Poetry competition CLOSED 17th August 2023 5:00am
Go to page:

Happiness?

poet Anonymous

Poetry Contest

For me, "happiness" is one of the most difficult, frustrating, misleading, culturally religiously- class--caste--socio-economically- laden, etc... Mindfucks of a concept and apparent aspirational goal I've been confronted with. So... Write about it, poets
I've got no rules in here,
One-by-one we're facing fears,
Throwing yokes, relieving hearts
And greasing gears...

Only rule:

A poem from 1-50 lines* in length about or around the notion of happiness as you situate and understand it.  It can be:

--A definition
--a critique
--a rejection
--an ode
--a eulogy
-an experience
--hymn, lament

What the fuck ever.  But a poem.

And while I probably have hinted a bit about my own ambivalence, when I put my judge's wig on I'm as objective as the true definition of our subject.  Ha. Ha.

*LINE in the context of length rule is taken to mean the space DUP gives for a line in their submission field.  Loophole seeking shenanigans such as using forward slashes or other shorthand will not pass the gate.  So tighten up!

And as always, be as happy as you want to be


poet Anonymous

Happiness

†  
Why would you think about relishing? †
The relish is the most high perception of all. †
A relish is upper. a relish is elated, †
a relish is eminent, however. †
†  
I saw the quick satisfaction destroyed, †
How I mourned the final fulfilment. †
A final fulfilment is immediate. †  
A final fulfilment is fast however. †
†  
The fool happiness that's really empty, †
Above all others is the gentle gladness. †
Grateful and genuine gentle gladness. †
Never forget the hungry gentle gladness. †
†  
All that is little is not future felicity, †
future felicity by all account is big. †
Are you upset by how life-sized it is? †
You see the future felicity so prominent? †
†  
Just like a walk is the jubilation. †
Down into the darkness of the jubilation, †
gently it goes - the sensationalistic, †  
the lily-livered, the dishonourable. †
†  
The lousy luck is not staccato! †
The lousy luck is exceptionally silken. †
Does the lousy sadness make you shiver? †
Does it really make you quiver? †
†  
†  
poet Anonymous

Nexus

you enter our
bed whisper-light
and mold yourself
to my back
 
in half sleep
i toy with  
your arm hair
and nestle into
my haven  
 
the nexus between
dreams and reality
with you is so blurred
that i no longer
ruminate over
such petty details
 
for you are  
all of my dreams
poet Anonymous

On Finding My Feet --

Past Happiness in a Changed Direction †  
†  
* † †  
† † †
To find myself, I looked away above the chimney top, † †  
behind the clouds, beyond the moon, and even past the sun, † †  
till whirling to each fiery eye and twinkling starry stop, † †  
I dropped here on this flat expanse to find myself undone -- † †  
† † †
my being somewhere this side of a technicolored dream, † †  
the landscape black and white of wicked twisters loose and wild, † †  
the little fledgling fallen from the nest the bird's-eye theme, † †  
the cradle in the treetop tipped by lullabies beguiled -- † †  
† † †
and as I peered across my own backyard along the plain, † †  
my value rounded me to meet the cyclone's coming pain. † † †
† † †
*
poet Anonymous

... it's about strength in choices, hard labour and really good coffee (+Reading)

poet Anonymous

an innocent crush




she saw me
and I saw her

I smiled and
saw the giggle in her

I was sitting across her
watching how the thin air
mess her hair

our blushed eyes met
each other in turns
as she put the hair
behind her ears

the smell of the fresh green
as we pass the fields
and I fly into her eyes

lost in my dreams with her
then again,
I search for her eyes

her sparkling eyes
painted a blush
on our faces

my teenage heart
proposed to her
in the next station
I married her
on a beach

then I searched
for her eyes

and I saw her,
walking slowly
on the platform
as I slowly
passed her

I never
saw her again.

but still,
those eyes...

paint a blush
on my face


poet Anonymous

Happiness (22)

Certainly insecure  
But with a nudge from her friend  
Martha submitted a few of her sketches  
To a fashion contest  

And won first prize for that superb design  
Of a dress.  
poet Anonymous

The Sun Has Returned

The sun has returned
I welcome its light and warmth
My heart melts at the life that came from me, and invigorates me
My house is now a home again
A part of my soul has been extended into other beings of light
IsÖ is this a dream?
I never thought Iíd feel soÖ complete
Blissful, content, aliveÖ
The sun has returned, and Iím eager to bask in its light.
poet Anonymous

Nothing

Ice cream in the morning, and
ocean waves, cycling--
every fifth one, is the biggest
today.

Pasts have burned away, like
an ugly flesh
peeled
and tossed into fiery bushes of God--
see?
It is done, finished
"Abba, Father!"

And nothing harms me anymore
the way it did.

There are just lawns to mow, gardens
to tend--
how many flowers can I possibly fit
in the beds?

But then, there's the heart--
it is content
whether I open it or not.

There is nothing left
to worry about, at
this moment.

Happiness is nothing
and it is everything
all in one, cycling
like the waves--

another bite of ice cream
and I think big thoughts
of all my grand tomorrows.

poet Anonymous

HAPPINESS PARTY

I was drowning in my miseries
You came to my rescue
Helped me stand on my feet again
Then you signed me in
To this happiness club
You invited me the party
The Happiness party
I gladly showed up
Rolled in the luxury pool
And i blended in this new lifestyle
Always smiling while taking to you
Always laughing at your witty jokes
Walking in the confidence you gave me
The love bites you fed me
Made me glow more
You stuffed butterflies in my tummy
They danced in ecstacy
At your command
You programmed my mind
And placed yourself at the epicentre
I think of you most
Your scent won't leave my nose
The kisses won't leave my lips
The cuddles won't leave my arms
The laughter reverberates in my mind
The love is overflowing in my heart
A reservoir is needed
 For this excess love you bless me with
The wings you plugged in me
Takes me to places i never wish to leave
Dont wake me from this dream
poet Anonymous

HIGH AND LOW

this is what there is, my friend,  
day to day from start to end  
the shit is bound to hit the blade  
and new get old, and brightness fade  

it's joy and woe and bliss and strife  
that we can all expect from life  

endless bliss is just a pitch  

you'll never live to catch that bitch  

the midas touch, the perfect kiss  
they come and go, it's hit and miss  
and always when the seasons change  
these flowers wilt and rearrange  

yet just this truth can get one through  
when things go bad, as things will do  
wise folk keep this promise nigh --  

there is no low without its high -- †

and likewise when the blessings flow  
there is no high without its low
poet Anonymous

Happier Poetry

i want to write happier poetry
i long for my mind to rest at ease
i need to find the light in life
i yearn to be happy
i thirst for a reason to smile
i crave an airy thought
i hunger for closure
for a while I have sought
this

i cannot justify writing happier poetry
when in 6, I feel unsure
when in 1, Iíll feel pain
at none, nothing at all

so far yet not really far at all

2 turns to 1, turns to none
8 down the drain,
no certificate of time
I canít even complain,
when it wasnít even mine

not mine to hold,
but yours to share
not mine to love,
but yours to care for
not mine to own,
but yours to beat

not mine to stare at, to find comfort in,
to laugh at, to mess about with, to enjoy,
to find any reason not to cry about,
to love, to cherish, to love, to embellish
the minority i have left, to love, to know,
to even get close to knowing

when in 6, I feel pain
when in 1, it wonít go
at none, Iíll feel nothing
but lost, with no hope

i wonít have my consistent
my one reliable source
my one predictable outcome
your one spark of freedom

ill be left
to fend for myself
because at 1
fate has already been dealt.
poet Anonymous

A Childlike Muse

- A Childlike Muse -

So many muses some may have, angelic and divine in their faces and forms,
In guises grand, delightful as are the myriad nymphs out of the ancient tales!
But why seek some remote goddess who is haughty or vain, of spiteful way?
Her manner is less pleasing than her face, and in the end she will reign alone.
My heart is stirred by a deeper beauty, one that weathers life's many storms...
Innocence balanced by a precocious sort of zest for life which so never pales,
Because it is something eternal, like the sun when it rises for each fresh day.
Should I describe my ideal of feminine grace, compare it to starlight as shone,
Down from the heavens into my heart, stabbing me with cupid's painful arrow?
With pleasurable agony, which is deeper than flesh or sinew, beyond marrow...
Reaching the core of me, where few eyes see what idolatry I commit for love.
She is not like others, she is not the ideal queen or princess out of old stories,
Her heart is young, her spirit is bright, her mind is filled with vibrant dreams.
She listens to the stories I tell, enraptured and spellbound by deeper magics...
Though I am older in body, she sees the youth within my soul, understanding.
She loves to dance, to sing, to share quiet moments as we confess our worries,
And in her eyes is a sparkle, never dimmed by the river of maturity's streams.
She hears me speak of my childhood, and of the things that made it so tragic...
Whilst she calms the storms within me, with a gaze that is so comprehending!
Her voice is filled with compassion, more of music than any dove or sparrow.
She tells me stories of her own, and I am lost in them, forgetting each sorrow!
She reaches the core of me, where few eyes see my visions of heavens above.

She does not wear jeans or sloppy shirts, those are not for a girl such as her,
Preferring as she does a dress more Victorian, with ribbons and lace pretty...
Shoes fit for a doll, adorn her feet, or sandals or slippers when she chooses.
Cute pigtails frame her sweet face, with its' smile to put any cherub to shame!
Her eyelashes long, batting innocently when she looks at me as we do confer,
To whisper, of things only we understand, of what fills us with joy aplenty...
I see the rainbows and the sparkle in her spirit, in that dearest of any muses.
She hides within, the darker dreams, of Gothic glories and forbidden flame!
Perfect is her darkness, because it is balanced by her childlike sense of self.
Ideal to me is she, because like her my shadows are filled with bright wealth,
Which keep me dreaming of flowery gardens and unicorns, and also faeries.
Some may think her peculiar, but to me such a girl is of a spirit I find right,
Fair and wondrous, even in her occasional madness, which all of us possess.
She puts on her pale makeup, black lipstick or blood red, eyeliner to match...
When in contrast to her childlike nature, she so indulges in her darkest side!
Sweet child of the darkness, the moon is less than you despite its' pale light.
You are divine in your perfection, and inspired in your every choice of dress.
Though adult be your age, you still look like the child you remain, as such...
Never losing what others cast aside, within your soul where love does abide.
Let them call you mad, as in our mutual insanity we will drink to our health,
To me you are the ideal muse, more perfect than any faerie lady or noble elf!
Such as this to me is bliss Elysian, as she embraces an eternal child's dignity.

Let them call it wicked what we do, or strange in ways not oft in fashion,
Claiming it be born of an inherent aberration or some kind of perversity...
That makes you see yourself as still a little girl, in need of deepest caring!
Inside I am a child also, adult in body only, and so we will play together.
I will care for you and love you, all of you, the adult with all my passion,
And, the child that you also are, with a reverence as one has for divinity...
For such is the greatest gift I can grant to one I do find beyond endearing!
And when you seek such, I shall be to you as needed a mother and father.
People cannot understand our condition, they claim it is all in our heads,
But it comes from our spirits, our souls, and dispels in us so much dread!
If this be lunacy, then madness we shall embrace as a part of our destiny.
I see you with your dolls, and I remember when I used to play with mine,
We sit on the floor together, you look so happy as you laugh and giggle...
It makes me love you all the more, because this is what I always wanted!
A childhood that never needs to end, even when we embrace as lovers do.
You are better than any princess to me, a child goddess so fairly sublime,
And, whenever I am with you, I can let go of past hurts and old struggles.
Let us fully indulge in the childhood we never had, new dreams invented,
By our boundless imagination, which can make all our desires come true.
So many dead eyes exist in the faces of many who grow up in this world,
But ours are filled with myriad delights more pure than a precious pearl!
So, now you know how I define what I consider to be the truest beauty...

One that is free to be itself, to act as its' dreams inspire it to ever follow,
Such a one is, even in its' imperfections, the most flawless girl who lives.
I would never change a thing about her, never tell her to grow up either...
We are as we are meant to be, and so I see in her the face of my paradise.
If we choose to play through our weekend days, dancing till the morrow,
Laughing freely, loving deeply, singing with a zeal for being truly alive...
Then I am content at day's end, and in our life together find real pleasure.
No goddess could grant me such a gift, only this child so sweet and nice!
Is her adult side seducing me with promises of forbidden lusty evenings?
I am happy to be seduced, by her starlit eyes and their secret gleamings...
Carried away in dark fantasies, woven of shadows and the stuff of night.
As fair are these, of her design, as any sunlit meadows or pixie palaces,
More delicious than gingerbread at Christmastime, or the first snowfall.
Every holiday is her delight, each star in the sky is to her an angel's eye,
And in this we are alike, and with such as she I can be as I was intended.
Not perfect, but perfectly happy and content to know all of love's graces,
To join in her dancing and singing, to skip about with her and never fall.
There is so much that adults forsake, so many joys that they may deny...
But with my childlike muse I am content, with her my pains so mended.
No bards have sung of such a one as she, and so I raise my voice herein,
To celebrate my muse and so immortalize her, if only to make her grin!
Her happiness is to me infectious and welcome, the source of all delight.
poet Anonymous

Happiness Q.E.D.

illusive; a prospector panning in a Klondike stream
setting up camp in the baren hills
with riches, his expectations.

Its fickle capriciousness, a mirage
that evaporates, the realisation of it
 slipping through your fingers.
 
It hides in public view, like an unpolished jewel
an ambiguity, it sings in tune, but distorted notes fill our ears.
Its there in the bustle and clatter.
As the artist sketches, capturing an essence
with a few strokes, relationships the colours
friendships the outline

The opportunity to plant our own wildflower meadow
industry of ants, work ethic of a bee, calming hum of insects,
a twitteration of birds, the beautiful randomness of butterflies.

Xanadu is there in reach for each

Rest, let the warm wind brush your hair
feel the sandy shore beneath your toes
lapping waves wash up your calves.

epicure to feed your soul

 
poet Anonymous

The there's... there.

 
There's softness  
life giving warmth
of heated smooth curves †
where desire flickers and sparks  

There's wit  
intertwined with gold  
and silver tongued laughs  
beguiling intrigue in mischievous claps †

There's worldliness  
knowledge begets rapture †
enlightened strikes of wisdom  
piqued arousal doth capture †

There's strength
rare seeds of palpable brawn †
that carry her through †
from dusk until light breaking dawn †

There's confidence  
belief oozing from each sacred space  
fortified with gumption †
epitomizing a wealthy sensual grace †

There's independence  
forging an elegant path  
sufficient in self trust †
wanting not needing that wrath †

There's compassion  
building up, seeking connections †
cultivating empathic minds †
makes for real and loving affections  

There's sexuality  
basking in all truths †
unafraid to discover †
from blossom to roots  

To sample to taste †
traversing the journey †
exploring these facets †
so many are worthy †

She's much and many †
a force all her own †
intricate and complex †


 
 
she grows there ... until grown. †










Go to page:
Go to: