Poetry competition CLOSED 26th June 2020 3:14am
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First Love

poet Anonymous

Virus of love

Eternity grows like an old mans beard
and it's srings still tied in a ponytail behind
philosophy and poery broken citidels
for each word that I composed

Dreams just chalked on sidewalks
the footfall past the broken neon sign
and hordings ripped with empty hate
just graffiti, art the heart can't fake

Dancing hope just to see her pass
lamplight of her smile
a virus strike, her presence
and gasp for breath in silence
poet Anonymous


poet Anonymous


poet Anonymous


Retracing my footsteps
For the negligence of the invaluable
How easy it is to squander in moments what you've waited a lifetime for
Taking advantage

First love is my only one
Yet is spoken as if a connotation for plan b kisses with a clause to disclaim vows

Committed beyond paper
When my heart is in contract beyond termination
Beyond the breach of compromise
I draft my ideals at the altar
As I learn to walk love and find my gait after the pace of a lifetime's race

If her heart is a prize I win everyday
Then I run to attain first place in her eyes and contend to secure that position
Maintaining something more than just a trophy to exploit accomplishment

More than just a reflection on reputation
But to do justice beauty and virtue
To live worth the weight of a priceless heart by the intrinsic value of action
As vows are reproved by consistency...
poet Anonymous


swiping right, swiping left, eventually a match
the conversation starts with Game of Thrones
the Hilton, the Temple, the red wine and catch
two months we waited, horniness to the bones

carefree as a bee, a feeling special to me
the intimacy I feel, will she forever see
passion runs deep, mutually we agree
never to be hurt from the bygone tree

such charming powers she has, a pleasantry
seductive, alluring and sexy, she’s heavenly
powerful, confident and fearless, a destiny
hours and hours, fornication was ecstacy

euphoric, intoxicating, and invigorating
the time spent together was something
the connection that I feel being together
intensely passionate, all kind of weather

the demeanour with gracious eloquence
the desire is not without a consequence
the rush of passion and lust so powerful
the carnal pleasures forever’s wonderful

seeing is believing, but not everything’s true
fantasy slips away, in reality I have no clue
was it selfishness, or honesty that’s abused
spilt of a moment, felling that i’ve been used

the repeated fetish towards mental intelligence
from flames of trust to an emotional dependence
as the seasons change, her true feeling change
time comes when two adults act totally strange

reality did disappear, then fantasy was successful
this world of reality has become awfully stressful
bodies always in union, granted was the attention
now never together, will there ever be satisfaction

was easy to become victim of my own illusions
sexual fantasies, multiple orgasmic confusions
addicted to the sensuality and loving expressions
and in this quiet moment, i pen these confessions
poet Anonymous


Leave it be,
that sordid gesture of heartfelt calamities,
of dissipation and destruction
withering slowly in your cancerous shell.
Save them for a day when you are honest.
without strings and staples
lewdly arched over the bed
invaded and compromised
like Madame Christmas, 10 years ago.
This is your moment,
a violation of virtue,
to become my one and only,
only to become one of my regrets.
Maybe if you didn't care,
even if you did, why would you after all this?
To payback a heart break from 10 years ago?
I hope you're happy now.
Having impaled my love on your lover's phallus
who feasts on your angelic skin.
Do you think of me when he caresses you?
Shed a tear in silent regret?
Maybe I'd cry if you let me know,
leave it be.
poet Anonymous

When last we met

When men recall and due reflect
And find that love does not elect
Nor praise, nor damn, nor set men free
The heart begins to beat for thee

It keeps no wrong, nor shackles pain
Nor breathes it's holy breath in vain
For love is love, and always will be
A jolt of thee in memory

And if you drive the poet's rhyme
I fain would ask to tell the time
For time will tell, and we shall see
If love was right for us to be
My darling,
poet Anonymous

Lunar ignition

May I become
a microscopic wave

lotus like

a pond
in still life
the fabric
of dreams

gathered into
psalms of our palms
your skin draws

compassed compassion
Let me comb wisdom
from your hair

aligned by

poet Anonymous

the “only” first one

she was a little one,  
about 5 foot and none,
she had a sweet smell to her..  
sorta smelled like a plum,
her front teeth were bucked a bit,  
she used to suck her thumb,  
she was the only thing in the neighborhood
that I didn’t think was dumb,
she was like having a loaf of bread
when you’re used to having a crumb,  
(I guess you’d have to be poor like us
to really understand that one)
she was an old soul at four and teen,  
her attitude was sweet and sour mean,
her budding body had grown eye popping,
my mid teen wet dream beauty queen..  
some people called it puppy love
because we were innocent and young,  
I would agree wholeheartedly
if it wasn’t for the adult like fun
young people love just as hard
when innocents is on the run
I will love and remember “V” always...
she is the “one and only” first one
poet Anonymous

to my muse

I’m going into hiding
Not show myself around,
Find a place confining
Somewhere that is bound,
I try to look smarter
If it comes to your surprise,
a good discussion starter
but that won’t just suffice,
unlike some other creatures
born out into this world,
who have the sweetest features
that make your toes get twirled,
you dwarf my old reality
through sweetness and delight,
the source of congeniality
the muse for which I write.

poet Anonymous

My Diamond

You told me who you were
A diamond
I fell, hard
For all the beauty

Of our love....

You gave me crazy butterflies
Thinking it would last forever
believing all your stupid little lies
The connection was already severed

Just words, I see now

I almost gave everything, up for you
And you let me go like I was nothing
It's a shame
How much of my life I almost gave away

For you....

You hurt me
And you don't even care
But it is your fault, don't you see?
When I opened up

You were never fair to me

I cry for you still....
And you lay in bed with your new "pet"
Doesn't matter anyway
Good riddance....better her, than me

But hey, what can I say

You did wrong
Never took accountability
You always said "stay positive"
But all you ever did was hurt me

And now our love is gone

You broke me, I think
I will never be the same
So yes, it is true
Don't you see....

Yes I hate you

This write has been painful indeed
The flower you once made bloom
Shrunken back down
Into a seed

Now, for your love
There is no room

Now....I must heal
poet Anonymous


she was half animal
half girl.


tearing chunks
of my soul


poet Anonymous


  There would be no answer to the way to do this. Nothing created can explain how much this is needed, then afterwards, needs so badly to die.  There is too much dependency on this, so much that it has grown into an element: once so terribly cherished, now so destined to be the destruction of many.  It's inevitable and happening right as you breathe and with each breath, you enable more lost to whatever you are "destined" to do,become,experience and/or live.  Now since you are born, do you really think that you have the means to decipher what it takes in order to see in actuality?

  You long for this, for some reason. At least Lust is honest.  Lust is deep and lasting, even momentarily.  Lust is strength that you cannot summon from prayer or pleasure.  Lust is a gift of rigged intention, bringing about many more erasable actions, once it is gone, but.... Lust can leave a stain on your brain, then it tackles your heart, so you go searching for it's nourishment, but are least to admit that you only have one angle to grasp onto: Regret. Oh and how you really admire it!  Its a calendar function, but not yet mastered, never expected to be perfected, per say, but then, what is the joy in this without that?

  As long as you can see without wanting to, trying to escape the essence of your own shadow and constantly, denying your own reflection, you may have a means to "be" yourself, but many of you want to do, feel, smell,shit and tell what you think the best is.  Personification doom for the reason of decoration, but ignorance shall be your excuse for your actions, but what you long for, forever will only make you what you naturally are: an excuse for excuses ,thus, you are not your parent's child.  You are the child of Sorry.  The wretched waste of sperm, along with sweat, female compassion and foremost, time!  

  This is the most honest sonnet that you have ever read. Yeah, it's suppose to upset you.  Just enough to nurture you into the sick mental state that you choose to say "thank you", for things that you have no true knowledge of what  it is that you show so much homage to. Cry if you must, it's the closest natural vitamin that you have inside of yourself.  Ask the reflexes for shaming shelter for the inner-standing that makes you wrong with might.  This may encourage you, or caution the methods that don't mean to kill you, but it's only flesh.  Bone's before brain, power oath for hope,prayer after lying.

So now that you know what it contains and the prices that you have to pay in order to become "One" with this, you will still sit in this chasm of "yeah,that's right", rather than see if this may be true, yet don't be influenced by anything more than you can handle. Fear is to be what it is, while beauty is to become what it is not. The abundance that you put into the "myth" of all of these possessions are fantasies that this mind has been to and you can keep.  Yeah, nothing against 1974, but this could have been honed many years before that, but the planet's majority mind, went blank to relax.  When it awakened, evil was rampant in the water, but not enough gasoline pollution could take care of that,remember?

  Feed your heart as much of this as you want.  Feed it until it goes way inside the under and in-between it's own evolution!  Praise it, youth inspire it,feed it,fuck it, like it,frown it,forget it! The sound of something that you can't forget and want to walk a foul right next to, as if it's now pretentious best moment that was numbered for personal reasons and you have to wait in line, because you choose to. Can you feel  loss without the yearn to recognize it? Can you ignore constant wished upon fallen stars that have nothing to do with you? Apathy for unfamiliar things is what you shall owe and this is all in "that" name. Seems they were better off naming' it "Shit".
poet Anonymous

You're Still My Love

The words of the poem are:
We must remain the same as when our hearts were inflamed with love.
Or else, the solemn vows that we took will break.
You’re still my love.
We are first loves.
And you’re the only true love that I know.

Remember, these lips were the ones that you passionately kissed.
And this imaginative man is the one who dearly loves you.
You’re still my love.
We are first loves.
And you’re the only true love that I know.

And the last verse reads:
I stood right next to you and encouraged your dreams.
You fixed your eyes on me as I took your hand and led you away.
You’re still my love.
We are first loves.
And you’re the only true love that I know.
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