Poetry competition CLOSED 3rd October 2011 3:52am
WINNER
Abracadabra
Abracadabra
RUNNERS-UP:
DarcAnGeL
and rayheinrich
it's not easy being green
The Electric Car's Prayer
May that great battery in the sky
maintain all my energy levels
in sufficient quantity
to provide a realistic range
acceptable to discerning drivers
without resorting
to poisonous fossil fuels
Bless the design team
who gave me my benign
Ferrari smile
shrinking my power cells
to acceptable dimensions
whilst keeping the weight down
and my purchase price low
Grant little children ears
to hear my silent approach
as they reclaim the streets
to play smog free
for I know how oil companies
love to seize on tragedy
milking bad publicity to the max
Please persuade celebrities
to use me freely
with full national network coverage
And in the early days
when I feel crushed
by the harsh air-horns of truckers
as they hound me on the freeway
do not let 50 mph seem like my
last gasp
Please God let me be
a vehicle that my owner feels proud
to hose down on the drive
and above all please
let people think
I am a real automobile
and not just a toaster on wheels
A-cars
May that great battery in the sky
maintain all my energy levels
in sufficient quantity
to provide a realistic range
acceptable to discerning drivers
without resorting
to poisonous fossil fuels
Bless the design team
who gave me my benign
Ferrari smile
shrinking my power cells
to acceptable dimensions
whilst keeping the weight down
and my purchase price low
Grant little children ears
to hear my silent approach
as they reclaim the streets
to play smog free
for I know how oil companies
love to seize on tragedy
milking bad publicity to the max
Please persuade celebrities
to use me freely
with full national network coverage
And in the early days
when I feel crushed
by the harsh air-horns of truckers
as they hound me on the freeway
do not let 50 mph seem like my
last gasp
Please God let me be
a vehicle that my owner feels proud
to hose down on the drive
and above all please
let people think
I am a real automobile
and not just a toaster on wheels
A-cars
Values
There's an empty old house in Bulgaria
at the foot of the mountains,
near a European fault line
It has large windows and a green porch
For the same price as my beat-up VW
or half a British holiday
There are no immediate neighbours,
it comes with its own land
complete with fruit trees
and outbuildings
I could grow things--
keep a donkey
and Oh,
there's a well as well
I could learn the language
embrace the community
finding some answers
I can't find where my life is today
There's an empty old house in Bulgaria
at the foot of the mountains,
near a European fault line
It has large windows and a green porch
For the same price as my beat-up VW
or half a British holiday
There are no immediate neighbours,
it comes with its own land
complete with fruit trees
and outbuildings
I could grow things--
keep a donkey
and Oh,
there's a well as well
I could learn the language
embrace the community
finding some answers
I can't find where my life is today
[font=Courier New][size=2]
< the great white birds have come back to us >
the great white birds
have come back to the bay
those great white water birds
busy breeding again
busy grabbing their fish
busy swooping over my head
those great white birds
back from the shadows
here again
here in the bay
the shadows of their wings
making the sun blink
so here's a salute
to the Baytown Rod, Reel, and Gun Club
to my father and my mother and their friends
to all those stubborn fisherman and hunters
to all those who loved the bay
they put their work in
(thirty years of it)
they put their work in
knowing
what it could be
they did their part
knowing
what it should be
Rod, Reel, and Gun Club Fish Fry Fairs
and city councilmen
Rod, Reel, and Gun Club Oyster Fry Festivals
and state senators
and letters, all those letters...
letters to the newspapers
letters to the congress
letters to the companies
letters to anyone who would
(but mostly wouldn't)
listen
and here's a salute
to the fight against the shell dredgers
"it will cost jobs" the dredgers said
"there's not that much silt" the dredgers said
while the silt from their dredging
was killing the oyster reefs
killing the marshes
my mom, the pilot, renting a plane
my dad, hanging out the window
hanging out the window over Galveston bay
my mom and dad
swooping over the bay
my dad taking pictures of the silt
of the plumes of dredgers' silt
stretching
stretching far across the bay
my dad sending pictures to the newspapers
my dad proving the dredgers lied
the great white birds
have come back to us
those great white birds
back from the shadows
the shadows of their wings
making the sun blink
- - -
(And yes, it's all true. I'm not sure why I've never written
a poem about it. (Maybe I never felt I could.) So thank you
beautiful_accident for holding this competition, it was just
the kick in the butt I needed.)
< the great white birds have come back to us >
the great white birds
have come back to the bay
those great white water birds
busy breeding again
busy grabbing their fish
busy swooping over my head
those great white birds
back from the shadows
here again
here in the bay
the shadows of their wings
making the sun blink
so here's a salute
to the Baytown Rod, Reel, and Gun Club
to my father and my mother and their friends
to all those stubborn fisherman and hunters
to all those who loved the bay
they put their work in
(thirty years of it)
they put their work in
knowing
what it could be
they did their part
knowing
what it should be
Rod, Reel, and Gun Club Fish Fry Fairs
and city councilmen
Rod, Reel, and Gun Club Oyster Fry Festivals
and state senators
and letters, all those letters...
letters to the newspapers
letters to the congress
letters to the companies
letters to anyone who would
(but mostly wouldn't)
listen
and here's a salute
to the fight against the shell dredgers
"it will cost jobs" the dredgers said
"there's not that much silt" the dredgers said
while the silt from their dredging
was killing the oyster reefs
killing the marshes
my mom, the pilot, renting a plane
my dad, hanging out the window
hanging out the window over Galveston bay
my mom and dad
swooping over the bay
my dad taking pictures of the silt
of the plumes of dredgers' silt
stretching
stretching far across the bay
my dad sending pictures to the newspapers
my dad proving the dredgers lied
the great white birds
have come back to us
those great white birds
back from the shadows
the shadows of their wings
making the sun blink
- - -
(And yes, it's all true. I'm not sure why I've never written
a poem about it. (Maybe I never felt I could.) So thank you
beautiful_accident for holding this competition, it was just
the kick in the butt I needed.)
Anonymous
Dear Tesco.
Dear Protestors.
We offer you quality in assorted slices.
We offer you competitive reasonable prices.
We offer you employment for your sleepy town,
In accordance with the work plan of Gordon Brown.
We offer you petrol seven days a week.
We offer you the chance to be part of something elite,
something to shape that desolate place
and change that old factory into a brand new face.
We offer you our fast track twenty shopping tills,
so you can buy more and spend less on your shopping bills.
Fresh meat, fresh fruit, fresh bread, fresh fish,
so under one roof is all you could ever wish,
and every day we offer you five new cheap fruit and veg.
'EVERY LITTLE HELPS' - This is our pledge.
Dear Tesco.
How can we teach our kids morals from birth,
if you carry on building and raping the earth?
Yes you can promise fresh fruit if you please
but how can you provide this without any trees?
and soon you'll have taken over all market stalls,
and other shops, and reign over all,
So we have to worship at the shrine of blue and red.
While the farmers turn bankrupt and their cattle end up dead.
So you import cheap meat from abroad down south,
and bring over blue tongue and foot and mouth,
and we don't know what's in it as we chew and swallow,
and get new illnesses when we wake up tomorrow.
So while you're wearing your managers tie and shirt
why don't you go promote that EVERY LITTLE HURTS!
So people, let me put this in another dimension.
If you're not pissed off... you're not paying attention.
Dear Protestors.
We offer you quality in assorted slices.
We offer you competitive reasonable prices.
We offer you employment for your sleepy town,
In accordance with the work plan of Gordon Brown.
We offer you petrol seven days a week.
We offer you the chance to be part of something elite,
something to shape that desolate place
and change that old factory into a brand new face.
We offer you our fast track twenty shopping tills,
so you can buy more and spend less on your shopping bills.
Fresh meat, fresh fruit, fresh bread, fresh fish,
so under one roof is all you could ever wish,
and every day we offer you five new cheap fruit and veg.
'EVERY LITTLE HELPS' - This is our pledge.
Dear Tesco.
How can we teach our kids morals from birth,
if you carry on building and raping the earth?
Yes you can promise fresh fruit if you please
but how can you provide this without any trees?
and soon you'll have taken over all market stalls,
and other shops, and reign over all,
So we have to worship at the shrine of blue and red.
While the farmers turn bankrupt and their cattle end up dead.
So you import cheap meat from abroad down south,
and bring over blue tongue and foot and mouth,
and we don't know what's in it as we chew and swallow,
and get new illnesses when we wake up tomorrow.
So while you're wearing your managers tie and shirt
why don't you go promote that EVERY LITTLE HURTS!
So people, let me put this in another dimension.
If you're not pissed off... you're not paying attention.
Another storm warning is on the news
how many this week, three? plus maybe another two
all with the the same message, same ol' chant
the RENT is DUE, the RENT is DUE
a tsunami has hit my neighbors' place
their stuff tossed out, their kids, the lucky ones now homeless
the bill is long, our debts are deep
a flash flood warning
debt collectors have started to ring,
my time is near
i travel far, skip oceans and continents
escape the harassment, lay low in some foreign land
but my land lady owns it, she's just so fuckin everywhere
heat waves and hail storms deliver her texts
Katrina, Irene, Tomas and Ike
her avenging soldiers, a hint of her incredible might
the clock is ticking
next, she started getting nasty
shaking the floors underneath us, fires are now aplenty
breaking our things as we broke hers
armageddon's just her way of warning her tenants
lest they be replaced by tidy phantoms
those that found no place in Hades's crowded kingdom
dead souls can't beat us the world's destruction champions
maybe their presence will give her peace while she slowly rejuvenates
so we look up at the classifieds
that lay dark between the twinkles at night
some still not finished, some just too far
some already inhabited by 'aliens' just not up to par
that leaves us at square one
with what some call mother, earth, nature, and many other nicknames
who hears we will soon check out,
and maybe move out to Mars
another branch of her ever expanding franchise
she sends us a letter, stamped with death and dark smoke
an eviction notice has been signed and delivered to us all
ominously hanging over every catastrophe we hear of
there on the bottom is the amount due
what we owe her for all the years plus damages plus interest of course
and still counting....
Extreme Content Warning : This poem contains extreme content which some readers may find disturbing. It is unsuitable for children or anyone who is easily offended.
Please . . .
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/23967/
Please . . .
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/23967/
Anonymous
Quelled
Life will not stand,
still or unbroken;
as the lusty beast ceases growling
and respiration sinks away,
let the sun set against quelled flesh
recycling naturally.
Don't rape the water table
or embrace carcinogens
to unnaturally beautify my corpse;
abandon chemically laced lawns.
Please do not erect
large monuments to your grief,
or add to the wastage
burying 30 million board feet of hardwoods
90,272 tons of steel
2,700 tons of copper and bronze
and 1,636,000 tons of reinforced concrete every year...
gently wash and anoint the husk I leave,
wrap me in a simple linen shroud
and gently place me in the ground;
cultivate love
letting wild flowers erupt
from my biotic decomposition
and a revitalized womb.
Let nature blossom
embracing decay, because
life will not stand,
still or unbroken;
as the lusty beast ceases growling
and respiration sinks away,
let the sun set against quelled flesh
recycling naturally.
Life will not stand,
still or unbroken;
as the lusty beast ceases growling
and respiration sinks away,
let the sun set against quelled flesh
recycling naturally.
Don't rape the water table
or embrace carcinogens
to unnaturally beautify my corpse;
abandon chemically laced lawns.
Please do not erect
large monuments to your grief,
or add to the wastage
burying 30 million board feet of hardwoods
90,272 tons of steel
2,700 tons of copper and bronze
and 1,636,000 tons of reinforced concrete every year...
gently wash and anoint the husk I leave,
wrap me in a simple linen shroud
and gently place me in the ground;
cultivate love
letting wild flowers erupt
from my biotic decomposition
and a revitalized womb.
Let nature blossom
embracing decay, because
life will not stand,
still or unbroken;
as the lusty beast ceases growling
and respiration sinks away,
let the sun set against quelled flesh
recycling naturally.
"and they cannot feed on hope
or a cliche handful of rice forever"
[font=Courier New][size=2]
I think Abra should get AT LEAST THREE first place awards.
Heartfelt and SO diverse. Congrats! (You secret cat you.)
or a cliche handful of rice forever"
[font=Courier New][size=2]
I think Abra should get AT LEAST THREE first place awards.
Heartfelt and SO diverse. Congrats! (You secret cat you.)
