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Poetry competition CLOSED 31st July 2019 7:55pm
Hepcat61 (geoff cat)
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RUNNERS-UP: JohnnyBlaze and Heaven_sent_Kathy

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Write Free Or Die

jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States 154awards
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 5134

Poetry Contest

Give your interpretation in a poem about the slogan “Write Free Or Die”.
“Write Free Or Die”

Hi everybody! This is a competition on your interpretation about the slogan “Write Free Or Die”.  

We’re all writers here on the Deep, and most have the “passion” when it comes to: do I compromise and wither, or do I follow my heart and say what I really mean?

So I leave it to you. Here’s a few basic rules, look them over, then link with the muse and enjoy.

1.  Two-week duration.
2.  One entry per persona.
3.  Any poetic style, No prose.
4.  New or not so new: pick 1.
5.  Title your poem.
6.  One image allowed.
7.  Spoken-word OK with text included on the comp thread.
8.  No collaborations.
9.  Observe Respect.
10.  Any questions, PM me.

Off you go!

Tyrant of Words
United Kingdom 39awards
Joined 5th Nov 2014
Forum Posts: 2983

The 15 of Hearts (Revised)

Time to stand up straight  
Bowing your head no longer  
Revolution starts  
You must take courage  
Have a no fear policy  
Adopt bravery  
Standing together  
War faces painted with blue woad  
Seek to free the soul  
Take it back from them  
Those who would rule with darkness  
Simply be the light  
Must test the spirits  
Angels of light or demons  
block and ignore evil  
This our underground  
Slaying demons takes courage  
It's worth fighting for  
The foe, increases  
First battle is exposing lies  
Be honest with self  
7. The Enemy  
Don't fear the reaper
He's a flesh and blood demon
The're an easy rid  
your demons  
privately will assault you  
Keep your eyes wide open
They're here to tear down  
Pretending Angels of light  
Don't be duped and fooled  
10. WOLVES  
Wolves at the door  
Welcoming them with a smile  
strength is fearlessness  
Toxicity and  
Bad associations need dropped
Positive sanctions  
12. HERE  
Walk tall, head up straight  
Chest out, strong posture and stride  
Tell the world you're here  
Don't be prideful  
This leads you to arrogance  
Be humble yet valiant  
Stare unfairness down  
It is now time to fight back  
Don't ever be owned  
Cleared the decks of shit  
Love strengthened, hateful banned  
A new life begins  

Written by David_Macleod (14397816)
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jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States 154awards
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 5134

write free or die

poetry's birth  
is the moment    
of madness  
where the truth breaks free  
of all shackles  
all walls  
walks out charging  
with half its umbilical cord  
still attached and vernix    
covering it head to toe  
enough to send    
the dolls
the mannequins  
into hiding
behind the dark  
tinted mirrors  
Written by cold_fusion
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This is the poem whose title inspired me to create this competition. I let cold_fusion know how I felt, and not only did he sanction it, he’s given me his kind permission to post it on the thread as a non-entry, to share in the spirit of the theme... Thank you!

Tyrant of Words
United States 12awards
Joined 19th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 25


Lost Thinker
United States
Joined 17th July 2019
Forum Posts: 15


Dangerous Mind
United States 17awards
Joined 8th July 2019
Forum Posts: 787

Related submission no longer exists.

jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States 154awards
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 5134


jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States 154awards
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 5134


on the watch,
smoothly gliding,
the slow dark
strokes of
feathers & leather

Piercing winds
I circle wide,
watching, irising
for an offering.

At last alighting,
the prey to a
final distress.

Fleeting. It’s alive.
A rapid pulse
I feel as my grip

preparing to leap
into the
deep blue
of thin-aired ether

with a few beats of
flashing wings,
to rip the slivers of
quivering flesh.

No scraps on the
rocks far below,
no evidence.

Always writing
and mating in midair,
out of range
of a hunter’s scope
of silent red-laser.


Lost Thinker
Joined 3rd Mar 2019
Forum Posts: 11


Despicable deities dangerously disillusion disenchanted daughters, depicting delightful dreamlike destinations.  
Deceitfully decadent devils defiantly destroying desires daydreams.
Doom descends drearily draining decent drowsy drones, dismantling duty.
Egomaniacs enact equalities euthanasia, ensuring evils enriched.
Easily enticed enemies eagerly enraged, ensuring eutopia’s eradication.
Euphoria’s epitaph entails evils enterprise’s executive’s ecstasy.
Augmented alignments amass an alarming altruistic argument, alerting aware animals.
Angered adjudicators administer absolute atrocities, asphyxiating abstract alertness.
Archvillains awarded amnesty allows archetypal antagonists all-encompassing ambiguity.  
Take the Time to transcend temptation.
Tedious thoughts turn to tomorrows treason.
Tough truths talks testament.
Hells hate hinders hopeful horizons.
Hushed horrors happen hourly.
Hysteric hypnotized herds hinder helping hands, hence happily hell’s hounds howl.
Written by Xia
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Garrett Asa Hughes
Thought Provoker
United States 3awards
Joined 17th Aug 2017
Forum Posts: 58

Write Free or Die

I am free to write my words.
Of what i feel and i observe.
And no one will be able to stop me.

I will die for what is right.
Execute my words on site.
They are mine, whether pristine, or sloppy.
I am free to decree, mountainous emotional range.
Stone faced, to construct inside my isolate cage.
I am me, limited only by imagination.

I will not accept what it is i know.
I am not my content, i fuse to grow.
I shall be, refusing my stagnation.
If you give me sympathy, then you give me death.
My own liberty is exhaled through my breath.
For i have chosen, silence, not as an option.

The poor bid for a poor bid.
Never shall i be forbid.
Before the cozen, of this very auction.
Right to be me.
Write to be free.
I am one to withhold emotion.

To hold within.
And deny you my grin.
But in word, i spill devotion.

To love of word.
To love of thought.
Permafrost, to ink frozen.

Mine is mind.
Mind is mine.
Write free, or die, is what I've chosen.
Forced words of speech.
Read by deceit.
Slavery to the words above.

Hear our words.
Here are our words.
No slave to be. Of us, none.
I am free to write my words.
Of what i feel and i observe.
As the unoriginal copy.

Left my mark upon the world.
My jot, poor penmanship scrolled.
Ghost writers dead to their proxy.
As memory heals, unscarring.
Forgotten, faded, lack of talking.
My words are all my own.

And when i die, they'll stay some time.
As if my mind hit some rewind.
For my words are truly, all i own.
Written by DCLXVI_1989 (Garrett Asa Hughes)
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Fire of Insight
Joined 13th May 2018
Forum Posts: 354

My Poetry?

As a poet, must I choose one path  
to follow? Either sacred, or profane?  
If not, then shall I dare to risk the wrath  
of those whose sensibilities get strained?  
Are my poems art, or entertainment?  
Or perhaps, might they be something more?  
The act of writing poems is most ancient,  
predating everything, but sex and war!  
I sit, and drink my brandy, as I ponder  
who, the hell, it is I’m writing for?  
I think of all the hours that I squander,  
would they be better spent on booze and whores?  
Such questions are best left for greater brains,  
It’s me my poetry must entertain!

Written by ReggiePoet (Reggie)
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poet Anonymous

There will always be some         
who passionately defend
their right to write,
while stridently rejecting the      
right of others to do the same.
Those who do not respect
the write of others,
deserve it not
for themselves.


geoff cat
Dangerous Mind
United States 33awards
Joined 27th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 1028

Consider, If You Will, Our Mortal Sin – Sonnet Seventy-Five

Consider, if you will, our mortal sin,
Our blood-stained mouths that harbor blood-stained minds.
How simply parted lips, wet words begin
To shape their creeping natures' thought designs.

The lines so small, the fractures never seen,
In pentacles and swastikas described,
The numbers of the dead leave pages clean
With every voice and cutting pen subscribed.

We few, we happy few, we band of brutes,
With hearts that spray from sleeves so easy sewn,
Cut-throats would better serve to constitute
The truth than syllables haphazard thrown.

The bards and poets, troubadours - profane!
Who use our words, to slow invade your brain.
Written by Hepcat61 (geoff cat)
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Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom 38awards
Joined 1st Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 778

Poetrys chinks of light

The blackout blinds were drawn  
The white page of scrabbled thoughts    
A note book, not open and not closed    
A clause thats always starting with pause    
 Looking for a long lost doubloon    
Those accolades so hard persued    
The X upon the treasure map    
The bard that wears a floppy hat    
 A garret temprement of loneliness and misery    
When your muse is all at sea    
An app thats sometimes prone to crash    
And trauma come to un-jam with pizazz    
 Gifts of saffrons golden blush    
The spice and colour on the brush    
Paint all you work with pro's and verse    
It is a blessing and a curse
Blood spilt in words that heamorrhage  
That well won't flow as you intend
 Barren field you drilled for oil
Last short straws the one you chose
The casket where you lie
Its lid screwed not quite home
Written by slipalong
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Alistair Plint
Dangerous Mind
South Africa 29awards
Joined 24th July 2012
Forum Posts: 1257

Code Blue: Identity

“If you have been brutally broken, but still have the courage to be gentle to others, then you deserve a love deeper than the ocean itself.”              
— Nikita Gill
the consistency of friday thirteenth            
-her life's continuous repeat              
rang chimes of church bells      
celebrating celestial sabotage        
in continually      
circulating circumstances        
drenched in wine, of fine vintage            
throwing fifteen year old corks              
in the air      
singing praises            
to her words      
while they cut his heart            
into wedges like a        
birthday cake covered            
in flowing colorful wax              
when no one blew the candles out            
he stares at the ceiling           
each cork, falling to            
open palms            
feet resting              
on desk top            
hair unbrushed            
face unshaved            
old clothes            
a fountain pen            
behind his ear            
he tried studying              
gave it up              
in his choice              
to speak phonetics            
and crosswords            
she, still hanging her head low            
staring at her feet in search            
of a silver lining around              
black waves in storm clouds;            
unsure as to where the dagger            
that stabbed the essence  
of her femininity            
came from, or why it            
lodged it's target's            
so deeply, penetrating            
every part of her humanity            
and young life            
-making for a crisis              
no man            
would understand            
well, except for            
the historic, blood on her hands            
(which wouldn't            
feature in the back page of a              
sunday newspaper           
in a one horse town)            
he untied the leather straps            
binding the hardcover journal              
reciting the calligraphy            
of his own hand            
out loud, for the world to hear            
"Whilst up in the top floor            
of that castle            
don't eat of an apple            
don't make yarn, on the spinning wheel            
keep yourself safe            
grow your hair            
when it's let down            
you can look up            
-the silver lining you search for            
is up in the sky            
this is as truthful            
as the inscription in the front cover            
of this book"            
gently lifting the book, she            
sucked smoke from her hookah          
while looking at the floor            
blowing hazy clouds            
exploring fingers            
opening the cover            
to the forward...            
"you are The Mother Of Pearl            
your blues are            
a palette of wonders            
to explore      
with open palms            
- arms reaching              
to your constellations and            
star-soaked heavens."            
occasionally you get syrup            
when you think you bought            
other times it's an Asprin            
hearts know what they need            
Written by RevolutionAL (Alistair Plint)
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