Poetry competition CLOSED 22nd February 2025 7:34pm
A public vote has been requested
Page:
VIRGINITY
Poetry Contest Description
Capturing the Beauty of Virginity
Capture the beauty of 100% VIRGINITY in a poem:
* Entries: No minimum nor maximum entries.
* No personal experience, viewpoint, nor story poem.
* Virginity can be ANYTHING "virgin-related" (beverage, season,
person, etc.).
* Maximum poetry lines: 60
* Competition Running Time: One Week
OPTIONAL: Inbox me your preference: HOST or PUBLIC VOTE...
VIRGINITY
With such class and sheer elegance
Her demeanor called for reverence.
Like winter-white fresh-fallen snow
Her nudity covering [skin] reflected a radiant glow.
Wholesome and complete, her barren womb
Fertile-ready for a love seed to bloom
When the time be right
And when glistening stars would shine bright.
There she walked with a humble stride
Simple with every step and soft strides of an innocent bride
Her body full of radiant light
The winter-white virgin is her husband’s delight.
Pure and transparent as summer rain
Her sheer childlike innocence bares no shame!
Self-controlled and self-refrained
She patiently awaits her soulmate
Though she knows he may just run late
But, both are conscious that the best things await
Those who patiently and quietly wait!
A gaze into her eyes – he peers into her soul
And her perfect mate quickly knows
She’s as pure as virgin oil
As she has remained faithful and loyal
Bypassing the test of chance and time
Preserving herself at her prime!
A good glance at her beautiful face
Her eyes and cheeks glow with benevolent grace
Her laughter resounds
And her innocence abounds
Without a single mark or print
Without a blemish, defect or mistaken imprint
Neither on or beneath her skin-covered body nor her name
She, gracefully, stands like a proud swan without any shame
Undefiled and without defect
No demonic traces to cast or reject
From her spirit-formed soul…
Ah, the Winter-White Virgen has no woe!
Childlike innocence - her body – hovers
Like a sheer night-gown, her nudity covers
Throughout the long-awaited years,
She’s overcome her tears and fears
Virginity preserves her years forever young
As the nightingale sings after the Red Rose has sprung.
Lips that never locked with no one else
Body never once touched by any other or self
She abandons herself completely to her groom
When Eden’s Garden Moon fully blooms.
Pure and holy – undefiled and untouched
Unattached to any man from the past
Laying her head gently after the knot has been latched
She abandons herself to the night and her man
Sanctioned from the night-prowling shadows of a haunted past.
Ah…Winter-White Virgen…the priceless gift of virginity
Crowns your wedding day with the utmost honor of sovereignty…•
* Entries: No minimum nor maximum entries.
* No personal experience, viewpoint, nor story poem.
* Virginity can be ANYTHING "virgin-related" (beverage, season,
person, etc.).
* Maximum poetry lines: 60
* Competition Running Time: One Week
OPTIONAL: Inbox me your preference: HOST or PUBLIC VOTE...
VIRGINITY
With such class and sheer elegance
Her demeanor called for reverence.
Like winter-white fresh-fallen snow
Her nudity covering [skin] reflected a radiant glow.
Wholesome and complete, her barren womb
Fertile-ready for a love seed to bloom
When the time be right
And when glistening stars would shine bright.
There she walked with a humble stride
Simple with every step and soft strides of an innocent bride
Her body full of radiant light
The winter-white virgin is her husband’s delight.
Pure and transparent as summer rain
Her sheer childlike innocence bares no shame!
Self-controlled and self-refrained
She patiently awaits her soulmate
Though she knows he may just run late
But, both are conscious that the best things await
Those who patiently and quietly wait!
A gaze into her eyes – he peers into her soul
And her perfect mate quickly knows
She’s as pure as virgin oil
As she has remained faithful and loyal
Bypassing the test of chance and time
Preserving herself at her prime!
A good glance at her beautiful face
Her eyes and cheeks glow with benevolent grace
Her laughter resounds
And her innocence abounds
Without a single mark or print
Without a blemish, defect or mistaken imprint
Neither on or beneath her skin-covered body nor her name
She, gracefully, stands like a proud swan without any shame
Undefiled and without defect
No demonic traces to cast or reject
From her spirit-formed soul…
Ah, the Winter-White Virgen has no woe!
Childlike innocence - her body – hovers
Like a sheer night-gown, her nudity covers
Throughout the long-awaited years,
She’s overcome her tears and fears
Virginity preserves her years forever young
As the nightingale sings after the Red Rose has sprung.
Lips that never locked with no one else
Body never once touched by any other or self
She abandons herself completely to her groom
When Eden’s Garden Moon fully blooms.
Pure and holy – undefiled and untouched
Unattached to any man from the past
Laying her head gently after the knot has been latched
She abandons herself to the night and her man
Sanctioned from the night-prowling shadows of a haunted past.
Ah…Winter-White Virgen…the priceless gift of virginity
Crowns your wedding day with the utmost honor of sovereignty…•
Loss = Gain
He so got me.
Even though he thought he wouldn’t get me.
I had told him I was waiting ‘til I got married. Some sort of religious thing.
That kind of crazy was I at the time, the kind of crazy that didn't happen, over there in his country.
So in love, he thought that shit was cute.
I didn't. It frustrated me, leaving me drenched and bitchy.
One late night return from the discothèque.
Sweat-soaked clothes clinging to our bodies.
My single dormitory bed wouldn’t
hold us side to side that night.
I climbed on top and reached for the nightclub giveaway I had nonchalantly grabbed upon exiting.
I ripped open the foil gift with my teeth.
'What are you doing?' 'T’es sûre?!?' 'What about your future husband?'
We were futureless, from different worlds.
I smiled silently and continued. Unwrapped, and rewrapped over his sèxe like I had been doing this all my life.
Then coyly sat back down on the sweetest man ever to lose anything to.
R.
Even though he thought he wouldn’t get me.
I had told him I was waiting ‘til I got married. Some sort of religious thing.
That kind of crazy was I at the time, the kind of crazy that didn't happen, over there in his country.
So in love, he thought that shit was cute.
I didn't. It frustrated me, leaving me drenched and bitchy.
One late night return from the discothèque.
Sweat-soaked clothes clinging to our bodies.
My single dormitory bed wouldn’t
hold us side to side that night.
I climbed on top and reached for the nightclub giveaway I had nonchalantly grabbed upon exiting.
I ripped open the foil gift with my teeth.
'What are you doing?' 'T’es sûre?!?' 'What about your future husband?'
We were futureless, from different worlds.
I smiled silently and continued. Unwrapped, and rewrapped over his sèxe like I had been doing this all my life.
Then coyly sat back down on the sweetest man ever to lose anything to.
R.
Written by Rachelleundrgrd
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Vital vespers
beyond bliss
kindle me your affection
in the vaporizing sounds
liquidity lingers
night will not tell
Victorian crinoline
preforming an art
called humanity
truth rattles my bones
time pirouetting
joyous celibacy
I became the Siren
beholden to
myself alone
the odor
utopian sentiment
cries nobility
soul found!
ad infinitum
copyrights © Rianne 2025
all rights reserved
kindle me your affection
in the vaporizing sounds
liquidity lingers
night will not tell
Victorian crinoline
preforming an art
called humanity
truth rattles my bones
time pirouetting
joyous celibacy
I became the Siren
beholden to
myself alone
the odor
utopian sentiment
cries nobility
soul found!
ad infinitum
copyrights © Rianne 2025
all rights reserved
Written by Anne-Ri999
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Priestesses
Guardians of the flame,
sacred vows of purity,
to silent lives constrained.
Chaste in ancient Greece,
virgins bound by duty's chain,
faithful to the peace.
Under the temple's gaze,
Vestal's hearts in shadows dwell,
freedom's distant haze.
Solemn and restrained
lives of the Vestal Virgins
bound by their sacred duties
and so imposed virginity.
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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Like I Was Never Touched
There are things I don’t say.
Things I press down so deep,
they never had a voice—
only suffering,
only pain.
My body was never mine, not really.
Hands took it before I even knew how to feel.
Before I could understand the perversion,
before I understood the way a soul can fracture
and still keep moving.
I have been taken so many times,
I stopped believing there was anything left to keep.
I have been seen, but never known.
Touched, but never held.
Wanted so intensely, but never loved.
And yet—you.
You, you look at me like I am innocent,
your patient hands,
your voice that doesn’t demand, doesn’t take.
You, who touches me like I am something whole,
like I am something that can still be pure.
How?
How do you see past all the damage,
past the nights I spent trying to disappear,
past the ghosts I still taste in my mouth?
How do you kiss me
like I have never been kissed before?
How do you make me feel untouched,
when I have been touched so much I thought I had vanished?
I swore innocence was something you can’t get back.
I swore love could never feel clean again.
I swore I would never let anyone see me naked
and believe I was more than a body.
And yet—you.
You, holding me like something precious.
You, making me new without erasing what I’ve been.
You, whispering my name
like it isn’t heavy with history,
like it isn’t stained.
With you, I don’t feel ruined.
I don’t feel used.
I don’t feel like I have to apologize
for all the hands that came before yours.
With you, I feel like a girl who has never been touched.
Like a girl who is touching love for the first time.
Like a girl who can finally – finally -
feel like a Virgin.
Things I press down so deep,
they never had a voice—
only suffering,
only pain.
My body was never mine, not really.
Hands took it before I even knew how to feel.
Before I could understand the perversion,
before I understood the way a soul can fracture
and still keep moving.
I have been taken so many times,
I stopped believing there was anything left to keep.
I have been seen, but never known.
Touched, but never held.
Wanted so intensely, but never loved.
And yet—you.
You, you look at me like I am innocent,
your patient hands,
your voice that doesn’t demand, doesn’t take.
You, who touches me like I am something whole,
like I am something that can still be pure.
How?
How do you see past all the damage,
past the nights I spent trying to disappear,
past the ghosts I still taste in my mouth?
How do you kiss me
like I have never been kissed before?
How do you make me feel untouched,
when I have been touched so much I thought I had vanished?
I swore innocence was something you can’t get back.
I swore love could never feel clean again.
I swore I would never let anyone see me naked
and believe I was more than a body.
And yet—you.
You, holding me like something precious.
You, making me new without erasing what I’ve been.
You, whispering my name
like it isn’t heavy with history,
like it isn’t stained.
With you, I don’t feel ruined.
I don’t feel used.
I don’t feel like I have to apologize
for all the hands that came before yours.
With you, I feel like a girl who has never been touched.
Like a girl who is touching love for the first time.
Like a girl who can finally – finally -
feel like a Virgin.
Written by KristinaX
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Fresh Oil
Musing in its general direction through the morning haze,
the jungle mountain begs one’s attention at any hour.
A nearby dog has failed to resume its cyclical rhetoric
when something closes the eyes.
Silence descends like fresh oil.
It drizzles through my rebelliously long hair
and down across my zippered lips.
Behind the closed, another opens to the child’s sight
to hear the jungle’s morning crew
singing to Aioue about today’s purity.
A minimalist’s symphonic work.
In suspended moments, I am the mountain. Pristine.
In the amniotic waters of my personal universe. Crystalline.
I don’t need Jesus, I am Jesus. Unviolated
Neither son nor father, husband or mystic. I am He.
Silence descends indeed like fresh oil. Virgin nectar.
One dangling drop at the end of one’s nose,
mightily pausing the unsilent inevitable.
A ticking clock or a dysfunctional marriage.
Another dog mounts its bully pulpit.
Cigarettes from the the contractors next door
gang rape the virgin jungle jasmine.
Innocence lost or reality found.
Besmirchment or carnal knowledge.
As silence flees, I cannot tell you which half the glass is,
but potent moments of nectar reinvent my beginners mind
when fresh oil comes down from on high.
the jungle mountain begs one’s attention at any hour.
A nearby dog has failed to resume its cyclical rhetoric
when something closes the eyes.
Silence descends like fresh oil.
It drizzles through my rebelliously long hair
and down across my zippered lips.
Behind the closed, another opens to the child’s sight
to hear the jungle’s morning crew
singing to Aioue about today’s purity.
A minimalist’s symphonic work.
In suspended moments, I am the mountain. Pristine.
In the amniotic waters of my personal universe. Crystalline.
I don’t need Jesus, I am Jesus. Unviolated
Neither son nor father, husband or mystic. I am He.
Silence descends indeed like fresh oil. Virgin nectar.
One dangling drop at the end of one’s nose,
mightily pausing the unsilent inevitable.
A ticking clock or a dysfunctional marriage.
Another dog mounts its bully pulpit.
Cigarettes from the the contractors next door
gang rape the virgin jungle jasmine.
Innocence lost or reality found.
Besmirchment or carnal knowledge.
As silence flees, I cannot tell you which half the glass is,
but potent moments of nectar reinvent my beginners mind
when fresh oil comes down from on high.
Written by BaldyBrown
(Sordid and Sacred)
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Forbidden Pages
A hidden drawer, a whispered name.
A world unkown, a flickering flame.
Naked bodies,strange and bold.
Confusion stirred, a rising heat,
A throbbing pulse, a secret beat.
My innocent eyes, wide with surprise,
A new sensation, a strange sunrise.
No understanding, just a pull,
A primal urge, a world to cull.
Curiosity's hand, a trembling touch,
A hidden hunger, oh so much.
The images danced, a blurred array,
A seed of longing, sown that day.
A secret world, a hidden desire,
A burning question, setting me afire.
A world unkown, a flickering flame.
Naked bodies,strange and bold.
Confusion stirred, a rising heat,
A throbbing pulse, a secret beat.
My innocent eyes, wide with surprise,
A new sensation, a strange sunrise.
No understanding, just a pull,
A primal urge, a world to cull.
Curiosity's hand, a trembling touch,
A hidden hunger, oh so much.
The images danced, a blurred array,
A seed of longing, sown that day.
A secret world, a hidden desire,
A burning question, setting me afire.
Written by serpentscoil
(Serpantcoil)
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This poem is a beautiful celebration of virginity, imbued with imagery of purity and anticipation. It evokes a sense of reverence and wonder, painting a picture of a woman who has preserved herself for her chosen partner. The metaphors, like the winter-white snow and the fertile womb, are powerful and resonant. The poem's strength lies in its ability to connect the physical state of virginity with inner purity, innocence, and a deep spiritual connection with her future husband. The emphasis on patience and self-control adds another layer of depth, suggesting that this virtue is not just a physical state but a conscious choice. The final image of the bride surrendering herself on her wedding night is both tender and powerful, completing the poem's journey from anticipation to fulfillment.
Keyhole To My Heart
There is a keyhole to my heart
though there is no key holder.
A keyhole to the wonders I dream of us,
wonders that only exist within my mind.
This door to my soul locked and windowless,
you beg to enter even if only for a glimpse.
though there is no key holder.
A keyhole to the wonders I dream of us,
wonders that only exist within my mind.
This door to my soul locked and windowless,
you beg to enter even if only for a glimpse.
Written by gothicsurrealism
(Daniel Long)
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Habit
I could get used to the silence.
The birds chirping, the bees buzzing, the leaves rustling…
Trivial treasures compared to the screaming isolation.
Louder than anything you’ll hear, quieter than nothing,
Lasting eternally until broken, emphatically.
I could get used to my breath, didn’t notice it before today.
I must have been dead this whole time.
Without a voice, bereft of noise,
That which only feels but never reveals.
I could get used to that.
I could get used to this.
The birds chirping, the bees buzzing, the leaves rustling…
Trivial treasures compared to the screaming isolation.
Louder than anything you’ll hear, quieter than nothing,
Lasting eternally until broken, emphatically.
I could get used to my breath, didn’t notice it before today.
I must have been dead this whole time.
Without a voice, bereft of noise,
That which only feels but never reveals.
I could get used to that.
I could get used to this.
Written by 13
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First Touch
Each day brought on that familiar smile.
Like rays of sunshine so warm and tactile
Every morning the dream got closer to reality
Knowing some exchanges are a mere formality
Beauty and elegance seem to have a smolder
Especially in the eyes and mind of the beholder
And when attraction brings two strangers nearer
They can reflect each other’s emotions like a mirror
Until one day just like it has been envisioned
Each breath will synchronize with precision
Hearts beat as one with a rhythm of pure elation
While ravenous lips dance with a curious sensation
And it’s here at the moment we all become akin
To that first touch and caress of another’s skin
Like dreams escaped or vanished or gone amiss
When we gaze upon those lips we’ve longed to kiss
Written by wallyroo92
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