Poetry competition CLOSED 14th July 2021 00:59am
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Underground Elegy

poet Anonymous

The bridge soon to be crossed

As near the lake, I cast a stone
and stand and watch it bounce  
 duck's and drakes, squawk in overtones  
skimming, its short flight pronounced  
settled, leave the self so all alone  
short term, that came all unannounced  
as life, will have its ups and downs  
each ripple ebbing, slowly drown.  

In mourning, standing on the bridge  
hear the water trickle past  
 be with it, its dark seeing images  
who threw the die? that you were cast  
 stolen time, that we were pledged  
my soul flies, sombre, at half mast  
fair maiden, taken so, and carried off  
in death so cold, as snow so soft.  
 So waxed and whitened, loving paled away  
carved angels weep, so insincere  
 stand I, beside a clod so freshly laid  
the roses broken stem, rising sap so disappeared,  
recall all joy, before decay  
each vernal day, the never year  
wilting early, as the headstones tilt  
the ground below my feet, it feels no guilt.  
As youth's champagne,  bubbles rising in the glass  
empty, the tall flute of my lament  
 lying now in circumstances caveat  
empty dregs, my life of that ferment  
rising as a ghosts in ethereal contact  
clay hold the emptiness, and not repent  
our joy would ever multiply  
now empathy, it's mask, my eventide.  
 Shadows of our spirit's so divorced  
holding grief, a vacuous diamond ring  
death dealt a final intercourse  
the heat of love and its being  
as the hearse, drawn by the horse  
the dead march, echo's hovering  
till we meet again, in a last kiss  
 the heart, in truth, never could dismiss.
poet Anonymous

Cemetary Drunk

It's just down the road a few miles
from the hospital, that hospital  
But they tried, So I can't be mad  
It's in a place just outside Chicago  
A very nice suburb to me  
McDonald's world headquarters  
Ray Croc would be proud,  maybe not  
Can't assume what a dead man thinks  
I'm thinking about this on my way  
Traffic, stop go. Stop go. Stop go.  
Just want to get to you. In a hurry.  
Finally, the gates that lead me there  
Little winding paths for cars  
Third one on the right  
That's where you're waiting for me  
So sweet,  you're always waiting for me  
I park, look around. See kids running  
They don't see me, thank God  
I pull out the paper bag and walk  
We're having drinks tonight baby  
I finally see the outline up ahead  
Of the headboards of your neighbors  
Yours lays flat with your name inscribed  
Perfect for me to put my face against  
As I lay on top of you whispering  
You don't whisper back to me  
Always so quiet these days even though  
Sometimes we fight and I scream  
And beg for you to speak to me  
Say something, anything please!  
But tonight we don't fight. Just love  
I drink from the bottle, give you some  
Not much, alcohol has always been  
A weakness of yours you tried to hide  
But I'm not telling anyone. Just us  
We drink until I start crying again  
I've always been one of those drunks  
You let me lay with you counting stars  
Unusual so close to the city, but  
Tonight they shine for us, twinkling  
I kiss your name. My lips on cold marble  
Oh I love you so much my beautiful man  
It's almost time for me to go home  
I have to pick up the kids from a friend  
Yeah, I'm an asshole because I was  
Drinking and now I'm going to drive  
But it was cheap wine not very strong  
I don't want to leave you ever  
Wish I could have a bed just like yours  
Right now I can't afford that luxury  
Raising kids gets expensive, one income  
I leave without a word till I reach the car  
Turning around to face you again  
I yell at the top of my lungs I Love You!!!  
Then I laugh because every time  
It reminds me of the day I fell for you  
You left the hotel where I worked  
Just stopped for a quick lunch  
When you went out to the car
me watching you from the lobby,  
You yelled at the top of your lungs  
I Love You!!! so loud I heard it inside  
I still hear it inside. Every day and night.
poet Anonymous

Camden Town

DJ rocks a reggae beat,
dull after dark. In the day, sticky underfoot,
the stench of old ale, cider, and smoke.
Some strain of skunk or spunk; sweet, sour and salty
My mop sheaths the stench for a time in pine
To be drowned later under a swell of noxious perfume.
Pints pour and scores are totted and marked
Darts thrown, targets hooked,
unknown, unnamed, ultimately forgotten.

Sacred rituals, breathy smiles,
Intensify to climax in sordid shags out back
Out of sight between a pallet of empty bottles
and the back wall of the gents
snatched minutes of abandon, droplets of pleasure
fleeting unions that leave cement burns and stubble rash
smudges on a white-washed denim skirt.
Flushed, he finishes first. Blush.
Memories, like fetid burps, turn the stomach
A different life you’d relive in a flash
if it was For One Night Only.

As the night rocks on
A man lays down in a doorway
across the road.
Listening to cackles and laughs,
roars and backslaps, bad sopranos,
salaried winos with beds to go to. Clean sheets.
He pulls his sleeping bag over his old bones
burrows down, pulls the hood over his head
to retain the remains of the summer heat
that slowly ebbs and sinks with the late evening sun.
In his bulbous red nose,
the lingering smell of noontime rooftop, melting tar;
hot, boiled exhaust fumes, tube tunnel tornados
evaporated piss sprayed there last night
 after a Great Night Out Lads.

He wasn’t there last night, officer
I would’ve seen him I'm sure

His own stink, meshed with the fabric of a manky Tshirt
Under the beer soaked fibres of a threadbare jumper
Worn rain or shine, stained in vomit and wine.
A woman had stooped down, outside the Roundhouse,
holding her breath, proffered a hand
hot coffee and an egg sandwich
feeling righteous and proud of herself,
But who the fuck likes egg fucking sandwiches.

He begged a burger from a spotty teen,
Spilled the coins from his cup for a Thunderbird
At the Nine-Eleven.
Draining the last dregs, he chases it up with
a girly cocktail, retrieved from a ledge outside the pub.
Stomach tended, he squeezes his eyes shut
To sleep a dread slumber.

He stays there all weekend, in the spot where he lay,
in a side-street doorway, rarely used, often pissed in
while we sunbathed, baring our bums to the hot London sun
on the tar covered roof of the Pub overlooking his grave.
Monday morning, as I peer through a first floor window,
I watch as paramedics arrive, no lights shining, no siren bleating.
I see his dead face, as they zip him up, etched with so much life
Greyed and blackened, as if he was already in hell.
poet Anonymous

Elegy for a dying chapel

There’s an abandoned
Baptist church over  
on the avenue
I walk past
witnessing doors
with woven ivy.
Inside must be
barren by now—
a crumbling crucifix  
decaying above an altar,
oak beams breathing
exhales of prayer
into silence
pews vacant  
denied their purpose,
the font full of doves
nesting in holy arms.  
There’s something  
within me that is
endlessly curious
about loss
not just people
but the extinction
of God, the emptiness  
Sundays now bring
to idle tables
ashes to bare ashes
         dust to endless dust.
poet Anonymous

The Death I Mourn

7 years old, too young to understand
Oh dad died, come on my brother, let's ride our bikes to the forest
Play as if nothing has transpired

The silence round the table for dinners
Then play as if nothing happened
Go to school, go to church, go to hell dad

Mature thoughts replace childishness
Like do they know my father is in a grave
These before puberty, too young to have to understand

That is the death I mourn, not his selfish demise
poet Anonymous

Elegy for little angels flown to heaven

Alas, the bereaved mothers, the poor mommies
Who see only mummies of their  sons in nightmarish slumber
Left behind hugging dreary stony tombstones
While hearts harder than sepulchres
are the assasins
with no pity for those in their prime.

Loved ones lost to an unseen netherworld before their time
Killed in atrocious senseless crime
All the nurturing care and motherhood tossed to the winds
Maternal hearts bereaved until their own demise
Moving on easier suggested than done.
Their only  hope and consolation
A hereafter family reunion.
Their current recurrent haunts are sepulchres
instead of their kids playgrounds.

But they were loved, these little souls
Who rest in peace in catacombs
Yet their souls have soared to the heavens.
poet Anonymous


Memories in mourning shrouds, severed ties
touching lives, feather light leaving no mark
Forever is forever sworn, sacred oaths
born in deepest night always die in day’s light
Do no harm, leave no trace of my passing
Paths cross, merge in a heartbeat, separate
Impossible to remember every bright moment
your forgotten moments with me are final proof
I don’t remember until I walk over the grave of us
poet Anonymous

To: Sweetest Love

We were everything, now we are nothing
Forever you have my heart as I let yours go
poet Anonymous


(English Sonnet)
Beneath greyed cloak tall evergreens reach high  
to drink from air,  their needles weighted full.  
Limbs supple, softer than an unborn sigh,  
subdued in mist, give way to Nature’s pull.  
At night, soft whispers you may nigh hear of …  
o' do not fear and turn to run from such;  
for, only ‘tis the kiss of winds above  
in chilling flight … upon life’s lips, its touch  
Amidst those mists and shadows lies a shrine  
of vine-made arbors … gravestones for the dead.  
An angel stands its guard, by Death’s design,  
that peaceful comfort wroughts when life has fled.  
Should thee soar high, between that angel’s wings,  
hold tight with faith; then, hear the song life sings.  
poet Anonymous

A Tit For Tat Tome

An Elegy , An Elegy ,

I'll Just Say To Hell With Thee

You Were A State Of Frequency

And Now You Are No More To Me

Bitter Is The Bend In The End

Of The Point To Anoint A Soul

Not Some Diamond Saint Yet Coal

I Can Not Bare To Appreciate

Well Wishes Regarding Your Fate

On Your Grave , Salt Can You Relate

Hell Hounds Haunt You No Rebate

An Elegy , An Elegy ,

I'll Just Say To Hell With Thee !
poet Anonymous


A body
Some shovelling

Stones turn
They rearrange
Useless as they are
Pointless as tears
I breath
Dead people don't

Anger is all I have left
Sad stories can't touch me

Love is hate
I hate sad people
Flowers as red as blood
Emptiness had put the knife in my hand, not me
poet Anonymous

In the trenches with the NHS

Fast they stood until they fell    
an army with no guns; just war
the mile of all compassion seen    
the tired smiles, the often tear    
Smothered in a safety shell    
the Hyppocratic Oath they swore    
the battle rage with foe unseen    
for in that work they are THE team    
For all they did "for the sick, the ill. the frail"    
the day the month how long the chore    
 for each roll upon deaths drum    
 some survive and some succumb    
That the enemy can be curtailed    
the fight be won and health restored    
and battle through in that great storm    
 soldiers of true valour, in a caring uniform

Just surrogates of family ties
the longest day, interminable night
but how many, did Covid compromise
just to man the front was their demise
poet Anonymous

Descent into the Madness

                  watch your descent into the madness
I feel blue for whatever is happening to you
Seeing you fall deeper into that blackness
Makes my heart ache for the person I once knew

Thinking I should extend a helping hand
As I watch your decent into the madness
I really try to sympathize and understand
Hoping you will come out of this badness

But you’ve gone too far into that sadness
I can’t climb down or jump into the abyss
As I watch your descent into the madness
I feel helpless at the edge of the precipice

So in the image of you in this psychotic state
I see your soul has been stripped of gladness
Wondering what will be of this dire fate
As I watch your descent into the m
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