Poetry competition CLOSED 10th February 2019 5:59am
WINNER
Anonymous
Anonymous
RUNNER-UP:
Ahavati
Poem of the Month - February 2019
Related submission no longer exists.
Anonymous
in the garden of ache
the depths of me are surfacing
in the shallow waters of thought
I ache in my garden of grief
alone in this suffering...
I don't let anyone touch me here
how did you get in?
I see you sitting solemnly beside me
we are both waiting...
as the poppies open to greet my black sun
~you know I don't trust anyone
I understand you don't either~
together in my garden of ache
we water the poppies
alone in our pain, we sit side by side
this is a solitary hurt
no one is allowed inside...
no, don't touch me there...I cry as you reach for me
pulling away you see the little girl inside
sitting alone amongst the poppies of pain
tears fill my eyes as I watch the child...
in my garden of want, there is a barbed wire gate
keeping her in and others out
she looks at me and smiles
I turn to look at you for a moment
to find you've gone...
I look back at her and see a boy beside her
inside me is a garden...
that grows blooms of trust
Written by crimsin
(Unveiling)
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Related submission no longer exists.
Related submission no longer exists.
Omnipotent Journey
Is it age that has me turn aside,
to think twice because the
turmoil in my life is nothing new.
This time around it’s
different news or seems to be,
though bitter onslaught’ chill
and words are all the same.
Before I’m overwhelmed
this time, I know what I must do,
and I won’t be alone.
From those who try to hold me back
with lists they need for me to fill.
From shouts that try to blame their
wants and woes so hard it seems
the earth will free-fall from its spin
— I soon walk out the door.
There’s nothing to prepare my rout.
I’ve all I need for this.
With coat and gloves and shoes
and hat, I’m down the stairs.
Already I’ve a smile that isn’t seen
but felt within my lightened heart
as deeper in the woods I go,
where neither voices’ drone
nor storm can reach.
It’s all I want to know.
Each rapid step I take for minutes
passing till I’ve lost the count,
and now don’t even bother.
It must be like the crane that
takes to wing and lets its instinct
be compass and navigator,
leaving me as only motion.
What is my instinct?
I stop to look up through the trees
With tiny rippling stars in sight.
The world’s at rest.
The cold and crisp of winter’s air
surrounds me and the sentinels.
I’ve long forgotten where I laid
the broadsword I never used.
I didn’t need it then
nor do I need it now.
Though deep in darkest night,
the words that I am hearing
come to me more clearly
are of myself.
I feel I’m reacquainting
with a friend.
I’ll stay here for a while to think,
while curious brave the cold,
peering from foliage and drifts.
I hardly know how
or why I’ll be all right.
As winter makes amends,
I promise Him I’m doing this
for only me, I won’t forget again.
to think twice because the
turmoil in my life is nothing new.
This time around it’s
different news or seems to be,
though bitter onslaught’ chill
and words are all the same.
Before I’m overwhelmed
this time, I know what I must do,
and I won’t be alone.
From those who try to hold me back
with lists they need for me to fill.
From shouts that try to blame their
wants and woes so hard it seems
the earth will free-fall from its spin
— I soon walk out the door.
There’s nothing to prepare my rout.
I’ve all I need for this.
With coat and gloves and shoes
and hat, I’m down the stairs.
Already I’ve a smile that isn’t seen
but felt within my lightened heart
as deeper in the woods I go,
where neither voices’ drone
nor storm can reach.
It’s all I want to know.
Each rapid step I take for minutes
passing till I’ve lost the count,
and now don’t even bother.
It must be like the crane that
takes to wing and lets its instinct
be compass and navigator,
leaving me as only motion.
What is my instinct?
I stop to look up through the trees
With tiny rippling stars in sight.
The world’s at rest.
The cold and crisp of winter’s air
surrounds me and the sentinels.
I’ve long forgotten where I laid
the broadsword I never used.
I didn’t need it then
nor do I need it now.
Though deep in darkest night,
the words that I am hearing
come to me more clearly
are of myself.
I feel I’m reacquainting
with a friend.
I’ll stay here for a while to think,
while curious brave the cold,
peering from foliage and drifts.
I hardly know how
or why I’ll be all right.
As winter makes amends,
I promise Him I’m doing this
for only me, I won’t forget again.
Written by Heaven_sent_Kathy
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