Poetry competition CLOSED 23rd January 2023 4:54am
WINNER
Styxian
Styxian
RUNNER-UP:
PAR
Poem of the Month - January 2023
Poetess, Undressed
Delicious seclusion of lovers entwined in a sonnet
Her poems against my skin
All day into flesh they rained,
Come sail your verse around me
Drench my shores, where tides never reach.
Neon words as fireflies on screen
Indigo insects crawl over language, body
^/
Temptation lies in the hung sentence.
From behind, verbs unbuckle me from denim
Clit circles lumbar, vulva turns inside-out
She squeezes and strokes to chapter edge and prologue.
Slowly unpeeling her cloth to reveal constellations of flesh
Bytes names of dead comets into my neck.
Penetrates me with plastic punctuation
Blood trickles as speared ellipsis --------
Become the night for me,
Leave your open thighs across pillows
As broken’spined novels fallen from skies.
Dark is the wine never to be tasted.
Become the night for me,
Pack the stars into your purse
Spare my universe, no wasted sleep.
Arch over a 1940s typewriter
Let me shred negligee into ribbons.
Pearly morning dew-drops wets the grass
Ropes a crime scene around midnight’s groin,
Fuck every unwritten poem out of me
Canvas desires you have never painted.
From the Ice Age to the Covid Age
Passion is the refuge for the hopelessly lost.
Poets write of forever, but
As stone-faced clocks become chalk,
It seems never in our lifetimes.
Her poems against my skin
All day into flesh they rained,
Come sail your verse around me
Drench my shores, where tides never reach.
Neon words as fireflies on screen
Indigo insects crawl over language, body
^/
Temptation lies in the hung sentence.
From behind, verbs unbuckle me from denim
Clit circles lumbar, vulva turns inside-out
She squeezes and strokes to chapter edge and prologue.
Slowly unpeeling her cloth to reveal constellations of flesh
Bytes names of dead comets into my neck.
Penetrates me with plastic punctuation
Blood trickles as speared ellipsis --------
Become the night for me,
Leave your open thighs across pillows
As broken’spined novels fallen from skies.
Dark is the wine never to be tasted.
Become the night for me,
Pack the stars into your purse
Spare my universe, no wasted sleep.
Arch over a 1940s typewriter
Let me shred negligee into ribbons.
Pearly morning dew-drops wets the grass
Ropes a crime scene around midnight’s groin,
Fuck every unwritten poem out of me
Canvas desires you have never painted.
From the Ice Age to the Covid Age
Passion is the refuge for the hopelessly lost.
Poets write of forever, but
As stone-faced clocks become chalk,
It seems never in our lifetimes.
Written by Strangeways_Rob
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The winner of this competition and any runners up were decided by public vote.
Thank you to the following members for voting:
Billy_Snagg, LadyFancy, Everavalon, PoeticPrettywings0, raconteur, PAR, LunaGreyhawk, AspergerPoet56, Honoria, olivia, Rianne, Joseph-Zenieh, Tallen, monovox128, PoetSpeak, Razzerleaf, Marks, Styxian, Adelphina
Thank you to the following members for voting:
Billy_Snagg, LadyFancy, Everavalon, PoeticPrettywings0, raconteur, PAR, LunaGreyhawk, AspergerPoet56, Honoria, olivia, Rianne, Joseph-Zenieh, Tallen, monovox128, PoetSpeak, Razzerleaf, Marks, Styxian, Adelphina
Anonymous
congratulations to the winner !!!
