Poetry competition CLOSED 23rd April 2023 9:36am
WINNER
Bluevelvete
Bluevelvete
Flowers
The Flourishing Corpse
or
The Perennial Amorphophallus Titanum
"Mother Nature sucks in basically being a whore."
-- The Basics of Biology
*
Of all the flowers in her garden, Earth prefers the "corpse" --
its shape a phallus which each flower lover's fancy warps,
the spathe in bloom the color of a deep-red piece of meat,
discharging an aroma rich though somewhat less than sweet,
a blend of garlic, rotting fish, and decomposing flesh,
along with feces, sock sweat, cheese, and parts of Bangladesh,
enticing stink bugs, sucking lice, and faithful fleas and flies,
the stench of death an old, familiar funk they recognize,
each pest expecting innards fresh and warmish on its plate
exploited by the corpse to other corpses pollinate,
the phallic plant collapsing after sex a flaccid prick --
till rising resurrected yet a whoring Nature's trick.
*
a dedication of Respect
for
the reek of each hard
Truth
a revolving helios rhyme menippean satire on
the sentimental anthophiles
whom Mother Nature full beguiles
march, 2023 -- Evolution yet the other unintelligent "designer" sans good manners
(let alone grace)
The Perennial Amorphophallus Titanum
"Mother Nature sucks in basically being a whore."
-- The Basics of Biology
*
Of all the flowers in her garden, Earth prefers the "corpse" --
its shape a phallus which each flower lover's fancy warps,
the spathe in bloom the color of a deep-red piece of meat,
discharging an aroma rich though somewhat less than sweet,
a blend of garlic, rotting fish, and decomposing flesh,
along with feces, sock sweat, cheese, and parts of Bangladesh,
enticing stink bugs, sucking lice, and faithful fleas and flies,
the stench of death an old, familiar funk they recognize,
each pest expecting innards fresh and warmish on its plate
exploited by the corpse to other corpses pollinate,
the phallic plant collapsing after sex a flaccid prick --
till rising resurrected yet a whoring Nature's trick.
*
a dedication of Respect
for
the reek of each hard
Truth
a revolving helios rhyme menippean satire on
the sentimental anthophiles
whom Mother Nature full beguiles
march, 2023 -- Evolution yet the other unintelligent "designer" sans good manners
(let alone grace)
Written by Jordan
(D.O.C.)
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Yellow is the New Red
Dreary aches
Bleed from the same Red
That have given me life
As it fulfil my needs
To live and be loved
All at the same light
Yet you shattered me to pieces
With your deceitful lies
How can I smile?
When you bore me pain
How can i feel?
When you drive me insane
How can i find peace?
When you are the turmoil within my reach
How can i love?
When hate becomes a parody of it
Like a filthy persistent mist
I anchor myself in hue
A burst of bright yellow
To brace myself anew
A sunny feel and joyous stint
For everyone i know
Because love could grow too
From amongst friends who cherish you.
(C)mai4.10.23
Bleed from the same Red
That have given me life
As it fulfil my needs
To live and be loved
All at the same light
Yet you shattered me to pieces
With your deceitful lies
How can I smile?
When you bore me pain
How can i feel?
When you drive me insane
How can i find peace?
When you are the turmoil within my reach
How can i love?
When hate becomes a parody of it
Like a filthy persistent mist
I anchor myself in hue
A burst of bright yellow
To brace myself anew
A sunny feel and joyous stint
For everyone i know
Because love could grow too
From amongst friends who cherish you.
(C)mai4.10.23
Written by Mayumi
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Half-Spent Wishes
Dandelion in the spring,
half your wishes spent;
carried off on tattered wing,
astride hope’s last lament
purchased wind that wanting bought,
secured upon dead air;
were they wasted without thought,
dispensed without a care?
was each plucked with great concern,
did you and Love conspire?
placed in hands that upwards yearn,
where action meets desire?
gently to the earth I blow,
down where all the wishes go
half your wishes spent;
carried off on tattered wing,
astride hope’s last lament
purchased wind that wanting bought,
secured upon dead air;
were they wasted without thought,
dispensed without a care?
was each plucked with great concern,
did you and Love conspire?
placed in hands that upwards yearn,
where action meets desire?
gently to the earth I blow,
down where all the wishes go
Written by LunaGreyhawk
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Flowers
Little bit of writer's block
Chasing beauty
Sometimes found in a picture you took
That had had to be documented
Knowing when you took it
It could end up in a poem
Flowers
Friends
Beacons of their own truth
Sharing wisdom
Finding grace
Full bloom
Chasing beauty
Sometimes found in a picture you took
That had had to be documented
Knowing when you took it
It could end up in a poem
Flowers
Friends
Beacons of their own truth
Sharing wisdom
Finding grace
Full bloom
Written by PoetSpeak
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Flowers
Little bit of writer's block
Chasing beauty
Sometimes found in a picture you took
That had had to be documented
Knowing when you took it
It could end up in a poem
Flowers
Friends
Beacons of their own truth
Sharing wisdom
Finding grace
Full bloom
Chasing beauty
Sometimes found in a picture you took
That had had to be documented
Knowing when you took it
It could end up in a poem
Flowers
Friends
Beacons of their own truth
Sharing wisdom
Finding grace
Full bloom
Written by PoetSpeak
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Beauty is a Rose
beauty is a rose
soft and pink
dwelling in a garden
and hidden by weeds
she clothes you in her scent
she bursts in the spring
and even when the seasons change
beauty is asleep
she endures relentless rain
she weathers monsoons
growing ever taller through these trials
beauty is alive and free
beauty is a rose
trampled by heavy feet
ignored by other flowers
their roots will never meet
they shun her
pluck her delicate petals
and cut her thorny stem
stick her in a little vase
beauty cannot satisfy them
beauty is a rose
fading away
her thorns prick hungry hands
her leaves are turning gray
the ground has called her home
no matter how hard she tries
she’s been running from the truth
beauty now dies
soft and pink
dwelling in a garden
and hidden by weeds
she clothes you in her scent
she bursts in the spring
and even when the seasons change
beauty is asleep
she endures relentless rain
she weathers monsoons
growing ever taller through these trials
beauty is alive and free
beauty is a rose
trampled by heavy feet
ignored by other flowers
their roots will never meet
they shun her
pluck her delicate petals
and cut her thorny stem
stick her in a little vase
beauty cannot satisfy them
beauty is a rose
fading away
her thorns prick hungry hands
her leaves are turning gray
the ground has called her home
no matter how hard she tries
she’s been running from the truth
beauty now dies
Written by Thetravelingfairy
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Anonymous
Hi Grace
I plan on coming back for an entry soon. However I thought I’d post this here for this spoken word comp as it’s apparent that not all people might know how to add video to their poems.
I made a spoken word / video DU how to guide over lockdown:
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/groups/loud-speaker-poetry/discussion/3964/
Hope this helps other entrants x
I plan on coming back for an entry soon. However I thought I’d post this here for this spoken word comp as it’s apparent that not all people might know how to add video to their poems.
I made a spoken word / video DU how to guide over lockdown:
https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/groups/loud-speaker-poetry/discussion/3964/
Hope this helps other entrants x
Thetravelingfairy and poetspeak, thank you for your entry, and this is a spoken word competition. i hope you can insert the videos with your poems.
Thank you so much, Missy. I hope the entrants do insert the videos before the end of the competition.
Thank you so much, Missy. I hope the entrants do insert the videos before the end of the competition.
Two Beautiful Flowers
- Two Beautiful Flowers -
Too beautiful for winter’s frost,
Is, the black rose that I ever am!
Now in spring I feel not so lost…
Without cold ice, upon the land!
It hath been a hot dawning of springtime,
More like summer in its’ caressing feel…
And though the flowers art ever sublime,
This year’s spring feels somewhat unreal.
I longed for it all through the winter chill,
But that longing paled, before one other!
I remember the snow, so bleak and still,
And felt by all that starkness smothered.
For I missed my flowers, and blue sky…
And all the small joys that were not there.
Butterflies, and fireflies, and doves’ cry,
Cloudless days, with only the azure air!
But now that it is here and in full bloom,
I have wondered what it is that feels off.
Why some bright days, I feel of gloom…
Even when all the stars of night art aloft!
I sought solace in gardens and revelries,
Yet my thoughts were drawn far away…
With many daydreams and pleasantries,
That, like gray phantoms, doth not stay.
Far off, an: ivy grows in a city of sorrow,
And, I hear her cries, when she is sad…
Sometimes they fade, with the morrow.
But ever I yearn to make her feel glad!
Art we connected in the soul, like this?
Mayhap there art bonds ever deeper…
Vestiges of past lifetimes of joyful bliss,
Acted out, within life’s massive theater.
We lived, laughed, loved, and danced,
Across the ages, to our chaotic music!
Will we learn where our feet pranced?
And which lives were happy, or tragic.
We hath all of this life to discover joy,
Anew, as if it were something so rare!
For an eternal love cannot forever die,
Like spring, it endures, blossoming fair.
Too beautiful for a lifeless city,
Is the loveliness of my sweet ivy!
Hasten unto my side, my flower…
When cometh, our perfect hour!
Too beautiful for winter’s frost,
Is, the black rose that I ever am!
Now in spring I feel not so lost…
Without cold ice, upon the land!
It hath been a hot dawning of springtime,
More like summer in its’ caressing feel…
And though the flowers art ever sublime,
This year’s spring feels somewhat unreal.
I longed for it all through the winter chill,
But that longing paled, before one other!
I remember the snow, so bleak and still,
And felt by all that starkness smothered.
For I missed my flowers, and blue sky…
And all the small joys that were not there.
Butterflies, and fireflies, and doves’ cry,
Cloudless days, with only the azure air!
But now that it is here and in full bloom,
I have wondered what it is that feels off.
Why some bright days, I feel of gloom…
Even when all the stars of night art aloft!
I sought solace in gardens and revelries,
Yet my thoughts were drawn far away…
With many daydreams and pleasantries,
That, like gray phantoms, doth not stay.
Far off, an: ivy grows in a city of sorrow,
And, I hear her cries, when she is sad…
Sometimes they fade, with the morrow.
But ever I yearn to make her feel glad!
Art we connected in the soul, like this?
Mayhap there art bonds ever deeper…
Vestiges of past lifetimes of joyful bliss,
Acted out, within life’s massive theater.
We lived, laughed, loved, and danced,
Across the ages, to our chaotic music!
Will we learn where our feet pranced?
And which lives were happy, or tragic.
We hath all of this life to discover joy,
Anew, as if it were something so rare!
For an eternal love cannot forever die,
Like spring, it endures, blossoming fair.
Too beautiful for a lifeless city,
Is the loveliness of my sweet ivy!
Hasten unto my side, my flower…
When cometh, our perfect hour!
Written by Kou_Indigo
(Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
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Christmas Rose
- Christmas Rose -
As Christmas so fades into the mists of time,
For this year, I thought to capture in rhyme…
Some sort of sublime meaning: some depth.
But as the air chills and frosty is the breath,
I think of a certain Rose, and her fair beauty.
If all this world is a garden filled with dignity,
Her graceful hues are bright, and unfading…
And so as Christmas fades, thus anticipating:
The new-year to come, she is still so lovely!
Is it any wonder she moves my heart subtly?
With warmth in words, in heart, soul, mind…
And sweetness that never leaves me behind,
To ponder where her loving presence dwells.
She is with me in spirit as the wind so swells,
As the snow falls down, as all the ice forms…
Yet when I think of her, chill winter warms,
And I feel as though spring has come again.
The petals of flowers, carried on the wind…
Rather than the snowflakes and their shapes,
Which tumble to the ground and there waits:
The carpeting of pale design: which snow is.
Instead of that, I swear I see summer bliss…
Grassy meadows where butterflies may flit,
Where I might see my Rose and with her sit.
Time is nothing, when eternal are our souls…
And I feel immortal, when thinking of Rose,
Who brings me joy all throughout the year!
For, she is there, when bitter fall my tears…
And when I walk in my garden free of care,
I feel her presence, as if she was also there.
So when I thought to pen a Christmas poem,
My thoughts strayed far from this my home.
They flew to my Rose and finding my muse,
In her loveliness, I penned this simple truth:
For all in this poem is true, within my heart,
Where a fair Rose blooms, never to depart.
As Christmas so fades into the mists of time,
For this year, I thought to capture in rhyme…
Some sort of sublime meaning: some depth.
But as the air chills and frosty is the breath,
I think of a certain Rose, and her fair beauty.
If all this world is a garden filled with dignity,
Her graceful hues are bright, and unfading…
And so as Christmas fades, thus anticipating:
The new-year to come, she is still so lovely!
Is it any wonder she moves my heart subtly?
With warmth in words, in heart, soul, mind…
And sweetness that never leaves me behind,
To ponder where her loving presence dwells.
She is with me in spirit as the wind so swells,
As the snow falls down, as all the ice forms…
Yet when I think of her, chill winter warms,
And I feel as though spring has come again.
The petals of flowers, carried on the wind…
Rather than the snowflakes and their shapes,
Which tumble to the ground and there waits:
The carpeting of pale design: which snow is.
Instead of that, I swear I see summer bliss…
Grassy meadows where butterflies may flit,
Where I might see my Rose and with her sit.
Time is nothing, when eternal are our souls…
And I feel immortal, when thinking of Rose,
Who brings me joy all throughout the year!
For, she is there, when bitter fall my tears…
And when I walk in my garden free of care,
I feel her presence, as if she was also there.
So when I thought to pen a Christmas poem,
My thoughts strayed far from this my home.
They flew to my Rose and finding my muse,
In her loveliness, I penned this simple truth:
For all in this poem is true, within my heart,
Where a fair Rose blooms, never to depart.
Written by Kou_Indigo
(Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
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