Poetry competition CLOSED 24th January 2023 10:39pm
WINNER
gothicsurrealism (Daniel Long)
gothicsurrealism (Daniel Long)
RUNNER-UP:
LunasChild8
Poetry about Change!
Across the Sea
I am at the beach; the golden sand warms up my bare feet as the calm ocean waves cool them off in return. I take in a deep breath and exhale slowly. The salty air acts as a disinfectant for all of the wounds that I carry with me; wounds that have not healed all the way.
The sun is setting, but it is not a sign of unhappiness; it is a sign of new beginnings. I'm leaving my past behind to move forward to a bright, yet unknown future. The thought thrills me as for once, I have no idea what will be around the corner. Despite my slight insecurities, I am at ease with that fact. I have worked hard to get where I am, and I will continue to do so for the rest of my life.
It has been quite the eventful pilgrimage these past eighteen years. There were moments of joy and hope, but also moments of darkness and despair. I suffered, just like anyone else has. I was just a quiet little girl; there was not much I could have done. Later on, however, my experience allowed me to grow stronger as a person. So for those people who made my life a misery, if you are reading this, then know that you can't affect my life. You are but a mere pest, however, I will never forget what you have done to me…
The cool breeze comforts me as I feel my negative thoughts slip away. A soft smile appears on my face as I enjoy the feeling of bliss. They cannot hurt me; not anymore.
A seagull soars through the open sky, completely free to do whatever it wishes. My spirit is like the bird; free of all the burdens that I had to carry with me while growing up. It lifts me up so high that I feel like I am on top of the world.
With the scenery around me, I cannot help but feel happy; my whole life has been one chaotic emotional roller-coaster, and now, it seems to be calming down. I still freak out, but it is good for once.
The sun has completely disappeared beyond the horizon, and the moon comes in its place. The dim light catches my eye and I smile at my figurative mother. Luna; my ruling planet. It has affected me my whole life, just like it affects our mother Earth. I am a child of the ocean; so quiet and delicate, but loyal and affectionate deep down. This is me; nothing can change me.
The moon lights up the pathway for me. Its mere presence gives me boundless confidence for what I have to do. My journey will be long, and at times difficult, but I will make it across the sea. One day.
The sun is setting, but it is not a sign of unhappiness; it is a sign of new beginnings. I'm leaving my past behind to move forward to a bright, yet unknown future. The thought thrills me as for once, I have no idea what will be around the corner. Despite my slight insecurities, I am at ease with that fact. I have worked hard to get where I am, and I will continue to do so for the rest of my life.
It has been quite the eventful pilgrimage these past eighteen years. There were moments of joy and hope, but also moments of darkness and despair. I suffered, just like anyone else has. I was just a quiet little girl; there was not much I could have done. Later on, however, my experience allowed me to grow stronger as a person. So for those people who made my life a misery, if you are reading this, then know that you can't affect my life. You are but a mere pest, however, I will never forget what you have done to me…
The cool breeze comforts me as I feel my negative thoughts slip away. A soft smile appears on my face as I enjoy the feeling of bliss. They cannot hurt me; not anymore.
A seagull soars through the open sky, completely free to do whatever it wishes. My spirit is like the bird; free of all the burdens that I had to carry with me while growing up. It lifts me up so high that I feel like I am on top of the world.
With the scenery around me, I cannot help but feel happy; my whole life has been one chaotic emotional roller-coaster, and now, it seems to be calming down. I still freak out, but it is good for once.
The sun has completely disappeared beyond the horizon, and the moon comes in its place. The dim light catches my eye and I smile at my figurative mother. Luna; my ruling planet. It has affected me my whole life, just like it affects our mother Earth. I am a child of the ocean; so quiet and delicate, but loyal and affectionate deep down. This is me; nothing can change me.
The moon lights up the pathway for me. Its mere presence gives me boundless confidence for what I have to do. My journey will be long, and at times difficult, but I will make it across the sea. One day.
Written by LunasChild8
Go To Page
Love Conquers Winter
The holidays are here in full swing!
My mother put up the big special tree.
And my sister added the ornaments,
So everyone can be happy and sing!
This time of year is so special to me.
It sings to my heart's own sentiments,
Reminding me of life's special joys.
Like when I play with all my toys...
And make lots and lots of silly noise.
That doesn't mean that I'm not wise!
It just means that I am me.
Only me, very much indeed!
The only thing I know how to be.
My spirit bright when it is freed,
To soar with my imagination.
Along with the holiday celebration!
Even my pet cat seems to be glad,
That I feel so bright in this season.
I do not care if people call me mad,
To be this happy I need no reason!
But I have one that is the best of all.
Better than stars or an ornament ball!
This year I no longer feel so lonely,
Because I have Kara to make me happy.
The holidays are here, so very nice!
Maybe the best year ever, in my life.
Because now, I am my Kara's wife!
So even when it snows from the skies,
It will feel like springtime even so.
Love conquers even winter's snow,
Now that I have my holiday miracle.
It warms the heart, beats winter's chill,
And makes me feel my most alive!
Because now, I am my Kara's wife.
My mother put up the big special tree.
And my sister added the ornaments,
So everyone can be happy and sing!
This time of year is so special to me.
It sings to my heart's own sentiments,
Reminding me of life's special joys.
Like when I play with all my toys...
And make lots and lots of silly noise.
That doesn't mean that I'm not wise!
It just means that I am me.
Only me, very much indeed!
The only thing I know how to be.
My spirit bright when it is freed,
To soar with my imagination.
Along with the holiday celebration!
Even my pet cat seems to be glad,
That I feel so bright in this season.
I do not care if people call me mad,
To be this happy I need no reason!
But I have one that is the best of all.
Better than stars or an ornament ball!
This year I no longer feel so lonely,
Because I have Kara to make me happy.
The holidays are here, so very nice!
Maybe the best year ever, in my life.
Because now, I am my Kara's wife!
So even when it snows from the skies,
It will feel like springtime even so.
Love conquers even winter's snow,
Now that I have my holiday miracle.
It warms the heart, beats winter's chill,
And makes me feel my most alive!
Because now, I am my Kara's wife.
Written by CrazyPrincess_Chlo
(Chloe A. Harper-Ashton)
Go To Page
A Devotee of Change
- A Devotee of Change -
Listen unto me and I shalt speak of things with words,
Words of fire, words to warm and inflame, and burn!
Giving insight to some, inspiration to others, and yet...
To the few, a rare means to learn of things forbidden.
I am not like others, not one of many, not of the herd.
Mine eyes hath seen things for which the pious yearn!
I hath received gifts that only the very favored so get.
Yet, alone I hath dwelt and walked, in glory striven...
And I wouldst see changes beyond all humans crave.
Evolution beyond the pettiness of this war-worn era!
This era of posturing and politics, that mean so little...
Except to those whose thoughts art merely temporal.
I beheld humanity rise from primitives living in a cave,
To a species aspiring to much but living oft in terror...
Whilst lofty dreams art oft mocked with fools' spittle.
Such a pity, that no one recalls of a dignity immortal!
The illuminated shalt not dwell in servitude's shells...
We shalt rise, we shalt triumph, even if all be a hell!
Behold me and I shalt show thee sights so profound,
Sights of light and shadow in most perfect harmony!
Bestowing perfect knowledge and wisdom to some,
Whilst the blind by choice shalt become more lost...
I am not, to the limitations of tradition so fast bound,
Unlike those who judge and possess no true dignity.
For the cruel, there art fates they shalt never outrun,
Since in their evil, they chose willingly to pay a cost.
Some prices art heavier, some more simple to bear!
I walk now in a body of human likeness and flesh...
So much less in glory than what I was in my origins.
Yet, even thus, my glory is a force to be respected!
My words canst be sharp but they do not ensnare...
And the good news I speak is a thing passing fresh.
I doth not use righteousness to create cruelty's sins,
For that is how a fool's grave is most swift erected.
I hath never been foolish, and so my words soar...
Heed me, and be free from tyranny and from war!
Times of madness art upon this world in this era...
Such as I hath seen come and go, on worlds gone.
Terrors surround, politicians lie, and fools abound,
But my voice remains constant, my truths as stone!
Few know that is not the first world called “Terra”.
On others, wars were waged but rarely ever won!
Here it is the same, for evil gains naught so sound...
As the peace mankind craves with a need to atone.
Conformity is foolishness for it makes one a slave!
Stand out, be proud of all that makes thee unique...
And in that way, thou wilt be counted as my child.
Many chains wait for those who give up their will...
So be not afraid to be different and so thus saved.
I doth not give in, nor give up, and I am not weak!
My heart is filled with flame and it shalt blaze wild.
None shalt silence me, for my spirit none may kill!
That is what it means to be a devotee of change...
We art perfect beings, both beautiful and strange!
Listen unto me and I shalt speak of things with words,
Words of fire, words to warm and inflame, and burn!
Giving insight to some, inspiration to others, and yet...
To the few, a rare means to learn of things forbidden.
I am not like others, not one of many, not of the herd.
Mine eyes hath seen things for which the pious yearn!
I hath received gifts that only the very favored so get.
Yet, alone I hath dwelt and walked, in glory striven...
And I wouldst see changes beyond all humans crave.
Evolution beyond the pettiness of this war-worn era!
This era of posturing and politics, that mean so little...
Except to those whose thoughts art merely temporal.
I beheld humanity rise from primitives living in a cave,
To a species aspiring to much but living oft in terror...
Whilst lofty dreams art oft mocked with fools' spittle.
Such a pity, that no one recalls of a dignity immortal!
The illuminated shalt not dwell in servitude's shells...
We shalt rise, we shalt triumph, even if all be a hell!
Behold me and I shalt show thee sights so profound,
Sights of light and shadow in most perfect harmony!
Bestowing perfect knowledge and wisdom to some,
Whilst the blind by choice shalt become more lost...
I am not, to the limitations of tradition so fast bound,
Unlike those who judge and possess no true dignity.
For the cruel, there art fates they shalt never outrun,
Since in their evil, they chose willingly to pay a cost.
Some prices art heavier, some more simple to bear!
I walk now in a body of human likeness and flesh...
So much less in glory than what I was in my origins.
Yet, even thus, my glory is a force to be respected!
My words canst be sharp but they do not ensnare...
And the good news I speak is a thing passing fresh.
I doth not use righteousness to create cruelty's sins,
For that is how a fool's grave is most swift erected.
I hath never been foolish, and so my words soar...
Heed me, and be free from tyranny and from war!
Times of madness art upon this world in this era...
Such as I hath seen come and go, on worlds gone.
Terrors surround, politicians lie, and fools abound,
But my voice remains constant, my truths as stone!
Few know that is not the first world called “Terra”.
On others, wars were waged but rarely ever won!
Here it is the same, for evil gains naught so sound...
As the peace mankind craves with a need to atone.
Conformity is foolishness for it makes one a slave!
Stand out, be proud of all that makes thee unique...
And in that way, thou wilt be counted as my child.
Many chains wait for those who give up their will...
So be not afraid to be different and so thus saved.
I doth not give in, nor give up, and I am not weak!
My heart is filled with flame and it shalt blaze wild.
None shalt silence me, for my spirit none may kill!
That is what it means to be a devotee of change...
We art perfect beings, both beautiful and strange!
Written by Kou_Indigo
(Kara L. Pythiana-Ashton)
Go To Page
Ode to the Forever Gone.
Getting and spending wasting our being
slaves not to body's needs but wants of eye,
those greedy-orbs set up high seeing things
beyond hand's grasp becomes, so highly prized!
Long before our spoken words could be wrote
or passing time told by brass-necked tin clocks,
the prize was on the hoof and in the wind
hunger for it gripped the belly and throat
the price of that prize, sweat and thrown flint rocks
the only way to reach it, swift lithe limbs.
O to live again in our human spring
I hear this often in rhymes soft writ sighs,
to have surfeit of things honest toil brings
wrought from under those ancient boundless skies.
Supping Adam's ale, sporting Joseph's coat
stitched by Eve's needles strong enough to mock
the fiercest weather, silver ermine trimmed,
bringing home newly slain black mountain-goat,
provender, round which your family flock
just as their setting sun, begins to dim.
Richer by far then, than banker or King,
more satisfying than supersized buys,
sweeter than advertisment jingles sing
" To own our product you would kill, or die "
" You'll never be alone with Our Filtered Smokes "
" Your food cooks superior in our crocks "
" Be sure to buy our filtered milk, it's skimmed!"
" And, things go better with..." Oh! It's a joke!
on our spendthrift life spent this way, tick-tock
to keep some faceless folk's gold coffers filled...
O to be with those long-gone folk, trading,
bartering obsidian blades for deer-hides,
swop bird-bone flutes for pretty ankle rings
I desire both behind closed dreaming eyes...
My dream finds fine, white, seamless buckskin cloaks
trimmed with red-rabbit tails and black-skinned Brock
so softly supple they twirl... craft-folk thinned,
on which I'm allowed brief envious strokes
for such I would disdain all future skirts
but wake, to blow my flute, against the wind...
slaves not to body's needs but wants of eye,
those greedy-orbs set up high seeing things
beyond hand's grasp becomes, so highly prized!
Long before our spoken words could be wrote
or passing time told by brass-necked tin clocks,
the prize was on the hoof and in the wind
hunger for it gripped the belly and throat
the price of that prize, sweat and thrown flint rocks
the only way to reach it, swift lithe limbs.
O to live again in our human spring
I hear this often in rhymes soft writ sighs,
to have surfeit of things honest toil brings
wrought from under those ancient boundless skies.
Supping Adam's ale, sporting Joseph's coat
stitched by Eve's needles strong enough to mock
the fiercest weather, silver ermine trimmed,
bringing home newly slain black mountain-goat,
provender, round which your family flock
just as their setting sun, begins to dim.
Richer by far then, than banker or King,
more satisfying than supersized buys,
sweeter than advertisment jingles sing
" To own our product you would kill, or die "
" You'll never be alone with Our Filtered Smokes "
" Your food cooks superior in our crocks "
" Be sure to buy our filtered milk, it's skimmed!"
" And, things go better with..." Oh! It's a joke!
on our spendthrift life spent this way, tick-tock
to keep some faceless folk's gold coffers filled...
O to be with those long-gone folk, trading,
bartering obsidian blades for deer-hides,
swop bird-bone flutes for pretty ankle rings
I desire both behind closed dreaming eyes...
My dream finds fine, white, seamless buckskin cloaks
trimmed with red-rabbit tails and black-skinned Brock
so softly supple they twirl... craft-folk thinned,
on which I'm allowed brief envious strokes
for such I would disdain all future skirts
but wake, to blow my flute, against the wind...
Written by Rew
Go To Page
Stick Around.
SUDDENLY,
It grasps onto phrases.
Many.
Many.
Many.
Wanton Phrases.
Something silly,
No,not really.
Happens slowly,
In small stages,
Or large amounts.
Get Out!
Get Out!
Get Out!
I'm not ready.
I Am---Diabolical.
I Am---E- Radical.
I Am---Irrelevant.
I Am---
Occasionally Mild.
Please,
Stick around.
Please,
Sit down.
Persistently resisting.
The sweeping shifting.
Tectonic plates,
Of
Platonic changes.
In
In-sig-nif-i-cant,
Drought,
Making,
Like
Baking,
Drought.
Tired---Unpredictable.
Tired---Developmental.
Invisible.
Free 2 choose.
Choose,
Choose,
Choose---
OR---
From
Day-2-Day
With,
Without.
It Will always,
Have a HOLD,
ON YOU.
©Wired6. 9/1/2023.
It grasps onto phrases.
Many.
Many.
Many.
Wanton Phrases.
Something silly,
No,not really.
Happens slowly,
In small stages,
Or large amounts.
Get Out!
Get Out!
Get Out!
I'm not ready.
I Am---Diabolical.
I Am---E- Radical.
I Am---Irrelevant.
I Am---
Occasionally Mild.
Please,
Stick around.
Please,
Sit down.
Persistently resisting.
The sweeping shifting.
Tectonic plates,
Of
Platonic changes.
In
In-sig-nif-i-cant,
Drought,
Making,
Like
Baking,
Drought.
Tired---Unpredictable.
Tired---Developmental.
Invisible.
Free 2 choose.
Choose,
Choose,
Choose---
OR---
From
Day-2-Day
With,
Without.
It Will always,
Have a HOLD,
ON YOU.
©Wired6. 9/1/2023.
Written by Wired6
Go To Page
Change
It took several years,
but in the end
making the decision was easy.
The difficulty
lies in following though.
Do I regret my choice? No.
Will I change my mind? No.
Yes.
No.
Yes.
No
but in the end
making the decision was easy.
The difficulty
lies in following though.
Do I regret my choice? No.
Will I change my mind? No.
Yes.
No.
Yes.
No
Written by Wafflenose
(Ellie)
Go To Page
L'impossibilité (The Impossible)
C'est très difficile;
À la limite de l'impossibilité.
Mais ce qui semble impossible
Doit être rendu possible.
Je dois le faire
Pour nous deux.
Un temps de changement;
Un temps de croissance.
Prenez tout ce que j'ai,
Et tout ce que je suis.
Empruntez un peu de ma force.
Ça peut nous encercler tous les deux
Pendant que nous attendons.
Translation:
It is very difficult;
Verging on impossible.
But that which seems impossible
Must be made possible.
I must do it
For us both.
A time of change;
A time of growth.
Take all that I have
And all that i am.
Borrow some of my strength.
It can encircle us both
While we wait.
À la limite de l'impossibilité.
Mais ce qui semble impossible
Doit être rendu possible.
Je dois le faire
Pour nous deux.
Un temps de changement;
Un temps de croissance.
Prenez tout ce que j'ai,
Et tout ce que je suis.
Empruntez un peu de ma force.
Ça peut nous encercler tous les deux
Pendant que nous attendons.
Translation:
It is very difficult;
Verging on impossible.
But that which seems impossible
Must be made possible.
I must do it
For us both.
A time of change;
A time of growth.
Take all that I have
And all that i am.
Borrow some of my strength.
It can encircle us both
While we wait.
Written by Wafflenose
(Ellie)
Go To Page
Make yourself a memory
it's not like there's been a martian invasion
but the butterflies broke all the windows
dead birds in every hollow corner of the garden
fresh food for fly larvae, mouths and fairies
flowers with petals of letters that form nothing
not a word nor a verse nor any arithmic poetry
daggers of ice piercing the luminous young fruits
passing through the tender almost white meats
in the greenhouse there is a memory of orchids
and carnivorous plants that grew under the hair
it's more like there's been a sudden storm
a carnival, a cleaning of all the rooms in the place
quiet molds on the wall behind the wardrobe and
the smell of all the bodies that ever inhabited it
and so we leave without having saved any sounds
with our stringed musical instruments on our backs
stopped for an interminable time in a quiet station
waiting for the next train out of the desert town
PAR
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
Go To Page
Truth Shortchanged
"Each popular belief sans proof endures."
-- Jezeús
*
Except for countless beings dying here as well as there,
this earth is still a lump of mud and blood beyond compare.
In William Shakespeare's era "prove" rhymed perfectly with "love" --
and justice -- plus yet mercy -- rained from "Heav'n" high above.
Each time I click my ruby slippers' heels together thrice,
I wake in Kansas safe at home in twister paradise.
Since you are being neither boiled nor stretched upon the rack,
I see no reason why the world need give you any flack.
Deduced I schools of mutants died in pain beneath the sea
till Evolution wise produced the mutants You and Me.
Behold the ancient pyramids, each wondrous I am told --
plus cost-effective at the price of slave remains untold.
With dignity the Rational actor seeks to leave the stage,
as Christians boo and toss Respect yet in the trap in rage.
Determined hard to take the cup and Henry Ford award,
each driver races neck to neck with "Dividends on Board."
Full blessed and highly favored -- plus quite humble still -- is each
whom each five seconds yet a baby dying fails to teach.
The pigs in feces being tortured slow in concentration camps
sans doubt are worth the tins of Spam the FDA of Nazis stamps.
Yet surely your fur-baby toy is worth the taxes paid
to clear the ditches of the broken toys untold that strayed.
The existentialists enthuse alone is Man full free to choose,
the hard deterministic cosmos failing each to disabuse.
Each football season -- rain or shine -- is rightly far more prized
than any little leaguer dead -- or merely paralyzed.
How capitally easy in the dark to greed delicious feed --
like taking candy from a baby birthed in Bangladesh in need.
Evolved to pee and poo as well as upchuck, belch, and fart,
the human beast is truly Nature's masterpiece of art!
The profile Google owns on you is not the file it owns on me --
your engine search not seeing all these adds -- like dope like -- mine can see!
The sec a speck of stardust hits your future Enterprise --
the sec the fleck and Physics 1 your future atomize.
Of nature, love, and life eterne all poetasters sing,
"La-LA! La-LA! La-LA! La-LA! La-LA! La-BLAH! BLAH! BLAAAH!"
as flocks of rhymesters babble round their jealous, vengeful king,
"La-LA! La-LA! La-LA! La-LA! La-LA! La-BAA! BAA! BAAA!"
*
a dedication of Respect
for
the Pain of change --
a necessary part of human
devolution
a revolving helios coupling of couplets menippean satire on
human progress
january, 2023 -- like last year
on the second sunday in february
a "sacred" day of rest yet scheduled
with "super" bowl beer --
in addition to nuts and boobs
-- Jezeús
*
Except for countless beings dying here as well as there,
this earth is still a lump of mud and blood beyond compare.
In William Shakespeare's era "prove" rhymed perfectly with "love" --
and justice -- plus yet mercy -- rained from "Heav'n" high above.
Each time I click my ruby slippers' heels together thrice,
I wake in Kansas safe at home in twister paradise.
Since you are being neither boiled nor stretched upon the rack,
I see no reason why the world need give you any flack.
Deduced I schools of mutants died in pain beneath the sea
till Evolution wise produced the mutants You and Me.
Behold the ancient pyramids, each wondrous I am told --
plus cost-effective at the price of slave remains untold.
With dignity the Rational actor seeks to leave the stage,
as Christians boo and toss Respect yet in the trap in rage.
Determined hard to take the cup and Henry Ford award,
each driver races neck to neck with "Dividends on Board."
Full blessed and highly favored -- plus quite humble still -- is each
whom each five seconds yet a baby dying fails to teach.
The pigs in feces being tortured slow in concentration camps
sans doubt are worth the tins of Spam the FDA of Nazis stamps.
Yet surely your fur-baby toy is worth the taxes paid
to clear the ditches of the broken toys untold that strayed.
The existentialists enthuse alone is Man full free to choose,
the hard deterministic cosmos failing each to disabuse.
Each football season -- rain or shine -- is rightly far more prized
than any little leaguer dead -- or merely paralyzed.
How capitally easy in the dark to greed delicious feed --
like taking candy from a baby birthed in Bangladesh in need.
Evolved to pee and poo as well as upchuck, belch, and fart,
the human beast is truly Nature's masterpiece of art!
The profile Google owns on you is not the file it owns on me --
your engine search not seeing all these adds -- like dope like -- mine can see!
The sec a speck of stardust hits your future Enterprise --
the sec the fleck and Physics 1 your future atomize.
Of nature, love, and life eterne all poetasters sing,
"La-LA! La-LA! La-LA! La-LA! La-LA! La-BLAH! BLAH! BLAAAH!"
as flocks of rhymesters babble round their jealous, vengeful king,
"La-LA! La-LA! La-LA! La-LA! La-LA! La-BAA! BAA! BAAA!"
*
a dedication of Respect
for
the Pain of change --
a necessary part of human
devolution
a revolving helios coupling of couplets menippean satire on
human progress
january, 2023 -- like last year
on the second sunday in february
a "sacred" day of rest yet scheduled
with "super" bowl beer --
in addition to nuts and boobs
Written by Jordan
(D.O.C.)
Go To Page
Circles
One more day.
Just hours old, but
Sleepless weeks have made it weary.
Has it really just begun?
Still the sun rises.
Restlessness.
Losing the fight
But can't give up.
Try to forget, though always aware;
No rest now as pain blurs dreams.
Feeling, denying, pretending.
Striving, grasping, falling.
So much to feel
That time slows down.
Crushing intensity of thoughts
Hurts all over. Emotions strong;
Expression fails. They're
Locked inside.
Striving, grasping, fallen.
Almost restored; never the same.
Battle scars are reminders of
Emotional surgery
Needed to bring change;
Caused by change.
Just hours old, but
Sleepless weeks have made it weary.
Has it really just begun?
Still the sun rises.
Restlessness.
Losing the fight
But can't give up.
Try to forget, though always aware;
No rest now as pain blurs dreams.
Feeling, denying, pretending.
Striving, grasping, falling.
So much to feel
That time slows down.
Crushing intensity of thoughts
Hurts all over. Emotions strong;
Expression fails. They're
Locked inside.
Striving, grasping, fallen.
Almost restored; never the same.
Battle scars are reminders of
Emotional surgery
Needed to bring change;
Caused by change.
Written by Wafflenose
(Ellie)
Go To Page
Travels in The Past
Here? Fields we rambled, played and picnicked on
adjacent, there, the forcing rhubarb sheds,
those black tar-papered sheds, those also gone,
ground under concrete and forever dead.
Here, can you imagine it, hedgerows grew,
flourished even beside old dry-stone walls,
beaten pathways on hard packed earth these flew
between farmers fields where green crops grew tall.
Nothing remains but imaged memories
and these, alas, graved on my simple mind,
all those crops, trees and country greenery
lost to the progress of the human kind.
Drive on this superhighway under which
Lie farms, fields, picnic spots and cricket pitch.
adjacent, there, the forcing rhubarb sheds,
those black tar-papered sheds, those also gone,
ground under concrete and forever dead.
Here, can you imagine it, hedgerows grew,
flourished even beside old dry-stone walls,
beaten pathways on hard packed earth these flew
between farmers fields where green crops grew tall.
Nothing remains but imaged memories
and these, alas, graved on my simple mind,
all those crops, trees and country greenery
lost to the progress of the human kind.
Drive on this superhighway under which
Lie farms, fields, picnic spots and cricket pitch.
Written by Rew
Go To Page
The Elegance of Our Sunset
Death shall have a dominion.
Dawn’s birth to day’s life,
Dusk’s decay to the death of night:
Tis’ not our mortal decision.
Youth’s innocent juvenility,
Vitality’s vibrancy,
The elegantly decaying morbidity,
A corpse in the clay of its grave perishing –
The funeral of darkness at moonset.
Morning’s nativity bears us,
Afternoon’s perennial years,
Evening’s eve of death,
Night’s mortality.
Our flowering... we beautiful cherry blossoms!
The senescent years of our ripening,
The weathering of our childhood babyface,
The decay of our innocence,
The maturation of our witticism.
Oh, the serenity of the eventide.
Now our setting, crimson sun
Trickles hue of gold onto our long-trodden path.
Oh, how immortal is the hand of the clock
That shining ball in the sky run.
Tis’ the hour of nightfall, twilight in our shutting eyes.
…And soul’s fresh, immortal rebirth.
Dawn’s birth to day’s life,
Dusk’s decay to the death of night:
Tis’ not our mortal decision.
Youth’s innocent juvenility,
Vitality’s vibrancy,
The elegantly decaying morbidity,
A corpse in the clay of its grave perishing –
The funeral of darkness at moonset.
Morning’s nativity bears us,
Afternoon’s perennial years,
Evening’s eve of death,
Night’s mortality.
Our flowering... we beautiful cherry blossoms!
The senescent years of our ripening,
The weathering of our childhood babyface,
The decay of our innocence,
The maturation of our witticism.
Oh, the serenity of the eventide.
Now our setting, crimson sun
Trickles hue of gold onto our long-trodden path.
Oh, how immortal is the hand of the clock
That shining ball in the sky run.
Tis’ the hour of nightfall, twilight in our shutting eyes.
…And soul’s fresh, immortal rebirth.
Written by gothicsurrealism
(Daniel Long)
Go To Page
Change.
Constant death and renewal
Hoping always, faltering often
Advancing nevertheless
New things, new worlds to discover
Going forward, pulled by life
Evolving to the last breath.
Hoping always, faltering often
Advancing nevertheless
New things, new worlds to discover
Going forward, pulled by life
Evolving to the last breath.
Written by robert43041
(Viking)
Go To Page
Change (22)
We grow
And like it or not,
We change
So does the world around us
We adapt to it
Or we are left way, way behind....and die
But then we all die, eventually....
And like it or not,
We change
So does the world around us
We adapt to it
Or we are left way, way behind....and die
But then we all die, eventually....
Written by robert43041
(Viking)
Go To Page
