Poetry competition CLOSED 13th May 2012 12:05pm
WINNER
CruelHandedWriter (Jamie Rhodes)
CruelHandedWriter (Jamie Rhodes)
RUNNERS-UP:
lightbaron
and kristinakarate
Your Story In Ink.
Anonymous
http://i1144.photobucket.com/albums/o495/erinsthreegirls/almostdonebackpiece.jpg
The burning of the needle
The appreciation of the art
Some may think its crazy
But he draws it from my heart
Its the ink that I now crave
on my deepest darkest days
The meaning behind the sets of 3
Is really quite simple you see
My heart belongs to my 3 beautiful girls
2 with eyes of Blue and 1 with eyes of brown
Without their beauty my world would not go round
All though many can not handle this
The body is now My canvas!
The burning of the needle
The appreciation of the art
Some may think its crazy
But he draws it from my heart
Its the ink that I now crave
on my deepest darkest days
The meaning behind the sets of 3
Is really quite simple you see
My heart belongs to my 3 beautiful girls
2 with eyes of Blue and 1 with eyes of brown
Without their beauty my world would not go round
All though many can not handle this
The body is now My canvas!
Anonymous
raorrick said:Beautiful and Lovely
I have my kids names with a large butterfly for my daughter and large roses with vines for my boys.
Similar colors. It is very nice MW!
That is cool Rachel, all great minds think alike right
Thank You
My back is not done yet, I hope to one day have it completely full with all kinds of lovely flowers... in sets of 3 of coarse, with the roses as fillers.
I have my kids names with a large butterfly for my daughter and large roses with vines for my boys.
Similar colors. It is very nice MW!
That is cool Rachel, all great minds think alike right
Thank You
My back is not done yet, I hope to one day have it completely full with all kinds of lovely flowers... in sets of 3 of coarse, with the roses as fillers.
Tatted Burial
My shoulder is also my mom's tombstone
Her name is engraved her casket is my bone
The ink is her soul buried under my flesh
The name Virginia it still remains fresh
People always ask me about her grave
I tell them it's my mom she was beautiful and brave
They give their condolences and be on their way
While I'm stuck with her memory on me everyday
But that's okay we're never far apart
Because she's in heaven and heaven's in my heart
Laid to rest she's at peace it's affirmative
For all eternity her residence is permanent
My shoulder is also my mom's tombstone
Her name is engraved her casket is my bone
The ink is her soul buried under my flesh
The name Virginia it still remains fresh
People always ask me about her grave
I tell them it's my mom she was beautiful and brave
They give their condolences and be on their way
While I'm stuck with her memory on me everyday
But that's okay we're never far apart
Because she's in heaven and heaven's in my heart
Laid to rest she's at peace it's affirmative
For all eternity her residence is permanent
My tattoos tell a story. A story of struggle and getting old.
The one on my stomach is faded and used to be a bright red strawberry; when I got it I was young, sweet, and innocent. It was done before alcohol took its toll on me.
When I got the initials on the side of my ankle, I was young and beautiful and so was the beautiful Native American boy that I was seeing when I was 19 and whose initials are still on my body. I wonder where he is.
Then came the last one, the one that I hate and the one that brings back memories of the relationship from Hell. I was deep in the throes of alcoholism, and the tattoo is the initials on my ring finger of the ex-con and drug dealer that I lived with, drank and did drugs with, and fought with for nearly two years (he inked my tattoo with a sewing needle -- and I inked my initials on his fingers). I don't wonder where he is.
Signed: An Old Lady
The one on my stomach is faded and used to be a bright red strawberry; when I got it I was young, sweet, and innocent. It was done before alcohol took its toll on me.
When I got the initials on the side of my ankle, I was young and beautiful and so was the beautiful Native American boy that I was seeing when I was 19 and whose initials are still on my body. I wonder where he is.
Then came the last one, the one that I hate and the one that brings back memories of the relationship from Hell. I was deep in the throes of alcoholism, and the tattoo is the initials on my ring finger of the ex-con and drug dealer that I lived with, drank and did drugs with, and fought with for nearly two years (he inked my tattoo with a sewing needle -- and I inked my initials on his fingers). I don't wonder where he is.
Signed: An Old Lady
opposite my wrist
evenly avoiding bones
not quite the back of my hand
but close
it wasn't as pretty as
i thought it would be
and i don't remember
why it was so important
the ink was bad
and the sewing needle was old
and my skin was caught up
somewhere in my hallucination
after the first year
it was almost completely gone
fading out through sickly colors -
the questions had stopped
and i can't say that i was sad to see it go
evenly avoiding bones
not quite the back of my hand
but close
it wasn't as pretty as
i thought it would be
and i don't remember
why it was so important
the ink was bad
and the sewing needle was old
and my skin was caught up
somewhere in my hallucination
after the first year
it was almost completely gone
fading out through sickly colors -
the questions had stopped
and i can't say that i was sad to see it go
Anonymous
Congrats guys, a hard one to judge!
Anonymous
By the way, MilkyWay, your back piece is beautiful :)
