Competition Ends 1st December 2019 7:21am
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Your Poem

runaway-mindtrain
runaway-mindtrain
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 30th July 2017
Forum Posts: 190

Poetry Contest

What poem, either new or old, you find paints a clear picture of yourself as a writer? The one when read sounds like the true you.
Only one author, obviously, and one poem...

Jade-Pandora
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 4736

Outlaw

 
 
 
I know I write in strictest rhyming form
In schemes that seem to flow like rivers do,
That some adore yet many others fear.
 
But damn! I’m a C-section from a storm,
That’s something no one understands or knew;
Ripped from the womb of Nature’s bitter tears.
 
On how to pen I never knew the rules.
I wandered on my own a vagabond,
An illustrator sketching words of verse.
 
I didn’t fuss or fret elitist fools,
With all their fancy ink I wouldn’t bond,
And ever since consider me a curse.
 
‘Cause here I am an outlaw to the last,
And was before I tried to scribe my first.
Be damn the rhyme, I write the future past,
To save a soul & quench an outlaw’s thirst.
 
Written by Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
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drone
drone
Dangerous Mind
Greece
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Joined 3rd Sep 2011
Forum Posts: 557

I don't want
to write
I need
to write
when i watch
commonsense
slowly dying
when I watch
Naïve
group hug
all better now
people
when I watch
independent
documentaries
where the evidence
of what is said
is easily found
so I sow
the seeds
within the words
that I write
and maybe
just maybe
the ones
who have yet to breath
will have a future
a chance
to live

AspergerPoet56
AspergerPoet56
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
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Joined 4th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 637

21st Century Spastic

I am 21st century spastic
No window licker
More a window smasher

Don’t believe the hype
No sweet thing here
Caustic through and through

Science put me in a box
The label doesn’t describe accurately
What’s inside

That’s the trouble
Perception breeds contempt
Assumptions mark the signposts ahead

If you look in my eye
I break the stereotype
A little more dangerous

Intelligence and anger
A combustible mix
Don’t dare feed the animal


Written by AspergerPoet56
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souladareatease
souladareatease
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 28th Dec 2012
Forum Posts: 3656

The Unseelie Sprite

Wings
dip delicate frame
spun through
winters blue and quiet landscape

patterns of snowflake
left to glass
kiss my cheek
as a rose flush full in color

crystalline secret
whispers
by buttery spirit
thaw my eyes
from hidden warmth
while calling out as cuer
the design, the dance

no eyes more beautiful
rests this tortured soul
twirl encircled
clasp with reverie
azure chambers
loft to vermillion
breath
i no longer hold

swift she leads
frost on toe
pointy-eared
alive
amidst glacial erratic
transported form
kept
to a world of magic

The circle and stone
grip
time exists within her
stolen
mere moments
those
once before

no other world spins
glitter
nor diamond
ambit sphere

i in captive
held with no restraint

Written by souladareatease
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TonyO
TonyO
Replicant Son
Strange Creature
United Kingdom
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Joined 29th Oct 2019
Forum Posts: 2

Behind The Eyes

To think or not to think,....that is the trap.
 
Plagued by scenarios I have created and things I have done.
 
Plagued by a future I couldn’t possibly yet know.
 
Plagued by failure and unfulfilled potential.
 
Plagued by the disappointment in the eyes of those alive...and those long dead.
 
Plagued by the desire to drink myself into oblivion on a daily basis.
 
Plagued by a mind that is both vivid and lost.
 
Plagued by the ghosts of the battlefield that is my mind.
 
Plagued by dreams of a life unclaimed.
 
Plagued by fantasy.
 
Plagued by paranoia.
 
Plagued by – What if it’s not paranoia?
 
Plagued by the need to positively build my life up....but knowing it will only take one inevitable fuck up to topple it all!
 
Plagued by people who in reference to the above say,...”What, so you mean you’re just not gonna try?” FUCK OFF OUTA MY SIGHT AND PEDDLE YOUR SELF RIGHTEOUS PISS ELSEWHERE!!
 
Plagued by memories of things I am not even sure happened.
 
Plagued by frailty and the suffering of loved ones.
 
Plagued by experience and choices.
 
Plagued by uncertainty and the disappearance of love.
 
Plagued by what I know people hide from me,...and by what I know.
 
Plagued by a distance that occurs within me.
 
Plagued by questions I know I won’t like the answers to.
 
Plagued by past relationships, - mine...and other people’s.
 
Plagued by the lies people tell.
 
Plagued by the bullshit that apparently doesn’t exist and yet,...is all around me.
 
Plagued by an inability to 100% accept the supposed 100% truths people speak to me.
 
Plagued by an intuition that gets me in trouble because it’s usually right.
 
Plagued by a tangled web of burning doubt and dreamlike foreboding.
 
Plagued by a history illustrated with torment.
 
Plagued by a calculating focus that’s at its best when I am at my worst!
 
Plagued by feelings of inadequacy.
 
Plagued by things said between other people, the memories and bond they share.
 
Plagued by time.
 
Plagued by my free will and freedom of speech.
 
Plagued by a need to mean and be everything to that certain someone.
 
Plagued by a need to have that certain someone say that I mean and I am everything to them.
 
Plagued by a jealousy towards things that don’t matter anymore.
 
Plagued by knowing – if any of this was different and changed for the better,...I would still question any happiness I might experience.
 
Plagued by knowledge.
 
Plagued by an inability to truly be at peace.
 
Plagued by a vast ever expanding internal sea of mist.
 
Plagued by fast forwarding to the end....
Written by TonyO (Replicant Son)
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lepperochan
lepperochan
Craic-Dealer
Guardian of Shadows
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Joined 1st Apr 2011
Forum Posts: 12901

Don't wake me now

Given the chance  
he would choose eternal sleep  
   
but not death    
   
death would end the affair    
or at the very least cast doubt    
on the continued rendezvous    
   
no    
   
sleep would be far more real    
and eternal sleep would by definition    
go on and on forever    
sleep being the only viable portal    
where his dreams are obtainable    
a tangible reward spread even    
through the towns and cities of the world    
   
   
it's just the waking up part that's a drag    
the slow withdrawal of intimate image
    
oh he would try to cling on    
to lock dreams into memories    
before they slip the mind    
to become more a nagging question    
asked and asked all the waking hours    
   
given the choice    
he would choose eternal sleep    
   
but not death    
   
people tend to move on after death    
sure they might hold affection    
or place tear stained carnations    
for an appropriate amount of time    
though moving on is hardly a crime    
   
no    
   
sleep would be far more real    
a walk on the silver sands    
warm to the touch of bare feet    
the ocean filled with clear water    
splash a while and flash a smile    
onward then towards the place    
where proud palm trees offer shelter    
   
   
given the chance  
he would choose sleep eternal    
   
but not death.    
   
 
Written by lepperochan (Craic-Dealer)
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butters
butters
Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
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Joined 17th Sep 2019
Forum Posts: 691

perhaps

when the sun scoops low to the wave
when the sauce
bubbles slowly in the pan
when words fall
or fail
depending on the quickbreath in my ear
—when something screams a chill right up your spine—
i'll look and find the hammer's in my hand
and how the last nail glimmers
rightly mine
Written by butters
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Tallen
Tallen
earth_empath
Tyrant of Words
20awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 15th Oct 2018
Forum Posts: 1148

Coddiwompling

Rising with the sun of heated desires
I remove the crusty crabbiness from my eyes
clamor to the bowl of let go and release
the past, repast of yesterday
Disliking the clinginess of morning
sweaters I brush off teeth and tongue
in preparation to another vague
destination

I am still neither here nor there
before I make and consume
at least my first
cup of
black morning after sleep elixir

awake  - not certain how  much –
now time to scribble in my journal
dreams, goals fat with kindness
inkwells dripping in
lust
love
life
& meditation
answers
questions
purposeful reminders
that I need to get off my butt

i tell my spirit Guide
that I will do something
tomorrow
though, I have no idea
what……….

yet
Written by Tallen (earth_empath)
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mysteriouslady
mysteriouslady
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 11th Aug 2012
Forum Posts: 2027

a description of me, as what I think I could be,  if I were a Poet

lay it all down
steadily
heavily  
make em hot    
or maybe not  
while they  feel and read  
make em all internally bleed  
when they reveal  
knowing the feel  
of drugs, sex    
and fuckin rock n roll  
as feelings take their toll  
not making a claim    
feelin like much less    
than any fame  
really kinda fucking lame  
then theres hearts  
maybe dead flowers  
making me wanna hollar  
what the fuck is this  
is there something I missed  
inner turmoil and emotions  
being spewed and hissed  
when all we want is to be cherished  
at special times  
like with a master and his whip  
or a deep orgasm's afterglow  
especially when  
that four letter word "love"  
is tossed around like a salad  
on a hot summer's sweaty eve  
did I say I was hungry muther fucker?    
   
<3
Written by mysteriouslady
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Blackwolf
Blackwolf
I.M.Blackwolf
Dangerous Mind
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Joined 31st Mar 2018
Forum Posts: 874

Pan - Demonium

Pan , Pan , Io Pan ,

Pan That Thou Art , Pan That I Am ,

Pan As Both Wild And Free ,

Pan In You , And Pan In Me ,
 
Pan In Dance , And Pan In Song ,
 
Pan As I , Now Come Along
 
Pan As Moon , And Pan As Fire ,

Pan Whose Force Is Our Desire ,

Pan Whose Voice Is Spoken Through ,

Lover's Cries In Night And Noon ,

Pan Whose Feet Tattoo The Earth ,

As Each New Being Meets It's Birth ,

Pan Above , And Pan Below ,

Pan Be With Us , Where Whither We Go ,

Pan Alive , Magick Afoot ,

As The Seed Doth Flow From Root ,

As Lover's Rut In Heat And Passion ,

And Naked Flesh Is Back In Fashion ,

As The Nymph Asks The Satyr ,

Will He View Her , Or Will He Mate Her ?

Will Standing Stone Meet Faery Ring ,

As Hearts Doth Beat , And Souls Doth Sing ?

Wilt The Spark Become The Flame ,

Consuming All Of Guilt And Shame ,

Leaving Only Joy And Pleasure , To Grow Beyond

All Worlds Of Measure ?
 
Wilt The Pools Of Pebbles Ripple ,

Reflect The Lips Upon The Nipple ?

Or Wilt The Sound Of Waters Fall ,

Merge With Two Becoming All ?
 
Wilt Thou Join Me , Dost Thou Dare ?

Give Me Not Thy Feeble Stare ,

Give Me Not Thy Deadened Limbs ,

Give Me Not Thy Mind So Dim ,

Awake , Arise , Become Thy Beast ,

Let Mother's Nature Never Cease ,

To Ebb , And Flow , And Cycle Through ,

This Being Now Ye Call As You ,

This Being Made Of Fire And Earth ,

And Water And Air And Spirit And Mirth !

May You Always Greet The Day ,

In A Wild And Sacred Way ,

And May The Blanket Of The Night ,

Ne'er Cover Your Cries Of Lover's Bite

May The Wolf And Forest Stag ,

Cause Your Feet To Never Lag ,

And May Your Eyes Only See,

The World Through Awe And Mystery !

Be Thou Wild , Be Thou Free , Be As Pan In You And Me !
Written by Blackwolf (I.M.Blackwolf)
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Josh
Josh
Tyrant of Words
Portugal
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Joined 2nd Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 395

Poet's Thanks

Josh
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POET’S THANKS

Taking aside his poetry
he wondered if it would be good enough
to make the lobster tap dance on the kitchen floor …
this one was not for the pot
but on a leash of the black man
befriended for life, hand in pincer
the two went well together

across the road a troupe of teenagers
sang a clip from the musical “Oliver”
then ran back home full of joy
recounting their late-night exploits

I will worry no more
but laugh.

Thanks be to God.


cabcool
cabcool
Fire of Insight
Jamaica
5awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 27th Feb 2014
Forum Posts: 149

all my ink

i write
in the night    
when shadows are sleeping    
to keep    
tears i weep    
from silently creeping    
out into the cold    
though hardly consoled i    
that darkness can bury    
the burdens i carry    
    
a poet    
should know it    
and yet keep a secret    
when stunned    
by the sun    
to choke up and leak it    
the old rugged cross    
redeeming his losses    
balms up the lost creature    
who sees no bright future    
     
i bleed    
like a seed    
sprung by a new morning    
whose roots    
upward shoot    
earth’s tangled web scorning    
i carry with me    
the locks and the keyring  
for hearts badly shaken    
by confidence broken    
     
no word    
were absurd    
that mends up the pieces    
for hearts    
torn apart    
whose sorrows releases    
i give all my ink    
for those on the brink line    
to them all my canvas    
who hunger for solace
 
 
© Copyright 2019 August 28  
Written by cabcool
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FromTheAsh
FromTheAsh
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 20th Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 441

¯\_(ツ)_/¯    (anatomy of a soul)

 
I would offer you my name
but you don't need it  
an arrangement of characters  
aesthetically pleasing  
but meaningless  
such letters don't define my spine  
nor flood my veins with their being  
a label not earned or chosen  
but assigned  
trace your fingers  
over the words of my life  
each bearing a bit of my bones  
flesh out the shape of my body  
in the fullness of my passion  
heard in the syllables of my joy  
and in my deepest pain  
run your tongue  
through the salt of my rivers  
taste their potent flavor  
coursing through my open veins  
no, I'll not say it  
you don't need it  
after all  
what's in a name?
 
 
Written by FromTheAsh
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marina2020
marina2020
Rain Woman
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 8th Jan 2017
Forum Posts: 22

Why I Write Poetry

I write poetry
because I can make it
my own
no rhyme
or reason
any way that I want
it helps me through
the bad days
and lets me remember
the good days

I write poetry
for me
and no one else
it is mine to have
I live by my words
and cherish the power
I wield with them

I write poetry
to express myself
to feel emotions
to release anger

but most importantly

I write poetry because it makes me smile
Written by marina2020 (Rain Woman)
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