Poetry competition CLOSED 26th March 2021 1:48pm
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poet Anonymous


The hope is this song can aid this feeling.
Unreachable, but still reaching.
This soul-sucking sentiment loves stealing.
On the floor, I began with kneeling;
reflecting on words delivered like preaching.
The hope is this song can aid this feeling.
Now tear-filled eyes stare at the ceiling.
Something speaks to me, beseeching.
This soul-sucking sentiment loves stealing.
Ingrained in hating myself to start healing;
deeply embedded, constantly leaching.
The hope is this song can aid this feeling.
The residue and the scars are not appealing.
Constantly trying to lighten the stains with bleaching.
This soul-sucking sentiment loves stealing.
Bandaging wounds that need sealing.
Ignoring the tears that produce screeching.
The hope is this song can aid this feeling.
This soul-sucking sentiment loves stealing.
poet Anonymous

Sacred seclusion

Masked flowers raise their head
when I summon moons
my introversion  
shrined upon my face  
slightly seen
through my veiled veins
streams each light
I am voile
my tapestry  
my cologne
distinctly robed
timidly tracing
myriads unseen
I am
reclusive sunrise
poet Anonymous

Save Through The Eyes Of Superman

Thought about this.
Writing makes more since to explain.
Lived in a small town it seemed there would be nobody else.
Comfortable its all we knew.
Anyone who would come in to threaten this Id save us from it.
Isolated there seemed to be no other way with us.
Bored of the safety sometimes she strayed away to find danger.
That danger is not in me.
Youd come back from time to time but never remaining the same.
A piece of you was taken each time you disappeared.
I never thought Id move on.
She remains engraved in my mind.
Memories alone spark happiness.
Im not here to save you anymore you have to save yourself.
Some dont want to be saved.
poet Anonymous


who am I? so far
from home, the place I yearned to
leave. a wandering soul
poet Anonymous

Speaking In Tongue

...characters I have known
in their borderline shady
with an overcoat made of ink
covering insecurities with tattoos  
and stale beer flat-lined overnight  
with a rusted old Harley
and a stick of beef jerky
watching reruns of the Price Is Right
chasing shadows of I Love Lucy  
speaking in the tongue of Ernst T. Bass
"I don't chew my cabbage but twice..."
poet Anonymous

Good Enough

Almost every day the question comes to mind
Was I ever good enough to him?
Dealing with the struggle of a shared custody
As the years passed by, the situation got grim

Little by little I gave up more of my time
It seemed like the thing to do rationally
Shed be a better parent than I could be
All the while I had started another family

I could always see the hurt in his eyes
Even as he smiled and laughed happily
But as he got older I got all the blame
As the shame weighed so substantially

And for many years I carried that guilt
Until I said to myself: No, not anymore
I know that Ive tried and keep on trying
To be better a father than I was before

He may be a hundred miles away
But I think of him everyday
This relationship seems to get harder as he matures
Parenthood is never that simple
Even when I acted on impulse
I may be insecure but my love as a father endures

And whenever that question comes to mind
I remind myself of his affection and leave the guilt behind
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