Poetry competition CLOSED 7th November 2020 4:44pm
WINNER
Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
RUNNER-UP:
Valeriyabeyond
Touched With Fire
Anonymous
My Creative Madness
I can no longer identify
That plausible line
Between sanity and I
Inside this mesmeric mind
So many stairs
Kaleidoscope this place
Rickety adjoining pairs
Obscure an unknown face
So many doors
Mirage their appearance
Footprints on open shores
Eradicate coherence
Ingenuity
Canvases its leech
Ambiguity
Misinterprets my speech
Poetry
Doodles my demons
Congruity
Chastises my seasons
Duo personalities mirror
Mental illness is clearer
Fruits of labor differ
Drowning in a bitter river
Clawing
Shaving
Minute particles of reality
Screaming
Dreaming
In hunt of normality
Crying
Lying
Helpless just outside grips
Laughing
Crafting
Monsters from my lips
Raging
Plaguing
Inkblot tests fail
Elated
Sedated
Inside my mental jail
That plausible line
Between sanity and I
Inside this mesmeric mind
So many stairs
Kaleidoscope this place
Rickety adjoining pairs
Obscure an unknown face
So many doors
Mirage their appearance
Footprints on open shores
Eradicate coherence
Ingenuity
Canvases its leech
Ambiguity
Misinterprets my speech
Poetry
Doodles my demons
Congruity
Chastises my seasons
Duo personalities mirror
Mental illness is clearer
Fruits of labor differ
Drowning in a bitter river
Clawing
Shaving
Minute particles of reality
Screaming
Dreaming
In hunt of normality
Crying
Lying
Helpless just outside grips
Laughing
Crafting
Monsters from my lips
Raging
Plaguing
Inkblot tests fail
Elated
Sedated
Inside my mental jail
Written by Sex_on_the_Joe
(Joe-D)
Go To Page
Just Like Me
The moisture
of my mouth, waters
the black rose, that grows around the narrow river,
swollen with the sounds that have left my mind
Thorns, like thick tongues, break - apart from
the monotonous rage
that feeds me
Today, the sky
has been severed,
seamstress cries, while laughing her hand's
slender, nimble,
grab your life, a distorted
ruckle.
Pinching gathering, laying
down darning knots,
holding them , tight
Degenerative thoughts cascade through dark
channels, like a maze
into an asylum that
shrinks with time.
Bits of sanity laced, with tethers from old smelly canvas the colours
of sorrow wrap neatly around the spectrum of pain
To the dreamers that
dare to dream the marvelous things we
dream
Our thoughts, deemed
as lunacy, our words
a foreign language.
The mind of a poet
understood only
by another poet
We jive meld together
I am appreciated
By those just like
me.
of my mouth, waters
the black rose, that grows around the narrow river,
swollen with the sounds that have left my mind
Thorns, like thick tongues, break - apart from
the monotonous rage
that feeds me
Today, the sky
has been severed,
seamstress cries, while laughing her hand's
slender, nimble,
grab your life, a distorted
ruckle.
Pinching gathering, laying
down darning knots,
holding them , tight
Degenerative thoughts cascade through dark
channels, like a maze
into an asylum that
shrinks with time.
Bits of sanity laced, with tethers from old smelly canvas the colours
of sorrow wrap neatly around the spectrum of pain
To the dreamers that
dare to dream the marvelous things we
dream
Our thoughts, deemed
as lunacy, our words
a foreign language.
The mind of a poet
understood only
by another poet
We jive meld together
I am appreciated
By those just like
me.
Written by Valeriyabeyond
(Dhyana)
Go To Page
Terminal torture
When I close my eyes
I can see the screaming stars
Threatening to leave the night
Till I'm alone in the suffocating dark
It's terminal torture
Living with dying synapses
Bricks crumble one by one
Till the brain finally collapses
Everything's exposed
But I still breathe
My heart lies crushed on the floor
Yet I don't bleed
I search for my lost soul
I must've dropped it along the way
Asking for help
But everyone just stares or looks away
Was life meant to be
A puzzle impossible to complete
Or did I miss something
Caught a disease that can't be beat
The doctor says to lie back
And just relax
But he's not the one
With all the knives stuck in his back
I just want to know
Why I'm different from everyone else
Why I'm haunted by a burning brain
And why no one can seem to help
I can see the screaming stars
Threatening to leave the night
Till I'm alone in the suffocating dark
It's terminal torture
Living with dying synapses
Bricks crumble one by one
Till the brain finally collapses
Everything's exposed
But I still breathe
My heart lies crushed on the floor
Yet I don't bleed
I search for my lost soul
I must've dropped it along the way
Asking for help
But everyone just stares or looks away
Was life meant to be
A puzzle impossible to complete
Or did I miss something
Caught a disease that can't be beat
The doctor says to lie back
And just relax
But he's not the one
With all the knives stuck in his back
I just want to know
Why I'm different from everyone else
Why I'm haunted by a burning brain
And why no one can seem to help
Written by Kaden_Malis
(Kaden Malis)
Go To Page
No comfort zone
The tearing winds ; uncalm sea
perceptions flames that singe.
I felt no respite; its branding from within
burned with a torch, no cold could douse
trapped inside the padded cell.
Genius that sings its Christmas times noel
outside the door, in self so lonely dwell.
Not partake the hearty feast;
Just gruel, inspirations jewel. satisfy its greed
trapped in unholy soul.
So torn and rent in discontent
arm wrestling with temperament
the chalice floats just out of reach.
A boiler that can never vent
and Tourettes just not to repeat.
Whatever artisan you are
the demon's come and not depart.
Arcing hurt, its light and dark.
Standing on the chasm brink
ever searching for your own vernacular
the light its candle just a chink
perceptions flames that singe.
I felt no respite; its branding from within
burned with a torch, no cold could douse
trapped inside the padded cell.
Genius that sings its Christmas times noel
outside the door, in self so lonely dwell.
Not partake the hearty feast;
Just gruel, inspirations jewel. satisfy its greed
trapped in unholy soul.
So torn and rent in discontent
arm wrestling with temperament
the chalice floats just out of reach.
A boiler that can never vent
and Tourettes just not to repeat.
Whatever artisan you are
the demon's come and not depart.
Arcing hurt, its light and dark.
Standing on the chasm brink
ever searching for your own vernacular
the light its candle just a chink
Written by slipalong
Go To Page
LunaGreyhawk said:“The anguished and volatile intensity associated with the artistic temperament was once thought to be a symptom of genius or eccentricity peculiar to artists, writers, and musicians. Kaye Redfield Jamison’s work, based on her study as a clinical psychologist and researcher in mood disorders, reveals that many artists subject to exalted highs and despairing lows were in fact engaged in a struggle with clinically identifiable manic-depressive illness.
Jamison presents proof of the biological foundations of this disease and applies what is known about the illness to the lives and works of some of the world's greatest artists including Lord Byron, Vincent Van Gogh, and Virginia Woolf.” (New York Times)
This competition is meant to explore the relationship between the muse and mental health. You have one month (in case you haven’t read the book and would like to) to put your personal experience with the line between creative genius and insanity into poem. I know that vulnerability in expressing our deepest inner conflicts can be difficult, but I’d really love to see some frank and honest experiences spilled here.
The guidelines for the competition are as follows:
• One month to submit your entries
• Maximum of two entries per DUP persona
• Any written style or length poem, including visual/audio; no prose
• Entries will be decided by a panel of peer poets
• Entries must first be posted to your page and then linked here; no copy/paste entries are allowed
• Both new and old writes are acceptable
Good luck! No
Congratulations Jade-Pandora on a well deserved win
Thank you so much Luna it's an honor to be chosen Runner-up in this competition
Thank you for suggesting this book it is now part of my Kindle library
Jamison presents proof of the biological foundations of this disease and applies what is known about the illness to the lives and works of some of the world's greatest artists including Lord Byron, Vincent Van Gogh, and Virginia Woolf.” (New York Times)
This competition is meant to explore the relationship between the muse and mental health. You have one month (in case you haven’t read the book and would like to) to put your personal experience with the line between creative genius and insanity into poem. I know that vulnerability in expressing our deepest inner conflicts can be difficult, but I’d really love to see some frank and honest experiences spilled here.
The guidelines for the competition are as follows:
• One month to submit your entries
• Maximum of two entries per DUP persona
• Any written style or length poem, including visual/audio; no prose
• Entries will be decided by a panel of peer poets
• Entries must first be posted to your page and then linked here; no copy/paste entries are allowed
• Both new and old writes are acceptable
Good luck! No
Congratulations Jade-Pandora on a well deserved win
Thank you so much Luna it's an honor to be chosen Runner-up in this competition
Thank you for suggesting this book it is now part of my Kindle library
This is incredible poetry. I love the collection of poems by Volt Whitman. The author makes the main emphasis on love for nature and human beauty. Nature and man are one whole. I wrote a dissertation work https://uk.edubirdie.com/dissertation-writing-service about natural images in American Poetry. Interesting fact - the American maple image is a borrowed pagan image of Odin.
I also thought about it, and I don't think it's wrong, but many of my friends disagree with me. They think that paying for paper means you're unable to write it alone, aren't interested in your studies, and are lazy. I tried to fight these stereotypes, and some of them realized they were wrong.
