Poetry competition CLOSED 19th July 2022 1:05am
Go to page:

My passion for poetry †!

poet Anonymous

Poetry Contest

Write a poem, about your passion for poetry
Be passionate and include why you love poetry,  and how it has and continues to help you.

New writes only.

No less than 50 words.

Be creative and enjoy!


poet Anonymous

My passion for poetry

It took me by surprise
In an English literature class
As I was barely back from Vietnam
We were asked to write a short story, if I recall.
Instead, I wrote a very angry poem
About cute kids - the lures -
And booby traps designed not to kill
But mame.

Much later, in a culinary phase
I wrote funny poems to do with food
Chocolate delights, pastries, …clairs.
Spaghetti and splashed tomato sauce.

Of course who can claim to be a poet
If he or she does not write
About love in many of its forms
From Heaven to Hell.

You grow with poetry
It allows you to spill your guts out.
Everything from
Zenith to Nadir.
poet Anonymous

MY PASSION POETRY

彡(✿╹◡╹) 𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘴𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘦
𝘛𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘦 𝘩𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘦𝘳  
𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘢𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘬𝘪𝘵𝘦
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘢𝘶𝘵𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘐 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘬 𝘪𝘯 𝘮𝘺 𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘴 𝘦𝘮𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦
𝘐𝘮𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘮𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘢 𝘨𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵
 
𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘥𝘰 𝘐 𝘢𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘦 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩?
𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘢𝘳𝘵 𝘰𝘧 𝘪𝘵 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘰
𝘛𝘰𝘰𝘭𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘦, & 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘴 𝘨𝘪𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘤𝘪𝘴𝘦 𝘵𝘰𝘶𝘤𝘩
𝘐𝘴 𝘸𝘩𝘺 𝘩𝘰𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘺 𝘵𝘰𝘰
𝘔𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘪𝘰𝘶𝘴𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘯'𝘵 𝘩𝘶𝘴𝘩
 
𝘞𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘮𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘺
𝘚𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘐 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘦
𝘔𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘦𝘻𝘺
𝘐 𝘴𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘥𝘦
𝘔𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘦𝘴𝘺
 
𝘙𝘩𝘺𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 is 𝘮𝘺 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘳𝘬
𝘚𝘰 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘳𝘦𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴  
𝘕𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘮𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬
𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘺 𝘷𝘰𝘤𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥𝘯'𝘵 𝘣𝘶𝘳𝘴𝘵
𝘗𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴 𝘱𝘦𝘳𝘧𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘨𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘮 𝘢 𝘥𝘰𝘳𝘬
 
𝘞𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘪𝘮𝘦 𝘐 𝘧𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘪𝘮𝘦
𝘔𝘺 𝘱𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘷𝘦
𝘉𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘲𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘦 𝘳𝘩𝘺𝘮𝘦  
𝘐 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘻𝘢 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘨𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘷𝘦
𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘐 𝘴𝘦𝘦 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘶𝘯 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘕𝘌!!!!
 
When I've discovered about Grammarly
That was my Pandora's Box  
The one key that I needed to golden my poetry
With reliance I now feel like a true  
"Poetess Fox"
I am who I am cause I'm Poet Nancy
 

𝘔𝘺 𝘭𝘦𝘨𝘢𝘤𝘺 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴
𝘈𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘧𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘦 𝘥𝘪𝘥
𝘞𝘳𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘴𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘮𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴
𝘔𝘺 𝘥𝘢𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵𝘳𝘺 𝘢𝘴 𝘸𝘦𝘭𝘭 𝘚𝘱𝘢𝘯𝘪𝘴𝘩 𝘴𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘥𝘪𝘥
𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘳𝘶𝘭𝘺 𝘤𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘴
 
𝘚𝘰 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘣𝘦𝘩𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘨𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘦𝘯 𝘨𝘪𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯  
𝘕𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘐'𝘥 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘤𝘩 𝘵𝘰 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘐 𝘢𝘮 𝘯𝘰𝘸
𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯
𝘐'𝘮 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧, 𝘩𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘣𝘰𝘸
𝘖𝘯 𝘢 𝘴𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘮𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘬𝘦𝘯
 
𝘏𝘦𝘢𝘷𝘦𝘯'𝘴 𝘨𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘮𝘦 𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘴𝘰 𝘐 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘶𝘴𝘦  
𝘓𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘚𝘩𝘢𝘬𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘈𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘯 𝘌𝘥𝘨𝘢𝘳 𝘗𝘰𝘦
𝘐'𝘥 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘦 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘮 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘦𝘴
𝘈 𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘱𝘰𝘦𝘵 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸
𝘙𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘯𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘐 𝘸𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘣𝘶𝘴𝘦  
(`∀ī)Ψ
poet Anonymous

hidden in plain sight.

poet Anonymous

Poetically Speaking

Poetry isÖ
Me spilling my tea
Of me being free
From pent up emotions
It builds my desires
And my sensuality
Itís a release
That drips into a river
Much sooner than eventually

Poetry isÖ

Refreshing
Itís a reckoning
That connects me with nature
Itís my date on paper
Itís a connectedness
With the male, female or genderless
Itís my hub, my nest
My safe place to communicate
To explore, meditate
And get in my mind

Poetry isÖ

Kind to me
And allows me self expression
Connects me with nature
The elements and creatures
It allows me to dive deep in the sea

Poetry for me isÖ

Climaxing
Orgasms
Sweet kisses with strawberries
Melts me to my knees
Gets me in the mood
To treat, tease and please
It helps me revisit
My inner wants and needs
Submissively, dominantly
And ever so erotically
It inspires me to be
Naked in my thoughts
Exposing raw emotions
poet Anonymous

ASPIRING

the way
she wrote
that
said that
stacked
words
like steps  
to some
secret truth
and, goddamn,
it's just
a phrase,
just one word
pushed against another
but  
good god
how it  
resonates,
how it
serenades
and soothes
the soul
and
rankles
the mind
and how
i want  
to hold that,
be that,
somehow live that
life of word
on word
on word
in my small
and fumbling
way
amen
poet Anonymous

A Torrid Love Affair

  
I started to practice the art of writing
When Iíd stutter and the words got stuck in my throat
And though sometimes my spirit went down fighting †
My will would not let me get choked †
†  
I had a lot of love to express †
Composing poems and prose proved promising and exciting †
And when I chose to confess my emotions to impress †
I found out I lacked the finesse to be inciting †
†  
So, I practiced and practiced †
I studied, read, spilled and rehearsed †
Trying to do my damnedest †
With each and every verse from my best to my worst †
†  
And poetry became a torrid love affair †
Through both dreams and nightmares †
When life and I sparred I got punched hard in the gut †
Then Iíd take to paper and pen †
Vented everything from my despair to Zen †
Even when I thought I had it made then fate kicked me in the nuts †
†  
And thatís what I love about poetry †
Itís made me laugh, itís made me cry †
Itís been my literary chronicle, both serious and comical †
A reflection †
Letting me figure out what's going on inside †
†  
Then when demons were about to get woke †
With a stroke of a pen Iíd stoke an ire fire and flame †
Iíd slay them with reason and rhyme †
Every line that I wrote †  
Every time that I rote †
I smote †  
And smoked those fools back from whence they came †
†  
Writing is a passion †
Itís everything I can dream and imagine †
An endless vault filled with creativity and innovation †
Itís like a personal canon †
An eternal attraction †
The explanation that brings some balance to this equation
poet Anonymous

Sacred Words.

Placing the ink,
Instinct,
For many years,
Sears my core.

Attention is shrinking,
And focus is altering,
But communication,
Of words,
In verses,
Overflows.

Swimming in,
Conveys,
Diving deep,
Into meaning,
I am whole,
In the words,
Revealing.

Patience,
And cultivated empathy,
Grasping turmoil,
Is 2 write poetry,
A doorway 2 introspection,
A garden of unknowns.

Continual insight,
Knowing ones self worth,
The sacred words,
Gives me power,
2 understand myself,
And others,
So much more.

Like a flower,
Containing a multitude of thoughts,
With love,
This flower,
Daily grows,
I am lost in the power of words.

My hue-man position,
The hue-man condition,
Displayed,in different shades,other than grey.

The ability 2 convey,
Experience in a powerful way,
2 me,
Is all that matters.

And that's why I adore, and respect,
The beautiful Art of Poetical words.
Without it,
Our world would be a lot sadder.







©Wired6. 15/7/2022.
poet Anonymous

Poetry

Not like I know to be honest with you
but it's something deep like a knife
or some kind of gut wrenching tool
that keeps your attention by twisting
all night until you begin to write something
on a piece of paper. I wake up at 3am with
thoughts in mind but worried that I won't
know how to put those thoughts into margins.
I guess you can say that I'm smitten by such a
travesty of life as to not understand how to
bridge the mind with the physical. I am in awe
on a daily basis at the way the pen and brain
intermingle to create something eternal.

poet Anonymous

Dear poetry, donít forget me

 
 
Just for today  
allow me to cocoon
in your soft nests of care  

humble myself quietly  
at your feet  

that I may break down,  
weep, become a true version  
of an imperfect whole  

gift words back to the world,  
to others that seek only †
the bare bones of it all. †

Just for today  
let the spine of a notebook  
crack in sweet relief  
of the burden of secrets  

let pages bloom †
in the knowing,  
let worries be few  

allow the prayer of letting go  
to wrap me in holy arms.  

Just for today  
let eyes know me more  
as history slips between lines  
like falling stars  

let vines of myself  
root in wide eyes, open hearts  
so the blunt march of time  
will not forget my place  
in its artistry.
 



poet Anonymous

short poetry

 

has the
audacity

to spin
black thread
on white
paper.
poet Anonymous

Truth be told we had to lie

When we care more about the truth then what it is that's in front of us
What is it exactly that you considered the lie

When we're more interested in how the night ends
Which one of wasn't guilty of the lie

Whenever we both just want the other to smile because life throws us both enough bullshit
Why wouldn't we have a sweet lie

Whenever we know the other of us two has simply failed again yet we witness ourselves their struggle and heart behind it
Who couldn't encourage with a little lie

But when we decide to try another route ....when we're no longer interested in either
Why do we all of the sudden get consumed with what was a lie behind the simple truth
poet Anonymous

The Meaning of Poetry to Me

As the words flow across the pages
Something within my soul lifts and life
Becomes easier to bear. The stages
Of love, pain, happiness and the knife
In my heart become whole again.
The words that come down like rain
Lifts someoneís spirit and makes them
Realize they are not so alone in how they
Feel. Just like a flower stem, poetry holds
Onto me tight and waits for me to bloom
In every beautiful moment. It stays
With me during those sleepless nights.
It sparkle with specks of golds.
It dances with me when the lights
Go completely out and everyone goes
HomeÖ. Because this is my home
Between the words and pages. This
Is when doubt fades and hope grows
Into something magnificent. I roam
Constantly but this right here is bliss.
poet Anonymous

Related submission no longer exists.
poet Anonymous

Shadows & Stealth


This poem begins with a window
Captivating the eye in crystal
Rust paint stains over stone
Found in the dust of a light projected beam

A force that searches the wastes
Receptivity derived from morose meditations
Detachment stands magnetic
Born in a sigil of looking glass shadows

Soul imprinted departures
Graven seals of surfaces penetrated
Linear burgundy into ink
Expansions into nascent dream

Knowledge of unfolding thoughts
Formulating plumed psychic connections
Apprehension of the invisible
Equations of manifestation materializing

Sentient letters
In states

Of

Awakening
Seeking self awareness

Expansion
Of

Consciousness

Making the self
In

Shadows

&

Stealth

Go to page:
Go to: