Poetry Competition Ends 11th April 2025 7:16pm
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One for DUP
The D.U. Trip
What an amazing ride the Deep Underground has been
Finding a community where we came to share poetry
Connecting with poets, writers, romantics and dreamers
Watching the fruit of our labor grow on the tree of…artistry
For all the themes and challenges we faced and created
For all the people I spoke with and connected along the way
I’m thankful that I was able to meet other likeminded souls
Who inspired me even when the days seemed dark and grey
What a brilliant and wonderful flight of fancy this has been
To have laughed and felt respected by so many peers
Knowing that although the roads may diverge at some point
I’ll be able to carry the love and memory for so many years
It’s been a fantastic journey, writing and sharing with others
No matter what corner of the world or internet they may be
The D.U. trip gave me a chance to make friends out of strangers
The experience of lifetime that will always stay with me
Written by wallyroo92
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DU residents
A masked man
a red haired girl
a sad looking young man
strumming his guitar
a beautiful naked woman
looking out of the window
animes, purpled haired
sensuous poses
Soulful eyes
rockers with their guitars
Cute bears on helicopters
pretty girl with pink hair
a few scythmen and flowers
a leopard and a wolf
with the cats and angels
hats and caps...pirates
citizens of DU district
population 17577 and growing
here they are poets
orators, story tellers
at times soapbox warriors
showing their true self
In DU the pompous and the sarky
the romantic and the pragmatic
the arrogant and the humble
live together
DU citizens
they don't look any stranger
than residents of anywhere.
a red haired girl
a sad looking young man
strumming his guitar
a beautiful naked woman
looking out of the window
animes, purpled haired
sensuous poses
Soulful eyes
rockers with their guitars
Cute bears on helicopters
pretty girl with pink hair
a few scythmen and flowers
a leopard and a wolf
with the cats and angels
hats and caps...pirates
citizens of DU district
population 17577 and growing
here they are poets
orators, story tellers
at times soapbox warriors
showing their true self
In DU the pompous and the sarky
the romantic and the pragmatic
the arrogant and the humble
live together
DU citizens
they don't look any stranger
than residents of anywhere.
Written by Grace
(IDryad)
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Weeds Grow Over My Friend's Grave
Long after our black departure,
consumed by earth,
despite dreams of an immortal memory,
we’ll all be forgotten.
She has a poetic journal in her keeping,
immortalizing her words.
An archive of Gothic poetry,
holding her inner most desires
of adventure, sex, love and expressionism.
Metaphors possessing such precision,
sorrows channel into a time capsule,
buried within her being.
A single page entry,
could make a novel
of a thousand pages
written in vanity.
Kept out of sight from anyone
who persists to view its delicate words.
This record’s the gold kept locked,
button by button, within her being.
There’s no possible combination
to this safe,
as it is with the heart;
mind of the body,
where flesh to bone, bottom to upper lip,
can be locked as a secret forever;
dying with the keeper.
As her body succumbs and decays,
the words whither in thin air
to pure non-existence.
Her words will live on as an entity
in a deathless tomb.
consumed by earth,
despite dreams of an immortal memory,
we’ll all be forgotten.
She has a poetic journal in her keeping,
immortalizing her words.
An archive of Gothic poetry,
holding her inner most desires
of adventure, sex, love and expressionism.
Metaphors possessing such precision,
sorrows channel into a time capsule,
buried within her being.
A single page entry,
could make a novel
of a thousand pages
written in vanity.
Kept out of sight from anyone
who persists to view its delicate words.
This record’s the gold kept locked,
button by button, within her being.
There’s no possible combination
to this safe,
as it is with the heart;
mind of the body,
where flesh to bone, bottom to upper lip,
can be locked as a secret forever;
dying with the keeper.
As her body succumbs and decays,
the words whither in thin air
to pure non-existence.
Her words will live on as an entity
in a deathless tomb.
Written by gothicsurrealism
(Daniel Long)
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