm too tiny and he's so fat
A posture when aiming, a girl happened to see my jaw dropping skills throwing a dart
I will present myself to that young sexy bartender wearing my hat
And the hottest hotel receptionist who got infatuated with my dark art
Our eyes met soon as I release my dart
With my manly charisma I will surely capture her heart
From that moment on girl call me your shining knight
With me in the art of romance you will play your part
Walk with me girl you will start flying like a kite
Get a hickey!
Am this person who gets sexual pleasure from being hurt by a romantic bite
Give me the key..
To your heart I will unlock it lit many candles and blow some light
To you this noble won't ever show his might
Many things happened in the day but especially at night
We don't care to what lengths or height
We will sit and talk things out every time we have a fight
In the longest summer if you are to take a nap
I will sit up through your dream with a hand fan
You will see me as the apple of your eye
The thing you will hate the most is to wave me bye
You will only sigh anytime you see me so high
I will find myself everything about you I like
We will thrive in a relationship were am dwarf and you are a nerd
We gonna live through the facts am so evil and you are so bad
My untimely demise will shake and stirred you and then make you so sad
Don't worry your lads gonna see the pictures and yell dad!
Within my fantastic pure dark love..
A stitch in time gonna save me nine
Only where I sleep with two evil whores
Only where we three dreamt beyond all shores
In my pure darkest form I am a master of many dark arts
For what pleasure?
The recipient of some extraordinary blowjobs To what treasure?
The architect behind all those broken jackpots
The cost of some extraordinary odd jobs
To what extent
The dribbler who feigns through many pot holes
With the ball at my feet a fantastic footwork With the pen in my hand have a look at my written art work
I had to sit on the table to work on this fable Forgive me if you read this I can't help it but it's too tight
Am on very fast lane speeding and going beyond my sight
Of reasoning beyond my rhymes
What pressure the Jack of many trades and master of the unknown?
Son you are own your own
In the game of chess you are just a pawn You are not one in town
Son you better know that’s a very risky and dangerous work you are on your own
Only when you can read and write using your forefinger on a colorless board
Who is going to bell me the marauding cat? You will fly at night pollinating flowers like a bat
Then got in the mall in the daytime and use a shopping cart
Should I hold a bat?
Who creates this tennis art?
My opponent is this sumo wrestler I'm too tiny and he's so fat
A posture when aiming, a girl happened to see my jaw dropping skills throwing a dart
I will present myself to that young sexy bartender wearing my hat
And the hottest hotel receptionist who got infatuated with my dark art
Our eyes met soon as I release my dart
With my manly charisma I will surely capture her heart
From that moment on girl call me your shining knight
With me in the art of romance you will play your part
Walk with me girl you will start flying like a kite
Get a hickey!
Am this person who gets sexual pleasure from being hurt by a romantic bite
Give me the key..
To your heart I will unlock it lit many candles and blow some light
To you this noble won't ever show his might
Many things happened in the day but especially at night
We don't care to what lengths or height
We will sit and talk things out every time we have a fight
In the longest summer if you are to take a nap
I will sit up through your dream with a hand fan
You will see me as the apple of your eye
The thing you will hate the most is to wave me bye
You will only sigh anytime you see me so high
I will find myself everything about you I like
We will thrive in a relationship were am dwarf and you are a nerd
We gonna live through the facts am so evil and you are so bad
My untimely demise will shake and stirred you and then make you so sad
Don't worry your lads gonna see the pictures and yell dad!
Within my fantastic pure dark love..
A stitch in time gonna save me nine
Only where I sleep with two evil whores
Only where we three dreamt beyond all shores
In my pure darkest form I am a master of many dark arts
For what pleasure?
The recipient of some extraordinary blowjobs To what treasure?
The architect behind all those broken jackpots
The cost of some extraordinary odd jobs
To what extent
The dribbler who feigns through many pot holes
With the ball at my feet a fantastic footwork With the pen in my hand have a look at my written art work
I had to sit on the table to work on this fable Forgive me if you read this I can't help it but it's too tight
Am on very fast lane speeding and going beyond my sight
Of reasoning beyond my rhymes
What pressure the Jack of many trades and master of the unknown?
Son you are own your own
In the game of chess you are just a pawn You are not one in town
Written by Numer90
(Numer0-un0)
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Pencilled journey
war is innate to humans
in grief struck times
we leave our battered fields
twenty three years ago
these white fumes
and blood shot eyes
I ignored every warning
while brooding looms are spinning
into reddening festering formations
my clenched grip illuminates
ink blotted figures escape
today
I nailed each carcass
watched it speak
shouting tarnished tales
cloaked blessed obsessed
plagued I stand amidst
humanity
dead among the living
only I was allowed this transition
tell me who owns the wind
burn not these bridges
let the echo chambers
quiver while I closed the lid
he lay within the carcass
I listened to each embryo
each frequency fading
into violent violence
cascading from stagnant
waters we willed the steam
copyrights © owned by Rianne 2025
all rights reserved
in grief struck times
we leave our battered fields
twenty three years ago
these white fumes
and blood shot eyes
I ignored every warning
while brooding looms are spinning
into reddening festering formations
my clenched grip illuminates
ink blotted figures escape
today
I nailed each carcass
watched it speak
shouting tarnished tales
cloaked blessed obsessed
plagued I stand amidst
humanity
dead among the living
only I was allowed this transition
tell me who owns the wind
burn not these bridges
let the echo chambers
quiver while I closed the lid
he lay within the carcass
I listened to each embryo
each frequency fading
into violent violence
cascading from stagnant
waters we willed the steam
copyrights © owned by Rianne 2025
all rights reserved
Written by Anne-Ri999
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