Poetry competition CLOSED 18th March 2019 3:35pm
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Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
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Mother

poet
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 26th Nov 2018
Forum Posts: 58

Poetry Contest

Write a descriptive poem(s) or, essay about the love or, detestation you have for your mother.

    I recently lost my mother to cancer. The last image I have of her, was when she was in hospice and I kissed her, and she could barely form a smile back at me. The memories were in her eyes I could see. I have written a couple of poems for this competition and have submitted them as I have been melancholy thinking about my mother and how much I miss her and the impact she had on my life! I'm not sure if I'm one to make a competition but here it goes!

    The point-of-view of the poem(s) or, essays submitted for this writing contest should deal with childhood love for your mother and being raised in your family household with your mother. If you weren't raised by your mother, and would like to submit to this contest anyway, for example being raised by your father or, legal guardian, that is acceptable for this contest. This is a poetry or, non-fiction essay-style writing contest about mothers. I want your authentic voice in your submission as again, I hope your words bring about the love and appreciation we all have for those who birthed and raised us. I herein included a poem about my mother as an example to follow:


A mother's Hug Goodnight

Frigid calm front
hides in northern winds,
vast sky of my bedroom dims.

Stream in winter
iced over; mother's embrace
letting go at bedtime.

Still rainfall,
sky's dark pillow,
eyelids become anchors; smothering.

The cold front
blanketing this damp landscape,
peacefully covers the coming storm.


Guidelines:
1. Two submissions maximum per poet.
2. Must be original work.
3. Previously submitted work accepted.
4. Keep the poem(s) maximum 300 words.
5. One essay per poet. Essays no longer than 500 words. Must be non-fiction.
6. You have one month! Good luck!

*The lady with the umbrella in the image is my mother.

poet
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Mother's Hushed Eyes

Passages of my childhood arise within my mother’s death gaze,
bringing reminiscences of olden days.

When in sadness in childhood we would speak in silent gaze.
No mother left to envision me now, now within those quiet eyes.

Mother, you have gone away;
oh, dear mother let the memories rest beneath your eyelids.

But never close your eyes!
The imageries still dance in them as if you’re still alive!

 While vibrancy in your quiet eyes remains, I'll save
this voiceless reflection I saw from a mother's hushed eyes.

Mere images from when I was a child,
and often when I'll be sorrow-hearted, these reflections will then give me joy;

so, while life does remain in cycle, the memories she has protected;
those reflections I saw from a mother's hushed eyes.

Oh, I remember the life of my mother's glossy eyes,
my reception of joy to her when I returned home,

always gently did her eyelids come to a rest
as she used to sit and wait for me to speak,

but now are not closed, and silent;
though they have left me for the cold of death,

but while mute voices do persist, in those images I'll remember
this vivid reflection I saw from a mother's hushed eyes.
Written by gothicsurrealism (Daniel Long)
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poet
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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This is a non-entry poem by the author of the competition.

poet
AEMelia564
Y
Tyrant of Words
Norway
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Related submission no longer exists.
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/337487-rhetoric-implosion/



This poem is dedicated to my mother, rip 10/07/2017

poet
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Very beautiful AEMelia! Thank you for you submission! Sweet and sad piece.

poet
Michael_Goodridge
M_Goodridge
Thought Provoker
Trinidad and Tobago
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Don't Cry

Bleeding from my eyes don't cry, don't go I love you
Drinking from the fountain of youth so if I die young blame the juice    
Wishing for death to live another life  
Reborn lost reincarnated soul but  
 I forgot what I returned for    
Standing in the darkness of heaven talking  
Only voice is to myself  
Just me one and no one else, let there be light  
Don't cry when I go    
Receding back to the darkness gone forgotten world  
Without a tomb    
Bleed to the music of silence as I lose my soul slowly rises  
The warmth leaves me as I turn blue  
Red moons more often than usual    
Tides overflow fires of oceans once blue now red and black even the sky to  
It's dark even when the sun is back    
It's dark even when the sun isn't back  
Don't cry was her last request baby don't cry was mama's last request  
Bleeding from my eyes again don't cry the voice in the wind  
Don't cry don't go I love you  
I'm so lost and alone in this world without you.  
May 16 I am your birthday gift so on my birth I don't celebrate  
Each year a candle lit in hopes a wish  
someday I'll see your face again  
So, I didn't cry, as I watched you go  
I love you with my heart and soul.
Written by Michael_Goodridge (M_Goodridge)
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poet
Michael_Goodridge
M_Goodridge
Thought Provoker
Trinidad and Tobago
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Abusive father

Four and a half years old through a glass sliding door hit the wall bleeding as your mom gets her turn beaten and burned slapped around and forced as she cried in pain not for the act but for the fact that he made me watch... Baby I'm sorry she cried out to me filled with Wells overflowing as we both in pain bled in the comfort of each other's arms when he was done, made remarks as though I'm his lover and not his son, laughed as death threats were made about one million and one ways while waving around a blade. Subsequently as I got older I had a little brother who died in the arms of my mother from starvation, prayers to God didn't matter, just when you think it's over and life gets better I lost my mother, I lost my mother. On her birthday I was her celebration now on our birthday I light candles and buy flowers for what's left of her, just a unmarked grave in a yard no one visits as life goes on I'm grown but still relive the horror, alone and broken by a abusive Father.
Written by Michael_Goodridge (M_Goodridge)
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poet
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Micheal, it sounds you've gone through a lot of pain in your childhood. I can feel it radiate strongly in your words and descriptions. Fathers can be bastards and of course our mother's carry us in their wombs and showed you and I the love. Touching write Micheal.  

poet
Michael_Goodridge
M_Goodridge
Thought Provoker
Trinidad and Tobago
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Joined 18th Feb 2017
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Thank you Daniel Long really appreciate your understanding...

poet
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 9th Nov 2015
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Glass Eye

I wondered what it must be like      
To cry when you have a glass eye.

 It was only a passing thought,
You know, the way you do.        
       
She suffered a mild stroke last year,        
They said Mom had just stopped talking.
At first she tried to tell us that
She hadn't had a stroke,        
       
She couldn't relate how it caused
Her glass eye to loosen in its socket.
But when I'd gone to visit her
In hospital, I saw, and then I knew
What had happened;  I took it all in
As she blithely sat up in bed eating.        
       
It was months before she said it        
And she said it yesterday        
While we dined on Cantonese.
 
Driving the freeway I'd missed the turnoff.
It's then while she sat next to me Mom said
"You know, sweet pea, since the stroke,        
It takes longer to get my mental map up".        
       
Though the stroke left its ravaged effects        
More evident with each passing month,
Mom looked quite lovely when I came
To take her to pick up the prosthetic.        
         
She emerged, beaming, with a new glass eye
That matched her light hazel one perfectly.
I tried not to be obvious
As I watched her delighted reaction,
Laughing in a way I'd never heard;
The girl of Mom's own youth long gone.        
       
At the restaurant after dinner        
Our talk turned to a quiet poignancy.
I shared with her my own struggles,
And she, her thoughts on mortality.
 
She'd forget, mostly recent things        
Like when she last made peanut brittle
Or was I at the barbecue
(Of course I was, I brought the coleslaw).
 
Her memories way back from childhood
Were indelible, where we all come from.
I noticed the more Mom talked,
The further back her sentiments.
 
We joked, she brightened, grinning wide,        
Eyes dancing from that ravaged face
That turned into my grandmother's,
And I told her so!
 
She always looked like herself,
But yesterday, sitting across from me
In the booth by the street window
With the light from late afternoon.
 
I saw her as a moving portrait,
Small & frail.  But her smile, and that laugh.
Then Mom spoke of her mother's last days,
Lifting her chin, trying not to cry.        
       
That's what made me wonder        
What it must be like.
       
       
     
     
 
Poet's note:  My mother was blinded in one eye during childhood and had finally received a prosthetic in her senior years.    
     
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
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poet
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Powerful, beautiful Jade. Thank you for you contribution to this competition!  I read through it twice and Glass Eye was an excellent title for this piece as it resonated throughout. Excellent write Jade!
-Daniel

poet
cabcool
Thought Provoker
Jamaica
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Joined 27th Feb 2014
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apronsongs

sometimes  
a mere unhurried sigh  
    no righteous indignation        
she’s a mystery  
whose tears are not  
her children’s entertainment  
or their dad’s entitlement  
for far beneath  
her armour  
of polished incisors  
and slightly tinted lips  
ruddied by apronsongs  
the more to whisper kindness  
to ears that come for comfort  
      where words can scarce find footing        
they trickle only in the dead of night  
cutting across the quiet mischief  
of thorns that pierce her heart  
in unsuspecting daylight hours  
to settle at nerve’s end  
old worn-out lyrics  
      for fresh new        
      apronsongs        
 
© Copyright 2012 June 19  
by Clyve A. Bowen♫
Written by cabcool
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poet
SatInUGal
Kumar
Dangerous Mind
United States
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GRANDMOTHER TOUCHDOWN, w/Author's Note

A few years back my mother, someone I always thought of as nervous and frail, not unlike a hummingbird, made the most amazing catch of my toddler son who was flying through the air after taking a tumble on the stairs. It was a beautiful moment that forever changed the way I see my strong, intuitive mother.

---

GRANDMOTHER TOUCHDOWN

It took all of your
Focused vision
Incredible timing
And intuitive movement
To haul in the catch,
 
Not letting the boy—
Thrown in a tumbling spiral
By the reckless clumsy
Stair maneuvers
Customary of a toddler—
 
Hit the hard ground.
Written by SatInUGal (Kumar)
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poet
gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 26th Nov 2018
Forum Posts: 58

Strong and intuitive indeed!  Your mother was a Godsend! Bless her! And nice write!
-Daniel

poet
Miss_Sub
- Missy -
Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom
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Humble Pie

Three potatoes  
lay out on the worktop  
muddy and lumpy,  
just the way nature  
intended  

the peeler scraped  
across the surface;  
they were chopped  
diced and boiled
within the hour  
without a thought.  
 
My mother could peel  
a potato in one piece  
with this old dagger,  
the handle salved  
with electrical tape  
 
an old gypsy knife  
female by design  
small bladed, delicate  
winding an epidermis  
onto a chopping board.  
 
I’ve tried to replicate  
in days gone past  
the endless string of flesh  
with varying results—  
 
half a King Edward  
a bleeding thumb  
a mischievous cat  
 
but her hands were tools  
deft and perfectly matched  
to her curiosity, a woman  
blooming through an age  
of preparation and ease.  
 
I think of her some days  
feeding her children,  
veggies on a stove  
while the house aches  
without her  
 
without her laughter  
reminding me food  
is a vessel for love  
 
that fullness  
is an answer  
to so many  
things.  
 
Written by Miss_Sub (- Missy -)
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