Poetry competition CLOSED 14th July 2021 00:59am
WINNER
Anonymous
Anonymous
Underground Elegy
Poetry Contest Description
Write an elegy
In modern literature, according to Google, an elegy is defined as “a poem of serious reflection, typically a lament for the dead.” For this contest, write an elegy.
No word count or rules, except that your poem must be an elegy.
If it helps, elegies are defined by a haunting, mournful, regretful, and wistful atmosphere. I’ve included a few examples from literature below:
* https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44733/lycidas
* http://www.online-literature.com/tennyson/718/
* https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45480/when-lilacs-last-in-the-dooryard-bloomd
* https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50756/natal-command
* https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/49508/you-were-you-are-elegy
No word count or rules, except that your poem must be an elegy.
If it helps, elegies are defined by a haunting, mournful, regretful, and wistful atmosphere. I’ve included a few examples from literature below:
* https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44733/lycidas
* http://www.online-literature.com/tennyson/718/
* https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/45480/when-lilacs-last-in-the-dooryard-bloomd
* https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/50756/natal-command
* https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poetrymagazine/poems/49508/you-were-you-are-elegy
Fermented & Seasoned
Fermented like grapes inside of fine wine
Seasoned like steaks on plates of fine dine
Standing erect with the spine of a stand-up man
Crossing many of plains that contain quicksand
Hard to withstand the music that's playing repeatedly
Tired of taking knees in memory of fallen family
Bravely, I still rise like a rose beneath the Sun's rays
Wondering when it'll be me who sees my end of days
You could say it's morbid of me to constantly think of mortality
But I see that, at the drop of a dime, I can be a casualty
Another fatality prematurely meeting his demise
Causing my family to grieve with more tears in their eyes
Trying to focus my eyes on more joy than pain
As blue skies get enveloped by clouds and rain
How do you maintain smiles through miles of decay
As hope's tires start displaying signs of fray
When losing your way despite the use of GPS
Cause satellite images get distorted by stress
All I can do is my best while behind the wheel
And hope hydroplaning doesn't total my steel
Seasoned like steaks on plates of fine dine
Standing erect with the spine of a stand-up man
Crossing many of plains that contain quicksand
Hard to withstand the music that's playing repeatedly
Tired of taking knees in memory of fallen family
Bravely, I still rise like a rose beneath the Sun's rays
Wondering when it'll be me who sees my end of days
You could say it's morbid of me to constantly think of mortality
But I see that, at the drop of a dime, I can be a casualty
Another fatality prematurely meeting his demise
Causing my family to grieve with more tears in their eyes
Trying to focus my eyes on more joy than pain
As blue skies get enveloped by clouds and rain
How do you maintain smiles through miles of decay
As hope's tires start displaying signs of fray
When losing your way despite the use of GPS
Cause satellite images get distorted by stress
All I can do is my best while behind the wheel
And hope hydroplaning doesn't total my steel
Written by da_poetic-edifier
(Damon)
Go To Page
Haunted
I'm haunted by the words of a disturbed mind
A woman seeking peace but could never find
Cause other things would bind onto her soul
Escaping its firm grasp was her ultimate goal
Innocence was stole at a tender, young age
Causing her mind to have fits of rage
Finding the final page of endless chapters
Is the conclusion she was chasing after
Faster & faster was the decline of her health
Mental and physical but pixels were in stealth
Her bundle of wealth entered the scene at 16
Bringing some joy into a world that's so mean
She nor I ever dreamed that we'd depart
Leaving several years in an unclaimed cart
Breaking our hearts; she left me no choice
Now on Mother's Day, I yearn for her voice
That's no longer a choice afforded either of us
Cause she's taken a journey on a one-way bus
Now I must keep on; being torn by her words
Tethered to my psyche as spilled milk curds
A woman seeking peace but could never find
Cause other things would bind onto her soul
Escaping its firm grasp was her ultimate goal
Innocence was stole at a tender, young age
Causing her mind to have fits of rage
Finding the final page of endless chapters
Is the conclusion she was chasing after
Faster & faster was the decline of her health
Mental and physical but pixels were in stealth
Her bundle of wealth entered the scene at 16
Bringing some joy into a world that's so mean
She nor I ever dreamed that we'd depart
Leaving several years in an unclaimed cart
Breaking our hearts; she left me no choice
Now on Mother's Day, I yearn for her voice
That's no longer a choice afforded either of us
Cause she's taken a journey on a one-way bus
Now I must keep on; being torn by her words
Tethered to my psyche as spilled milk curds
Written by da_poetic-edifier
(Damon)
Go To Page
Anonymous
Related submission no longer exists.
Necromancer
Fearless, as most youth can be,
I abased my dose of purity.
Spent all of my days trying to conquer the night
With reckless curiosity,
I courted Death with intensity
And shunned all chaperones, save pure Delight.
I did not heed the mourning dove
Or the consequence of requited love,
Convinced that I was somehow born invincible.
I committed the worst of crimes,
Social suicide so many times
That even my ghost has now become invisible.
I abased my dose of purity.
Spent all of my days trying to conquer the night
With reckless curiosity,
I courted Death with intensity
And shunned all chaperones, save pure Delight.
I did not heed the mourning dove
Or the consequence of requited love,
Convinced that I was somehow born invincible.
I committed the worst of crimes,
Social suicide so many times
That even my ghost has now become invisible.
Written by RobinGayle
Go To Page
Afterlife
There isn't any dark underbelly
or shadow clad evil waiting to drag us
kicking into the opening roots of a bloody tree.
You won't find that the room temperature
drops and a pale figure appears dripping wet
because the previous owner of the house
wants you to find her bones at the bottom of a well.
But you will see that shock of grey hair
walking up the hill with her shopping bags
as you drive past and think for a moment
it was her.
You will kneel in the garden
to tie off daffodils and remember that
she showed you how to do it.
You will hear your name being called
when you play loud music and turn it down
to listen for that voice again.
You will be asked to spare some change
by a man in the supermarket
who smells of sweet sherry and Sunday roast.
So you see, this is how they come to haunt us,
to make us remember, this is how they keep a foot
in our world, this is how we hold on.
or shadow clad evil waiting to drag us
kicking into the opening roots of a bloody tree.
You won't find that the room temperature
drops and a pale figure appears dripping wet
because the previous owner of the house
wants you to find her bones at the bottom of a well.
But you will see that shock of grey hair
walking up the hill with her shopping bags
as you drive past and think for a moment
it was her.
You will kneel in the garden
to tie off daffodils and remember that
she showed you how to do it.
You will hear your name being called
when you play loud music and turn it down
to listen for that voice again.
You will be asked to spare some change
by a man in the supermarket
who smells of sweet sherry and Sunday roast.
So you see, this is how they come to haunt us,
to make us remember, this is how they keep a foot
in our world, this is how we hold on.
Written by Razzerleaf
Go To Page
Corn flower and dust
The car park is pay and display now
and I know I'll say to someone
"it used to be free"
just to hear my voice
and watch my words dissipate
in pretend smoke plumes.
I chose the old bench,
it seems to fit the curve of my back
and I like the rough crackle of green paint
splintering into that front door blue.
It reminds me of your paint palette hands.
The foundations have spread beneath
the rivers bend, the fallen millstone
flashes silver ghosts of breached wellingtons
and spun dry socks, the bark and flap
of dog chased ducks.
The old stone bridge
lends its arc to frame the fields beyond.
A heavy frost is hiding fleeced sheep
from my cold watering eyes.
I didn't get the hot chocolate,
Nigel would have asked
and I need it to be summer,
its back packed sandwiches,
its childish chase around the toilet block
and the dressed in all the gear
walkers, saying "we come here every year"
Yes, Nigel would have asked,
so I'll see you when it's warmer.
I'm going to wait in the car,
give someone my ticket,
and they'll say "thank you"
I'll say "you're welcome"
and they'll know I miss you.
and I know I'll say to someone
"it used to be free"
just to hear my voice
and watch my words dissipate
in pretend smoke plumes.
I chose the old bench,
it seems to fit the curve of my back
and I like the rough crackle of green paint
splintering into that front door blue.
It reminds me of your paint palette hands.
The foundations have spread beneath
the rivers bend, the fallen millstone
flashes silver ghosts of breached wellingtons
and spun dry socks, the bark and flap
of dog chased ducks.
The old stone bridge
lends its arc to frame the fields beyond.
A heavy frost is hiding fleeced sheep
from my cold watering eyes.
I didn't get the hot chocolate,
Nigel would have asked
and I need it to be summer,
its back packed sandwiches,
its childish chase around the toilet block
and the dressed in all the gear
walkers, saying "we come here every year"
Yes, Nigel would have asked,
so I'll see you when it's warmer.
I'm going to wait in the car,
give someone my ticket,
and they'll say "thank you"
I'll say "you're welcome"
and they'll know I miss you.
Written by Razzerleaf
Go To Page
Mambo #5
the end of a well-worn path
...always?
seems to arrive unexpectedly
~ never mind you’ve been waiting,
watching in slow motion
its march across the horizon
inch by excruciating mile,
~never mind it should feel
familiar by now;
the moment shows up unannounced,
scratching fresh paint from the door,
lost and unmoored, overflowing
empty hands deprived of everything
you once offered;
stale breath overfills these lungs
spilling out in mumbled curses ~
one by one, they tumble headlong
into the silence that’s settling
deep into my bones;
lines that separate you from me
feel drawn in permanent marker
...always?
seems to arrive unexpectedly
~ never mind you’ve been waiting,
watching in slow motion
its march across the horizon
inch by excruciating mile,
~never mind it should feel
familiar by now;
the moment shows up unannounced,
scratching fresh paint from the door,
lost and unmoored, overflowing
empty hands deprived of everything
you once offered;
stale breath overfills these lungs
spilling out in mumbled curses ~
one by one, they tumble headlong
into the silence that’s settling
deep into my bones;
lines that separate you from me
feel drawn in permanent marker
Written by LunaGreyhawk
Go To Page
Emmitt Till
To that young boy named Emmitt Till
Whose death was heard on Capitol Hill
Whose crime was naught but he was black
Whose judgement was his life to lack
A time when freedom hid her face
And reason was without her place
A decade, two, and century still
To maim, and pulverize and kill
'Twas such a time in this great land
Where hatred waved his wild hand
And in his murd'rous rage contend
A nation witnessed Emmitt's end
And all the papers, all around
Saw Emmitt's blood upon the ground
And though he died, his voice could tell
America was doomed to hell
And yet, despite the whims of rage
America would turn the page
And those that loved, and those that felt
Would cause the hearts of men to melt
Encapsulated in the ice
Of war and cash and other vice
The blinding blizzard went away
To bring on freedom's sunny day
And though the road is long
I still
Recall the life of Emmitt Till
Whose death was heard on Capitol Hill
Whose crime was naught but he was black
Whose judgement was his life to lack
A time when freedom hid her face
And reason was without her place
A decade, two, and century still
To maim, and pulverize and kill
'Twas such a time in this great land
Where hatred waved his wild hand
And in his murd'rous rage contend
A nation witnessed Emmitt's end
And all the papers, all around
Saw Emmitt's blood upon the ground
And though he died, his voice could tell
America was doomed to hell
And yet, despite the whims of rage
America would turn the page
And those that loved, and those that felt
Would cause the hearts of men to melt
Encapsulated in the ice
Of war and cash and other vice
The blinding blizzard went away
To bring on freedom's sunny day
And though the road is long
I still
Recall the life of Emmitt Till
Written by EleazarSwan
Go To Page
To Those Who Fought for Us
Far out in the desert He heard it's cry
'Twas sick and helpless and ready to die
'Twas sick and helpless and ready to die
—————————————————————
Hold back my fingers, let loose the waves
O, guard the mind from what it craves
Soldier! Straight your bended knee
And do what others ask of me:
Destroy the foe, unleash your fire
Protect the freedoms we desire
Go off to war, though not your own
And seize the victory alone
Go battle men, the brazen kind
And leave your fears and tears behind
Go calm the seas! Patrol the air!
Be present here and everywhere,
March on! The thunders hear you roar
And knock upon that sullen door
.
And knock upon that sullen door
.
Put on your Dress, arrayed in gold
As mem'ries that are never old
Put on your medals and decoration
As one salutes, so too a nation
'Twas sick and helpless and ready to die
'Twas sick and helpless and ready to die
—————————————————————
Hold back my fingers, let loose the waves
O, guard the mind from what it craves
Soldier! Straight your bended knee
And do what others ask of me:
Destroy the foe, unleash your fire
Protect the freedoms we desire
Go off to war, though not your own
And seize the victory alone
Go battle men, the brazen kind
And leave your fears and tears behind
Go calm the seas! Patrol the air!
Be present here and everywhere,
March on! The thunders hear you roar
And knock upon that sullen door
.
And knock upon that sullen door
.
Put on your Dress, arrayed in gold
As mem'ries that are never old
Put on your medals and decoration
As one salutes, so too a nation
Written by EleazarSwan
Go To Page
Afterlife
Only now am asking my Lord
to make me steadfast in His religion..
Now that am possessed
But still not yet invade..
I can't find my aid
Covered in a cob web..
What's wrong with my brain?
So much pain in my head..
Pool of my own blood
Soaked in a drill hole..
I must have gone sane .. or is this insane?..
What's up with my change?
I might have exchanged..
What's this am feeling?
How can I engage?
How far can I live?
I need not an answer
I don't need a back up..
If so am living
Still on the sidewalk
Submitting my homework..
Voices from far away..
People so nearly..
No one will stare at me..
Pretending not to see me..
Am not understanding..
This might be the hard way..
Some got the soft way..
It is stated that I know Marie Claire..
Also reported that I know Fowler Sia..
I am not a foreseer..
I don't know Mary Claire..
I only know the name Fowler Sia..
I might not sound very clear..
This is me reporting from the afterlife..
I can only hear the sound of a baby yelling Mama mia mia..
to make me steadfast in His religion..
Now that am possessed
But still not yet invade..
I can't find my aid
Covered in a cob web..
What's wrong with my brain?
So much pain in my head..
Pool of my own blood
Soaked in a drill hole..
I must have gone sane .. or is this insane?..
What's up with my change?
I might have exchanged..
What's this am feeling?
How can I engage?
How far can I live?
I need not an answer
I don't need a back up..
If so am living
Still on the sidewalk
Submitting my homework..
Voices from far away..
People so nearly..
No one will stare at me..
Pretending not to see me..
Am not understanding..
This might be the hard way..
Some got the soft way..
It is stated that I know Marie Claire..
Also reported that I know Fowler Sia..
I am not a foreseer..
I don't know Mary Claire..
I only know the name Fowler Sia..
I might not sound very clear..
This is me reporting from the afterlife..
I can only hear the sound of a baby yelling Mama mia mia..
Written by Numer90
(Numer0-un0)
Go To Page
Visiting The Cemetery
Last chance of revival...
What is life?
A journey..
Destination?
Grave..
Destiny?
Death..
"Will you come visit me in the cemetery?..
In this grave am crawling..
Will you come visit me in the cemetery?..
In this grave it's boring..
Will you come visit me in the cemetery?..
For the sake of friendship take a trip to Chattanooga..
Come visit me in the cemetery..
On Sundays I heard random voices shouting hallelujah!..
It's too unconsecrated Ted!
That this I stated..
This haunting voice keeps calling me out Oh! You desperado..
I could have resisted them, but this voice came from so many sopranos..
My life's forfeit condemning me for an Excommunicado..
All these gas canisters inside my missing cargo..
Don't ever mistake my deliberate short-sightedness for blindness
I am not the man sent from your uncle.. And I am not the clown pogo..
A passport in my possession bearing the name Zomorano..
In a twist of fate, I am Numero Uno..
The compensatory mechanism of my failing heart an ailment of mine over the years my treatment is with an avocado..
Will you come visit me in the cemetery?..
In this grave am crawling.
Will you come visit me in the cemetery?..
In this grave it's boring..
Will you come visit me in the cemetery?..
For the sake of friendship take a trip to Chattanooga..
Come visit me in the cemetery..
On Sundays I heard random voices shouting hallelujah!..
What is life?
A journey..
Destination?
Grave..
Destiny?
Death..
"Will you come visit me in the cemetery?..
In this grave am crawling..
Will you come visit me in the cemetery?..
In this grave it's boring..
Will you come visit me in the cemetery?..
For the sake of friendship take a trip to Chattanooga..
Come visit me in the cemetery..
On Sundays I heard random voices shouting hallelujah!..
It's too unconsecrated Ted!
That this I stated..
This haunting voice keeps calling me out Oh! You desperado..
I could have resisted them, but this voice came from so many sopranos..
My life's forfeit condemning me for an Excommunicado..
All these gas canisters inside my missing cargo..
Don't ever mistake my deliberate short-sightedness for blindness
I am not the man sent from your uncle.. And I am not the clown pogo..
A passport in my possession bearing the name Zomorano..
In a twist of fate, I am Numero Uno..
The compensatory mechanism of my failing heart an ailment of mine over the years my treatment is with an avocado..
Will you come visit me in the cemetery?..
In this grave am crawling.
Will you come visit me in the cemetery?..
In this grave it's boring..
Will you come visit me in the cemetery?..
For the sake of friendship take a trip to Chattanooga..
Come visit me in the cemetery..
On Sundays I heard random voices shouting hallelujah!..
Written by Numer90
(Numer0-un0)
Go To Page
Shakespeare in Love
Thinking I would suffocate from heat, or dehydrate
into a shriveled leaf, I wanted to crawl under a rock
as those little animals in the desert, content
to watch the world turn when I felt you cross over.
When rain came I was wanton to drown—
allow mud to engulf my shoulders, blocking
sound to sleep so I could join you, rolling
through light as milkweed until we were home.
Yet, just as heat is abated by rain, thus is rain
by heat, always in time to push the clock forward
another minute. How easily my hands could navigate
my fate as effortlessly as the natural order of things;
but,
I keep thinking of Romeo; had he only waited—
just a few more seconds—before swallowing
the contents of that poisonous vial. . .
what then would've become of them.
Is this how Shakespeare felt while penning his grief—
too much of a coward to surrender to his own death?
~
into a shriveled leaf, I wanted to crawl under a rock
as those little animals in the desert, content
to watch the world turn when I felt you cross over.
When rain came I was wanton to drown—
allow mud to engulf my shoulders, blocking
sound to sleep so I could join you, rolling
through light as milkweed until we were home.
Yet, just as heat is abated by rain, thus is rain
by heat, always in time to push the clock forward
another minute. How easily my hands could navigate
my fate as effortlessly as the natural order of things;
but,
I keep thinking of Romeo; had he only waited—
just a few more seconds—before swallowing
the contents of that poisonous vial. . .
what then would've become of them.
Is this how Shakespeare felt while penning his grief—
too much of a coward to surrender to his own death?
~
Written by Ahavati
(Tams)
Go To Page
DEATH OF A POOR SOUL (AN ELEGY)
Life is like a blazing star
Blossom in the summer in the fall it is gone
Life is like an evening star
Shining in the evening in the morn it is gone
Should I call thee a song?
Or better, a memory of the funeral
And crying, I will hit the gong
Minding not the pains in my humeral
The lasting bond we built
Now broken in the everlasting depth
And love we thought can't tilt
Now forgotten in the coldest depth
But hush for thou liveth
Forever fresh, fresh in my memory box
And in Mem'ry lane I giveth
Way to streams from my sighting box
But can one really live again,
If one lying straight in the opening deep?
We shalt wait thee to regain
Thy breath from thy lasting sleep.
And in the new order live
Where death and its sting will forever die
and in eternal joy thrive
But for now we wait and cry
For Life is like a blazing star
Blossom in the summer in the fall it is gone
Life is like an evening star
Shining in the evening in the morn it is gone
Blossom in the summer in the fall it is gone
Life is like an evening star
Shining in the evening in the morn it is gone
Should I call thee a song?
Or better, a memory of the funeral
And crying, I will hit the gong
Minding not the pains in my humeral
The lasting bond we built
Now broken in the everlasting depth
And love we thought can't tilt
Now forgotten in the coldest depth
But hush for thou liveth
Forever fresh, fresh in my memory box
And in Mem'ry lane I giveth
Way to streams from my sighting box
But can one really live again,
If one lying straight in the opening deep?
We shalt wait thee to regain
Thy breath from thy lasting sleep.
And in the new order live
Where death and its sting will forever die
and in eternal joy thrive
But for now we wait and cry
For Life is like a blazing star
Blossom in the summer in the fall it is gone
Life is like an evening star
Shining in the evening in the morn it is gone
Written by Gentle
Go To Page
