Competition Ends 10th July 2020 7:56am
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Ending History

mbjpancras
mbjpancras
M B J Pancras
Lost Thinker
India
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Joined 21st July 2011
Forum Posts: 3

Poetry Contest

Participants shall write their thoughts on the ending history of the world due to the inevitable spread of Covid 19
1. Not more than 20 lines.
2. Any form of poetry may be used.
3. Obscene language should not be used.

drone
drone
Dangerous Mind
Greece
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Joined 3rd Sep 2011
Forum Posts: 990

The ending
of our true history
died a long time ago
when the teaching
of our children
of a history
that has been proven
was not so
and when the future
comes to pass
the inevitable spread
of the death
of common sense
will show
that the virus
was just another way
to keep you
as a slave



Kinkpoet
Kinkpoet
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 9th May 2019
Forum Posts: 647

Field Of Dreams

multicolored bowling balls
rotting heads of state
 
sprout flowers instead of lies
viral immunity inadequate protection
 
from mobs guillotine noose
bloody revolt nourishes landscape
 
wounds heal meadows rejuvenate
mother earth sings
 
© 2020
Written by Kinkpoet
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MadameLavender
MadameLavender
Guardian of Shadows
United States
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Joined 17th Feb 2013
Forum Posts: 5159

Wherefore Art Thou, George?

(Written for “Ending History” comp)


“Humanity : The Musical” played
its final act—-
curtain closes, audience
shuffles in aisles;
“Exit This Way”
and the marquee’s lights go out .

“Thanks for coming,”  the usher
tips his hat, and
theater doors close, on
TIME.

A lone man sweeps the stage, then
turns with a bulge-eyed grin;

“I came back to amend my list
of seven dirty words,” says
George Carlin.

“I was wrong—there are eight, and
the last one is ‘coronavirus’.....

good night, everyone!”
Written by MadameLavender
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XiaoLong
XiaoLong
Thought Provoker
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Joined 25th Jan 2019
Forum Posts: 27

Will there be Peace

The cobbled streets in the city of spires,  
a mundane morning yet the charm inspires
the high streets of glory, stories of rivendale
It’s just a fantasy, of a young man and his fairy tale
 
On a grayish day, the perched goblin has its eyes stray
and the crazy faces on the walls hiding away, not to become a prey  
they young man walks, cherishing that gloomy day
as he meets a women that was sweeping his feet away
 
an ordinary folk would imagine that it’s the poetry of bard  
cryptic writings upon the Turl is not taking their worlds apart  
but to the river of Magdelin, to rent a long boat with a punt  
where lovers knock on each other, with a pint after a duck hunt  
 
such was the craziness living with the spires in the shire  
green meadows with the summers breeze, train ride to Wiltshire  
when Gandalf and Dumbledore, were dancing on the corridor  
a drunk Mary Poppins was hopping from door to door
 
The Turl and the Turf, was a walk away from the Head of the River
Eagle and Child and the Kings Arms was cold and gave the shivers  
None of these made any sense and I’m having a very high fever
Aches and pains, my energy is totally drained, will I recover  
 
reality is a turd and nothing about it is actually absurd  
its life throwing you punch, and a sucker punch, yet it’s not weird
and the peaceful world comes tumbling down and gets shattered  
droplets of rain, freezing over on its way down, and my world is battered  
 
the high street’s serenity disappears, an anarchy appears
at the frontiers of a wet market, the craziness of the asymptomatic racket
bootlegging and smuggling the wild animals are playing croupiers
letting the chaos erupt yet protecting those in the elitist bracket
 
was it a bat or a rat and yet it germinates with the pangolin
hot scotch and rum, a deadly mix when you play the violin  
a contraband in a holiday van, yet no one understands  
Yet at the wet market, where they all took a stand
 
It’s not just a cold Ms Marygold, it’s a virus that can kill us
empire of the sun or twenty one, the planet in 3 months was on its knees
Submitting to an invisible enemy that everyone knows it dangerous  
But I am still concerned, after all of this, will the world remain in peace?
Written by XiaoLong
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slipalong
slipalong
Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
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Joined 1st Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 391

The last page of history (sexton beetle)

On the screen the credits roll  
who will be the next director  
endangered earth as the titles scroll  
will god be our protector?  

I gaze into my crystal ball  
and I see no human form  
that harbinger has reaped its toll  
no hand to scribe, all gone before  

The shelf where history was all wrote  
all archived, the virus edited all books  
just evolutions right to cope  
 nature, all man's seasons now revoked  
 
In that spring clean,  past wiped away  
 the alien that came was it man made ?  
assign our planet to a mass grave  
to start again on a clean page  
 
but who is there to weld a spade  
read the last rights for the planet  
rewind and delete all saved  
the sexton beetles hunger vanish  
 
Written by slipalong
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RiAN
RiAN
Twisted Dreamer
Norway
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Joined 16th June 2020
Forum Posts: 19

Violet violence

Amoebe awareness
I was a portrait
Sepia toned
 
my clenched fists
could not demolish
life mirrored
 
we prayed for peace
far beyond debris
plastified oceans
 
could not set us free
Tribal face painting
Rites of passage
 
pandemonium photographed
dug up by archeologists
none died
 
an art
of being
human
Written by RiAN
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