Poetry competition CLOSED 28th March 2019 7:19pm
Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
View Profile Poems by Jade-Pandora
RUNNERS-UP: ImperfectedStone and snugglebuck

Go to page:

A Door in the Hive

Tyrant of Words
United States
63awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 2430

Poetry Contest

The Classic Corner: Denise Levertov Tribute

Co-Host - JohnnyBlaze ( also the amazing artist who rendered Levertov's portrait )

Part XII in an ongoing series introducing serious writers of DUP to the most well-known poets, both classical and modern.

Priscilla Denise Levertov (24 October 1923 – 20 December 1997) was an American poet who wrote and published 24 books of poetry. Among her many awards and honours, she received the Shelley Memorial Award, the Robert Frost Medal, the Lenore Marshall Prize, the Lannan Award, a Catherine Luck Memorial Grant, a grant from the National Institute of Arts and Letters, and a Guggenheim Fellowship.

Born in England, Levertov began writing at a young age, sharing some of her poems with T.S. Eliot when she was 12 years old. Levertov published her first poetry collection, The Double Image, in England in 1940. Seventeen years later, she had her American collection, Here and Now, released. In the 1960s, Levertov was active in the anti-war movement in the United States. Additionally, she worked as a poetry editor for "The Nation" in the '60s and for "Mother Jones" in the '70s.


Write a new poem honoring Levertov inspired by any of her poems. We feel listing particular poems may be constricting, and want you to follow the inspiration wherever it leads.

Do your best to make us feel as though we are reading poems by Levertov. The more we feel you "capturing her essence" in "your own words" , the higher you will score. This will involve choice of wording, delivery, subject material, formatting, target audience - a wide range of factors.

The Rules

1. One entry per DUP persona.

2. No erotica; this is open to all ages and can't be viewed with an ECW.

3. No exact word limit; however, attempt to keep it no more than 250 - 300.

4. Any form is acceptable ( but studying the poet is advised ).

5. Hashtag your poem #DeniseLevertov and link to your poem here. Do NOT copy paste your poem to the competition. The point is to eventually direct visitors searching for Levertov to your poem via the hashtag we hope will eventually be implemented by the Webmiss.

6. In your poem's notes, provide a link to the poem(s) by Levertov that inspired yours.

Comp will be judged by a panel including myself. You have one month; best of luck to all entrants.

jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
144awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 4383

Being Observed In Lesser Than

The daily routine of others    
never seems the way for her;  
when traffic mills in gridlocked streets    
with lines of yellow at a standstill.    
Where a pedestrian believes    
she’ll make better time,    
until the subway entrance;    
that disgorges commuters    
up and out into the light of day.    
Some racing for buses that slow    
as people break away from the curb    
and push frantically between,    
to dodge and sprint    
to the other side of the street.    
In the midst of it all, distancing,    
she forfeits subway catacombs    
where the males of arctic bears snarl,    
The vision of her flight from their grind    
at a glance, reflects an invitation    
she is not entirely unconscious of.    
But still she blindly proceeds    
from the discourse she finds    
more urban than primitive.      
The seams of her nylons run afoul.   
The structure of her foundation    
garment infuriates,  
and the high heels of her shoes    
become acts against nature.    
She’s being observed in lesser than    
her suit of woolen armor.    
Even less than the satin halfslip    
giving up the ghost in mid-swoon.    
And it too, like she, slides inches    
as if to wave a white flag    
of imperfect contrition.    
But instead, becomes the unfurling    
of a matador’s cape in the ring    
which has her think in conclusion,    
of everything symbolic    
a ring represents to a woman:    
the chase, the capture,    
the bond, bondage and divorce.    
And the men watching,    
being only what they are,    
snort and score their hooves    
across the hard ground,    
holding back their rage    
until they huddle, when to crash    
the confines, to bellow their intent.    
And a cabbie with his    
hastily embarking customer,      
resets the meter, to make their way    
through Central Park, heading for    
the Museum of Natural History,    
where displays of taxidermy    
and bones will grow eyes for her.

Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Go To Page  

Dangerous Mind
United States
7awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 1184

Alone In The Creek Bed

Having toiled another morning sun away
with hoes in blistering hands today
weeding rigid rows of prose within
fields planted by other writers
we break in shade of poet trees  
stanzing knee deep in delighted sighs  
feeling the warm rush between thighs  
giddily drinking from brook babblings;
impromptu conversation stumbled upon;
being our roughly drafted    
naked selves splashing  
and laughing it up  
alone in the creek bed;  
this wonderful oasis
written just for us  
Written by JohnnyBlaze
Go To Page  

Non-entry entry.

Fire of Insight
13awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 13th May 2018
Forum Posts: 173

Where are They?

                     Legions of old
                        once assembled
                        fervent voices spoke as one
Where are they?

                        Once hand-in-hand
                        Strangers, bothers and sisters
                        Wanting it, wanting to be there
Where are they?

                        Age muting devotion
                        Comfort muffled rage
Where are they?
                        Two generations, more
                        Coddled by false justice
                        Symbolism over substance
                        Justice warrior avatars
                        Where have they gone?

Written by ReggiePoet (Reggie)
Go To Page  

Tyrant of Words
United States
63awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 2430

Modes of Being ( after Denise Levertov )

March wipes            
its muddy boots.    
Spring advances:    
basilicas of tulip, forget me nots, blue—   
the color of black birds.    
The park bench facing east of an empty sun—    
tangerine skirt, blouse akimbo    
amid purple limbs.    
  Near the Northern Triangle    
  a migrant woman is raped    
  by an indigenous guide    
  as her child sleeps.
The park yawns    
its saffron teeth emerge;    
a nocturnal atmosphere awakens—       
its stridulatory organs rub in unison    
against ultrasonic mammals    
sustained in flight, their elongated fingers    
stretching membranes opalescent.    
What a joy to witness silhouettes
become their own darkness!    
  Near the Southern border    
  a father's back is bleeding    
  prideless, broken—    
  pleading for his missing son.
Feet muddy    
we transpire from shadows    
directional depth of night. . .    
  Perhaps turning east    
knowing fire will alight    
ignite our kindling of bones    
complacent in knowledge;    
  what do we do, beyond    
  knowing means, beyond    
  scaffolded heights    
  of barbed fences and walls.    
Holly bushes puncture our veins    
draw blood in remembrance    
an alternative to wishes—     
if we had enough    
to grant relief of suffering.    
Cherry trees bloom pink;    
"lumps of snow are melting    
in tulip-cups".    
  Near the southern border, in    
  kennels made in America,    
  children are molested—    
  their tiny mouths gagged    
  while outside, their parents beg.    
  It is happening today, now    
  March two-thousand nineteen    
  no different than January,    
  nineteen seventy-four, near    
  Saigon—when I was innocent    
  in jr high school.
What Liberty, beyond scales    
of blindness, doth tip her flame    
into the balance of humanity    
  to reach regardless    
  the heart-wing of lung    
  to breathe, scream    
  through lack of sight    
  where deaf see more    
  than ever a cry heard by us;    
  our tongues transform—    
  become deadly weapons    
  of defense, shedding    
  not one ounce of their blood—    
  nor a drop of our own.                    
Written by Ahavati
Go To Page  

P M Banks
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
24awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Oct 2010
Forum Posts: 1077

Tale to Tell

Glass bottle in the earth,    
hidden as rats in the compost bin -
left when glass bottles were commonplace,  
when the deeds were written -  
when a Lady knew her power and laid her plans.  
Earnestly, I turn it as it catches flecks of light  
and makes mystery of them    
across the shaded soil -  
where wild garlic and anemone,  
daphne and winter clematis are tipping  
over, almost -  
unnoticed -  
and I see these colours set ablaze  
in their final hours with a turn of glass,    
upon it's jagged edges,  
at it's mouth,    
small spikes of light, sprung  
from something unwanted, insignificant -  
of a period one cannot find nor travel within, only appreciate, only wonder,  
and I carry it in, with the head of an early crocus  
to sit in the kitchen -  
as a familiar friend.  
Written by ImperfectedStone (P M Banks)
Go To Page  

Tyrant of Words
United States
63awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 2430

Life at War ( after Denise Levertov )

To compensate for my father’s  
muted choice, I turned to poetry—  
backpacks of word folded    
precisely as parachutes.    
Bullets from a magazine  
shell-shocked my faculties—    
ricocheted off the metal floor    
of a downed chopper in ‘Nam.    
Levertov referenced Rilke—    
formless lumps he carried about;    
the irony, or not    
referencing her raw dough:    
pebbles that plague memory    
decades after the same war:    
Rilke’s bitterness, Levertov’s weight    
both buried mines in my jungled-gut—    
no closer to percipience    
than decoding my father’s silence.      
Written by Ahavati
Go To Page  

Thought Provoker
United States
8awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Nov 2017
Forum Posts: 106

To The Best Of My Faith

From the strength of my conviction
Or is seen as my seclusion,
When you reckon self-restriction,
Yet I suffer no delusion.

Let it show by peerage recessed,
Gaveled quietly in judgment.
May it free-fall in their obsess,
Worn as glory on my raiment.

If conclusion renders payment,
Let my declaration follow;
In my truth holds no betrayment,
Nor my love of God be hollow.

As I kneel beside the waters,
Shows my face of vindication.
In my trust I shall not falter,
As the living Lord’s creation.

Written by Heaven_sent_Kathy
Go To Page  

Dangerous Mind
United States
65awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Feb 2014
Forum Posts: 1644


Near a lake shore I took a walk 🚶
When suddenly something green
Jumped up, leapt into the water
And with a splash, swam off
The sight brought back memories
Of my childhood when I and my friends
Were enchanted by polliwogs
As they turned from tadpoles
Into charming emerald frogs
We'd catch them just to feel
Their cold slippery skin
Then we'd squeal when they'd slip
From our grasp escaping in the grass
Every year that passes
There are fewer amphibian
Toads, salamanders and frogs
To capture a child's attention
I pray they never disappear
For future generations
Written by snugglebuck
Go To Page  

Dangerous Mind
United States
8awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 30th June 2016
Forum Posts: 143

The Quest (The Edge Of A Dream)

He hung on the edge of a dream,
         wanting to go further,
to ponder, plunder it's depths.
It resisted him, but not for lack of desire;
it needed him to keep longing.
He scaled a cliff to get here,
he left all convention behind.
The dream wanted his attention,
it pined to reveal itself,
          but it hungered for nothing else
          other than that.
His pursuit was all that mattered in the end.
His reasons were mere rocks
           tumbling under his feet.
Written by PoetsRevenge
Go To Page  

Dangerous Mind
United States
8awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 30th June 2016
Forum Posts: 143

(The) Web

A string vibrates,
a thousand hairs raise  
  on the flat plain of reception.
To run free on a mind with great abandon
     a contrition traces it's steps
         linking it's contrivances
     making dark seem light.
Spun sugar, spiderlike and
     unwoven at great speed;
  a neural acceleration,
     a locus unwinding.
All praise this intricacy
     tied to my elation,
        palpating my senses.
All praise this flytrap
     forming forevers traceability.
Sweet hubris of winds failure
     to waver anchored vacillations of thought.
A mind of merging composed
        of tripwires,
   multiplicities of replication,
        complicities of conscience.  
To not be encrypted
     here in your web of entrapment
         forever linked to your domain.
       (a non-entry)
Written by PoetsRevenge
Go To Page  

Dangerous Mind
United States
7awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 1184



I thought life was over
but then another had begun
when my back was turned

I was certain I left the Past behind
but there was still plenty ahead
shrewdly disguised as Future

I believed I was done
making a complete jackass of myself
but realized I wasn't ass-whole material

I was sure I was beyond making excuses
but ... but ... but .....


Written by JohnnyBlaze
Go To Page  

Non-entry entry

Thought Provoker
United Kingdom
4awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 176

Rock pool # Denise Lavertov

The beach its pebbles hard beneath
for childhood dreams we bear the pain upon our feet
and shout with glee and wave the net upon the stick

Try and stride between the rocks
youth its balance is the stuff of fun
that learning curve is easier for some

To mix with academic greats
the pools of knowledge that they share
a prodogy to find a foothold with the words of sage

To carve that niche upon the typeset face
the hemit crab it shell so weak
inhabts and finds a home that is unique
That rock pool, refilled with each new tide
its life, a small aquarium within it hides
apparent sillness camoflaged upon the shaded sand

The creation forming waves that wand
reflections of the clouds, the sun, the moon
the bubble breaks and  throws its rings

 Talent just to spread,  each corner flung
to reach into our hearts and resonate
man and nature the symbiosis to create

To look and see what lies beneath
and always constantly refresh the drying kelp
all clarity, were that belief within yourself
Written by slipalong
Go To Page  

Fire of Insight
United States
61awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th July 2012
Forum Posts: 734

A Farewell to Decency

My friends,
I can no longer understand
The way the world is today,
Why the politics have gotten so…
It seems as if common politeness
Has given way to greed and avarice.
Farewell to the days of decency,
The care for our fellow man,
Living in the time of excess
Seems to be the goal.

Perhaps we as poets, writers,
Those who envision a world without pollution
Without hate
Strive to write
And compose until our fingers ache,
Our minds united
Raising our voices together
Until the riot is heard.

Gone are the days of kindness,
There is too much negativity,
The way it has decayed
Into the souls of those in power,
While the masses cry out
“No more”.
Farewell I say,
Revolutions are coming,
As the times change
For after the dust settles
We’ll see the sun rise,
A new beginning
With hope.

Written by wallyroo92
Go To Page  

Tyrant of Words
United States
63awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 2430

Thank you all for entering!

You have less than 24 hours to double-check your entries for errors according to the guidelines.

Go to page:
Go to: