Poetry competition CLOSED 17th August 2023 5:00am
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poet Anonymous

She Is The Theory Of Everything

in her eyes †
you'll see the resolution †
of a billion stars †
in breathless awe †
submerging brilliance  
†of soul †

simply gazing  
†into another universe †
astrological heaven †
Her star sign is beauty †
Always in conjunction †
With love †

beware of her gravity †
it will pull you †
into her core †
of fiery emotions †
where creation lays †
in burning passion †

a new existence †
Of physics †
where theory gives way †
to beautiful reality †
defining realativity †

love equals emotions †
times passion squared †
poet Anonymous

A Childís Song

- A Childís 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!
Itís sad those years donít last; they run like sand.
Sand in the glass, and time flying by too quickÖ
I want to slow it down, and make the sand stick.
Iíve lost too much, and Iíve cried far too long,
Yet once I was a child, and I sang a childís song.

Rainbows and day glows, and nursery tales,
Fighting with pirates on a ship that always sails.
These are the times that we donít want to lose,
Because once they are gone, we cannot choose.

Dancing in the grass, seeing castles in the clouds,
A child doesnít care about all the bustling crowds.
Yet their minds are open, and they learn in timeÖ
Itís sad we canít keep them innocent with a rhyme.
Rhymes in the wind, and the wind blowing fierceÖ
I wish the wind could take us back to simpler years.
Iíve become so lost, as the wind blew me along,
But within my heart, Iím still singing a childís song.

Rainbows and cartoon shows; places to see,
Exploring the world, and sharing good company.
These are the times that we donít 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!
Itís sad if we forget tasting our first ice cream cup.
Memories fade so fast, and new memories ariseÖ
I want to hold on to them all; savor each surprise.
Iíve learned so much; I know right from wrong,
Though I can still go back and sing a childís song.

Rainbows and hair bows, and rock and roll,
Hanging out Ďtill midnight, dancing out of control.
These are the times that we donít want to end,
Because hearts break so easy: so hard to mend.
poet Anonymous

All That Matters

I've never gone streaking † † † †
at night in the rain, † † † †
† † † †  
I've never made love † † † †
at the back of the plane. † † † †
† † † †  
I've never met Elvis, † † † †
the Queen or the Pope, † † † †
† † † †  
I've not been to Holland † † † †
and smoked loads of dope. † † † †
† † † †  
I've not gone in search of † † † †
the source of the Nile. † † † †
† † † †  
I've failed in the running † † † †
of a four-minute mile. † † † †
† † † †  
I've had nothing published Ė † † † †
I'm a terrible poet! † † † †
† † † †  
(and this poem as proof † † †  
will certainly show it!) † † † †
† † † †  
I've not raced a bike † † † †
in the Tour de France, † † † †
† † † †  
I've never asked Sylvia Plath † † † †
for a dance, † † † †
† † † †  
I've not been to parties † † † †
with Hares and Mad Hatters, † † † †
† †
but I have my Dormouse🐭 † † † †
and that's all that matters ♥️ † † † †
† † † †  
† † † †
poet Anonymous


all that money gone  
for 286 ibm compatible  
with four megabytes  
of random access memory  
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  
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 †
the sun bright enough  
to blind you  
and you're seeing  
maybe for the first time  
in your puny little life  
and, jesus
if it ain't all just good
poet Anonymous

no need for drama

Happiness? † † †
I'll tell you what it is. † † †
† † †  
It's an afternoon Sunday † † †
and a nice slice of cake, † † †
shared with someone you love. † † †
† † †  
Oh, yes.
† † †
† † †  
poet Anonymous

a precious dry rose

of redroses
was smiling
in front of me,
but I loved only
the red rose that
died and was
hidden in
was †

But for me it was priceless
as it was somehow alive as
a memory in the dilapidated pages..
n †I am very happy about..!
poet Anonymous


Teach me to see
and only see
How love exists

Open my mouth,
wade in my pulse
And teach me to sing

Teach me to dive,
into her eyes
And keep on swimming
To the core of her light

Repeat the human song,
Sing ďThereís a whale in meĒ

Teach me to be
A juniper tree
To live and die
poet Anonymous


I have heard it said Ďhappiness is only real when itís sharedí
What a wonderful mantra for my life
Never again to worry about the objects I have accumulated
Not to fret about getting the borrowed book back
To become excited about the experiences we will have together
To not be concerned about my precious independence anymore
Or mentally calculate if I can afford a potential separation
For the memories I will make are indeed priceless
The laughter together and even the tears
The grief we will share together, a prop for our souls
Happiness was always there lurking in plain sight
But I was too complicated before to truly recognize it
I offer you to share in my life, my happiness, my future
And in return we will banish those lonely moments
For those independent, strong traits are indeed meaningless
compared to me sharing my happiness and you sharing yours
My true authentic self has just discovered joy
Spread the word!
poet Anonymous

With mirth and laughter let old wrinkles come

I remember the bounce
of a bus ride into Liverpool
and a rolling ferry that made me so sick
I had to sit on his knee.

My small fingers ploughed the fields
on his potato sack face
as he kept a weather eye on the Mersey
and swamped me with his huge farm-hand hands.

I love you grandad I said, touching his cheek
beneath a gaze that drifts towards an ocean.
and there it was,
a smile that fitted perfectly into
every furrow on his face.
poet Anonymous


Happiness is a smile
On the face of a child
So brilliantly lighted
With delight
At the sight
Of her mother's love

Happiness is a look
In a lover's eyes
Looking at her beloved
Mouthing the words
I love you
From across the room

Happiness is the touch
Of a mother's hand
On the forehead
Of a beloved child
It's happiness...
Of life love and sacrifices.
poet Anonymous

In Love with His Illusion

There he goes again
Building a picturesque world
Creating the perfect reverie to escape to where he fully dives in
Itís more than a fantasy
Itís more than just a dream
Itís a flawless delusion he composes with heart and mind and pen
Without hesitation
His new infatuation
Gives him the inspiration to make a realm of love and nothing more
But the immense intense elation
Coupled with his imagination
Invokes a hollow fire that burns deep within like it never has before
How long will this happiness last?
Will his resolve be steadfast?
The pedestal heís constructed is made of smoke and mirrors and sin
Heís in love with his illusion
Thereís no foreseeable resolution
That is until their next eclipse, when it comes around, theyíll meet again
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