Poetry competition CLOSED 19th March 2023 12:01pm
Go to page:

Sunday best

poet Anonymous

Poetry Contest

Time to dust off those old poems! Looking for those writes that you have poured your soul into. Submit the poem you are most proud of.
Looking for old and new writes.
Any length
One entry per person

poet Anonymous

Who Knows...

Who knows the names of his land now
of when Neanderthaler roamed,
the tracks, the trails, the beasts tracked down,
the hills, the lakes, he knew as home,
the fondness for the place he'd grown,
or even how great his delight
from hunt's return, perhaps alone,
he sights his families fire light.
We'll never know when bull or sow
was slain for food was respect shown,
I'd like to think, to believe, somehow,
that they had a great sacred stone
to give the beast its swift-death groan
before feasting throughout their night  
telling, before the beast was prone,
how brave it fought, with such great might.
We'll never know if, with calm brow
as all around bright insects droned,
through glow of coals of burning boughs
as lips sucked sweet, sweet, honeycombs
and teeth cracked through great marrow bones
did they ponder on the moon's pale light
and contemplate the life they owned
as owl's whoo whoo through their long night?
poet Anonymous


The howling winds were driving him mad
Driving him crazy
''It's youuuuuuuu. We know it's youuuuuuuuuu''
Attacking him with glee
Then dropping to a whisper.
''No way can you deny''
The winds playing with his mind
As he was sweating, in a delirium
Haunted by these oppressive sirocco winds
Of his Foreign Legion days
The madness, the barbarity
''We had no choice'' he tried to respond
''We always have a choice''
Came back the answer with roaring, wuthering fracas
Presaging the worst as a heavy storm
Was brewing outside
The gale force coming for him
While under tons of blankets he was shivering
Madness closing in on him
He could no longer deal with the ghosts of his past
He put his revolver to his mouth
Pulled the trigger
And found a form of peace at last.
poet Anonymous

Walnuts:  A Story of Father and Son

I remember my father sitting at the kitchen table    
Cracking open walnuts and eating every morsel  
Dad was a good eater, chicken was his favorite    
When he got done with half a chicken  
It looked like a war had taken place on his plate  
Bones gleaned of any meat  
A spectacle to watch    
We always kidded him about it  
The walnuts though I never got  
He drank celery tonic too  
Another non-starter for this cowboy  
I never felt like I knew my dad  
He was always a quiet man  
Gentle but firm, pragmatic as the day is long    
I wanted to know him but I wasn't allowed in  
4 years behind enemy lines during WWII    
maybe the cause  
After he passed I found out I wasn't the only one  
to feel his silence    
He was rarely mad  
His favorite expression was  
"God forbid for worse"  
He would say it if we kids ever complained too much  
I gave the eulogy at his funeral  
That's what a son does  
I was so honored to be his kid  
Despite the distance between us  
The love was there, my mom also telling me so    
I've tried to make peace with walnuts  
I eat them now for health reasons  
I still don't really like them    
For dad's sake though I feel him with every bite    
I buy them already shelled    
Dad had to do the work breaking them open himself    
A decorated war veteran  
It was like rolling off a log
poet Anonymous

Body Of Rose

As a body of rose becomes my ghost
of fragrant petals for my loving host
as the attar weeps of wilted thorns
genuflecting to your pure of heart

For my blue eyes on trellis adorned
of love spawning the crystal dew  
for a moment in time in the mist
like soft satin's mist airborne

With many things of love to be seen
before the winter's solstice brings
frost on the wintergreen
as the winds of autumn fly

In shadows before you awake
luring me to my restful sleep
as the attar weeps of wilted thorns
and the wetness returns

Of our forbidden rendezvous
in dreams, I sleep as the dawn glows
mystic rainbows of golden blue
on sandstones of love's equinox

As a body of rose becomes my ghost
of fragrant petals for my loving host
in plain sight of a midnight rainbow
kissing among the yew
poet Anonymous

Only in My Dreams

Only in my dreams am I truly at peace,
The moon is my constant companion;
My sweet Luna brings light to the darkest of nights,
Her soft glow lulls me to sleep.

Only in my dreams am I my true self,
I can be stripped of my dignity and face no persecution;
My body and soul are bared to be seen,
Yet I have no shame.

Only in my dreams am I truly happy,
My imagination reignites and runs wild;
My soul departs my body in search of adventure,
In the blink of an eye the universe is within my grasp.

Only in my dreams am I complete,
Love, peace and wisdom are the Holy Trinity;
Symbols flash before my eyes,
My mind translates their messages effortlessly.

Only in my dreams can I achieve anything,
Self-doubt and fear fade away into nothing;
I can be Superwoman, or I can be a dragon,
Or I could be at peace in your loving arms.
poet Anonymous

country bumpkin

rural jamaica country days
before old folk are read
men don their three-piece sunday best
as off to church they head

they carry burnished shoes in hand
in case of accident
for severed toes are fairer trade
than shoes with rockstone dent

the sunday sermon gives them sleep
to shield them from the wake
of parson's endless episode
of hell's grim burning lake

the closing sankey wakes the pews
whose snores mutate to song
then off their feet the sunday shoes
as homeward march the throng

to dress stubbed toes and heave big sighs
and swear by adam's lieu
what if that bruise were not my toe
instead of my new shoe!

© Copyright 2023 February 20
by Clyve A. Bowen
poet Anonymous

After the rain

 It was a rude awakening:
flung into a maelstrom that wasn't mine,
for weeks, I kept watch over you;
stood guard like a human umbrella,
hoping the elements would batter  
this old wood instead.
But lightning struck your core
and the damage was done.

Clouds blackened, as gusts were gathering.
I did not want to read the signs.
Very soon, it was pouring again.
Rain hammered us both:
me and you, shelter-less.
This storm was hard to bear—  
cascading sheets of rain falling
as the wind howled.
The third time was deceptive.
It rained down hard,
though at times so briefly
that I almost missed it.
As it settled into a steady downpour,
you asked me in despair
if it would ever stop.
You ventured squinting
into the sunlight.
Look behind you...
don't you see how far you've come?
poet Anonymous

Stargazers in Awe

There is a nostalgia in her eyes
Like a memory of million heartbeats echoing through time
A story untold through a near glassy glacial glance
Cold and warm all at once
    Reaching out in the night

In the vast expanse there is a sigh
It’s as if there is a secret from the universe wanting to escape
You can almost imagine it as it treks along
Leaving a trail of soft and slow breaths
Leaving stargazers in awe

It becomes kind of like a recollection
Of lovers
      Of friends
Maybe even strangers that crossed paths
Far away in the distance
Of those that left imprints
Amidst stardust
…what could’ve been

There’s a depth in the regard
Another hidden world amidst stars that shine
Amidst an array of galaxies
      and constellations
Pulsing like heartbeats and palpitations
Leaving stargazers in awe
If you look up and observe long enough
You’ll be able to see the slight flicker
That tiny sparkle that makes dreamers dream dreams
Like waves that travel near and far
Filling the heart with wonder
     and melancholy

Somewhere up there
In the northern celestial hemisphere
Pisces watches from the vastness of space
Filled with nostalgia
    In eyes that shine
Leaving stargazers…
poet Anonymous

Beyond the walls there is speaking, listening and true understanding.

Day by day the walls are taken down.
These walls are formed of safety and trust.
When inside the walls it's glorious.
If everyone was let in, it wouldn't have any value.
Those who work to get inside these hardened walls are full of heart.
These actions are as new as overflowing streams of fresh water.
Words are more powerful than anyone knows.
Listening and understanding is what causes us to ask for more.
On the top of it all remains the old and new forms of kindness.
A caring true caring of everything that holds these walls up.
Thank you for asking is it's own statement.
Thank you for listening shows real raw compassion.
Names that are remembered and re-spoke are some of importance.
Quote words taken in.
Share a good feeling today as well as in the night.
Thank you for listening.
poet Anonymous

Plus No Calories!

Shall I contrast thee to a candied treat?
Thou art by far the tastier delight;
A nougat gobbled up is bittersweet,
With nothing left to nibble on or bite.
Sometime too sticky thick to full digest,
The caramel, alack, untouched remains;
While often is a tooth put to the test,
In crunching peppermints or candy canes.
But thy confection to a poem compares,
Though meting out no ladle full of lard,
Yet heavy cream and artificial airs,
E'er sugar'd by some fulsome, fruity bard.
So long as buds can taste with tongue in cheek,
So long thou livest this True verse unique!
poet Anonymous

Poetry Queen

Poetry Queen is my muse
Unique with words
She's challenging me
With poetry of love
My heart is beating rapidly
For her unique words
Bring custom wisdom
To wander lust mind
poet Anonymous

blue rabbit

sitting in the mud
waiting for a hug
waiting for someone
even though it knows there really is none
to laugh with
to cuddle with
to be with
to love
if only
if only it wouldn't be so lonely

thrown away
yet searching for a reason to stay
searching to share the darkness
the useless uselessness
the emptiness
the mess
if only
if only she could feel mercy
but she passed by
chasing a butterfly

nothing but an old cur
its once fluffy sleeky fur
now incredibly slimy
all attached to teary bloody holes
that used to be eyes closed
to dream of stupid hopes
stupid loves
friends with white doves
if only
if only there were any
flying by pronely
there's nothing now

blue with fear
feared the day would disappear
together with him
and he'd be eaten by the grim
but anyhow
there's nothing now

poet Anonymous

My Hearts Fire

His body like a tree it towers,
Arms like branches do devour,
I'm safe all nestled close inside,
By his body I doth hide,

His body like a flame in fire,
Its warm,
Its hot,
I do desire,
His touch, his warmth, his fire,
All his body I desire,

His eyes so brown like timber wood,
They mesmerize and truly should,
For I'm his wife, his life, his flower,
From this man I will not cower,
By his side I'll always be,
This man that loves me, mine is he,

To this man I'm truly bound,
By love, by marriage, by a ring so round,
His love for me is by God's desire,
This man of mine ignites my fire.
poet Anonymous

Knot Now

often, to the brink
slipping, I think &
drowning in an
abyss of PANIC!
Any attempt to
mindfully dismiss
all angst or bliss,
to not think
to not rethink
to not over think
knowing full well
even the smallest
ort or iota will retie
the knot of anxiousness.
at some moment
before the future
putting off tasks
is often easier
than yesterday’s
agenda but still I
persist with this joyless
I wish I knew why. . .

I’ll figure it out
Go to page:
Go to: