Poetry competition CLOSED 22nd March 2020 9:07pm
WINNER
MadameLavender
MadameLavender
POEM OF THE MONTH ~ MARCH 2020
Poetry Contest Description
Nominate an Amazing Poem to Represent DU across social media!
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.
You have THREE weeks to nominate no more than THREE of your favorite poems from another DUP poet!
Please note the following when making nominations:
NOTE: The Spoken Word of the Month comp is here:
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/competitions/read/11285/
Because the vote for this com is anonymous, and spoken word pieces cannot be anonymous due to avatars and voices, we would prefer you nominate those pieces in the appropriate comp above so that voting remains fair.
NOTE: New Member ( six ( 6 ) months of less ) of the Month comp is here: https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/competitions/read/11284/
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. You may nominate only THREE poems from THREE different DU members.
3. No DUPLICATES. If someone nominates the same poem the entry will be deleted. If you like it that much wait and vote for it!
4. Any genre except erotica or pornography. This is a Facebook feature and we must adhere to their guidelines.
5. Any member who is banned or disables their account PRIOR to the win will be automatically disqualified.
6. One win per member within a Calendar Year.
7. You must personally notify the member that they have been nominated.
Nomination Duration is three weeks followed by a week of site voting!
Current Poem of the Month Hall of Famers:
2020
January 2020- NEW BEGINNINGS
February 2020-
2019
January, 2019 - DANIELCHRISTENSEN
February, 2019 - SOPHIE_ERICSON
March, 2019 - AUDIOHARLEEA
April, 2019 - FROM THE ASH
May, 2019 - MISS_SUB
June, 2019 - NAAJIR
July, 2019 - LAYLA
August, 2019 - AHAVATI
September, 2019 - MISS_SUB
October, 2019 - HOWLING_WHELMS
November, 2019 - JOHNNY BLAZE
December 2019- RACHEL_LAUREN
2018
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
2017
January, 2017 - VEE
February, 2017 - CRIMSIN
March, 2017 - ONEFIFTYSIX
April, 2017 - DANIEL CHRISTENSEN
May, 2017 - ALEXANDER CASE
June, 2017 - AEMelia564
July, 2017 - THE_SILLY_SIBYL (Jack Thomas Heslop)
August, 2017 - QUIETUSQUILL
September, 2017 - _SHADOE_
October, 2017 - POETSREVENGE
November, 2017 - NAAJIR
December, 2017 - POETSPEAK
2016
November, 2016 - JOHN FEDDELER
December, 2016 - AHAVATI
You have THREE weeks to nominate no more than THREE of your favorite poems from another DUP poet!
Please note the following when making nominations:
NOTE: The Spoken Word of the Month comp is here:
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/competitions/read/11285/
Because the vote for this com is anonymous, and spoken word pieces cannot be anonymous due to avatars and voices, we would prefer you nominate those pieces in the appropriate comp above so that voting remains fair.
NOTE: New Member ( six ( 6 ) months of less ) of the Month comp is here: https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/competitions/read/11284/
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. You may nominate only THREE poems from THREE different DU members.
3. No DUPLICATES. If someone nominates the same poem the entry will be deleted. If you like it that much wait and vote for it!
4. Any genre except erotica or pornography. This is a Facebook feature and we must adhere to their guidelines.
5. Any member who is banned or disables their account PRIOR to the win will be automatically disqualified.
6. One win per member within a Calendar Year.
7. You must personally notify the member that they have been nominated.
Nomination Duration is three weeks followed by a week of site voting!
Current Poem of the Month Hall of Famers:
2020
January 2020- NEW BEGINNINGS
February 2020-
2019
January, 2019 - DANIELCHRISTENSEN
February, 2019 - SOPHIE_ERICSON
March, 2019 - AUDIOHARLEEA
April, 2019 - FROM THE ASH
May, 2019 - MISS_SUB
June, 2019 - NAAJIR
July, 2019 - LAYLA
August, 2019 - AHAVATI
September, 2019 - MISS_SUB
October, 2019 - HOWLING_WHELMS
November, 2019 - JOHNNY BLAZE
December 2019- RACHEL_LAUREN
2018
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
2017
January, 2017 - VEE
February, 2017 - CRIMSIN
March, 2017 - ONEFIFTYSIX
April, 2017 - DANIEL CHRISTENSEN
May, 2017 - ALEXANDER CASE
June, 2017 - AEMelia564
July, 2017 - THE_SILLY_SIBYL (Jack Thomas Heslop)
August, 2017 - QUIETUSQUILL
September, 2017 - _SHADOE_
October, 2017 - POETSREVENGE
November, 2017 - NAAJIR
December, 2017 - POETSPEAK
2016
November, 2016 - JOHN FEDDELER
December, 2016 - AHAVATI
super~c r i t i c a l singularity
1.
(t)he. f i r e~eye
even his each breath rushes rapidfire high
...and those subtly arrowed somethings
of his mountainously throbbing laryngeal
bumps ..are metallic artillery ..stingingly
haunting this stirring soulwell.. in a stringy
pulling deep, to a sudden swollen slithery
pro~liberative predisposal bud~b(l)oom..
of a muskening midnight's wild~jasmine
..
2.
once, an i c y apocalysping bon~f i r e
the fluorescein~ed magnesial chromatic greens
...are in a spectacular artic auroral magnificence..
the epic bioscope skies tonight ploy a meticulous
background... the steely~ rimmed four quarterly
windowing many sun~ lanterned tents in carnival
celebration for once before all.. casts elongating
shadows of their soiled & slanted murmurous
magnifications.. over the glossy iced opacity
walls of a vastly lost iglooless expanse... a lastly
charring mass burial's stenchy smoke clouds is
thus in miscibility with the listlessly solidified ice
.
3.
so. play on the petty petrified island~ minds
n o t h i n g ever remains. but
the boundless o n e in 'some'
fusion, the t r u t h
Written by summultima
(uma)
Go To Page
Amen is Still Amen
Hebrew ...I do love
however... staring into the challenge
on my iPad brings a frown.
This poet speaks to humor
with Yiddish puns flying over my head
Rudimentary Hebrew is useless here
Ranting to my husband
About the loss; many hundreds of words
too precious to properly tolerate
the culture shock of my native tongue
I return my thoughts to his poem
lingering on a familiar word
that will never need translation
Amen
From: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52940/the-amen-stone
#YehudaAmichai
however... staring into the challenge
on my iPad brings a frown.
This poet speaks to humor
with Yiddish puns flying over my head
Rudimentary Hebrew is useless here
Ranting to my husband
About the loss; many hundreds of words
too precious to properly tolerate
the culture shock of my native tongue
I return my thoughts to his poem
lingering on a familiar word
that will never need translation
Amen
From: https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52940/the-amen-stone
#YehudaAmichai
Written by EdibleWords
Go To Page
when i go running
when i go running,
do not call on me.
when i run,
making seven circles, just
before the sun
grows then culls the growth
with oppressive humidity,
making rings,
first one
then two
before spring ends,
you will have me.
through your dark wood i'll return again
below a moon that turns men to wolves
and bestows girls womanhood,
and you will have me
like a poltergeist in windy spring
when i go running,
pulling leaves from swaying trees
with tenderness that moves all things
when you do not call on me.
do not call on me.
when i run,
making seven circles, just
before the sun
grows then culls the growth
with oppressive humidity,
making rings,
first one
then two
before spring ends,
you will have me.
through your dark wood i'll return again
below a moon that turns men to wolves
and bestows girls womanhood,
and you will have me
like a poltergeist in windy spring
when i go running,
pulling leaves from swaying trees
with tenderness that moves all things
when you do not call on me.
Written by gonezalo
Go To Page
Filling In The Tin Station
(Joe's garage circa '89)
Was it in the window
worn to the weather
those reflections
glassed over my eyes
I wonder where You are
looking over Your shoulder
reaching back further
a wisp of time
were I never lost upon
shadow and ghost
I don't think I'd check
yet be put right in place
then there was that moment...
I saw Your face
alive inside
counting down
lost in silence
Was it in the window
worn to the weather
those reflections
glassed over my eyes
I wonder where You are
looking over Your shoulder
reaching back further
a wisp of time
were I never lost upon
shadow and ghost
I don't think I'd check
yet be put right in place
then there was that moment...
I saw Your face
alive inside
counting down
lost in silence
Written by souladareatease
Go To Page
by design
because the poem
summoned me—
dictated my being
through (syn)tactical meaning;
what I mean is—
I am here, stationed
for poetry
I am not a socialite
or the next internet notch
on a headboard, belt
tattooed chest—
I am not a counselor
advice columnist
gossip-monger
politician, nor expert
in anything—
not even the poem
because it's in control—
not me, and can make you believe
you're the only poet worthy;
it can desert you, royally
halfway through composition—
locking your imagination
inside its trunk of inspiration—
fickle, self-serving
choosing what it chooses
despite duty or loyalty
but when it turns homeward
—that prodigal poem
within the heart of our muse—
abandonment is forgotten too soon
by germinated syllables
sprouting up its throat—
tumbling over the tongue
from its magic mouth
into a poem
true poets can do nothing
but wait helplessly, watching the horizon—
hopeful romantics by birthright
lost vigilantes by design
~
summoned me—
dictated my being
through (syn)tactical meaning;
what I mean is—
I am here, stationed
for poetry
I am not a socialite
or the next internet notch
on a headboard, belt
tattooed chest—
I am not a counselor
advice columnist
gossip-monger
politician, nor expert
in anything—
not even the poem
because it's in control—
not me, and can make you believe
you're the only poet worthy;
it can desert you, royally
halfway through composition—
locking your imagination
inside its trunk of inspiration—
fickle, self-serving
choosing what it chooses
despite duty or loyalty
but when it turns homeward
—that prodigal poem
within the heart of our muse—
abandonment is forgotten too soon
by germinated syllables
sprouting up its throat—
tumbling over the tongue
from its magic mouth
into a poem
true poets can do nothing
but wait helplessly, watching the horizon—
hopeful romantics by birthright
lost vigilantes by design
~
Written by Ahavati
(Tams)
Go To Page
My Cradle and my Grave
Boundaries urgent,
within their superior margin.
butt against the still pressure
to brand me
Slipstream, backwash, agitate
your potency against the
rubber stops that bollard,
my demeanor
Muffle, smother, and strangle
my autonomy, with your tall
caliber of subordination
Success is my victory
Let me go in peace
Pitted high, in my solitude
a wasteland etched.
Memories stand, like eremetic sillhouttes poised, against
my horizon
The dense crust, that coats
the will of my decision becomes
my cradle, and my grave.
Carbon paper effigy, frayed,
Exhalation of cobweb filament,
lays down with dregs, and moss
green velvet
Your words, I tear out by hand
from my neck and chest.
Shards of insults razored
beneath, toughened skin
Scarlett drops trickle, gather like
a mote that surrounds me
Granite with horneblende carved
from my flesh morter from my
blood I build my fortress
With Pain as my cornerstone
Individual is my capstone
within their superior margin.
butt against the still pressure
to brand me
Slipstream, backwash, agitate
your potency against the
rubber stops that bollard,
my demeanor
Muffle, smother, and strangle
my autonomy, with your tall
caliber of subordination
Success is my victory
Let me go in peace
Pitted high, in my solitude
a wasteland etched.
Memories stand, like eremetic sillhouttes poised, against
my horizon
The dense crust, that coats
the will of my decision becomes
my cradle, and my grave.
Carbon paper effigy, frayed,
Exhalation of cobweb filament,
lays down with dregs, and moss
green velvet
Your words, I tear out by hand
from my neck and chest.
Shards of insults razored
beneath, toughened skin
Scarlett drops trickle, gather like
a mote that surrounds me
Granite with horneblende carved
from my flesh morter from my
blood I build my fortress
With Pain as my cornerstone
Individual is my capstone
Written by Valeriya
(Valeriya Long)
Go To Page
Related submission no longer exists.
