Poetry competition CLOSED 9th May 2018 9:17pm
WINNER
AEMelia564 (Y)
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RUNNER-UP: eswaller

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The Conquerors

poet
ElrondSirfalas
Fire of Insight
Canada
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Joined 18th Nov 2012
Forum Posts: 396

Poetry Contest

Depict any conqueror In any way you desire .
There are no restrictions as to who or what you decide is a fitting conqueror to write about . He/she/it can be famous , notorious , obscure , completely unknown or fictitious all together .

Two weeks
Collaborations welcome
Two entries per person
New or old
Will be decided by vote

Look forward to reading your submissions ! Write on .

poet
eswaller
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 22nd Dec 2015
Forum Posts: 459

Conqueror

Never let anyone get you down on your knees
Because you are the conqueror and you are
The savior. Only you can take over and seize

Mountains. Even with the smoke, fire and char
All around you are still the conqueror. With all
The things they throw you shine like the star

You have become. The sturdy and brick wall
They try to build around you cannot hold you
In. Every time that you stumble or trip or fall

Over your feet they laugh, but you get up to
Show them who is quiet now that you can
Become the conqueror or defeater. They knew

When you were weak, but never the best man
Or woman they would not acknowledge or
Will accept. They never saw that you began

To build from the ground. They cannot ignore
The power you have now to become the queen.
You are the one sneaking through the back door

Completely unheard, undetected and unseen.
You wear your armor well, like another layer
Of skin. You will make everyone feel unclean.
Written by eswaller
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poet
ElrondSirfalas
Fire of Insight
Canada
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Joined 18th Nov 2012
Forum Posts: 396

Amazing entry to start things of eswaller. And , an even better way to start my day . Time to conquer !

poet
Blackwolf
I.M.Blackwolf
Dangerous Mind
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Joined 31st Mar 2018
Forum Posts: 635

When The Faery Army Comes

When The Faery Army Comes ,
The Winds Shall Howl ,
The Seas Shall Surge ,
The Earth Shall Tremble ,
And There Shall Be Fire In The Skies
 
When The Faery Army Comes ,
They Will Not Live By Harm None ,
Or The Law Of Three ;
They Have Their Own Laws , And Ways
 
When The Faery Army Comes ,
They Will Not Care If You Are Christian ,
Or Buddhist , Or Muslim , Or Pagan ;
They Will Care If You Smell Of The Otherworld
 
When The Faery Army Comes ,
The Beanshi Will Wail ,
Announcing Their Path ,
Ravens Will Turn The Sky Black ,
And Wolves Will Bare Their Red Fangs
 
When The Faery Army Comes ,
The Animals Will Feel It ,
The Children Will Know It ,
The Earth Will Change ,
And Magic Will Rule Once Again !
Written by Blackwolf (I.M.Blackwolf)
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poet
monkeyman
Lost Thinker
United Kingdom
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Joined 19th May 2013
Forum Posts: 11

The War On Conciousness

  
   
There will be guns    
but not in our hands    
there will be death    
but not on our streets    
and the suffering restricted    
to our TV screens    
Our war will be fought    
in our minds    
for our minds    
for our God given free will    
for our very souls    
Never in any war in history    
have the stakes been so high    
   
Will you surrender your freedom    
in the name of peace?    
Will you sacrifice your eternal soul    
for this one and only life?    
These are our choices    
This will be our fight    
Do we succumb to the darkness?    
or do we keep the light?    
   
Is this life your living    
worth its cost?    
are all these technological advancements    
worth the things this world has lost?    
We are given everything we’re told we want    
yet the thigs we need, slowly slip away    
and while everyone is shouting    
no one’s voice is heard    
   
Do we carry on regardless?    
accept, this is just the way it is?    
the way it’s always going to be?    
that you alone    
you do not matter    
that you alone    
no difference can you make    
This is their desire    
their agenda    
nothing less than mind control    
if we accept their rules and reasons    
the laws we know are just not right    
if we become    
the apathetic, melancholy grey    
then they have won    
and we have lost, without a fight    
   
A well placed word can save a life    
a single life can change the world    
every beat of every heart    
is a reminder    
we are still alive    
so if your life to you is sacred    
with every breath, you must truly live    
Live the way that makes you happy    
Live the way that makes you free    
Don’t conform to someone else’s ideals    
or the confines of someone else’s plan    
Remember, there is always a choice    
there is always another way    
don’t let fear and greed become you    
don’t let fear and greed dictate    
   
This war is for your consciousness    
This war is for your mind    
your free will    
your humanity    
for your very soul    
Only you, rule you    
Only you, are the captain of your mind    
The enemy has no real power    
The enemy has no physical form    
Its weapons are lies and misconceptions    
Its weapons are    
Fear, Doubt and Greed    
YOU can make a difference    
YOU can change the world    
Open your eyes    
watch them fall onto their knees    
Open your eyes    
see the wood beyond the trees    
   
Free your mind    
Free your mind    
FREE YOUR MIND          
      
Written by monkeyman
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poet
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
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Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 13530

The Tribal War

In the darkness eons past
run the warriors of the mountain
in my distant land of mystery,
to battle called by challenges
by enemies from the sea
that swarmed like ants upon the sand
screams of mighty anger and rage
rend the Island’s balmy air

Clashes of swords and spears
of shields of cockles and cowries
the thunder of the tribal war
rang through the mountains
over the Aeries
and the valleys
seafarers’ swords that night did claim
full dozens slaves did they chained
towards the floating boats they pulled
the new slaves with eyes bloody
to hold on to their clan’s pride
slain never slaves

from the mountain watched the rest
hair blown by thundering wind and gales
stand they silent as their fellow warriors
whose throat willing to be slit
than to wear a foreign band
from beyond the sunset
the shaman chanted
incantations
of appeasement
of intervention
by ancient gods

The tribal chief did scream
the warrior cry like eagles’ call
from the waves of the sea
they came, the minions of the gods
they whom the tribe worshipped
when the earth was young
and magic flourished;
thus storms of thunder light and fire
spewed from the depth, beneath
the roiling sea

Warriors of the mountains
like gazelle in the plains
in rage, their soul  ferocious
swarm down the mountains
in waves of death
by swords, machetes and spears
blood flowed freely that day
and the sand drank greedily
of the slain

When at last the battle ended
fallen warriors valiant all
on the sand they slumbered
not to wake once more
the triumphant call of the tribal horn
was heard by many
from one warrior left standing
of the mountain clan.
Written by Grace (Idryad)
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poet
ElrondSirfalas
Fire of Insight
Canada
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Joined 18th Nov 2012
Forum Posts: 396

Remarkable entries Wolf , monkeyman and Grace ! love the nuance of each of your poems . I'm really enjoying reading through your entries . Cant wait to see what else is in store . Write on friends .

poet
AEMelia564
Y
Tyrant of Words
Norway
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Joined 20th Apr 2016
Forum Posts: 1969

Crucifix

 
Urn
Stands
alone

My ashes are the colour of roses
the colour of my voice
I hide in my absence

Tentacle thoughts weave endless
making new hieroglyphs
unspeakable tales take place

It is called birth right
But I was bought a sacrifice
I was the only human
amongst them

I carved but none
Dwelling trauma tundra ocean
Drowning drowned

Man is a reptile
an amoebe
A serpent

Man is the least
Excorcising children
Burning their bones

The curtain dropped
It was them who chopped
me in pieces

Hear me utter
" inquisition"
From this dead mouth

Written by AEMelia564 (Y)
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poet
runaway-mindtrain
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 30th July 2017
Forum Posts: 102

diabolic

She walks on scarlet ground
Her moments drip into place
A light bending her meaning
The lies twisting her face...
 
Her sunflower facing the solar disk...
 
On a hemispheric sconce  
Sits her ever burning lamp
The trimed wick of thoughts
Will always scorch the inept...
 
The eternal fire within  
An unknown battle she makes
A collective mind we weave
The astral light she takes...
 
A peripheral shift in time mistake...
 
Shall the smelting unleash
A new soul in flight  
Or will the ritual release
Altar fire from solar light...
 
The tale of inner workings
The clock turns the wall
A sun slant of bending glass
The night lights the hall...
 
A Gordian knot we tie
The forgotten line to say
With a esoteric rhyme
Our heart will always chase...
 
We then forget our part
In the world tale we read
A red booknote we waste
To mark the inner beast...
 
 
 
Written by runaway-mindtrain
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poet
Madbuttonhatter
Ryan R Morgan
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 19th Apr 2018
Forum Posts: 44

Even the Reaper Needs a Job

What if the Reaper were to mourn?
          Would he swallow his pride  
deny the folly of a newborn?
 
Death is the ultimate purveyor  
Necrosis does not discriminate
If the Reaper were to sully fatality
He'd be out of a job  
begging for change in some alleyway
                            
                            Children kicking cans at the funny skeleton man
                            The Reaper surrenders his self confidence
                            Waxes nostalgic about his former glories
                            The Hitlers, Bin Ladins, and Joseph Stalins
                            Drinks five hundred beers without so much as a buzz
                            No barley is strong enough for a metaphysical construct
 
Five years pass, no human dies
The earth is gleeful for a while
A radically brief period of time
Thus not even twenty four hours pass
Before the screaming conducts.
                
                 Earth is consumed with pain and suffering
                 For death was the sweet release from agony
                 And finality has been abolished in the Reaper's absence
                 Kicked out of his cushy job without severance
                 The bartender conducts a heart to heart conversation
                 Explains that an unemployed, disheveled bag of bones  
                 Needs a hobby,  a Linked-in page, to try networking.
 
And as the disgraced reaper of souls shambles to his dingy apartment
An epiphany dawns upon his imposing visage.
 
The reaper discovers a talent with words  
A pulitzer poet in the making
The bony author draws upon a range of experiences
Ballads and tales from time immemorial
                          
                          The Reaper has an enduring legacy to dwell upon
                          Reminiscing about his grand achievements
                          giant lizards obliterated with space rocks
                          Horny Romans buried in molten rock and ash
                          women cast into inferno by bigots in funny hats
 
 
                           As the Reaper explores his newfound gift
                           He uncovers an odd conundrum
                           After submiting his praiseworthy prose,  
                           to Jane and Sally and Dick, publisher extraordinaire
                           proprietors of print company "Hot licks".
                           *Unrelated to the Rolling Stones*
                          
                  A local paper prints obituaries the following morning
                          
 "Jane, Sally and Dick found dead, no last names found.
 Family names unknown. Mournful parents lack foresight
 Forget family names of Jane, Sally and Dick on birth certificate."
 
And as, I the Reaper himself scrawls this clumsily metered poem
I desire that you too, my precious sweet darling reader,
Will be granted the blessings of death as well
To you, your loved ones
And even a Cat or Two.
Perhaps not this day
Or even the next
Maybe the bus will hit you
On your way to work.
 
                 For I have learned a lesson today
                 One I shan't ever forget
                 Death is neither curse nor satanic
                 just an inevitability
                 Thus I hope you enjoy it.
 
The Reaper is back in business.
Will you be my next client?
 
I have a really good deal on ammonium nitrate
I hope that you try it.
                
Written by Madbuttonhatter (Ryan R Morgan)
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poet
Madbuttonhatter
Ryan R Morgan
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 19th Apr 2018
Forum Posts: 44

Hopefully, the Grim Reaper qualifies as a conqueror, once could say he's actually the ultimate conqueror seeing as he claims all life on the planet.

poet
case28
Alexander Case
Dangerous Mind
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Joined 16th June 2013
Forum Posts: 1988

born from the blind alley

 
my worth was measured
by my nerve to slug another man
a man who was much older
larger and stronger


he’d belt me everyday with a coil of leather
bound to an eager fist
till I witnessed my father’s own downfall
when he was broken by another man


it was inevitable
that men would turn into animals
so we could fight in cages in some
perverted blood lust
so brutal
it’s senseless
to tear our eyes away from the slaughter


we smash one another into
raw meat
bodies slam to the canvas
faces pissing blood
smeared into a masterpiece of pain


twisting each other into knots
fighters grapple for limbs
forcing joints beyond the point
where muscle and ligaments are torn from bone
until the battle is over and disfigured bodies
emerge from the ring
reborn in the destruction


this is the closest a man will get
to the strength needed
for enduring the birth of his own abomination


such a bloody tragedy
that men go to war to prevail their enemies
we drink for health to numb the pain
we stick our cocks inside women to feel their love
and we spoil our children to fail as fathers


men destroy love
only to prove we are worthy
to breathe alone


this fight to survive is not beaten into a boy
and the scent of death can not be washed
from a doctors hands
a man is born
crowned in gore
when he is delivered into this world
and placed on the bosom for his first taste
of victory
Written by case28 (Alexander Case)
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poet
summultima
uma
Dangerous Mind
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Joined 3rd Feb 2012
Forum Posts: 859

not just 17, its count infinity:  ruinous soul's (un)fortunate curse, my ghazni

 
 
 
southeasterly chunk  
of massive greys, a thickety  
darkening dome  
fiercely enshrouds  
in opened clawhead
of clasped lightning streaks  
& threatening thunderbeats  
across a stranded  
and 'shiv'ering  
universe  
 
 
four jasmines  
in twilight's tender plucks  
despite the tempest blows  
and boisterous bumblebees  
get blown away  
to distorted destinies  
& left in an instance  
as lifeless remnants
of deepbled assaults  
 
half cut tahiti lime  
in the sipped greentea cup  
resurfaces  
from its drowned osmotic  
times, an extracted skull  
gorily emptied  
of its succulent  
& segmented  
memories  
 
 
sanctum sanctorum  
of this temple soul  
awaits its ultimate  
plunderer..its ghazni
 
neither a stable slave  
of the ghouri dynasties
nor an extravagance  
of the mingling moghuls  
in a blandly reigning  
permanence  
 
no expectations my lord
except it to be the most  
barbaric plunderer  
recorded ever  
untiringly  
in tries of a holistic invasion  
to not comprehend  
but feel until the depths & edges  
as you wholly takeover
my leftovers or whatever  
till  
my horrific ruins  
feebly resonate just
your historic incidence  
of 'the' brutal indulgence  
 

my pathetic conquerer  
 
there is no further escape  
from my wholesome curse  
eternally mummified  
to your soul  
 
 
 
 
 
Written by summultima (uma)
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poet
summultima
uma
Dangerous Mind
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Joined 3rd Feb 2012
Forum Posts: 859

 konkurher

 

golden planet glowed in a rare fusion symphony
glancing consistently his magnetic moombeams
hatched out of conquering gravities in feverish shyness
each goosepimplicious-pitted fertile earthen shards
catapulted high in a spatial orgasmic ballet-bharatanatyam
  shrunken eyelids, humming dewlips, shivering jaws
   fluttered rhythmic in addictive painpleasure moves
   flowered fragrant hymns of her ancient devotion
   magnified in blooms before the meditating moon



moon is not moon, a reddened plasmic sun of passion
overflowing fluidities in an enlivening zygotic precision



Written by summultima (uma)
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poet
ElrondSirfalas
Fire of Insight
Canada
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Joined 18th Nov 2012
Forum Posts: 396

Thank you for the entries everyone . I'm more than esteemed to have read all your poetry .


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