Poetry Competition Ends 30th April 2025 8:13pm
Page:
The Golden Tear
Poetry Contest Description
Write a poem or Short Story
Hello everyone. This is called The Golden Tear because I want you to take me there. Where? That part of you that I will stop and feel caught up in the emotion.
This competition was created to showcase talent like yours in Hypo Frost Magazine. The second issue will be out in July. You will be contacted by me to be in the second edition. This is a spring/summer vibe. If you want to know more, feel free to reach out to me. You own your rights to your work.
Now, what are the requirements for this Competition?
1) Love, loss, romance, regret
2) Any style poetry
3) Short story (Please no more than 1,250 words).
This is my last competition here. It has been an honor to read and talk with you.
Good Luck
Some berries and a giraffe's kiss
Let me take you to a divine place
where strawberries blush and interlace.
In the heart of the savannah they bloom
soft whispers of life in nature’s room.
The rain falls warm, like a lover's sigh.
A tender caress from a generous sky.
Its drops linger embracing the earth
feeding the fields where beauty finds birth.
The light, so cool, shimmers and plays,
casting shadows in intricate arrays.
A gentle balm to the heat’s embrace
illuminating dreams in this secret space.
Feel the pulse of the land, its steady beat,
The rhythm of life beneath your feet.
Savannah winds weave stories untold
of ancient spirits and hearts made bold.
Walk with me through ruby red rows.
Where the sweetness of fruit eternally flows.
Taste their essence in the sun’s delight.
A fusion of day and the mysteries of night.
The horizon stretches endless and wide.
A golden stage where worlds collide.
Here, earth and sky find harmony’s tune.
A song of strawberries under the moon.
Let us linger where the rain is kind
and light speaks softly to hearts aligned.
In the savannah’s cradle life unfurls
a treasure of strawberries and endless pearls.
Forever bound to this haven’s grace
where warmth and coolness share embrace.
Oh, strawberry fields' a love’s retreat
in the arms of the savannah so soft and sweet.
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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"The Sea's Silent Symphony"
The sun, a molten gold coin, shimmered on the surface of the Coral Triangle, a vast, pulsating heart of the ocean. Spring’s gentle warmth had coaxed a symphony of life from the depths. Coral polyps, tiny architects of the sea, unfurled their delicate tentacles, capturing the sun-kissed plankton that drifted on the currents. Clownfish, their vibrant orange stripes flashing like jewels, darted amongst the anemones, their symbiotic dance a testament to the intricate balance of this underwater Eden.
A mother humpback whale, her massive form a gentle giant, guided her calf through the turquoise waters. Their song, a haunting melody that echoed through the depths, spoke of ancient migrations, of sun-drenched breeding grounds, and the boundless freedom of the open ocean. They navigated by the sun and stars, their internal compass a marvel of nature, a testament to the millennia they had roamed these vast expanses.
A school of manta rays, their wings like silken sails, glided through the water column, their graceful movements a ballet of the deep. They filtered plankton through their gill rakers, their mouths agape, their bodies twisting and turning in a mesmerizing dance. They were creatures of the open ocean, nomads of the blue, their lives dictated by the rhythm of the currents and the abundance of food.
But beneath this idyllic facade, a shadow lurked, a darkness that crept into the heart of their world. The plastic, a ghostly shroud, drifted on the currents, mimicking the forms of their prey. Sea turtles, their ancient eyes clouded with confusion, mistook plastic bags for jellyfish, their delicate systems choked by the synthetic invaders.
The oil, a dark, viscous stain, spread across the surface, suffocating the coral reefs, coating the feathers of seabirds, and poisoning the delicate balance of the ecosystem. The whales, their songs distorted by the rumble of seismic testing, became disoriented, their migration routes disrupted, their calves weakened by the toxins that seeped into their milk.
The fishing nets, vast and indiscriminate, ensnared dolphins, their intelligent eyes filled with terror as they struggled for air, their cries lost in the vastness of the ocean. The sharks, their apex predator status rendered meaningless by the relentless pursuit of their fins, were reduced to shadows, their populations decimated, their vital role in the ecosystem lost.
The coral reefs, once vibrant cities of life, bleached and withered, their vibrant colors fading into ghostly white, a silent testament to the rising temperatures and the acidification of the ocean. The fish, their homes destroyed, their breeding grounds barren, struggled to survive, their populations dwindling, their songs fading into a mournful silence.
The regrets of the ocean creatures were not spoken in human words, but etched in the silent suffering of their eyes, in the labored breaths of a dying dolphin, in the ghostly silence of a bleached coral reef. They were regrets for a world they had known, a world of vibrant life and boundless freedom, a world that was being stolen from them by the careless actions of humanity.
Yet, even in the face of this devastation, a spark of hope remained. The sea turtles, their shells scarred but their spirits unbroken, continued to lay their eggs on the beaches, their ancient instinct driving them forward. The whales, their songs filled with a mournful beauty, continued their migrations, their resilience a testament to the enduring power of life.
The coral reefs, though battered and bruised, began to show signs of recovery, their tiny polyps clinging to life, rebuilding their shattered cities. The fish, their numbers diminished but their spirits unbroken, continued to spawn, their offspring a testament to the enduring power of life.
The ocean, a vast and resilient force, continued to pulse with life, a testament to the enduring power of nature. It was a call to action, a plea for humanity to awaken from its slumber, to recognize the beauty and fragility of the ocean, and to embrace a future where humans and sea creatures could coexist in harmony. It was a reminder that even in the face of despair, hope could bloom, and that the beauty of the ocean, though wounded, could still inspire awe and wonder.
A mother humpback whale, her massive form a gentle giant, guided her calf through the turquoise waters. Their song, a haunting melody that echoed through the depths, spoke of ancient migrations, of sun-drenched breeding grounds, and the boundless freedom of the open ocean. They navigated by the sun and stars, their internal compass a marvel of nature, a testament to the millennia they had roamed these vast expanses.
A school of manta rays, their wings like silken sails, glided through the water column, their graceful movements a ballet of the deep. They filtered plankton through their gill rakers, their mouths agape, their bodies twisting and turning in a mesmerizing dance. They were creatures of the open ocean, nomads of the blue, their lives dictated by the rhythm of the currents and the abundance of food.
But beneath this idyllic facade, a shadow lurked, a darkness that crept into the heart of their world. The plastic, a ghostly shroud, drifted on the currents, mimicking the forms of their prey. Sea turtles, their ancient eyes clouded with confusion, mistook plastic bags for jellyfish, their delicate systems choked by the synthetic invaders.
The oil, a dark, viscous stain, spread across the surface, suffocating the coral reefs, coating the feathers of seabirds, and poisoning the delicate balance of the ecosystem. The whales, their songs distorted by the rumble of seismic testing, became disoriented, their migration routes disrupted, their calves weakened by the toxins that seeped into their milk.
The fishing nets, vast and indiscriminate, ensnared dolphins, their intelligent eyes filled with terror as they struggled for air, their cries lost in the vastness of the ocean. The sharks, their apex predator status rendered meaningless by the relentless pursuit of their fins, were reduced to shadows, their populations decimated, their vital role in the ecosystem lost.
The coral reefs, once vibrant cities of life, bleached and withered, their vibrant colors fading into ghostly white, a silent testament to the rising temperatures and the acidification of the ocean. The fish, their homes destroyed, their breeding grounds barren, struggled to survive, their populations dwindling, their songs fading into a mournful silence.
The regrets of the ocean creatures were not spoken in human words, but etched in the silent suffering of their eyes, in the labored breaths of a dying dolphin, in the ghostly silence of a bleached coral reef. They were regrets for a world they had known, a world of vibrant life and boundless freedom, a world that was being stolen from them by the careless actions of humanity.
Yet, even in the face of this devastation, a spark of hope remained. The sea turtles, their shells scarred but their spirits unbroken, continued to lay their eggs on the beaches, their ancient instinct driving them forward. The whales, their songs filled with a mournful beauty, continued their migrations, their resilience a testament to the enduring power of life.
The coral reefs, though battered and bruised, began to show signs of recovery, their tiny polyps clinging to life, rebuilding their shattered cities. The fish, their numbers diminished but their spirits unbroken, continued to spawn, their offspring a testament to the enduring power of life.
The ocean, a vast and resilient force, continued to pulse with life, a testament to the enduring power of nature. It was a call to action, a plea for humanity to awaken from its slumber, to recognize the beauty and fragility of the ocean, and to embrace a future where humans and sea creatures could coexist in harmony. It was a reminder that even in the face of despair, hope could bloom, and that the beauty of the ocean, though wounded, could still inspire awe and wonder.
Written by NANCY_RDZ_STORIES
(WRITER LYRICIST ARTIST)
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Nightmares in Nevada
"Nightmares in Nevada"
Can I escape nightmares in Nevada?
Screaming for any magik abracadabra
Snuck up behind me with subtle charms
Lying deeply within your sweltering arms
Your mouth equals smoldering passion
Nude bodies collide resistance crashing
Drunk on intoxicating mahogany orbs
Stoned in romance enslaved by thorns
Loneliness decays swallowed in sapphire
Charismatic disguise murdered my desire
Solitude wakens a raging wildfire off course
Severed vessel ruptured by centrifugal force
Buried beneath shadows settled in my core
Imprisoned by agony another closed door
Surrendered to love bleeding in cherry stain
Evening closes & permanent silence claims
Aborted life by love going down in flames
Dishonored violet heart Nevada is to blame
Danced beneath hanging sterling moonlight
Blooming underneath epilogue death sleight
You were the beat stalking body, mind & spirit
Lips carried destruction & Cupid can't repair it
Your taste lingers upon my memories forever
For eternity memorize this lonely cold cadaver
The Punk Poe…
Always Be Punk…
Always Be Drunk…
(On Poetry)
Written by PunkPoe
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Adolescents of Rome
a BDSM story, in verse
They were always together, best friends from the start
But, pubescence was ending their fun
The young lady, named Pia, was Noble at heart
And poor Felix, a Pleb’s youngest son
The Patrician, her father, knew time had run short
Her first menses, a mere inconvenience
But their friendship, he now would be forced to abort
Before puberty wakes the boy’s penis!
Pia, incensed by her sire’s command
That she show her friend Felix the door
Threw a tantrum on hearing her playmate was banned
And she spoke to her father no more
The Patrician was crushed by his daughter’s response
And she knew she could force him to cave
For Pia had learned how to get what she wants
She was spoiled, and a little depraved!
The girl played her father, who soon would relent
And let Felix come play, chaperoned
But he misunderstood what young Pia had meant—
She had asked if her friend could be owned!
The Patrician was proud of his shrewd Roman princess
Now starting to think like a queen!
To keep her best friend as a slave boy would make sense
If Felix’s papa agreed
The lad’s father, a shopkeeper, driven by greed
Accepted the Nobleman’s offer
And sold off poor Felix, the youngest of three
As the slave of the Nobleman’s daughter!
Poor Felix knew not, he had just been enslaved—
He thought he was joining their clan!
He had no idea his best friend was depraved—
And his future was now in her hands!
The first order of business: That Felix be ‘fixed’
Before puberty ran its full course
Upon hearing this, Pia’s reaction was mixed—
Then agreed, with no sign of remorse
She well understood the harsh ramification
Of what her rich father had bidden
That once a young man is condemned to castration
He'd not marry, nor sire any children!
So she led Felix out in their courtyard, to 'play'
And her friend tagged along, chaste, but stupid
She handed him over to servants that day
Their instructions, that Felix be neutered!
She watched as the servants stripped Felix stark naked
And tied him, legs spread, to a table
She watched as her playmate was swiftly castrated
So their friendship could be reenabled
If her father said Felix’s Balls had to go
What right, then, had she to complain?
She didn’t want Felix as husband or beau
Just a playmate to join her in games
This angered poor Felix, unaware of his fate
’Till the moment they emptied his Scrotum!
And he blamed his best friend, whom he started to hate
Now enslaved by her self-centered motive!
Pia was miffed at her friend’s piqued response
And she countered, “They’re only just Balls!”
And she watched with a blue-blood’s sincere nonchalance
As poor Felix fell prostrate and squalled
Pia asked that her friend’s testicles be preserved
Sealed in resin, on her necklace’s chain
And she teased eunuch Felix, “These Jewels, I deserve!
And it’s where they are going to remain!”
From that moment on she commanded her boy
When to jump, dance, or join her in games
No longer her friend, now her trained eunuch toy
And she caned Felix when he complained
As time passed, the poor eunuch accepted his lot
In the wealthy household of his ‘friend’
Through abuse and embarrassment, Pia soon taught
Him a Love that he can’t comprehend!
Pia grew into a sultry young woman
A lady that no Man could please
A haughty, demanding archetype of a Roman
By her eunuch’s cunnilingus appeased!
Her eunuch grew into a handsome young ‘man’
(If you saw him, you wouldn’t have known)
Whom Pia then ruled, with a cane in her hand
And her necklace, adorned with his Stones
Felix’s thoughts dwelled on “what might have been”
And Pia’s, on what she now owned!
His memories conjured a lone golden tear
For once fine Adolescents of Rome
The puppy love of his youth was now fully fleshed out
Felix worshipped his Dominant Queen
But, now lacking the Manhood to carry it out
He makes love to her only in dreams!
They were always together, best friends from the start
But, pubescence was ending their fun
The young lady, named Pia, was Noble at heart
And poor Felix, a Pleb’s youngest son
The Patrician, her father, knew time had run short
Her first menses, a mere inconvenience
But their friendship, he now would be forced to abort
Before puberty wakes the boy’s penis!
Pia, incensed by her sire’s command
That she show her friend Felix the door
Threw a tantrum on hearing her playmate was banned
And she spoke to her father no more
The Patrician was crushed by his daughter’s response
And she knew she could force him to cave
For Pia had learned how to get what she wants
She was spoiled, and a little depraved!
The girl played her father, who soon would relent
And let Felix come play, chaperoned
But he misunderstood what young Pia had meant—
She had asked if her friend could be owned!
The Patrician was proud of his shrewd Roman princess
Now starting to think like a queen!
To keep her best friend as a slave boy would make sense
If Felix’s papa agreed
The lad’s father, a shopkeeper, driven by greed
Accepted the Nobleman’s offer
And sold off poor Felix, the youngest of three
As the slave of the Nobleman’s daughter!
Poor Felix knew not, he had just been enslaved—
He thought he was joining their clan!
He had no idea his best friend was depraved—
And his future was now in her hands!
The first order of business: That Felix be ‘fixed’
Before puberty ran its full course
Upon hearing this, Pia’s reaction was mixed—
Then agreed, with no sign of remorse
She well understood the harsh ramification
Of what her rich father had bidden
That once a young man is condemned to castration
He'd not marry, nor sire any children!
So she led Felix out in their courtyard, to 'play'
And her friend tagged along, chaste, but stupid
She handed him over to servants that day
Their instructions, that Felix be neutered!
She watched as the servants stripped Felix stark naked
And tied him, legs spread, to a table
She watched as her playmate was swiftly castrated
So their friendship could be reenabled
If her father said Felix’s Balls had to go
What right, then, had she to complain?
She didn’t want Felix as husband or beau
Just a playmate to join her in games
This angered poor Felix, unaware of his fate
’Till the moment they emptied his Scrotum!
And he blamed his best friend, whom he started to hate
Now enslaved by her self-centered motive!
Pia was miffed at her friend’s piqued response
And she countered, “They’re only just Balls!”
And she watched with a blue-blood’s sincere nonchalance
As poor Felix fell prostrate and squalled
Pia asked that her friend’s testicles be preserved
Sealed in resin, on her necklace’s chain
And she teased eunuch Felix, “These Jewels, I deserve!
And it’s where they are going to remain!”
From that moment on she commanded her boy
When to jump, dance, or join her in games
No longer her friend, now her trained eunuch toy
And she caned Felix when he complained
As time passed, the poor eunuch accepted his lot
In the wealthy household of his ‘friend’
Through abuse and embarrassment, Pia soon taught
Him a Love that he can’t comprehend!
Pia grew into a sultry young woman
A lady that no Man could please
A haughty, demanding archetype of a Roman
By her eunuch’s cunnilingus appeased!
Her eunuch grew into a handsome young ‘man’
(If you saw him, you wouldn’t have known)
Whom Pia then ruled, with a cane in her hand
And her necklace, adorned with his Stones
Felix’s thoughts dwelled on “what might have been”
And Pia’s, on what she now owned!
His memories conjured a lone golden tear
For once fine Adolescents of Rome
The puppy love of his youth was now fully fleshed out
Felix worshipped his Dominant Queen
But, now lacking the Manhood to carry it out
He makes love to her only in dreams!
Written by ReggiePoet
(Reggie)
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Patterns
Reversible Stitch—There is some kind of beautiful in traditions and patterns mimicking time and space; the placidity of tranquility, stepping forward blindly. Relinquishing fears and ties governed solely by senses.
In the shadow of the fig tree I learned to whisper softly and the art of pouring tea; knees bent slightly barely revealing the blossoming curves, blushing tint unraveling the soft skein.
A drop of nectar from ripened figs drips on my braided midnight hair, missing a loop—
Back Stitch—I hear my father call my name stamping into the thick dishrag night sky, twisting the air of moisture. Children must be seen and not heard he tells me but I don’t dare to whisper smoothing the ruffled skirt, gaze on the floor—
Diamond Stitch— Ceramic tiles of black and white cool my bare feet, head in a cloud of winter storm, hair clinging at the nape of my neck like Ivy.
Ruby was a safe color but how I wished I could wear yellow; the color of sun-flowers and daisy he loves me, he loves me not, field of wheat on endless hazy summers, cold lemon-aid soothing scorching vowl-less words stuck in throat, the slight hue just before sunrise mellowing dark into light, photographs floating on a sea of memory—
Loop Stitch—He tells me it’s a sign of weakness and no child of his is a weakling. I reject all things yellow scrubbing off along with dead skin, the loofah shreds into pieces leaving my limbs raw red sub-merging my whole body under water:
one
two
three
Cross Stitch—Angles twist contorting the surface, colors melt into others while time stands still- in—
Buttonhole stitch—seams sewn of hollowed ribs sawn with seven failed blessings, upended from roots but fruit never falls far from the tree finding momentary comfort beneath the leaves spreading like—
Fishbone Stitch—he tells me he loves me but best liars never truly lie re-living version of truths in parallel worlds.
I bite my lips hard to drown his voice tasting of rusty nails, pushing my tongue through the eye without eyelid splitting in half: cold, compliant, absorbing the pain touching each knot rising on the surface.
Silent witnesses, coil on coil; an elusive narrative reducing touch to tone—
*knit one, purl one*
repeat from*
to end.
In the shadow of the fig tree I learned to whisper softly and the art of pouring tea; knees bent slightly barely revealing the blossoming curves, blushing tint unraveling the soft skein.
A drop of nectar from ripened figs drips on my braided midnight hair, missing a loop—
Back Stitch—I hear my father call my name stamping into the thick dishrag night sky, twisting the air of moisture. Children must be seen and not heard he tells me but I don’t dare to whisper smoothing the ruffled skirt, gaze on the floor—
Diamond Stitch— Ceramic tiles of black and white cool my bare feet, head in a cloud of winter storm, hair clinging at the nape of my neck like Ivy.
Ruby was a safe color but how I wished I could wear yellow; the color of sun-flowers and daisy he loves me, he loves me not, field of wheat on endless hazy summers, cold lemon-aid soothing scorching vowl-less words stuck in throat, the slight hue just before sunrise mellowing dark into light, photographs floating on a sea of memory—
Loop Stitch—He tells me it’s a sign of weakness and no child of his is a weakling. I reject all things yellow scrubbing off along with dead skin, the loofah shreds into pieces leaving my limbs raw red sub-merging my whole body under water:
one
two
three
Cross Stitch—Angles twist contorting the surface, colors melt into others while time stands still- in—
Buttonhole stitch—seams sewn of hollowed ribs sawn with seven failed blessings, upended from roots but fruit never falls far from the tree finding momentary comfort beneath the leaves spreading like—
Fishbone Stitch—he tells me he loves me but best liars never truly lie re-living version of truths in parallel worlds.
I bite my lips hard to drown his voice tasting of rusty nails, pushing my tongue through the eye without eyelid splitting in half: cold, compliant, absorbing the pain touching each knot rising on the surface.
Silent witnesses, coil on coil; an elusive narrative reducing touch to tone—
*knit one, purl one*
repeat from*
to end.
Written by Layla
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