Poetry competition CLOSED 20th September 2023 2:54pm
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The moment you ''woke up''

poet Anonymous

Poetry Contest

Fact or fiction. When something happened (life?) and made you realize you'd been on the wrong path all along
Again:  fact or fiction.  Up to you.

Poems up to 50 lines preferred.

poet Anonymous

עִמָּנוּאֵל‎

I was hesitant to †
step onto the light  
I was the fear  
itself from within  

but I buried it well  
with the fearless veneer †
and drowned me  
in a quicksand †
staring at a rope  
over my head  

time to time †
you get a nudge †
to your toes †
lifting you up  
still, you refuse †
to grab the rope  

because  
you tremble at  
the voices inside  

they try to convince  
an escape doesnít †
come this easy †

they try to take  
you to the bottom  
saying the true †
escape is there †  

but it keeps  
nudging you †
levitating you  

and finally, you †
grab the rope  
with your †
brokenness  
weakness  
wickedness  
hopelessness  
tiredness  
and half closed eyes  

and today, Iím not scared  
of the darkness that ruined my days  
with a strengthened heart, a faithful soul  
a righteous spirit and Iím filled with hope  

because,  

עִמָּנוּאֵל‎ † Immanuel  
God is with (us) me
 









_____________
עִמָּנוּאֵל‎  
Immanuel †
God is with us †
Greek
poet Anonymous

The Savour of Satire

*
 
I dream still of thine eggplant-colored eyes,
thy cheeks of bubblegum, thy lips merlot,
thy candied breasts my sweet tooth tantalize --
each nipple tongued a teasing dry Bordeaux!
Desire I hard thy gams long shapely yams,
thy buttocks orbed two buttered cakes chiffon,
thy feet ťclairs, thy toes chipotle jams --
which deep my hunger sucks in gorging on!
Thy rich vanilla pudding thighs bewitch,
thy hips of pasty pastries puffed beguile,
thy short and salty curlies raise mine itch --
as yet thy sweetmeat leaves one sated smile!
And stuffed with thee I wake to beg but "More!" --
till straight I full recall thou art a bore.
 
*
 
Contest: The Moment You "Woke Up"
 
Sponsor: robert43041
 
Form: Shakespearean Sonnet
 
Major Poetic Technique: Irony Dawning Each Noon  
Yet Still on the Wrong Rough Road with Potholes  
 
Theme: Lust's Labour's Lost
poet Anonymous

What is this Life...

Standing it seems on the brink
of the universe, looking out †
Into a dirty street I wonder
If my written prayers serve
to stand as a testimony
to my belief
to be truly one of those
saved by the grace of God
 
The songs wafting from the spires
angelic tunes, donít really inspire  
remind me instead, of dirges
and funeral pyres
of psalms and adorations
sung sad out of life, †in the dens
where thieves and whores
rub shoulders in unholy unions
 
Monsoon drains clogged
with dirt from human bogs
there the filthy gliding swans
show their fading beauty
doesnít inspire any poetry
just dullness like an old toothache
I should leave life ran with ratsÖ
live sedentary in mountain caves
 
I walk the street still
hurting my feet on concrete
fall at times, hurting my knees
watched by indifferent eyes
jaded out, bleached by the constant
run on unyielding pavement  
aware but not really there
 
I wish I can go Home, now.
poet Anonymous

Wrong Side of Life

Between the eyes and veil of Twilight's philosophy †
in pages of my mind held in escrow. With a scent of  
chicanery dripping from the quill playing ink spots
pirouetting like shadows. Sipping slowly from an  
Absinthe minuet. Listening to static on the radio  
speaking to the chowder. As if scarabs in my dreams
chained to the canes in the cloned fields of  
Purgatory. Waiting on Charon's Love Boat. Holding on  
to the wrong side of life, gone fishing.
poet Anonymous

Collectively Dreaming

 
Some buyers
Others sellers
Selling the bones of it

Slaughteres' sharpend blades
Waiting Sheep
Dutifully line slaughter housing

King's collective crowns
Heavy, heady wine
Eternal fools, ever pointing
Emperors' bare nakedness

Mindless automatons
Zero one(ing) algorithmic
Never thinking
Nor questioning

Sleepwalking through existence
Seldom self-aware
Merrily
Merrily floating down stream
poet Anonymous

At an island of light

Inside    
a lamp is lit
itís night †
but the heavens got an idea †
†  
out there lies a mad galaxy †
the air curves and changes shape †  
in silence †
people swarm the streets outside my window †
everyone with their head in the clouds †
†  
like out of a dream †  
I step out of bed and write a poem †  
that starts with: Itís Saturday, itís February, †
and I don't want to die
 
Inside
a lamp is lit
it's night
but the heavens got an idea
poet Anonymous

Happiness isn't made for me

When every decision I make is second guessed at every turn
When I can't say all that I need to say
And be all that I need to be
When my parachute is shot down every time I fly to my dreams
Simply because I don't dream what other kids dream
Then happiness isn't made for me
If I have to tie myself to a book
And live according to some believe
If I have to meet a certain criteria to belong in society
Walk a certain way, act a certain way
To best fit the society
Briefcase †and ties
Heterosexual marriages and all the government laws
Then happiness isn't made for me
If I'm labelled for the loud music I listen
If I'm to be criticized for the dark clothes that I wear
Not given any breathing room to be who I'm
Then happiness isn't made for me
In fact happiness isn't made for any of us
Because we're all just living a lie † † † †
 
poet Anonymous

EXception

It seems that you're happy with me being your beginning and don't seem to mind if I'm involved in your end; but me, I get lost somewhere in the middle, I'm ultimately fulfilled when you're both. Supposedly I was too quick to break the rule went ahead and made you my exception. While you became my unconditional highlight and I remained your conditional selection even then I crave to be your greatest distraction, you were my favorite method of escape.
poet Anonymous

wind from the west, fish bite the best

I was 3 maybe 4 when I caught my first fish
but turned out I was the one hooked
by 12 I knew every bay
cut and oyster reef
between our pier
and the Gulf of Mexico
then life dipped me up
in its slimy dip net
saying, boy you need real learning
to make it in the world
I tried to explain that I already knew
what was being taught
they said, donít sass your teachers
so I was patient and listened
then life said, son you need to work
none of the jobs
were the ones I wanted
but money being the evil
fed to us to sustain life
I was patient
assholes and elbows as they say
all the while
reverse-engineering my life
the saltwater in my veins
feeling the pull of every full moon
ever leading me still
to my home port
poet Anonymous

Living a lie

Keep telling yourself,
"This time will be different,
because its honest"

But how can it be,
When you're lying to yourself?
Old, faithful, denial.

Consider this, friend.
You're worth being honest with,
But truth starts at home.
poet Anonymous

This is beautiful.

poet Anonymous

The Vultures

 
They flew in circles, round and round
Waiting for me to slip up or trip again
I could hear their wings soaring over me
Wanting to pick on my bones and flesh
Öand I wasnít even dead

Guilt is a motherfucker and a half to carry
It eats you up inside, alive and deprives you, relentlessly
Like vultures, these strange angels of death
Came to feast on this decomposing corpse, endlessly

And it wasnít until one day I decided to forgive myself
I unloaded the burden for things I once destroyed
The faults that lingered for a millennia in my heart
Seemed to be swallowed up within its own void

A few days later I began to see things clearly
Understanding sometimes we
Fuck up
 † † make mistakes
 † † † † †and correct the path
But guilt and shame are an awful blame game
That no one should carry like a constant bloodbath

Now whenever the vultures are flying over me
I extend these broken wings and rise above them
And with silence I only smile with jagged teeth
Knowing that for me, there is nothing left to condemn
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