Poetry competition CLOSED 20th March 2021 2:18pm
WINNER
EleazarSwan
EleazarSwan
RUNNERS-UP:
slipalong
and Bluevelvete
HOPE
Poetry Contest Description
Your take on Hope, what it means to you
“Hope lies in dreams, in imagination, and in the courage of those who dare to make dreams into reality.” – Jonas Salk
Your take on Hope
Old writes allowed but not a previous winner
reasonable length
two poems per poet
no collaborations
no extreme contents
no poem commenting on comp
Your take on Hope
Old writes allowed but not a previous winner
reasonable length
two poems per poet
no collaborations
no extreme contents
no poem commenting on comp
Anonymous
Hope
hopes are baits
on fishing rods
borrowed by the farmer
to entice the donkey
hopes are thoughts
of a better tomorrow
rain for the wheat
water for the horses
hopes are faith
that jumping down the spring board
One land on water not concrete
and have a joyous swim
hopes are bouquets
of tenacity perseverance
will power to continue
where some give up
Hope.
-this is not an entry-
on fishing rods
borrowed by the farmer
to entice the donkey
hopes are thoughts
of a better tomorrow
rain for the wheat
water for the horses
hopes are faith
that jumping down the spring board
One land on water not concrete
and have a joyous swim
hopes are bouquets
of tenacity perseverance
will power to continue
where some give up
Hope.
-this is not an entry-
Written by Grace
(IDryad)
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Fortune Favors
Not wanting to give up
at least while hunger
hangs its pangs over me
I traveled to get me
something to eat.
No point in ending it
all and being emptier
inside, right?
Hmmm, but what?
What do I feel - no
how do I Feel...like?
Perhaps, something
that will not drag me
down but fill me up
temporarily.
Take Home is such a
delight.
And I love those
favors they put with
those little white boxes
with the wire handles.
As I consume the final
eggroll
I open the cookie up
and read:
Fortune Favors the Sweet!
Wow! Enlightened and
full, I decide to save
the rest of the Fortunes
for the next time I am
in a debilitating sad.
Before my sleep
I place the rest
in my cookie jar.
at least while hunger
hangs its pangs over me
I traveled to get me
something to eat.
No point in ending it
all and being emptier
inside, right?
Hmmm, but what?
What do I feel - no
how do I Feel...like?
Perhaps, something
that will not drag me
down but fill me up
temporarily.
Take Home is such a
delight.
And I love those
favors they put with
those little white boxes
with the wire handles.
As I consume the final
eggroll
I open the cookie up
and read:
Fortune Favors the Sweet!
Wow! Enlightened and
full, I decide to save
the rest of the Fortunes
for the next time I am
in a debilitating sad.
Before my sleep
I place the rest
in my cookie jar.
Written by Tallen
(earth_empath)
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Baptism of tears
When the floods finally came
you were down in Dallas,
washing cars by day and floors by night .
They found you drinking whirlpools
amongst the sidewalks and cigarettes,
bare knuckles bleeding in the rain.
You had your followers,
institute inmates that shook their heads
and chewed their hands,
pills that held the banks from bursting.
Slowly you began to surface,
regression split the shell and gave you a name.
He took you when you were five;
I sat on your bed, watched from your window,
for twenty years I saw you playing in the yard,
heard your voice in every playground,
prayers whispered onto candle light,
washed your bedding every night.
The buzzer sounds as the door lock clicks,
the room smells of urine and bleach.
The warder points towards the window,
I sit between you and the misty garden view.
You fight to stall emotion but cry out “Mother”
and I am reborn.
you were down in Dallas,
washing cars by day and floors by night .
They found you drinking whirlpools
amongst the sidewalks and cigarettes,
bare knuckles bleeding in the rain.
You had your followers,
institute inmates that shook their heads
and chewed their hands,
pills that held the banks from bursting.
Slowly you began to surface,
regression split the shell and gave you a name.
He took you when you were five;
I sat on your bed, watched from your window,
for twenty years I saw you playing in the yard,
heard your voice in every playground,
prayers whispered onto candle light,
washed your bedding every night.
The buzzer sounds as the door lock clicks,
the room smells of urine and bleach.
The warder points towards the window,
I sit between you and the misty garden view.
You fight to stall emotion but cry out “Mother”
and I am reborn.
Written by Razzerleaf
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a flicker of ~ a senryú
On the edge, until
you said I was forgiven
then... I became hope
Written by Bluevelvete
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The White Lady of Hope
- The White Lady of Hope -
Walking in the lonely cold, amidst the snow as white as cloud,
I looked up at the clear night sky, bejeweled with stars so bright.
Perhaps madly, I imagined there must be hope, however proud,
And foolish, some say, it is to kindle such warmth in the night...
There must be some hope that love endures with the human spirit!
Like a prophet lost in the wilderness, I wandered seeking to know,
Drawing nearer to nothing, yet too innocent was I to rightly fear it.
I wandered far, so lost and cold, beneath the stars, amidst the snow.
Coming at last into a wood, which looked crystalline; alien beauty,
For one used to days more fair I found it wondrous and strange.
I tarried there enchanted, by I know not what, and soon I could see,
A greener land: not very distant and encircled by a rugged range.
Warmer was the air as the snow was lost, my feet upon the grass,
Soft as carpet, and how much more stately since it was of nature!
Many trees still lay in frost, and seemed fey in their look as glass,
Where ice made them unusual, amidst the green as so much more.
Children played in that field of green, dressed in Victorian fashion,
Laughing, singing, without a care in their hearts and they danced...
As I watched them I saw they were not children, of just one nation,
But many, and they asked me join them out there as they pranced...
Finding it not beneath my station, I let them take me by the hand,
And felt much as I had in my childhood years, beneath the stars...
Grass spinning under my feet, music playing from some old band,
Of minstrels fair to hear, that soon: gone were adulthood's scars.
Flowers began to bloom from the earth, pain and sorrow forgotten,
Whilst my hands were held: by a lady, clad in white as the winter...
Perhaps a fantasy, born of fantasies past, and strangely begotten,
By the magic of whatever enchantment held me, so I did not stir...
From the frolic and the play, led by the lady, so very like an angel.
I looked into her eyes, and found I could not hold her mystic gaze,
Until all I could do was to call out and ask her of her power, to tell.
And her voice was a song, which enchanted me into a bright daze!
She sang of a world at peace, that being the stuff of purest dreams,
She sang of hearts united by love, knowing nothing of darker past.
She sang of pleasant meadows and the gentleness of moonbeams,
She sang of how the human heart, can build dreams that ever last.
And so my reverie came to an end, as I found myself in cold mists,
Haunted by the music of the White Lady, remembering lost magic.
She appeared again and blew at me a snowflake born from her kiss,
Upon the wind, the drop of snow at last caressing my cheek: tragic.
For its’ warmth faded before the returning cold, the green vanished,
And no children's voices filled the silent air as I walked on home...
Though for but a moment's happiness once more, I secretly wished,
And I beheld the lady's apparition, at my side, as I walked on alone.
She smiled, saying nothing, until I neared my house and looked up...
To behold the Evening Star in all it's glory, shining amidst darkness.
It was then I realized that not yet vanished from this world, is hope!
Gone was the Lady, but her message remains with me, ever endless.
Walking in the lonely cold, amidst the snow as white as cloud,
I looked up at the clear night sky, bejeweled with stars so bright.
Perhaps madly, I imagined there must be hope, however proud,
And foolish, some say, it is to kindle such warmth in the night...
There must be some hope that love endures with the human spirit!
Like a prophet lost in the wilderness, I wandered seeking to know,
Drawing nearer to nothing, yet too innocent was I to rightly fear it.
I wandered far, so lost and cold, beneath the stars, amidst the snow.
Coming at last into a wood, which looked crystalline; alien beauty,
For one used to days more fair I found it wondrous and strange.
I tarried there enchanted, by I know not what, and soon I could see,
A greener land: not very distant and encircled by a rugged range.
Warmer was the air as the snow was lost, my feet upon the grass,
Soft as carpet, and how much more stately since it was of nature!
Many trees still lay in frost, and seemed fey in their look as glass,
Where ice made them unusual, amidst the green as so much more.
Children played in that field of green, dressed in Victorian fashion,
Laughing, singing, without a care in their hearts and they danced...
As I watched them I saw they were not children, of just one nation,
But many, and they asked me join them out there as they pranced...
Finding it not beneath my station, I let them take me by the hand,
And felt much as I had in my childhood years, beneath the stars...
Grass spinning under my feet, music playing from some old band,
Of minstrels fair to hear, that soon: gone were adulthood's scars.
Flowers began to bloom from the earth, pain and sorrow forgotten,
Whilst my hands were held: by a lady, clad in white as the winter...
Perhaps a fantasy, born of fantasies past, and strangely begotten,
By the magic of whatever enchantment held me, so I did not stir...
From the frolic and the play, led by the lady, so very like an angel.
I looked into her eyes, and found I could not hold her mystic gaze,
Until all I could do was to call out and ask her of her power, to tell.
And her voice was a song, which enchanted me into a bright daze!
She sang of a world at peace, that being the stuff of purest dreams,
She sang of hearts united by love, knowing nothing of darker past.
She sang of pleasant meadows and the gentleness of moonbeams,
She sang of how the human heart, can build dreams that ever last.
And so my reverie came to an end, as I found myself in cold mists,
Haunted by the music of the White Lady, remembering lost magic.
She appeared again and blew at me a snowflake born from her kiss,
Upon the wind, the drop of snow at last caressing my cheek: tragic.
For its’ warmth faded before the returning cold, the green vanished,
And no children's voices filled the silent air as I walked on home...
Though for but a moment's happiness once more, I secretly wished,
And I beheld the lady's apparition, at my side, as I walked on alone.
She smiled, saying nothing, until I neared my house and looked up...
To behold the Evening Star in all it's glory, shining amidst darkness.
It was then I realized that not yet vanished from this world, is hope!
Gone was the Lady, but her message remains with me, ever endless.
Written by Kou_Indigo
(Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
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A Letter From The Small Sliver Of Hope In Your Junk Drawer And What He Could Become
To whom it may concern,
All I want to be is
The one you miss from time to time
When you’re out with your friends or back at your folk’s place
When you feel more alone with them than you do yourself anyway
I want to be your warm welcome
All I want to be is the first person you call on the phone
When you find yourself panicked, shaken, and alone, Unable to sleep
I'll tell you . . . “I’m here.”
Can’t you see me? Because I see you.
Maybe you can see me.
But you can’t hear the words coming out of my mouth.
Over the sound of your grinding teeth
To you, I’ll always be the wind that blows above your head
The hand that’s out of reach
If you ever find yourself struggling to breathe.
I want to be the oxygen that flows through you right before you smoke your last cigarette
And when you contemplate death
I want to be the thought that says, “Don’t go. You’re not done yet.”
I don’t want to be the one you need.
I just want to be a some-what steady plot of land beneath your feet.
I want you to feel grounded.
All I want to be is a part of your life
Sincerely,
- The Small Sliver Of Hope In Your Junk Drawer
All I want to be is
The one you miss from time to time
When you’re out with your friends or back at your folk’s place
When you feel more alone with them than you do yourself anyway
I want to be your warm welcome
All I want to be is the first person you call on the phone
When you find yourself panicked, shaken, and alone, Unable to sleep
I'll tell you . . . “I’m here.”
Can’t you see me? Because I see you.
Maybe you can see me.
But you can’t hear the words coming out of my mouth.
Over the sound of your grinding teeth
To you, I’ll always be the wind that blows above your head
The hand that’s out of reach
If you ever find yourself struggling to breathe.
I want to be the oxygen that flows through you right before you smoke your last cigarette
And when you contemplate death
I want to be the thought that says, “Don’t go. You’re not done yet.”
I don’t want to be the one you need.
I just want to be a some-what steady plot of land beneath your feet.
I want you to feel grounded.
All I want to be is a part of your life
Sincerely,
- The Small Sliver Of Hope In Your Junk Drawer
Written by Braver_Than_A_Noun
(Andie...)
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