Poetry competition CLOSED 27th May 2023 9:04am
View Profile Poems by Abracadabra
RUNNERS-UP: Razzerleaf and neves

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I know why there’s always pens in your pockets

Tyrant of Words
England 33awards
Joined 10th Jan 2021
Forum Posts: 5964

Poetry Contest

Why do you write? What is it that poetry does for you? What shakes your shit every time you pick up a pen?

I was really quite taken with the quote attached to the picture earlier and decided it would make a great competition.

Why do you write? What is it that poetry does for you? What shakes your shit every time you pick up a pen?

Ask yourself the big questions. Get bat-shit passionate about your craft. All the good stuff.


• New writes only
• One entry only per human being
• Audio / video / visual poems allowed
• AI poetry is about as welcome as a Big Mac at a Bar Mitzvah here. No, sweet. Just no.
• No collabs
• No minimum / maximum word count (but obviously don’t take the piss and write The Odyssey… I struggle with big walls of text these days…)
• No erotica. Not needed in this comp.  
• Comp judged by the host.

Tyrant of Words
Kiribati 21awards
Joined 13th Nov 2009
Forum Posts: 2782

Lend Me Your Pen, Sugar

Some of us write to find forgiveness
robbing from memories
when it's better to forget
Some of us write to steal silence
when the screams of ego
fill the darkest hours of night

Some strut blindly
past the huddle of the homeless
faking deaf to their own counterfeit fate
scribbling out a rhyme
while feasting on the hungry
like peacocks shedding word tears
for a mate

Some spit blue sparks of rage
their ashes of obsession
endlessly in fashion
another woke of the day
to rant the blood of justice
streaming lava for a burning page

But if inspiration falters
at the altar of the scribe
when sweet addiction beckons
creation comes alive
so I scribble like a demon
with barely pause to think
though I may never write the reason
why my world inside
churns ink
Written by Abracadabra
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Tyrant of Words
England 33awards
Joined 10th Jan 2021
Forum Posts: 5964

Abracadabra-can! 😄

Brill. Thanks for kicking things off. 👌🏻

Thought Provoker
United States 13awards
Joined 4th May 2022
Forum Posts: 245

A No-Shit Sherlock


Corrective Tomes

"For this particular work, I shall don a Deerstalker hat, sport an Ulster coat with the collar turned up, carry a hardwood walking stick, and smoke a gourd Calabash pipe while putting on a polished disposition dignified and speaking in a British accent similar to that of Benedict Cumberbatch."
-- deep underground
the elementary artist
a master of disguise


A sleuth am I whose eye casts wide about
so truth beyond all reasoned doubt will out
on being penned in verses tight and terse
averse to crooked villainies perverse
till lines aligned sans lies or false pretense
straight stand a sound defense firm backed by sense
hard bound still by a boundless knowledge base
quick accessed each ensuing case I ace
on donning a persona in disguise --
uncloaked but by his wit and sparkling eyes.


a dedication of Respect
a Rational poetry of an Ethical purpose

a revolving helios dizain menippean satire on
poesy penned by personal passions

may, 2023 --  presumed yet to be each poetical persona
but the humblest of bards
Written by Jordan (D.O.C.)
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poet Anonymous

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Tyrant of Words
England 33awards
Joined 10th Jan 2021
Forum Posts: 5964

Jordan & Rianne, thanking you. ✌🏻

Twisted Dreamer
Joined 13th Mar 2023
Forum Posts: 32

The load, the click

The pen lays
inside my palms
sliding deep in
my pockets
there is a fire
burning slowly;
deep furnaces
longing to appear
as stains on paper
for another eye  
to glance upon,
they come
in crescendos
of car crashes
striking down
each lesson
as it goes
because life  
isn't a scene  
of moments
filled with
beauty or
this pen  
in my pocket
isn't beautiful
every rage
lays inside
a chamber
waiting for  
my thumb
to push

Written by neves
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Fire of Insight
Portugal 17awards
Joined 26th May 2022
Forum Posts: 238

The Skin in Pieces

An oil painting,
made during the Renaissance,
with cracks,
cracked, with cracks;
with deep wrinkles.
A masterpiece
of a painter
who did not accept
the title of painter.

An enigmatic smile,
hypnotic look,
a burning background,
surreal impressions
in the retinas of those who look
that look,
who surrenders to a smile,
who wanted
to be as good a painter as that scientist;

Who reads the cracks
on the surface of the skin, oil,
from the board;
who thinks it's about time
for that smile
to stop by the skin beautifying clinic!!!

By the way, if a guy
who says he is not a painter
paints a picture this way,
imagine if he decides to be a painter...
I think, with my buttons,
that as a scientist he was a great painter.

The guy was a genius,
he managed to sketch
a good part of the machines
that for us are banal
and for his time
they were nothing more
than alchemical hallucinations.

Maybe, without knowing it,
his anatomical studies opened
path to the existence of the Skin Beautifying Clinic.

They say, moreover,
that the frame is a very well engendered
way to trick us
a kind of renaissance “drag queen” self-portrait,
in which the painter, who was not,
makes the meta-language
(20th century invention)
into an expressive form of his own homosexuality.

(Sorry for the term, but there is no other,
If you want, you can interpret the sentence as:
“an author’s fad”.)

And if so, clap for him,
which once again confirmed
his genius as a painter!
Not that it wasn't proven before.
by the “Virgin of the Rocks” or by the “Last Supper”,
where, if we look closely,
Christ has a face like a woman
of the other frame, which in turn
there is that of the scientist who was not a painter,
but he was a genius!!!

What a skin had the artist scientist drag queen,
pity that, with the years,
created its wrinkles out there...

The painting is beautiful, as it is beautiful
the smile, is beautiful the scientist
who lives in the painter's skin,
The work that survives 500 years is beautiful...

Skin beautifying clinic finances up to 5 years...
The skin, the smile
and the wrinkles stayed in time as they cracked.
The skin, the smile and the wrinkles
they cracked over time, they stayed.

And the Japanese standing in front of the work,
with their cameras,
completely unaware of the existence
of The Skin Beautifying Clinic.

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Tyrant of Words
England 33awards
Joined 10th Jan 2021
Forum Posts: 5964

Neves & PAR, thanking you ✌🏻

Tyrant of Words
England 33awards
Joined 10th Jan 2021
Forum Posts: 5964

Just a short amount of time on this one now. Any more for any more?

Twisted Dreamer
United States 2awards
Joined 14th Apr 2014
Forum Posts: 44

Tyrant of Words
United States 151awards
Joined 11th July 2012
Forum Posts: 1834

Bloody Good Rhymes

Oh man I think my pen is bleeding
The bars I’m about to spit might be bad
I got a heavy flow so I have a feeling
I’m going to be needing me a pad

I seize the day every chance I get
To capture the moment best I can
And though photos won’t let me forget
Words have a more emotional span

I spill my guts with every verse
Whether it’s funny, sunny, sad or mad
The feelings I feel can be quite diverse
This writing phase is a lifestyle, it’s not a fad

Whether I carry a pen, a pencil, or a quill
I’ve got to express myself right then and there
I practice it everyday trying to improve my skill
And now with a mobile device, I can do it anywhere

I write because poetry it’s a snapshot of the soul
So that in old age I’ll re-read and remember the times
My pen bleeds my passion, a testament, a goal
And you bet I’ll try my best for bloody good rhymes

Written by wallyroo92
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Karam L. Parveen-Ashton
Tyrant of Words
United States 69awards
Joined 15th Sep 2011
Forum Posts: 2799

Child of Chaos

- Child of Chaos -

I am the Child of Chaos,
Creativity is my gift and tool.
What I create, I build for us!
I am a queen, not a fool.
Bow and I shall bid you stand,
Then stand and I will make you fly!
This I promise, and command:
Everything changes, below and on high.

The moon that is blackest, the night without stars,
Cannot contain my passion, nor hamper my delight.
I am a child of Venus, and I am also a child of Mars!
For in my bosom lies darkness equal to sweet light.
My eyes pierce the shadows; my heart feels time…
Pulsing and racing, sometimes slowing in a rhythm!
Like a lover giving one final gasp of ecstasy sublime,
All bursting with emotions, both without and within!
This is how magic begins, how my spells are cast…
With passion, and madness, sometimes with verse.
I am a child of Chaos; the old order shall not last,
Before it is torn down, with a glory long rehearsed.
When the moon is blackest, the night with no glow,
And the Dragon is seen in the heavens once again…
Will then mankind learn; will then they at last know?
I have come to divide many, many more to defend.
Follow me into Hell for that way lies: our paradise!
First must come Chaos, before a new order rises.
Your leaders deceive you, with promises and lies,
And there is more to reality than anyone surmises.

Night and day, in cycles come and go,
Seasons change, with heat born from snow.
Water, gives way to fire’s passionate glow,
As mankind’s fears, give way, to woe.
But flowers can replace sharp swords!
I am not here to do ease with clever words,
My duty: is not to entertain, mindless herds.
Slumber, binds, awakening cuts cords.
Open your eyes; be by light consoled!
I bring, the rose of illumination to your soul,
Accept me if you chose, and regain control.
Be sheep no more; from lead be gold.

It is my season now, as old seasons pass into dust,
And I shall bring it to bear with ferocity unbound…
For I cannot: not be meek to gain a mortal’s trust.
Time enough for meekness in the grave’s ground!
Live for me, love me; bleed for me if you have to,
But I will remain the goddess and angel you need…
Rather than any savior your prayers craved, true!
My words carry meaning, in every secret a seed.
What I plant today shall bear fruit in ages unborn,
For even now I touch souls with hands so certain.
I am building the foundations for a distant morn…
But: one drawing ever nearer, to part the curtain,
Which many live behind, never seeing the whole!
I bring the unseen to you, whilst I open your eyes.
Through me, we shall restore what the gods stole,
And this starless night will pass, amidst the cries!
Shrieks of they: who could not face our new sun.
Let them remain in the darkness, doom befallen…
But it will never change the work that was begun.
A garden shall bloom, with fragrance and pollen!

Everything changes, below and on high,
This I promise, and command.
Now stand and I will make you fly!
Bow and I shall bid you stand.
I am a queen, not a fool.
What I create, I build for us!
Creativity is my gift and tool,
I am the Child of Chaos.
Written by Kou_Indigo (Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
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Strange Creature
Joined 5th Sep 2016
Forum Posts: 8


Strange Creature
Joined 5th Sep 2016
Forum Posts: 8

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