Poetry competition CLOSED 6th March 2021 12:55pm
WINNER
Kou_Indigo (Kara Lucielle Pythiana)
View Profile Poems by Kou_Indigo
trophy
RUNNERS-UP: slipalong and Tallen

Go to page:

A Walk

Grace
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
113awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 15180

Poetry Contest

Describe a casual walk
Describe a walk, a journey or a sojourn in a particular place.
Auditory imagery poem (describe sounds)
two poems per poet
any reasonable length
no extreme contents
no collabs
old writes allowed but not winning poems

Grace
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
113awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 15180

Yesterday's dying Light

yesterday's dying light  
a lonely meander  
in misty memories  

raucous laughter  
of people with their barking dogs  
excited woofs  
at passing angered felines  
that hisses and yowls  

a sight worth sighing for  
again  
wishing to return to days  
without the screaming silence  

longing again for  bubbling brooks †
the call and buzzes of cicadas  
the tolls and clanging of bells  
in the distant church †
now mere existing in twilight memory  

in yesterday's fading light  
the rain rattled on zinc roof  
†the grating rattling  
sounds of tree branches  
rubbing together  
accompanied my thoughts  

how I wished I could hear  
the sound of your laughter  
again
 
--(Not an Entry)
Written by Grace (Idryad)
Go To Page  

faithmairee
faithmairee
Faith Elizabeth Brigham
Dangerous Mind
United States
8awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 29th Aug 2012
Forum Posts: 165

Flower In The Sun

There is a little flower
just a daisy in the sun
it's almost invisible
it's unseen by anyone

There's grace in how it's swaying
in the soft and gentle breeze
I'd love to pick that daisy
just to take it home with me

It's just a little flower
I found standing tall and proud
I stood in awe, yes wonder
as I heard it speak out loud

'I'm a flower in the sun
but I'm lonesome as I can be
please pick me and take me home
I don't like being alone'
Written by faithmairee (Faith Elizabeth Brigham)
Go To Page  

faithmairee
faithmairee
Faith Elizabeth Brigham
Dangerous Mind
United States
8awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 29th Aug 2012
Forum Posts: 165

along the walkway

it is her job to sweep the walkway
but she can not sweep today
for her heart has just been broken
and the gripping pain won't go away

she has to sweep the walkway
she must do it everyday if she wants pay
there are two dogs she has adopted
or visa versa along the way

she works away her broom in hand
the sun baring down on her fair face
her new found friends just want to play
up and down the walkway they will race

she bids good morning to the cop
as he saunters by and pets the dogs
but he can't stop too long to play
for he's got tickets he must log

she stops along the walkway to wipe
away the tears her lover caused
when he created havoc in her heart so bound
she barely brushes as she sweeps the walkway down
 
Written by faithmairee (Faith Elizabeth Brigham)
Go To Page  

Grace
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
113awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 15180

faithmairee, thank you for your entries.

Razzerleaf
Razzerleaf
Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
16awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 15th Sep 2019
Forum Posts: 349

My last walk

As I stepped off the building,
the world turned through 90 degrees
and I strolled past neighbours windows,
looking down inside their rooms
warm, bright, family life behind glass.

Vibrant with activity, sit down meals,
office workers greeted with kisses,
children fighting over the tv remote,
dog stretched out in front of the fire,
siblings giggling with bath time bubbles,
passionate couples arguing over nothing,
bodies showering away the days grime,
dad wrestling with three little monsters,
a lady near the ground floor even waved.

As I stepped onto the pavement
I said ďmy world isnít too badĒ
But I was walking faster than I thought.

I left the note under a rock,
so it didnít blow away.
Written by Razzerleaf
Go To Page  

Razzerleaf
Razzerleaf
Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
16awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 15th Sep 2019
Forum Posts: 349

Postcard from the backseat

It's the same 4am start as every year,    
the cold hard shiver of plastic car doors †  
rattled down miles of motorway. † †  
Field mist making shapes on dark horizons, † †  
as warmth finally brings a sleeping bag † †  
and zips me in and out of conciseness. †† †  
†  
I wake in Somerset, † †  
blinded by rapeseed in a blaze of yellow. † †  
There are few sights more wonderful, † †  
than a field of flowers to remind me † †  
I have escaped the pastels of concrete. † †  
† † †
I crack the window inside Devon and join the dog † †  
as we sniff the ocean together, † †  
its scent rides the coast road † †  
all the way to the welcome sign. † †  
† †  
Tomorrow I'll watch the trawlers at first light  
taking their colors to wash them with the tide, †  
then climb among the nesting gulls, † †  
a warm breeze folding my feathers † †  
to rest in a bed of bracken, lay back † †  
under a big sky and feel the faint tremor † †  
of waves pounding on the rocks below. † †  
† †  
In the end, a sense of sadness will fill the car †  
with petrol and leave behind my minds eye, †
as an August moon collides with coastal downs, † †
leaving the last silver balm of our holiday,
Written by Razzerleaf
Go To Page  

RiAN
RiAN
Dangerous Mind
Norway
16awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 16th June 2020
Forum Posts: 960

When through the driftwood walking

When soft the sea spoke
to lull all waves  
interweaving tides
began to sway
 
I moved along  
just like the shore
my hair untied
flew siren winged
 
a guiding gull cried out
when sad the sea wept
my yielding woe
away
 
when wild the sea awoke
tendered the sands  
I allowed my skin
to learn to love again
 
when colossal clouds
began to float
sea told me
how to water
the moon
 
until this day
I bless this space
called poetry
Written by RiAN
Go To Page  

Grace
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
113awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 15180

Razzerleaf and RiAN, thank you for your participation.

slipalong
slipalong
Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
31awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 1st Jan 2018
Forum Posts: 639

Everyday theatre

Sometimes, it starts with just perhaps  
the dog will pant and paw
eyes with expectation light  
his lead hangs by the door  

The backdrop of my unshaven chin  
white snowflakes of dandruff fall  
time to don the trace, adieu within  
claustrophobia unlocked by open air  

its faint euphoria of diesel fumes  
I brave the cold 'neath winter clothes  
naphthalene balls, long lost their power  
the moth holes and mould  

I hold the romance of new cut grass  
the time when we were free  
our chatter stirred like autumn leaves †
that rise and †fall, released like an escapee  

 Quiet empty street, just BOB pulls on his lead †
the clatter of the garbage wagon  
clearing all the petrification  
valentines day flowers, gone Miss Siagon  

February's †brief aroma's, of chocolate's  
half burned Yankee, scented candles  
as we press on, snapping twigs  
old crisp packets, detritus, a perfect shambles  

Park gates, lost their guild †
let off the leash, constraints all unpinned  
tall branches beckon  
prompts called from the wings  

The joy, that hears the fountains arch  
dancing as it falls  
that sparkles bright however dark  
dogs run and bark, the lockdown lessen its recoil  

The performance was behind closed doors  
walking to the box office †
dystopia its grip not heed my step  
†curtain rise, green shoot's on wood and coppice †

Elasticity †of stride, foot fall stuck with pride  
the stalls and from the gods  
dark paths away, from concrete blocks  
eyes of fenestration, the whistles and the nods  

††  

Written by slipalong
Go To Page  

Grace
Grace
Idryad
Guardian of Shadows
113awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 15180

slipalong, thank you for your entry.

AnonymousBystander
AnonymousBystander
Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
3awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 28th Sep 2018
Forum Posts: 225

English Lane

I sit in the old servants quarters of
an English stately home. Behind the wall,
a partly cobbled green lane which I love.

Going down the lane from this aging Hall
in a wooded glade is a metalled road.
Going right, past a white wash Lodge withal

a scattering of dwellings now bestowed
by this beautiful walk through bright sunbeam.
Toward a bridge under which a burn flowed

where trout swim stationary in the stream
and, sometimes in the woods, roe deer are seen.
Continuing on this road as a dream

especially at dusk, where before we've been.
Road and stream like rod and snake reach a ford,
where two foot trout shimmer, quiver, careen

across to spawn; a sight to be adored.
Where stream and road cross a ford, where we roam -
pleasant and relaxing with health restored.

Along the lane where the trees make a dome,
around the corner and starting to climb,
the single track lane will then take us home.

If I stood up and rotated around:
each way you look, this journey is background.
Written by AnonymousBystander
Go To Page  

Tallen
Tallen
earth_empath
Tyrant of Words
30awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 15th Oct 2018
Forum Posts: 1954

Routine____Rebel

 
For more than 60 years, I've been running. . .

The road behind me

rambles over

risk-less and routine terrain.

The road beneath

offers redundantly,

more of the same.

The road I run on

is so uncertain, yet so new.

& as I transform everyday problems

into creative projects,

I'm reminded that my derriere

and the porch rocking chair

weren't made for each other.
Written by Tallen (earth_empath)
Go To Page  

Tallen
Tallen
earth_empath
Tyrant of Words
30awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 15th Oct 2018
Forum Posts: 1954

This Old Floor

Cotton morsels of breath
in oral morning wake ups
and sweaters still hugging
molars and bicuspids, I got
to have that coffee first!

Barefooted, I traverse
across the cold tiles made
for temperature gauges
during summer or winter.

As I prepare the pot to brew
small tears stream down
the corners of my crusted
eyes as I ponder the reasons
my bare feet of skin no longer
commune with our earth.

This old floor of stone gives me
this poignant solemn reminder
how once the mighty rock stood
strong atop and below earthís
embracing arms of sand and soil.

And a place my heart longs for
the green rug that lines a Forest
floor. How sometimes I ache
inside while missing the groups
of Trees all huddled together
forming a magickal family.

Trying to survive in this man-
made erection of concrete,
wood and wire, I attempt to
surround me with surroundings
of the domicile my old soul
remembers. I am getting
there. . .

This old floor of stone
comforts me each time my
bare skin touches it and
I never mind that the floor
Is too cold. †If anything, the
cold is my way of never
forgetting my kindred
roots and my companions
the Trees.
Written by Tallen (earth_empath)
Go To Page  

LunaGreyhawk
LunaGreyhawk
Fire of Insight
United States
12awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 8th July 2019
Forum Posts: 510

Detritus

walking across a field  
leading me nowhere  
except further  
into isolation,  
my foot met stone  
in a hostile  
confrontation;  
it was fairly violent  
considering  
they had only just  
been introduced,  
there certainly  
had not been time  
to build such resentment  
for one another  
 
an unfortunate event  
given I had not  
quite planned  
the long journey back  
with stubbed toes;  
sinking into crisp grass  
trying itís best to steal  
the green of Spring  
from Winterís idling grasp,  
I remove my boot  
and thick wool sock,  
giving my digits a chance  
to air their grievances;  
the cool wind  
stealing my curses  
as they are birthed loudly  
from pinched lips  
 
the rock, so full of angst  
utterly unremarkable -  
itís edges, once sharp  
worn smooth  
by the tumbling forward  
of time across its face -  
ironic, that;  
I give my curiosity invitation,  
patting the waking earth  
next to me  
and together, we wonder  
at the large arrogance  
of this small thing;  
had itís nondescript identity  
refused to be buried  
because it had once kissed  
the lush, full moon  
from snow-topped peaks  
of the mighty mountain?  
or had it watched  
from itís watery balcony  
as the leviathan played  
under oceans  
of midnight blue?  
 
staring back in silence,  
it becomes clear  
Iíll receive no accounting  
of its unpleasant attitude  
towards my person -  
whatever the reasons  
for its rude how-do-you-do,  
Iíll be no wiser today;  
growing cold in the setting sun  
I return my sock and shoe  
to their rightful place  
over shouting  
that finally quiets  
to low grumbling  
and gingerly begin  
towards home  
  
Written by LunaGreyhawk
Go To Page  

Go to page:
Go to: