Poetry competition CLOSED 17th August 2023 5:00am
WINNER
ajay
ajay
RUNNERS-UP:
Bluevelvete
and robert43041
Happiness?
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
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
Written by Gayo
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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
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
Written by javalini
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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, I’ll 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 can’t even complain,
when it wasn’t 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 won’t go
at none, I’ll feel nothing
but lost, with no hope
i won’t 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.
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, I’ll 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 can’t even complain,
when it wasn’t 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 won’t go
at none, I’ll feel nothing
but lost, with no hope
i won’t 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.
Written by anonymouszoe
Go To Page
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.
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.
Written by Kou_Indigo
(Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
Go To Page
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
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
Written by slipalong
Go To Page
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.
Written by Bluevelvete
Go To Page
Anonymous
Related submission no longer exists.
A Child’s Song
- A Child’s Song -
A Song about Innocence
Playing on the porch, not a care in the world,
A child knows so little of the pains we endure.
Yet their hearts are open, and they understand!
It’s sad those years don’t last; they run like sand.
Sand in the glass, and time flying by too quick…
I want to slow it down, and make the sand stick.
I’ve lost too much, and I’ve cried far too long,
Yet once I was a child, and I sang a child’s song.
Rainbows and day glows, and nursery tales,
Fighting with pirates on a ship that always sails.
These are the times that we don’t want to lose,
Because once they are gone, we cannot choose.
Dancing in the grass, seeing castles in the clouds,
A child doesn’t care about all the bustling crowds.
Yet their minds are open, and they learn in time…
It’s sad we can’t keep them innocent with a rhyme.
Rhymes in the wind, and the wind blowing fierce…
I wish the wind could take us back to simpler years.
I’ve become so lost, as the wind blew me along,
But within my heart, I’m still singing a child’s song.
Rainbows and cartoon shows; places to see,
Exploring the world, and sharing good company.
These are the times that we don’t want to pass,
Because they are precious, we want them to last.
Wishing on a star, seeing all the universe above,
A child flies there with a spirit as pure as a dove.
Yet their imagination is open, and they fill it all up!
It’s sad if we forget tasting our first ice cream cup.
Memories fade so fast, and new memories arise…
I want to hold on to them all; savor each surprise.
I’ve learned so much; I know right from wrong,
Though I can still go back and sing a child’s song.
Rainbows and hair bows, and rock and roll,
Hanging out ‘till midnight, dancing out of control.
These are the times that we don’t want to end,
Because hearts break so easy: so hard to mend.
A Song about Innocence
Playing on the porch, not a care in the world,
A child knows so little of the pains we endure.
Yet their hearts are open, and they understand!
It’s sad those years don’t last; they run like sand.
Sand in the glass, and time flying by too quick…
I want to slow it down, and make the sand stick.
I’ve lost too much, and I’ve cried far too long,
Yet once I was a child, and I sang a child’s song.
Rainbows and day glows, and nursery tales,
Fighting with pirates on a ship that always sails.
These are the times that we don’t want to lose,
Because once they are gone, we cannot choose.
Dancing in the grass, seeing castles in the clouds,
A child doesn’t care about all the bustling crowds.
Yet their minds are open, and they learn in time…
It’s sad we can’t keep them innocent with a rhyme.
Rhymes in the wind, and the wind blowing fierce…
I wish the wind could take us back to simpler years.
I’ve become so lost, as the wind blew me along,
But within my heart, I’m still singing a child’s song.
Rainbows and cartoon shows; places to see,
Exploring the world, and sharing good company.
These are the times that we don’t want to pass,
Because they are precious, we want them to last.
Wishing on a star, seeing all the universe above,
A child flies there with a spirit as pure as a dove.
Yet their imagination is open, and they fill it all up!
It’s sad if we forget tasting our first ice cream cup.
Memories fade so fast, and new memories arise…
I want to hold on to them all; savor each surprise.
I’ve learned so much; I know right from wrong,
Though I can still go back and sing a child’s song.
Rainbows and hair bows, and rock and roll,
Hanging out ‘till midnight, dancing out of control.
These are the times that we don’t want to end,
Because hearts break so easy: so hard to mend.
Written by Kou_Indigo
(Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
Go To Page
Related submission no longer exists.
ARTIFACTS
all that money gone
for 286 ibm compatible
with four megabytes
of random access memory
rolodex
polaroid square shooter
freakin' eight track
boom box
olympus OM1
ford goddamn fiesta,
escort, ranger
smith corona with
self correcting ribbon
black & white analog TV
a thousand rolls of kodachrome
cassette tapes
beeper
answering machines
and dream on dream on dream
and then this woman
and that one
and houses
and goddamn apartments
and this job
and that
and bosses
all egos and attitudes
and the whole thing
an endless goddamned
treadmill marathon
and failure like some dark angel
on your heels
but then you're old
and, thank the gods,
still here,
digging the garden,
pruning the apple tree
in the early wet shoe
morning,
the sun bright enough
to blind you
and you're seeing
lover
sky
tree
everything
maybe for the first time
in your puny little life
and, jesus
if it ain't all just good
for 286 ibm compatible
with four megabytes
of random access memory
rolodex
polaroid square shooter
freakin' eight track
boom box
olympus OM1
ford goddamn fiesta,
escort, ranger
smith corona with
self correcting ribbon
black & white analog TV
a thousand rolls of kodachrome
cassette tapes
beeper
answering machines
and dream on dream on dream
and then this woman
and that one
and houses
and goddamn apartments
and this job
and that
and bosses
all egos and attitudes
and the whole thing
an endless goddamned
treadmill marathon
and failure like some dark angel
on your heels
but then you're old
and, thank the gods,
still here,
digging the garden,
pruning the apple tree
in the early wet shoe
morning,
the sun bright enough
to blind you
and you're seeing
lover
sky
tree
everything
maybe for the first time
in your puny little life
and, jesus
if it ain't all just good
Written by javalini
Go To Page
Related submission no longer exists.
a precious dry rose
A
garden
of redroses
was smiling
in front of me,
but I loved only
the red rose that
died and was
hidden in
my
diary.
Neither
it
was
scented
nor
it
was
to
be
valued.
But for me it was priceless
as it was somehow alive as
a memory in the dilapidated pages..
n I am very happy about..!
garden
of redroses
was smiling
in front of me,
but I loved only
the red rose that
died and was
hidden in
my
diary.
Neither
it
was
scented
nor
it
was
to
be
valued.
But for me it was priceless
as it was somehow alive as
a memory in the dilapidated pages..
n I am very happy about..!
Written by dimpy
(dimpsmoon)
Go To Page
