Poetry competition CLOSED 17th February 2023 9:36am
WINNER
bruised_fruit
bruised_fruit
RUNNERS-UP:
Daevileyes
and PAR
When I was written
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Idibera
Dawns the Autumn.
A Poem opens itself.
Some wings spread.
Flowers blooming
everywhere.
Eyes wide close.
Eyes of wide read.
Open, doors, letters.
Secret Diaries revealed.
Scars still beating.
Signs, gods, runes.
Above the waters
arrises the mist.
Days and waves
keep on building
its Cathedrals.
Sleeps
in my hand
a non-important
poem
an unknown name
carved in a stone.
Idibera is a name
for the thunderbolt
for the woman that rides
the thunderbolt
Idibera is the the silence
after the thunder.
Not like a bird
in the autumn sky
but just like
the flare
that pulses
in my spine.
PAR
Written by PAR
(PAULO ACACIO RAMOS)
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Anonymous
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Related submission no longer exists.
Anonymous
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Anonymous
Related submission no longer exists.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Idibera
She was a young woman
Who feared nothing
Dared to do everything
Seemingly defied the gods
In her quest to heal those who came to her
For comfort and keep death at bay
She knew of herbs and leaves
She was admired
Yet feared by many men
Who could not deal with her strenght
So one day they tied her to a boat mast
Put it afire and let it sail away
Who feared nothing
Dared to do everything
Seemingly defied the gods
In her quest to heal those who came to her
For comfort and keep death at bay
She knew of herbs and leaves
She was admired
Yet feared by many men
Who could not deal with her strenght
So one day they tied her to a boat mast
Put it afire and let it sail away
Written by robert43041
(Viking)
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
DEAD AGAIN
we are all born
again
our meager dust
gathered
by the gods,
our remnants,
bright and dark,
stitched
into
some strange
garment
through which run
threads of vague
recollections,
impressions
we don't
dare acknowledge,
compulsions rising
as though from
deepest
densest bone
idibera,
born of ice
and rock,
infant soul
cast
among
the ancients
that they might
scratch your
name in stone,
maiden queen
of cold
and hunger,
fire maker,
lover, mother
plain as dirt,
sacred as any,
another
fair pilgrim
wandering
across eons,
seeking
home
again
our meager dust
gathered
by the gods,
our remnants,
bright and dark,
stitched
into
some strange
garment
through which run
threads of vague
recollections,
impressions
we don't
dare acknowledge,
compulsions rising
as though from
deepest
densest bone
idibera,
born of ice
and rock,
infant soul
cast
among
the ancients
that they might
scratch your
name in stone,
maiden queen
of cold
and hunger,
fire maker,
lover, mother
plain as dirt,
sacred as any,
another
fair pilgrim
wandering
across eons,
seeking
home
Written by javalini
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Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Related submission no longer exists.
Idi/Bera
So many wondrous projections
Give rise to risible trainwreckshuns
What if she’s a he
An Idi Amin slash Yogi Berra connection?
Did not the Vikings plunder
Rape and pillage
And cut all asunder?
Strike each village with
Thoric hammered thunder?
I understand the urge to jump Rorscharch
The runes, condemn the beastie hordes
As for me I’ll put away the bloody swords
And paint her/him with comic words.
Imagine the brutal comic roast
Of Idi/Berra just off the coast
Stout brutes from that peak in Darien
Longboating their way to Scare-again.
Whoever whatever when
If I err mark it down as a venal sin
Sorry I couldn’t write a dainty sonnet
Feel free to jump up and down upon it
But if you cannot smile, my friend,
Send my way a simple grin.
Give rise to risible trainwreckshuns
What if she’s a he
An Idi Amin slash Yogi Berra connection?
Did not the Vikings plunder
Rape and pillage
And cut all asunder?
Strike each village with
Thoric hammered thunder?
I understand the urge to jump Rorscharch
The runes, condemn the beastie hordes
As for me I’ll put away the bloody swords
And paint her/him with comic words.
Imagine the brutal comic roast
Of Idi/Berra just off the coast
Stout brutes from that peak in Darien
Longboating their way to Scare-again.
Whoever whatever when
If I err mark it down as a venal sin
Sorry I couldn’t write a dainty sonnet
Feel free to jump up and down upon it
But if you cannot smile, my friend,
Send my way a simple grin.
Written by Mrd
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