Poetry competition CLOSED 14th September 2018 00:13am
ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
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poet Anonymous

Poetry Contest

“The connoisseur does not drink wine, but tastes of its secrets”. – Salvador Dali

It’s late evening and you’ve walked into an empty bar. There she sits alone, lost in her glass. The world outside is but a distant memory....

Write a narrative poem from the perspective of the person walking into the bar and seeing her there. Really explore her mind as it stares off into the distance, as well as your own.


* No erotica in this comp, though themes of romance are allowed if you wanna go there.

* One entry per human being

* New entries only

* Please title your entry

* Poem or prose accepted. No word count.

* The competition will be judged by myself. No vote.

*Any questions please ask.

poet Anonymous

<< post removed >>
poet Anonymous


If you’re referring to the erotica rule, it’s because it’s too predictable, and I occasionally like to make people work for their trophy. This is to encourage diversity and to occasionally not have the place knee deep in fluids. Give it a try. Push yourself out of your comfort zone.


poet Anonymous

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Fire of Insight
24awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 13th May 2018
Forum Posts: 321


a story, in verse
It was late, and I was done with meetings,
headed for the bar in the hotel.
My worldview was disturbed by a chance greeting
from a beauty who was nuts as hell!
She seemed lost in thought, a bit confused,
and talking to someone who was not there.
She didn’t sound like she had too much booze,
but more like crazy talk, so I took care!
She argued with some fantasy-borne lover
and criticized some fault I didn’t catch.
Their argument got hot, I looked for cover!
She stopped, and turned, and asked me for a match!
She wore a silky bathrobe, quite translucent,
and inappropriate for public garb;
but no one in the bar then seemed to notice,
her beauty, mixed with crazy, equaled charm!
I struck a match to light her cigarette,
but she drew close and dropped it on the floor.
I could not dodge that crazy woman’s come-on,
She took my hand and led me towards the door.
Just outside the bar, she turned and shouted,
continuing the fight from just before
as if I were the one with whom she argued,
the whole thing creeped me out, right to my core!
I made up some excuse to get away from
this crazy, sexy woman I just met.
She flashed her eyelashes, and I succumbed
to the oddball charm of this soubrette.
It’s not that my intention was to bed her,
although, I will admit that crossed my mind.
I simply couldn’t help but watch this train wreck;
It didn’t hurt, she had a cute behind!
While riding on the lift, she grabbed my face
and kissed me like the world was going to end!
Then, she groped around, to my disgrace.
I pulled away, my honor to defend.
She laughed as if she just had teased her brother,
convincing me that’s who she thought I was!
Then she talked as if I were her mother,
I realized she had major mental flaws.
She led me to her room in total silence,
then banged the door, rushed in, and lit the lights!
In the room, a naked man was present,
he rushed at me, I thought I’d have to fight!
She shouted, “Pay up now, or he will kill you!”
and suddenly, the man picked up his pants.
He fumbled with his trousers, and withdrew
what was clearly an enormous wad of cash!
Not stopping to get dressed, he made his exit.
She grabbed the wad of cash right from his hand.
She winked at me, and said, “Don’t look so desperate!
I got no pimp. He thought you were my man!”

I said, “You crazy bitch! He might have killed me!”
She answered, “Not a chance! I picked you out--
You're a guy who looks a little crazy,
and with my threat, he paid up and got out!”

Written by ReggiePoet (Reggie)
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Dangerous Mind
United States
29awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 22nd Dec 2015
Forum Posts: 701

At the Bar

There she is, perfectly poised with a lit cigarette in her mouth
And picture perfect hair, sitting all alone on a barstool at 1 a.m.
With teas glistening on her rosy cheeks. Her bloodshot and green
Eyes like she has been crying all night. Her charm from the south
Is gone. I want to ask, “What’s wrong?” Maybe her world is a sham
And is completely splitting apart at the seams. Maybe she has seen
The war, but she no longer wants to be a soldier carrying the load
Alone, but I do not say anything as the cigarette smoke permeates
The air. All I can do is sit beside her and smile because maybe that
Is all she needs to get through her day. Someone who has showed
Her some kindness and someone who has lifted her heavy weights
Just for a minute or two. Someone who makes her realize her flat
Line is just another blip on the horizon. She does not have to say
Thank you because I can feel it and when she looks my way.
Written by eswaller
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Dangerous Mind
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Joined 19th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 3112

Related submission no longer exists.

Guardian of Shadows
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Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 15190


Lights shine on her top button
snuggled against the deep cleavage
holding together the red blouse
decency desperate to assert control

tight black skirt riding up her thigh
hugging ample hips
and rounded bottom
perched on the bar stool

she is there night after night
as silent as a mannequin
downing her drinks straight
into her plumb red lips

her beautiful face, perfection
but look into her eyes
looks are all deception
for they are shadows of grief

her pantyhose has runs
her high heels are cracked
her mascara is smudged
the bar is her island

no one speaks to her
no one sees her
for she is a ghost
dusts of a memory

she waits
…for one long gone.
Written by Grace (Idryad)
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Dangerous Mind
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Joined 30th Apr 2018
Forum Posts: 40

Last call

Red dress, long black hair
last call for drinks
no ice...life is cold enough
she lights another cigarrette
Johnny left town  
said he'd be back for Valentine's Day
two years went by since
the juke box plays Nina Simone
nicotine drips down the walls  
like raindrops on a window
like the tears she cried
dried flower...fragrance lost
such crumbling beauty
empty glass
empty eyes
closing time
tomorrow is
another day
Written by Angelast1
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Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom
39awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Nov 2014
Forum Posts: 2983

Wee Jimmy's Bar - (For the Barfly Comp)

It was almost 2:00 am. I had drank myself sober
I wandered the grey dirty streets rather than going home
The yellow neon sign flickers; Wee Jimmy's Place
Looked like a good spit and sawdust for a nightcap
I squeaked both doors open stepping inside slowly
The only thing missing was rolling tumble weed
The silence was deafening, definitely my kinda place

In the corner of my eye I spied the end of the bar
Long blonde hair, long tanned legs on show
My eyes traced her shape; she's was a ten plus
Couldn't yet see her face, it was facing straight ahead
I sat close to her but not too close for comfort
My eyes travelled up and down her sexy frame
Ironically Wee Jimmy is six foot nine inches tall
"Hi I am Frank; what can I get you?"
He spat in the glass and cloth cleaned it
I ordered a wild turkey and a beer chaser
I kept looking across at her in her red sparkles
She stared into her cocktail mindlessly stirring
I noticed two rings on the bar and a white ghost
On her wedding ring finger tanned either side
Next to them a crumpled hand written letter
And some well used damp looking handkerchiefs
She looked up and across at me her lip curled a smile
Half baked she smiled through blood shot eyes
Apart from a small crescent scar above her brow
She is stunningly beautiful just a perfect package
I moved closer, right next to her, trying not to be cheesy
"You are too beautiful to be crying." Damn it - cheesy
Thank you was said with a husky sexy voice, Oh boy!
I thought I might be in love, No! I was in love; again
"I looked at you and realised heaven must be missing an angel."
Despite my cheese a tear drop rolled down her cheek
"Could you please hold me?" she pouted
No sooner said than done an instant warm embrace
Her head rested on my shoulder, she slightly trembled
We disengaged, regretfully on my part, but appropriately
"My name is David, I am luckless in love as well."
She grinned; "I am Wee Jimmy and this is my place."
"So why do they call you Wee Jimmy?" I asked
"Well; It's because I only have a small penis."
"You hide it well!" is all I could think of to say
Written by David_Macleod (14397816)
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Guardian of Shadows
United States
79awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 17th Feb 2013
Forum Posts: 5398

The Last Scene

For some, they
see their lives in snapshots, scenes
flicked by, like
photographs flipped in
scrapbook pages.

I saw it all
as if stepping back in the bar
for a split second—
every moment I’ve lived,
every smile, tear,
every sunrise, sunset and
everything I somehow
when new memories
needed room.

This is where it ended—
the last scene
in the barroom, where
I contemplated
if I’d done a thorough enough job,
sending the evidence
to the newspapers and press
that would finally bring down
the CEO and the Senator.

I didn’t see anymore
after this
because that’s when the bullet
tore through the back of my head
and I heard the Lord say

“Well done, my good and faithful servant”

as I went into the white tunnel.

I was Carolyn, and
you can see that last photo of me
from the security cameras
alongside those of the CEO and Senator
in the courtroom, on
all the news stations.

Aren’t pictures a grand slice of life?

poet Anonymous

Thank you for your entries thus far. Awesome, guys.

Please remember that erotica is not accepted in this particular competition. Thanks.

Dangerous Mind
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Joined 27th Dec 2017
Forum Posts: 469

Spanish Eyes

It’s a pleasant walk from work to Olive or Twist
I’ve made an extra effort to clean myself up
My normally frizzy hair has been straightened and I wear a classy black dress
My normally pale face is adorned with the best quality make-up on the market.

As I approach the bar, I subconsciously rub my left hand and wrist
I enter the bar, and am pleased that Douglas recommended us to come here instead of a club
The pleasant ambient allows me to release my pent-up stress
I pat my sides and feel a mixture of relief and trepidation at what’s in my pocket.

I shove away my thoughts and order a drink
A delicious Cosmopolitan will do just the trick
I savor the fruity taste and light punch from the vodka
Soon enough, I’m completely enjoying the vibe.

I notice a dark-haired woman sit across from me. She looks lonely, I think
Her company are an untouched glass of red sangria and a half-burnt cigarette stick
She stands out with her exotic looks, and I guess that she’s Latina
Even though she’s a stranger, I’m curious about her for a reason I can’t even describe.

The low lighting creates a halo around her
Her features are hidden, yet I can see the frown on her face
She takes a puff from her cigarette as she stares blankly at the sangria
A man sitting at table off to the side vainly tries to get her attention.

She looks unhappy, and I wonder if perhaps we’re both similar?
Yet we’re completely different; she carries about her this ethereal sense of grace
I look away and finish my drink, before I order a margarita
The man at the table walks towards her and tries to start a conversation.

The woman says something, and the man backs off disappointedly
Once he’s gone, the woman takes her first sip of the drink
She finally locks eyes with me over the glass
I’m normally shy, yet I couldn’t help but stare back at her.

Her Spanish eyes assess me pointedly
I swallow down the strong alcohol, and will myself not to blink
She stares at my left hand, and in her eyes, I see understanding pass
I flush in embarrassment and anger. How dare she judge me for something him and I ar… were?

Her eyes darken, and she looks away
I will my rapidly beating heart to slow down
Shame twists my insides, yet I roughly force it aside
He was the one who did it first and multiple times. Why can’t I?
I shiver nervously even though it’s a pleasant night of May
I look behind me, and there’s no one that I recognize around
I look at my blank reflection through my glass, complete opposite of the war being waged inside
Spanish eyes stare at me once more, this time in disappointment and I’m left wondering why.

My phone vibrates, and I read the text
“Sorry Julia, going to have to raincheck. I’ll make up for it.”
For some reason, I glance up at Spanish eyes to see her still staring at me
Shockingly, she shakes her head from side to side.

I blink at her as I’m completely perplexed
She takes another sip, and I see the noticeable lines along her wrist
Sympathy warms my heart as I look at the image of what I could be
It didn’t work out for us, but I realize that I can’t go along with this ride.

I reply to Douglas: “Don’t even bother.”
A heavy weight is released from my shoulders
I look back at Spanish eyes and see them shining in approval
She rubs her left hand before finishing the rest of her drink.

She gets up and the small smile she offers me feels like a big honor
She hands me a card as she passes by me towards the door. On it reads: “Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”
I flip the card over, and can’t help but laugh as I wonder if the universe is cruel
I knew Spanish eyes all along, and her empty glass seemingly winks.
Written by LunasChild8
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The Gardener
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
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Joined 10th Oct 2010
Forum Posts: 1346

A Louse (1994)

I took a pencil
for the weight that sat too heavy on my head      
and on the left side      
snatched a coaster. I scanned the room      
for a muse      
or some amusement      
perhaps, something to crush      
the languid loneliness      
like a butterfly in the hand and there      
was you,      
thank Zeus for you,      
thank your Mother,      
your Father      
however they raised you -  
for however long.      
I began to address your features,      
the loose highlights in your hair,      
the black pumps, band tee,    
leather watch and knee length shorts,      
the sort of thing some wouldn't care for      
but I know what it's like      
to want to sink into woodwork      
to chat to wood worms rather than humans, you mutter      
something to the keeper of the glasses      
in this damp space and he brings      
you something deep purple which you chase with something clear.    
I have no eyes for others,    
completely suckered in to you    
and the chips in your paintwork.
I suppose you look to have it all      
only our sort would know the truth,      
ones who walk to high bridges on Sunday afternoon.    
A man comes to ruffle your feathers, makes me stiffen      
from neck to foot      
but you handle it      
as I continue to perfect your jaw      
on a light coloured coaster that had been folded across      
twice or more.      
The bearded fellow that one expects to find
wasting his good years      
asks me what I'll sup or words      
to that effect      
and I bite for sweet cider      
aged in a whiskey cask. Your eyes      
meet mine a moment, look away, rereturn,      
a secondary deer in the headlights,      
nude lipstick,      
slightly bruised.      
I want to move      
over, to let my lids linger heavily on your mouth      
as you tell me of your working day, of      
the plans that have gone south,      
of the reasons you ended up here      
drinking at 4pm      
but it would ruin it, we both know it,      
and there's something honest about being here    
in a loneliness of not quite loneliness    
enjoying the survival    
of two people,    
infatuated in little,    
if anything at all.
Written by ImperfectedStone (The Gardener)
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poet Anonymous

What a couple of belters! Thank you for entering.

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