Poetry competition CLOSED 5th December 2020 6:18pm
View Profile Poems by KristinaX
RUNNERS-UP: Calamityofgin and Bluevelvete

Go to page:

Poem of the month: November

Fire of Insight
United States
4awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th May 2020
Forum Posts: 141

Poetry Contest

Nominate outstanding written poems on DU
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:
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:


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:


January 2020-  NEW BEGINNINGS
February 2020 - EDIBLE WORDS
JUNE 2020 - LEPPEROCHAN (Craic-Dealer)
August 2020 Daniel Christensen
September 2020 Aspergerpoet
October 2020 Lunagreyhawk


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


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


January, 2017 - VEE
February, 2017 - CRIMSIN
March, 2017 - ONEFIFTYSIX
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


November, 2016 - JOHN FEDDELER
December, 2016 - AHAVATI

Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
11awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 24th Mar 2019
Forum Posts: 402

The Ceiling at Four in the Morning. Looking at.

Bedroom swarms shifting air
Suffocating as bones crushed in lotus feet,
The ties that bind; tides that break.
An atlas on the belly of my dreams
Adventures in the skin trade.
Skin is a compass to start
Fevered fingers chart my journey:
North by north-west facing east, waiting
The departure at the grinding of gate,
When, finally, the blue moon is more than
An ambulance and screaming lights.
Vipers o’ verbs stall in my throat
Vivisection of my well versed scars,
Eavesdropping on the morning stillness
Silence speaks thru teeth clenched.  
In the way tree stands to the sky
I seek your touch on empty branches.
Hawthorn berry heart of tawny owl
Tourniquets bough to keep nature alive.
We live like this: the man, the woman
Sleepwalking closer to eternal mountains,
Valleys are measured in our love verse.
A train charters the chapters of insomniacs
Delivering commuters to towns bookended
By the here & now of (forever) yesterday.

Remembering the old drunk who heaved
‘Jesus blood never failed me yet.’
The sidereal alarm clock
Sequins Sirius with chimes  
From The Titanic bell.  

The window rehearses return of the dawn
Ballerina rain alights, stage fright in the
Enchanted circle, as actors on verge of
Breaking it all down in syllables of two-step dance.  
In the interval of our wording
Eye curtains draw closed
By crushed velvet >
Soft symphony of rain and glass.    
Ceiling spins skeins of all the colours
That were, are, will be - it is.
Could our nest change colours through all seasons?
Someone is building a bridge of  
Mice snapped in night traps.  
Somewhere over the bleached rainbow:
Barbiturates are delaying the morning
Smashed whisky bottles are painting life still  
Self Help books lie piss stained on brothel floors.
Let the sunshine reign down on me
Let it blister, burn, bury the living:
Est cor meum tibi.

Talking to God in wandering dreams.
I clasp my hands between knees
Closest I get to praying.
Written by Strangeways_Rob
Go To Page  

Twisted Dreamer
United States
  profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Oct 2020
Forum Posts: 81

Fire of Insight
United States
4awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th May 2020
Forum Posts: 141

Fantastic! Thank you...

Fire of Insight
United States
4awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th May 2020
Forum Posts: 141

Please vote for October!

Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
11awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 24th Mar 2019
Forum Posts: 402

Christina’s World

My life...  
my legs they have kept far away from me
From the loft
From the rafters  
In the night come rumbling  
The pans had fallen from the shelves  
In the growing distance  
My home  
In the growing distance  
It has spread before me
And no longer reaches the gingham  
The hem and floral petals  
Shiver in the wind  
Something grows in the space  
From here to there..  
an emptiness  
And yet it grows  
My smile haunts my forehead  
It creases and is spittled with heat  
My smile had fallen from the shelves  
Along with the pans  
And my Mothers booming laugh  
My Mothers laughter echoes the distance
It is like lightning crack  
When I awaken from it  
And can no longer find my step  
I reach ..  
I pull away with timid hand
I am the field mouse  
I am the scarecrow off her post  
I am beauty on an island  
Of memory and remorse  
And the Sea
She folds into browns  
The screams of the cicada
Written by Calamityofgin
Go To Page  

Tyrant of Words
22awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 23rd Nov 2013
Forum Posts: 1535

Love At First Light

As dawn breaks over a frost covered mountain to the east
He is my first thought
just as he is always the last
I have come to crave the scent
of coffee and cigarettes at dawn
and I have grown to appreciate
all of the pieces that comprise
his existence
Be it virtue or vice
I adore him

Having finally aquired the peace within
to provide sound sleep
we are quiet upon waking this
November morning
Serene and present
Keenly aware that spoken words might cloud
the unequivocal purity in the atmosphere
Each of us knowing how vital
these moments are

I join him on the porch
of a humble log cabin
tucked within the forest
of the Smoky Mountains
Draping a blanket around him
I set his coffee down and
sweetly kiss his temple
He closes his eyes briefly
savoring the feel of my mouth
on his skin
I do not linger
I take my seat
and take in the view

The vision of his silhouette
is stunning
Washed in shades of blue grey
at first light, before the sun
Crouched over and writing
glancing up pensively
to see and feel the inspiration
as God unfolds before him,
around him and in everything
he sees

Caught up and in his element
he barely notices I'm there
and I observe in wonder
and awe of who he is
in this very moment
Memories and dreams,
vulnerability and strength
Driven by necessity
Fueled by hope and faith

Suddenly a Carolina Wren
catches my eye, my ear and my
undivided attention
Never was a picture painted
that could match the beauty
surrounding us
I am now in my element
and I study him as he too
is caught up in his morning routine
Driven by instinct
Fueled by purpose
I silently thank God for the blessing to witness
his work

My focus is turned back
to the radiant man
next to me
Who's face has now been
christened by the amber glow of dawn
The moment is breathtaking and
I feel a tangible pull in my soul
toward him and onto him
Latched on like my life depends on it
with no measure of seperation  between
our naked bodies
He drags soft, passionate kisses
down my neck
Our adoring eyes lock as
he slides slowly into me


I feel his heart and soul in between
these passionate breaths
and rolling waves
and we finally speak
the only three words that matter
  to the spirit
     to the soul

I     Love    You
Written by ELL30 (Brandy)
Go To Page  

Fire of Insight
United States
  profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Dec 2019
Forum Posts: 889

Edge of Silence

You said moonlight is liquid
And now I believe and now I see
How it penetrates through  
narrow crevices
It flows and flows, filling all thoughts
Icy deserts, kilometers of silence
The immense burden of  
boundless freedom
Zippers zipped across the tarpaulin sky
And weak shoots pulsate in the  
damp ground

I'm looking for you to hide from the  
cruel wind
To win you back from cold and dark
The candle flame goes out,  
but I believe in your immortality
And I will take you away from the  
icy deserts

I don't want you to be alone
Immobile, helpless in these  
gloomy halls,
Among the strange and  
creaks and rustles
Among the alien cold, air currents
I came to steal your body from them
Reluctantly, but stubborn arrows are  
moving backwards
I keep my secret, and who will believe me
But I know you’re sleeping,  
you’re just sleeping too deeply
And I sneak in the dark, ignoring the  
fits of fear
In endlessly cold, empty corridors
Listening tensely,  
getting cold and shuddering,
Pressing against the wall at the  
slightest rustle
I'll blow these walls down,  
I'll break open all the doors
Having overcome all barriers,  
defeating all obstacles.
I'm stronger than the cold,  
you'll come back - I believe
From where there is no return
Lost in the dark depths of  
mirrored surfaces
You call me through the oceans of the  
full moon
A thin thread breaks,  
but I believe in your immortality
And I will find you even on that  
Edge of Silence ...
Written by KristinaX
Go To Page  

Dangerous Mind
7awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 29th July 2018
Forum Posts: 420

A Man of Simple Dreams

( After Lord Byron )  
To wake of morning, half-light crowning—
spitting flash through arthritic trees;
a spindly flame, waxing stronger  
exposing ivory skin of frosted field.
An aroma, roasted kernel twists
  as cats, entwined amid feet;
timorous stems of shadow retreat
   across leaf-strewn concrete.  
To hear the yodel of migrating loon
  depart winter-tide for passion
disrupts me not, despite their omen;
  armed guards of snow, capturing    
the garden, sparing no green survivor
 save evergreens, their boughs adorned—
pearls before swine; Venus Fly-
 trapped, awaiting inevitable thaw. . .  
aftertastes of solitude, escaping  
 ivory towers o're time's terra firma—
until such, I shall in patience remain  
 a man of simple dreams.  
For J-with love
Written by Ahavati
Go To Page  

Tyrant of Words
United States
100awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th July 2012
Forum Posts: 1228

seas of misbelieve

Mis-truths, falsity, obfuscate, mislead. . . .
A lie is a lie is a lie - turned screed
'By any other name'
There's no sweetness here,
Just a typical bewilderment
of all that's unclear

To say one thing
and mean another
such brutality
in a victim's blinded falter
Spinning tales
as weakness devours,
no hint or whim,
disregarding facts as truth dully sours

Unashamed wicked tongue
spews from a pulpit of lies
With no empathic care
of the damage in lying cries

The powers that be stay silent,
their mouths bound in complicit
While most wring hands,
desperate with a ray of hope on how we're going to fix it

Emboldened and more unstable
wrapped in utter fantasy
they gladly kneel & pray
to a grifting deity,
an invisible profit
for all those who pay
consoling their conscience,
as they look the other way.

To lay faith in con men,
hucksters of no worth
speaks volumes about a lack of true character
and those skeletons that need unearthed

Eyes open wide
with a mandate tucked in our side
Dawning a new day of freedom's ring
With booming voices, hark!
Respect & Truth will sing

Written by Bluevelvete
Go To Page  

Fire of Insight
United States
4awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th May 2020
Forum Posts: 141

w.i.p.  (limited time offer!)

...................I spoke this aloud into the tape recorder and placed it on the table      
Or actually atop a butcher's block      
Atop the table and when I finished this with one smooth motion      
I pulled out a hatchet and severed my finger.      
Forging these quickly into a bundle      
With kite string      
I tied it to the leg of a raven.        
Out the window with you and be utilitarian.      
Well my boy that was certainly melodramatic      
S. was saying.      
Yes, perhaps you’re right I said and thought for a minute      
..Why is it that,      
I asked about with a glance,        
Why is it that no matter which of the spirits I am attempting to mollify,      
Why is it that I must always cut out      
Part of my body in ritual sacrifice first?        
S. shuddered comically at this but I was being serious.        
I have given away so many pieces of myself over these years      
That there is hardly any me remaining,        
Save for a head with lips, one right eye, six      
Or seven eyelashes.      
To be sure,      
It is entirely possible      
That the reason for doing this      
In the first place      
Had been forgotten      
In some scrap-year long since rubbished.  Do you even recall it?      
Thought not.      
Was the reason important?      
Or was it simply done for spite all the while?        
I honestly cannot remember.      
 Not the foggiest notion, mate.      
But one doesn't need body parts exactly says S.  continuing.    
If you think about it,      
The body is simply another form of restraint, no?      
It, the body, is firmly rooted      
On one side of the void, a clunky vessel if ever there was.      
Really it is little more than a tub      
Which the conscious must haul around,      
Dragging it to-and-fro, up the stairs and down the stairs,      
Down to the train station,      
Out into the field or the office      
Or sat on the can or huffing around the block.      
- But how tangible      
Is this tub of meat anyway?      
Who can say.      
That which is experienced      
By the body in the moment      
Only becomes discernible in the conscious, that is,      
In the cognizant mind,      
Translated into sensation and experience.      
S. waves her hand, producing percipience,      
Without this mindful spark.... do you follow, mate?      
Without this mindful spark      
In the current, au courant, without the acumen      
To process sensation and perception      
Then it must said      
That the body is but rind and bark.      
The destination of the body, what is that?      
It is the car in a demolition derby, innit?      
It is the destination      
of the mind,      
But what I really mean is the soul, it is this destination      
Which can be said to matter truly.  Of course,      
One understands that every individual mind      
Experiences reality in a different way,      
No one person’s acquaintance with the world      
Is exactly the same as any other, and so      
Reality is not so real      
As you may think it is      
What with every mind being      
A universe unto itself.      
An exigency of lives and loves lived, innit,      
And how abstract and confusing it can all be.      
This may seem perplexing to some, S. goes on,      
But it means also that reality can be bent by you, like molded      
To fit the self in ways various and subversive and subtle, all the while      
Accruing awareness,      
Pulling the vista of the beyond nearer to your mind's eye.      
A person, she demonstrates by forming a person,      
A person upon reaching a certain level of self-reliance      
Needs no longer be held captive      
By the world, you are not a prisoner of the world after all.        
No, the world is a resource for the soul,      
For the will of the soul.      
This soul wields its own mind and      
The mind can create in Hell a luxury of its own, if you know how.      
The mind can create even magnificence in Hell, like sipping cocktails      
Upon the blazing shores of Hades.        
O underworld luncheon,      
O tapas of Abaddon!      
And when the body, that is the husk,      
Is kaput, torn loose      
From the world      
To pass across      
The great Bridge of Separation      
To turn again to its billet      
Of witnessing rest, to turn upon its side        
Returning the gathered awareness,      
That is, the gathered experience of the being      
To the lifestream, or shall we say      
To the Akashic mindheap in the clouds,      
Which is Arcadia,      
Which is the Canaan of Abraham's bosom,      
Which is the Land of the Leal and The House of Song,      
Which is a garden of green silks and brocades,      
Which is the Brahman also.      
At this I nodded over my shoulder to her      
As I was currently digging through      
A garden shed,      
Searching for seeds and fossils      
And serrated edges and bandages, whether she noticed      
This nodding of mine I am uncertain.      
But right now here is something      
About S. which you should know      
And that is that she has always fancied herself      
As something of an amateur architect      
So in this moment decided exactly      
While my hand was bleeding      
And my brain was a scrambled egg to quote      
A selection from the Manifest of Futurist Architecture (1914)      
To quote:      
              "A moronic mixture      
            of the most various stylistic elements used to mask      
                  the skeletons of modern houses is called      
                              modern architecture......We must invent      
                              and rebuild      
                              the Futurist city like an immense and tumultuous shipyard,      
                              and dynamic in every detail;      
                        the Futurist house must be like a gigantic machine."      
So I sat down on the curb      
To bandage my hand and frowned and      
Had a think about this or that      
And it was rather a long time      
Before I ever moved again or came around.      
Written by Vandel_Viaclovsky (Van)
Go To Page  

poet Anonymous

deja death


moving in instant

moving in slow

all days the one

again and again

blood in

blood in the

blood on the

oh my God!

can nothing

Written by buddhakitty
Go To Page  

poet Anonymous

O know where I are

O know where I are
Go To Page  

Fire of Insight
United States
4awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th May 2020
Forum Posts: 141

Wonderful 🙏🙏

poet Anonymous

Portal Protein

My body and vessel were wet and inflamed along the travel lines.
I held the film and aura of absolute doom.
The door was grinding open.
The era was displayed on my instruments and the risk of itchy collapse radiated in warning glows.

Her horny thighs approached me, glistening with fabrics undiscovered.
Her mucosa conspired.
The red tips of her trigger fingers alive with the chatter and melting of my ribs and femur bones.

In coded collapse and ritualized disguises, the walls bled and glistened.
Mania, mutilation, surrealist tableaux.
Her lips and organs were beating as one, throbbing with ecstatic distress.

This torture museum shouts and drools upon history’s ripe chest.
Her lips burst with unholy noise.

“I had a dream last night that you were dying. In your holiness you could recite the names of all future catastrophes. You wouldn’t stop babbling.”

Her chest emerged with steely connections.

Her eyes were soft,
splattered with fleshy hues and milky blood.

Her legs, dark portraits collapsing into infernal chants.

Weapons of war were strung together inside her; I had placed myself with her now.

Written by Randon
Go To Page  

Go to page:
Go to: