Poetry competition CLOSED 4th February 2023 5:06pm
WINNER
Anonymous
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RUNNER-UP: gothicsurrealism

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robert43041
Viking
Tyrant of Words
Canada 43awards
Joined 30th July 2020
Forum Posts: 918

Poetry Contest

Deep in thoughts, deep inn doo-doo, deeply encrusted in some weird cycle in outer-space....
Let you imagination run wild.  Sane or totally insane.

Poem up to 50 lines.

No porn, please.

robert43041
Viking
Tyrant of Words
Canada 43awards
Joined 30th July 2020
Forum Posts: 918

Depth

Her words, so deep in meaning,
Can be deciphered
Understood by barely a few
Especially by some creatures existing
Way, way below sea levels
Creatures such as possibly the ugliest of them all
The Blobfish
Or the weirdly named Sarcastic Fringehead
Or the sooooo friendly Goblin Shark

They eat her words up

Pretty much nobody else can.
Written by robert43041 (Viking)
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robert43041
Viking
Tyrant of Words
Canada 43awards
Joined 30th July 2020
Forum Posts: 918

Depths

I cannot write anything deep
For I have no depth in me.
Rather superficial - stupid maybe,
No convoluted nuances
Or shades of layers over layers
 For someone to go over
 With severe glances.
No depth where to seek
 A zillion possible meanings.
Or words to be dissected with scalpels
Magnifying glasses and extreme scrutiny,
Killing the whole, getting to the bones
Never able to get to the point,
Missing the evanescent soul
Which has no desire
To be disrobed.
Written by robert43041 (Viking)
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Rew
Fire of Insight
England 13awards
Joined 30th Sep 2022
Forum Posts: 264

Insane Rage  

I've insane rage inside it kills      
O comfort me my Mother dear    
Its wills will me to do self ills    
I've insane rage inside it kills,
      
O mother mine please hold me still      
gently gentle me free from fear      
I've insane rage inside it kills      
O comfort me my Mother dear.      
     
This rage will will me underground      
Dear gentle me with Mother love      
down on Earth I am so hell bound      
this rage will will me underground,      
     
I might reach peace deep underground      
I'm teetering, just one shove,      
this rage will will me underground      
Dear gentle me with mother love...  
     
I called you came you comfort me      
though rage still wills me underground      
you gentled me to let it be    
I called you came you comfort me,      
     
those future years I feared you see      
I wasn't shoved I just jumped down      
you called I came you comfort me      
together now, deep underground...
Written by Rew
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Grae
Bryan Gray
Twisted Dreamer
United States
Joined 9th Oct 2014
Forum Posts: 8

rubicon gone

i daydream about you  
it's all that i do now  
always some serendipitous scene  
you're in distress  
and i always come to your aid  
  
we always fall in love  
   
there was a moment when i knew you  
when we looked at each other  
that i might have said more  
i might have smiled  
   
but i did nothing  
i could not cross that boundary  
i couldn't tell you how i felt
   
and now you're gone  
living your life somewhere in this city  
   
and i live right here    
   
fixing your bicycle  
fending off assailants  
holding umbrellas for you in the rain  
   
   
it's all that i do now
Written by Grae (Bryan Gray)
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LunasChild8
Dangerous Mind
Canada 21awards
Joined 27th Dec 2017
Forum Posts: 533

Outside the Line

LunasChild8
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gothicsurrealism
Daniel Long
Thought Provoker
United States 6awards
Joined 26th Nov 2018
Forum Posts: 138

Hell's Oily Depths

Nightfall has spilt its ink
staining the landscape with its morbid hue.

The moon stares and bleaches
the oily water with thousands of winks.

A mountains silhouette
carved the abysmal blue

of the nighttime horizon…
the purgatory of our sins.

The power of Gods eye
thrusts through the darkness

and the spotlight of his white iris
pierces the blackened hue that is our sins.

Satan resides deep in the oily depths
where he and his plague of followers drown in sin.

The lords light shall be visible here,
though not so brilliantly,
as Styx is dyed in a pitch tinge.

Far above the freezing, muddy floor of Styx,
the dampened air of purgatory clouded in mist;
illuminated by our Fathers starry eye.
Written by gothicsurrealism (Daniel Long)
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PAR
PAULO ACACIO RAMOS
Fire of Insight
Portugal 15awards
Joined 26th May 2022
Forum Posts: 204

Prismatic Tear

I try to say things
but I choke.
I try to stay cool
but I'm crazy about fire.
I try to follow,
but I can not,
my heart.

I always tell myself
that I took the wrong path.
that I have to stop
to see me...
My emotions...
Those are my motives...

my song sometimes
it's still sad!
It crumbles.
I don't know if I stay
or if i get rid of
of this furtive love.
I'm not happy, I'm a brother
of elusive things,
I'm a poet.

I know I cry and sing
this incomplete life.
i know i sound
to endless sentences.
I know I sweat
colorless rhymes.
I try to follow,
I just can't!
I was definitely wrong...

On the way!

In the depths!

I stop to see
my emotions
to oscillate slowly.
but my heart
brings me back.

An image stays in me,
present in my day,
in the mirror prism.

Present in my night,
present in my life,
present in my pain,
present in my madness,
present in my love.


PAR
Written by PAR (PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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Jordan
D.O.C.
Thought Provoker
United States 13awards
Joined 4th May 2022
Forum Posts: 242

Your To-Do List Too

"Nearly each busy life has ever a dull moment."
-- still twirling nowhere
a predictable planet of foolish consistencies

*

On waking yet today up to your eyeballs deep in doo,    
crawl out of bed to hit the head and grunting pee and poo;  
with breakfast cigs and pots of coffee, "Seize the day!" anew;  
in traffic, every "Loser!" give a real good talking to;    
be late to work and tell your boss respectfully "SCREW YOU!"    
each break, at lunch, through happy hour have at least a slew;    
get tight at night as well to each new weekday muddle through;    
on weekends swill nonstop still till your fairy tale comes true;    
let Reason not the programmed ape (yet great in you) subdue;    
above the dead and dying, rise the winning chump true blue;    
stay full indoctrinated by the propagandized view,    
rejoicing "Life's a gift despite my minus two IQ!" --
then buried be without ado to rot without a clue.

*

a dedication of Respect
for
the vast Pain of multitudinous trivial pursuits
aped

a revolving helios rhyme menippean satire on
the same old brave new world,
the same old upchuck hurled

January 15, 2023 -- yet countless making bucket lists
commonplace
Written by Jordan (D.O.C.)
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wallyroo92
Tyrant of Words
United States 145awards
Joined 11th July 2012
Forum Posts: 1751

Psychopomp

 
Who am I?
What am I?
It’s a question I’ve pondered and asked myself from time to time
If I ask it enough and just right, then something peculiar happens
It’s like taking an imaginary elevator down to deepest recesses of my mind
 
Then a voice ascends
And says "Well it depends…
A conscious organic computer moving a structure of flesh and bone
An autonomous sentient being navigating through this world
A spiritual entity searching for purpose through the familiar and unknown”
 
Hey wait a tick
Is this a new trick?
That voice is mine awaking my subconscious it kind of unsettles
I become aware of me from the outside in a third person degree
Or did I take whiffs of big fat spliffs like I’m high going down to lower levels?
 
It’s a quick re-wiring
My neurons are all firing
Making assessments and calculations based on what I’ve read
It’s as if all of life experiences and dreams have come together
Quickly formulating responses that feel like they’ll pour out of my head
 
I stay quiet for while
Unable sigh or smile
For a few minutes I lie there awake in bed in between realms
Is it enlightenment or realization? Or just my imagination
That for a moment I see myself in command of this ship at the helm
 
Then as quickly as it came
It goes away  
Until the next time
When I ask the questions again
Written by wallyroo92
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Lunaah
Lost Thinker
Iraq
Joined 30th Nov 2022
Forum Posts: 5

I'm soft hearted but firm...

My hubby despite our marriage of 20 years
still loves me perfectly,  expertly
both verbally and physically  
Then had come on my scene again
an admirer who created as if a void  
and filled it with his love letters and love poetry.
But whenever an admirer  
creates love's vacuum in my lovelife
that was non existent before
I've always managed to brush it aside
with chastity's vacuum cleaner lol.
Or I sweep it under the rug ,
can't get stuck in the dirt of the flirt😉
Only marital love can sweep me off my feet.

His poetic charm created in me love poetry's chasm
and I tried awhile to be a balm to his obsession's spasm .
Yet my wedlock is a high walled fortress
even if I'm no crowned regal princess
So while my hubby still bills and coos in love
this admirer inked me his billet doux
What a batter,  what a roux!
I'm softhearted but not towards soft porn
Thank God its over, phew!
.
Written by Lunaah
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BrokenAlive
Strange Creature
Joined 24th Jan 2023
Forum Posts: 1

I light my safety.
I inhale deep enjoying the feel of it between my lips...solid
beautiful white puff billowing around me pulling me into a soft embrace, whispering "to live is to die....don't be afraid

poet Anonymous

Thepunkpoet
Michelle Chelley Rice
Lost Thinker
United States 1awards
Joined 13th Apr 2022
Forum Posts: 8

Even Shadows Have Pride



"Even Shadows Have Pride"


Trapped by darkness inside
Even the shadows have pride
A true testament of this life
Knowing that it cuts like a knife

I don't fear what stays hidden
So many years ago I was bitten
I find much comfort in the dark side
If you ask me someone fukking lied

When a hanging moon brightly glows
The witching hour consumes my soul
Buried very deeply within the shade
Is the pull of ebony that will knot fade

So when late evening begins falling
It will be the night hunter whose calling
I will chase the very last shooting star
For just one day alive without any scars

My screaming dreams are my reality
Just another day filled with brutality
With no promises of more tomorrows
But a definite contract of bitter sorrow

I'll keep on keeping on that's what I do
Continuing to walk in the same shoes
Loneliness cries from beyond the grave
Finality of death is all that I truly crave



The Punk Poet…
  Always Be Punk…
Always Be Drunk…
   (On Poetry)



Written by Thepunkpoet (Michelle Chelley Rice)
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