Poetry competition CLOSED 23rd July 2019 8:47am
WINNER
Ahavati
View Profile Poems by Ahavati
sheild
RUNNER-UP: LivDiane

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Poem of the Month - August 2019

LobodeSanPedro
LobodeSanPedro
Guardian of Shadows
Sierra Leone
109awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 16th Apr 2013
Forum Posts: 3256

Poetry Contest

What’s the most incredible thing you’ve read on DUP?
that's how you shoud have reacted (Wait. What? People can do that with words.)

It's time for our "Poem of the Month" to be featured in the DUP 'Poem of the Month Hall of Fame' and on the official facebook page for August 2019!.

You have three weeks to nominate no more than two of you favorite poems from another DUP poet!

Please note the following when making nominations:

1. Self nominations are not accepted. The great majority of the competitions here are about spotlighting one's own work on a particular topic or theme.  This is a chance to nominate that poem that you wish you had written but some other great talent here beat you to it.

2. Please limit your nominations to TWO poems. You can nominate a single poem for two different poets; but the nomination maximum remains at TWO (no matter how many pseudonyms they have).  The majority of competitions on DUP cap nominations at one or two poems so there's no need to go beyond that.

No DUPLICATES. If someone nominates the same poem the entry will be deleted. If you like it that much wait and vote for it!

Any genre except erotica or pornography. This is a Facebook feature and we must adhere to their guidelines.  

BIG CHANGE:

ALL POETS ARE ELGIBLE AT THIS TIME, INCLUDING PREVIOUS WINNERS!  


Any member who is banned or disables their account PRIOR to the win will be automatically disqualified.

Any nominated member who wishes to opt out of the competition may do so by messaging me ( Poem-Worm ). I will contact the person who nominated you and request an alternate nomination.

Nomination Duration is three weeks followed by a week of site voting!

Running list of winners:

January 2019 ... DANIELCHRISTENEN
February 2019 ... SOPHIE_ERICSON
March 2019 ... AUDIOHARLEEA
April 2019 ... FROM THE ASH
May 2019 ... MISS_SUB
June 2019 ... NAAJIR
July 2019 ... LAYLA

November 2017 ... NAAJIR
December 2017 ... POETSPEAK
January 2018 ...      LADY_OF_THE_QUILL
February 2018 ...    LEPPEROCHAN Craic in a Box
March 2018 ...        TINABUBUYA (Tee Mali)
April 2018 ...           CROWFLY
May 2018 ...            ATOMIKBOMB
June 2018 ...            MISS_SUB (Missy)
July 2018 ...              MEADOWSWEET
August 2018 ...        LAYLA
September 2018 ... COLD FUSION
October 2018 ...       TODSKI28
November 2018 ...   TheMUSE22
December 2018 ...    BENDER

... So, what have you read that's incredible!?

FromTheAsh
FromTheAsh
Tyrant of Words
United States
24awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 20th Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 420

A Musing


 
Who are all these other muses?
  I’m not jealous
 
 
I just didn’t know
   you were spilling your ink
all over town
        you arrogant fuck
 
do you think your pen
     is the only one I can excite?
 
   believe me, there are plenty
of poets AND poetesses
      interested in
    tapping my sweet metaphor
 
Oh, that’s right, pour yourself a drink
 
let’s all pity the brooding poet
   so weighed down by his regrets
sacrificing his broken heart
       on his altar of shame  
           beating himself up for not
    being perfect—
not being worthy
    of his own twisted code
 
Look at me.
     I’m right in front of you!
Here. Now. In this fucking moment.
             I’m trying so desperately...
   Have you ever felt joy?
         I mean ever?
 
 
Aren’t you going to say something?
 
What are you writing?
 
        oh. may i read it?
 
...
 
jesus
 
     fuck...yes, i get it
 
damn.  this...is...
 
 
this is fucking beautiful
 
 
 
 
 
Written by highlyfunctional
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cold_fusion
cold_fusion
Dangerous Mind
Australia
19awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 14th June 2017
Forum Posts: 2080

Reflecting On A Broken Mirror

all lives matter

tell me about a life that matters
as we seek to understand
the significance of breathing
accuse me of generational discourse
you act surprised when you find
hatred is a symptom of humanity
homeland nations at war
partial to the doctrines of ethnicity
marionette media
the puppetry of politics
sell the next victim as you play advocate
societal programming
prolonging wars of perspectives
fiction causes to keep us fighting
elevate yourself
platforms for scars to sell progress
reinvent the conflict
there's no way to kill a wolf only you can see...

forgotten legacies

expendable youths and infants
no place to lay your head
no place to dream
failing sacrifice
squandering investments
as we cast shadows on opportunity
restless graveyards
vain investments of our noble causes
high maintenance freedoms
the price of convenience is death
in the land of the free on loan
we're indebted to our father's
and our young
where both die with dreams unrealized
and legacies forgotten
ugly hides in the crevices of the beautiful...

arsenals

terrified of worst case scenarios
and broken record histories
my indifference to the armory
we're fighting for our defenses
is it our place to embark on revolution
when we're circling the same mountains we thought we moved
with faith in God yet fugitive in a lawless world
bearing our swords
take a life for a worthy cause to save your own
who can lay a charge against us
yet I find myself prone to my humanity
as reaction dictates impulse
surely there is a time to make war on our foes
or let us be devoured for the salvation of their souls
willfully are we martyrs or resistant to insist on a right to live
when every breath we've been given is what we steward
and the life that we have is the life that we give
back to the heart from where we begin
violence in a culture of indulgence and sin
accursed to bear the burden of indignation
tell me the heart behind the obsession
what does it mean to love an enemy
but reach beyond defending just our own
fighting for the innocent and the culprit
to establish the cross and pledge allegiance to a higher throne...

pick your poison

searching for identity
is loving you a lesson in loving me
everyone sins, we just sin differently
just call it what it is
I'm not afraid of the controversy
when the truth upsets the lie
making statements born of pride
making love to death inside
I'm better off undignified
accuse me of the stone
you throw it better than me
when judges lay the claim
your prejudice knows no truer scrutiny
redefine the disorder of our humanity
nothing is sacred anymore
everything is vanity
a culmination, the variations of
the same expression
you say you're born with it
and aren't we all
defective morals of the fall
philosophy to overthrow the divine
getting lost within an effort to redefine...

foreign and domestic thievery

caught at the crossroads
of wisdom and compassion
obstacles to screen a refugee
walls and processes to document
for the sake of carrying the weight
the shared burden of society
squandered incomes
and shortchanged benefits
redistributed to the welfare of thievery
everyone's in need but we're partial to our own
but our greatest love is seen
in the way we treat a stranger...
Written by cloventongue89 (Nathaniel Peter)
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summultima
summultima
uma
Dangerous Mind
India
27awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Feb 2012
Forum Posts: 946

Scenes From A Laundromat

 

3:01pm.  
Sunless summer  
crawled in the womb of afternoon  
gathering clouds by the yoke to devil’s tune.  
Brooding slurs, humdrum'd whimpers  
rolled in irony, roiling thespian tragedy of  
a change coming.  
 
3:17pm.  
The washers  
twitched in methodical righteousness  
agitating right, left  
right of streaked pane  
green neon light flashing  
Cus omer’s Only, t silent  
-ly spinning with sins of mortality.  
Unwiser than infancy  
fools of immortality  
helical helix  
entwined in vain  
spiraling downward  
the beaten slippery slops of  
consciousness.  
 
3:38pm.  
He’s there again  
parked at the handicap space  
singing The Lord’s prayer  
pacing, praising, shouting  
$10 to pearly gate.  
Five dollars  
more than past November  
a pass ’n go to heavenly father.  
 
3:46pm.  
The drier  
screeched in deceleration  
more coins. Drop one  
then another  
tumbling tumbleweed of prayers.  
 
3:59pm.  
The newspaper  
was upside down  
in her raw red hands  
crooked claws branching  
in tattered threads  
trembling in gestalt of  
differences.  
Cold  
fragile  
old  
perhaps too bold  
focused on the word  
at the end of the row  
waiting for the storm  
marching through walls  
to mellow in the marrow.
Written by Layla
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summultima
summultima
uma
Dangerous Mind
India
27awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 3rd Feb 2012
Forum Posts: 946

Leaving slab of chocolate on emptying chair: Day of the Father, 2019

In dying embers of your eyes
Charcoal from where you were a miner
Turns blackest hue to iridescent streams
In our clandestine eye-language
This is where fountains speak
In crystalline Father to son cradles.

I nestled your head in my large hands
Those pugilist claws you bequeathed
This is no Yorick, Alas, no Shakespeare theatrics -
Have you ever smelt the lemon dew of dying?
Rows of disinfectant as coffins.

No Vacancies for his lonely place
‘MEMORIES FOR SALE’
We have them beholden
In quill & parchment entitlements.

Do you still dream Dad
Of your Nottingham childhood?
Paint peeling from street doors
So numbers 1 to 34 became no more
Mazed as the rows of grey tiles
Pollock’ed by pigeon shit
Terraced between family mounds.
We took you to that street
You do not remember
Memories left in cranium gutters
Where rain falls, but does not gather.

Forever winter
Forever yesterday
Some say roots forever grow –
The end of the family line
I sleep un'rooted.

Paper boats flotilla on Marine Lake
There lies our anchor
Tangled in weeds & reeds
& tendrils of shredding hearts
Tears this child cried when our
Origami disaster drowned.

Come fly with Mum
On a sunning strumming harp
To the dance floor astride burial ground
One Two Three One Two Three….
From Sergeant to G Major
Sinatra’s never played symphonies.

J’accuse Alzheimer’s
& its cruel heirs.
Guillotined
Roped
Shot
Blessed.

# Postscript. Dilemma of the Modern (R)age. Mum kept detailed Diaries for 70 years. My sister wishes them to be buried with her. I vehemently disagree. For reasons, probably only writers will comprehend….  
Written by Trouble_Loves_Me
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Tallen
Tallen
earth_empath
Tyrant of Words
17awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 15th Oct 2018
Forum Posts: 855

deserving

With light feet grazing the velvet earth
The morning sky spotted with wispy clouds
You’ll inhale deep of the rich earth scents
When you’re bowing down to her crown

Standing tall upon a podium of grandeur
Power wafting from her in palpable waves
She exudes an ethereal standard of beauty
Asking what exactly it is you really do crave

Is it true love or true beauty you seek?
Are you power hungry or self serving?
Such grace, a goddess in her own right
Do you really think you’re that deserving?
Written by LivDiane
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Tallen
Tallen
earth_empath
Tyrant of Words
17awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 15th Oct 2018
Forum Posts: 855

Morning

The sun kisses the moon good morning,
I watch it’s fingers steal across my bed
Sleep is old and stubbornly refuses me,
My pillow tries to comfort my weary head

I close my eyes and dream of you again
My back tucked tightly in your embrace
I can feel you breathing deeply in my hair
Turning, I lift my hands to touch your face

I look into eyes gone dark with pleasure
A deep forest still lit by the day’s last light
I drink kisses from your lips made of promise
My tongue, made of wings poised for flight

I drag my lips across your body’s landscape
Revealing your taste, one kiss at a time
I hear your breaths rush out in whispers
And my heart beats faster to the rhyme
Written by LunaGreyhawk
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Gahddess_Worship
Gahddess_Worship
Tyrant of Words
United States
29awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 21st Aug 2013
Forum Posts: 468

A Broken Cup

Today as I poured cream in my coffee  
With sleepy and unfocused vision  
I watched it swirl and mix in the cup  
Til there was no discernible division  

The coffee calmed after it stirred  
A perfect blend of how it should be  
But the more that I thought about it  
It reminded me of my love’s energy  

I would pour the pure white of it in  
Til it lightened your darkest places  
And it was meant to complement you  
And fill you up, but that’s just the basics  
 
It would take the bitter blackness  
And it would add so much dimension  
But pouring out that kind of energy  
Can really strain a good connection  
 
Because your cup was mishandled  
And surely has suffered some blows  
It has all these cracks in the glass  
Some I’ve tried so hard to close  
 
And I studied hard to find a solution  
One to be the glue that kept you whole  
But the more that I kept shoveling in  
The more and more it drained my soul  
 
Because I can’t hold it all together  
While you pick axe at the seams  
And there is more damage arising  
The flow coming out in little streams  
 
And now your cup has a hole in it  
I know that my well may run deep  
But If I keep trying to pour more of me in  
It will be my own cup that will deplete  
 
And no, I won’t try to mend these cracks  
Not when I tried so much to save you  
You are going to have to save yourself  
Or just let the pieces all come unglued  
 
I’m going to hope that you learn to heal  
Even if you’re hell bent on being damaged  
But I have no more in me to give to you  
So you’ll just have to find another bandage
Written by LivDiane
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ImperfectedStone
ImperfectedStone
The Gardener
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
26awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Oct 2010
Forum Posts: 1163

Amid blasts of howling verse

you remind me of a story  
my mother once told me
about Jesus  
 
  maybe a fairytale
    [same ugly troll]
 
same fucking ogre
folding its lard into wrinkles  
spreading out in ripples
just like the room
 
    this tomb—
    this tomb
 
restrains me in migraines
while she’s still sat
at the end of the bed
screeching out
 
“beware the water sprite  
my dear, for you may lose
a toe to the dark drains”

 
      it pains—
      it pains
 
and I have vomited mascara
into the gut-soaked pillows
as she rattles her teeth in a jar
throwing jacks onto the linen
 
      hate the game,
      love the player
 
maleficent paper walls
that crease legends  
into masonry:
 
you scare the Christ
out of my s[k]in.

 
Written by Miss_Sub (- Missy -)
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cold_fusion
cold_fusion
Dangerous Mind
Australia
19awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 14th June 2017
Forum Posts: 2080

We give in sometimes

My precious boy lover,
Imagine this:
You can’t stand another
minute of me. I’m not talking
about the way an editor can’t quite tell
a good poem from a bad one
any more or work up the guilt
to give a damn --- what’s inevitable,
though not what’s memorable either,
nothing intense or terrifying
like, say, the feeling when flames
begin to blister and char your feet,
igniting, so to speak, or the fear of
your god insulating you.
No, nothing so distinctly painful
that it’s easy to cry out for it
to stop or that understandably
leads to homicide on its own, but
more like a hangnail you can’t bite
close enough when you haven’t got
a clipper, how it catches and tears
a little more whenever you forget
and reach into your pocket until
you have to think too much about
your movements. Feel that? Good,
now add a hemorrhoid and an itch
between the shoulder blades
and simultaneously do your
best to think of love, and if
you can, we’ve got a deal.
Written by heyycyanides
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LunasChild8
LunasChild8
Dangerous Mind
Canada
17awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 27th Dec 2017
Forum Posts: 440

Cold Winter Revelation

         
       The bitter cold trials burn her lungs  
as the harsh winter air drifts              
       Searching to illuminate her every  
 truth; through her soul, she sifts              
       Shivering in this frigid existence; all unravels before the frost              
       Amongst the pine trees tall is where she finds it;  all is truly not lost              
       Only by the bitter cold trials of a harsh winters assistance -----              
       Has she found herself through all of it's tainted & bittersweet resistance
Written by PandoraUnleashed
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LunasChild8
LunasChild8
Dangerous Mind
Canada
17awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 27th Dec 2017
Forum Posts: 440

Eudemonia

While good fortune may be transient
and our pleasures often contingent
contentment is a serene condition

When we seek purposeful direction
and know meaningful connection
our sense of belonging amplifies

Appreciating each moment as a gift
we experience spiritual lift
and can delight in the divine

With an altruistic attitude
finding grace in gratitude
we are afforded authentic joy

Through our compassion and charity
by practicing kindness and sincerity
profound happiness is manifested

Accessible to me and you
I believe this to be true
if we hold these principles in high esteem
Written by mel44
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nomoth
nomoth
Twisted Dreamer
2awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 24th Mar 2019
Forum Posts: 55

sing sing death house
This house is Korean
labeled upside down
garbled junk for useless hands  
and my trigger finger is hapless  
but again, Korean    
in some former regime  
 
they shipped us this shit  
bubble-wrapped and dead  
off boats made of matchsticks    
sparking lighters from...  
 
you get  
where I'm going with this  
 
model Americans    
living in foreign soup cans  
smelling like Texas beans  
because we too like to live  
dangerously.  
 
I guess we would remember    
all the plastic memories  
cooped up in Japanese jail  
 
splayed out, splintered  
wearing dust jackets  
not fooling anybody  
 
and you  
my Kamikaze coffin  
you are nothing  
but a smug imitation  
calling yourself God

written by  24601 (John Brady)

RevolutionAL
RevolutionAL
Alistair Plint
Dangerous Mind
South Africa
22awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 24th July 2012
Forum Posts: 940

Related submission no longer exists.

wallyroo92
wallyroo92
Dangerous Mind
United States
66awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th July 2012
Forum Posts: 815

Poet's Workshop

 
A poetry idea sits waiting in my workshop.
Marking some initial lines with a carpenter’s pencil
I chain-saw the first cuts of a rough shape,
pillar-drill for deeper meaning  
and tap some stanzas into position
always with an eye on planing the soundscape.
Aided by Axminster, Metabo, Ryobi, Festool
and my father’s old hand-tools
there are phrases to be filed
words to be shaped with sharp chisels
and grammar to be screwed in, one quarter-turn at a time.
 
If the whole thing somehow doesn’t look right
I get out the angle-grinder.
If that fails, only one thing for it:
the big Bosch demolition-hammer … and start again.
If it’s looking good, it goes in Grandfather’s 100 year old ‘weighs-a-ton’ vice
to squeeze out surplus words
before rounding the edges with a spokeshave  
smoothing with one of several sanders
and polishing-oiling-polishing-oiling-polishing
until I’m sick of it. Then I know it’s ready.
 
“Josh, you’ve got more equipment than a bloody DIY store …”
I look at him askance and reply “I’m a poet for chrissakes,
I need all the power-tools I can lay my hands on”.
Written by Josh
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