Poetry competition CLOSED 17th December 2024 1:46pm
WINNER
Anne-Ri999
Anne-Ri999
RUNNER-UP:
Kou_Indigo
Page:
Other Worlds
Poetry Contest Description
Poetry about other planes or dimensions
Soul of Sorrow
Hear my spirit cry out.
In the oceans of memory my soul swims.
I taste the remembrance of life,
Only to drown in the tears of regret.
Oh what pity and despair I share with shadows of forgotten entities of desolation.
For I’m doomed to an eternity of darkness and sadness
and loneliness, and the overwhelming desire to live again.
Hear my spirit cry out.
In the oceans of memory my soul swims.
I taste the remembrance of life,
Only to drown in the tears of regret.
Oh what pity and despair I share with shadows of forgotten entities of desolation.
For I’m doomed to an eternity of darkness and sadness
and loneliness, and the overwhelming desire to live again.
Alchemic love song
Someone blew into sulfer
sand sculptures rose
from benevolent strangers hands
lunations ago each psalm
of your palms
as you peeled syllables
from mine eyelids
we witnessed serpent eggs
hatched by bleeding moons
as animate earth beckons
our ears listened
to totemic death chants
spelled by swan necked light
we engraved our blackened lips
in each casket
a sycophant echo
my thespian shade
together with these visions
this sarcophagus
reveals
only songs
scars stars
starlings
copyrights © owned by Rianne 2024
all rights reserved
sand sculptures rose
from benevolent strangers hands
lunations ago each psalm
of your palms
as you peeled syllables
from mine eyelids
we witnessed serpent eggs
hatched by bleeding moons
as animate earth beckons
our ears listened
to totemic death chants
spelled by swan necked light
we engraved our blackened lips
in each casket
a sycophant echo
my thespian shade
together with these visions
this sarcophagus
reveals
only songs
scars stars
starlings
copyrights © owned by Rianne 2024
all rights reserved
Written by Anne-Ri999
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Spinning Towards the Dark
Boffins are finding such strange stuff
lurking inside tiny Atoms,
Why' there just don't seem room enough
for Electrons and the Neutrons
without those Protons and Bosons
Fermions, Leptons and the Quarks,
tight packed, like paired Dolly Partons,
now, I'm spinning towards a lark.
When they've stripped Atoms to the buff
and found even the Tachyon,
and the one which keeps us handcuffed
to the ground, the glue, Graviton.
My hope then is that they'll keep searching on
until they find some tiny spark
of the Chronon and the Morton
because, the truth of these is rather stark.
Ghosts from ages past might sigh, " tough...
enough,' with this drab carry on,
why,' in our day death's good enough
and what's with Mortons and Chronons?"
Ah, dear ghost, I made these up from
Mort(death) & Chronus(time) a lark,
I'm tangled in these, my swan song?
but, fast spinning towards my dark...
lurking inside tiny Atoms,
Why' there just don't seem room enough
for Electrons and the Neutrons
without those Protons and Bosons
Fermions, Leptons and the Quarks,
tight packed, like paired Dolly Partons,
now, I'm spinning towards a lark.
When they've stripped Atoms to the buff
and found even the Tachyon,
and the one which keeps us handcuffed
to the ground, the glue, Graviton.
My hope then is that they'll keep searching on
until they find some tiny spark
of the Chronon and the Morton
because, the truth of these is rather stark.
Ghosts from ages past might sigh, " tough...
enough,' with this drab carry on,
why,' in our day death's good enough
and what's with Mortons and Chronons?"
Ah, dear ghost, I made these up from
Mort(death) & Chronus(time) a lark,
I'm tangled in these, my swan song?
but, fast spinning towards my dark...
Written by Rew
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Cleaning up at Home
It's true we've past the grief around
and down the years as well,
from the first two put underground
a never ending swell.
There is no myth or mystery
nor any favourites,
for, throughout our history,
we are groomed out just like nits.
It seems to me we are viewed as lice
infesting a planet,
but for all to be groomed out, now, that ain't nice,
I'm on the list! Damn it...
I can hear the nit-nurse curse
bustling round with her comb,
no grim-reaper just mother earth
cleaning up at home...
and down the years as well,
from the first two put underground
a never ending swell.
There is no myth or mystery
nor any favourites,
for, throughout our history,
we are groomed out just like nits.
It seems to me we are viewed as lice
infesting a planet,
but for all to be groomed out, now, that ain't nice,
I'm on the list! Damn it...
I can hear the nit-nurse curse
bustling round with her comb,
no grim-reaper just mother earth
cleaning up at home...
Written by Rew
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Soul of Sorrow
Hear my spirit cry out.
In the oceans of memory my soul swims.
I taste the remembrance of life,
Only to drown in the tears of regret.
Oh what pity and despair I share with shadows of forgotten entities of desolation.
For I’m doomed to an eternity of darkness and sadness
and loneliness, and the overwhelming desire to live again.
In the oceans of memory my soul swims.
I taste the remembrance of life,
Only to drown in the tears of regret.
Oh what pity and despair I share with shadows of forgotten entities of desolation.
For I’m doomed to an eternity of darkness and sadness
and loneliness, and the overwhelming desire to live again.
Written by RCRayJr
(Robert Ray)
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Forbidden Creativity of War and Pleasure (Cauldron Kill Series)
Spiritual hands without feeling spread Sinka’s ass cheeks
Opening a forbidden door of pleasure that is so sweet,
“Through the magical gate only one may escape
To live again or suffer an annihilating erotic fate,
“There are so many before her-uncountable like small grains of sand
Waiting in anticipation for the sexual command,
“Gender participation does not matter because the spiritual essence is all the same
That were born from flesh and died from an extinguished life giving flame,
“Only those who have died from any form of sex are permitted upon Sinka’s plane
To begin a sexual sick journey that have caused many to go insane,
“The first encounter are the Beast of Reproduction
Who hunt and reshape those captured into lost reproductive organs to simulate fucking,
“Many find themselves victims within the forest of The Kneeling Trees
Forever, orally extracting the addicting sweet white dripping sap while on their knees,
“Deserts of False Desires infect the mind with sadism psychedelic heat
Until they levitate comatose to experience nightmarish pleasures when they sleep,
“The Ocean of Violation traps those near its shores with a soothing sound
Taking them deep under to be eternally water raped and drown,
“Living predatory sexual storms camouflage themselves upon drifting wind
Causing uncontrollable cannibalistic orgasms whenever they are breathed in,
“Large wars of sex are fought from as simple as a sexual position
To the existence of scat sanctuaries and the right of entitlement to spiritual pissin,
“But the famous Battle of Sexual Creativity occurs between Sinka’s open legs
Where the winner becomes living sperm to fertilize her mystical egg,
“When the Thunder of Bondage roars across the masochism sky
It is the signal for one to live and millions to die,
“The only rule is the destruction of the enemy must be through sex
In a sick sexual creative way that not only will impress, but Sinka will never forget,
“And when a champion survives and stands alone
They are baptized with Sinka’s sexual fluids and called to their new home,
“To penetrate deep and travel the maze of her pink corridors to the end
Merging, to create life through the trials of unspeakable sexual sin”.
Opening a forbidden door of pleasure that is so sweet,
“Through the magical gate only one may escape
To live again or suffer an annihilating erotic fate,
“There are so many before her-uncountable like small grains of sand
Waiting in anticipation for the sexual command,
“Gender participation does not matter because the spiritual essence is all the same
That were born from flesh and died from an extinguished life giving flame,
“Only those who have died from any form of sex are permitted upon Sinka’s plane
To begin a sexual sick journey that have caused many to go insane,
“The first encounter are the Beast of Reproduction
Who hunt and reshape those captured into lost reproductive organs to simulate fucking,
“Many find themselves victims within the forest of The Kneeling Trees
Forever, orally extracting the addicting sweet white dripping sap while on their knees,
“Deserts of False Desires infect the mind with sadism psychedelic heat
Until they levitate comatose to experience nightmarish pleasures when they sleep,
“The Ocean of Violation traps those near its shores with a soothing sound
Taking them deep under to be eternally water raped and drown,
“Living predatory sexual storms camouflage themselves upon drifting wind
Causing uncontrollable cannibalistic orgasms whenever they are breathed in,
“Large wars of sex are fought from as simple as a sexual position
To the existence of scat sanctuaries and the right of entitlement to spiritual pissin,
“But the famous Battle of Sexual Creativity occurs between Sinka’s open legs
Where the winner becomes living sperm to fertilize her mystical egg,
“When the Thunder of Bondage roars across the masochism sky
It is the signal for one to live and millions to die,
“The only rule is the destruction of the enemy must be through sex
In a sick sexual creative way that not only will impress, but Sinka will never forget,
“And when a champion survives and stands alone
They are baptized with Sinka’s sexual fluids and called to their new home,
“To penetrate deep and travel the maze of her pink corridors to the end
Merging, to create life through the trials of unspeakable sexual sin”.
Written by CasketSharpe
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Soul of Sorrow
Hear my spirit cry out.
In the oceans of memory my soul swims.
I taste the remembrance of life,
Only to drown in the tears of regret.
Oh what pity and despair I share with shadows of forgotten entities of desolation.
For I’m doomed to an eternity of darkness and sadness
and loneliness, and the overwhelming desire to live again.
In the oceans of memory my soul swims.
I taste the remembrance of life,
Only to drown in the tears of regret.
Oh what pity and despair I share with shadows of forgotten entities of desolation.
For I’m doomed to an eternity of darkness and sadness
and loneliness, and the overwhelming desire to live again.
Written by RCRayJr
(Robert Ray)
Go To Page
The Garden Gate.
We're in parallel with other Earths
there's one see, it goes to our past,
but their living is from grave to birth,
like us they travel fast.
They spread across their universe
their start was our heat-death time
and their versifiers will unwrite their verse
but, long after mine...
They're on their way to unbuild things
their pyramids and such
to unerect their stone-age rings
to undiscover much.
Their achievements will be unremembered
their secrets born by men,
back to the womb unentered
by those who unfather them.
They started from a pinnacle
went backwards to their fate,
we started in a pretty pickle
at a garden gate.
To retrace my steps and in Eden dwell
ah! If only it could be so,
then I'd hitch a ride, and leave this hell
and with parallel Earth, I'd go.
there's one see, it goes to our past,
but their living is from grave to birth,
like us they travel fast.
They spread across their universe
their start was our heat-death time
and their versifiers will unwrite their verse
but, long after mine...
They're on their way to unbuild things
their pyramids and such
to unerect their stone-age rings
to undiscover much.
Their achievements will be unremembered
their secrets born by men,
back to the womb unentered
by those who unfather them.
They started from a pinnacle
went backwards to their fate,
we started in a pretty pickle
at a garden gate.
To retrace my steps and in Eden dwell
ah! If only it could be so,
then I'd hitch a ride, and leave this hell
and with parallel Earth, I'd go.
Written by Rew
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The Hidden Paths of Other World
- The Hidden Paths of Other World -
In olden times, when in the realm of ancient Eire's green...
Where wise druids tended the groves of gods and nature,
And circles of stones guarded oft paths that lie between...
There the Fair Folk walked in past ages of golden rapture.
Far from the cold of the windswept north, their proud hall,
Was raised upon the Hill of Kings, today known as Tara.
Capital of the sons of Dana on this world, not seen to fall,
This kingdom lay in splendor, with each passing morrow.
Until the coming of the sons of men, upon the sandy shore,
And the great pact between the ancient race and the new...
Whence no son of Dana was seen in Eire's land evermore!
Save by those who know the paths both magical and true.
In mists cloaked, a peek here and there of lofty azure skies,
One can hear the singing of the elfin kin, in their far homes.
Across seas older than time, where alien stars at night rise,
One can oft journey through the magic of enchanted tomes.
Locked with no key of physical fashion made, nor as bound,
As are the tomes we may handle in pursuits more mundane.
Difficult to understand, yet simplest of all, is the word found,
Contained in that wisdom which itself can be reason's bane.
What use is reason, when in the coldness of logic is doom...
And life lies with childlike innocence, abundant in happiness.
Better to cast aside, the trappings which lead us to gloom...
And know a contentment that is beyond this world's duress.
Some say the paths enter the other world of ancient dream,
Where eternal autumn holds the land in colors rainbow-like.
Older magic even than Dana's shines like bright moonbeam,
There: in that realm where lies fulfilled every passing delight.
Call it Avalon, call it Faerie, but speak thus with reverence,
For gods of old yet call it home, unseen by mortals here...
Except for when one crosses the bounds beyond existence.
Through roads walked with care, one may so draw near...
And behold the glory and the splendor that rules there still!
Though long past it's time, as we reckon the hours on earth.
In castles and palaces that in this world lie in ruins on a hill,
There are opulent and new as a babe just given of it's birth.
In shadows wrapped, glistening wet with the morning dew,
Out of the corner of our eyes, we can see them flying about.
With glamours bound about them, the faeries old and new,
Timeless they are, and can be discerned beyond any doubt.
In meadows where of old heroes battled, and nations rose,
Born of legends spun from threads of gossamer, silken rare.
From lands and ages past, gone to where God only knows,
They endure still, those enchantments so beyond compare!
Bejeweled and sparkling, more precious than gold or silver,
Mighty as the works of Merlin in the age when Arthur ruled.
Such are the treasures of the other world, a realm so elder,
That in its' infancy it was wise, 'ere our wisdom was pooled.
What faded ghosts of greater glory do eyes untrained see...
That for every truth we make a myth, and believe it is false.
Whilst I have traveled on truer roads, beyond land and sea,
Until at last I have stood within the old and hallowed halls...
But of such things, no tongue can form the words to speak,
Lest on failing to convey the magnitude of what lies therein...
The magic is lost upon words alone, when words are weak.
Let it just be said that there are worlds without, and within!
In all of us a piece of the magic lies, untainted and untrained,
Waiting for a chance to show us its' fairness and its' beauty.
Though in some magic begets darkness alone, and strained,
And so, a heaven can thus become a hell, almost tragically.
We bring our darkness wherever we go, and wield our light,
More than we know, causing much sadness or making merry.
Leaving nothing as untouched by our passing, dark or bright,
As we would have ourselves believe, wherever we may tarry.
How we squander the inheritance left to us by elder kindred,
Heedless of their sacrifice for this age of mankind, boundless!
Crooked, is our remembrance of them, and only a hindrance,
For when we seek truths beyond ourselves, we gain far less.
Unless we walk like Galahad, in a purity of spirit and strength,
Seeking after finer things than this modern world provides us.
The Grail will, forever, remain for us but a chalice, if at length,
We do not see beyond the things over which we make a fuss.
So when you walk in places of power and feel of their wonder,
Respect the spirits and forces that shape the soul of the land.
They can be soft, as rain, or they can be as harsh as thunder,
As tangible as stone, or as passing as but one grain of sand!
These things and more the druids of old, beheld in their lore,
Lasting with time, as the oak and the yew of their old groves.
Only the wise now remember the tales as they were of yore,
Before fairy tales spoke of witches being pushed into stoves!
How much we have lost, through ignorance of the elder way,
Remembering as one in an illusion, seeking truth of confusion!
Whilst the path is simple to tread, unchanged with each day,
It exists in plain sight, whilst we but see it through a delusion.
In olden times, when in the realm of ancient Eire's green...
Where wise druids tended the groves of gods and nature,
And circles of stones guarded oft paths that lie between...
There the Fair Folk walked in past ages of golden rapture.
Far from the cold of the windswept north, their proud hall,
Was raised upon the Hill of Kings, today known as Tara.
Capital of the sons of Dana on this world, not seen to fall,
This kingdom lay in splendor, with each passing morrow.
Until the coming of the sons of men, upon the sandy shore,
And the great pact between the ancient race and the new...
Whence no son of Dana was seen in Eire's land evermore!
Save by those who know the paths both magical and true.
In mists cloaked, a peek here and there of lofty azure skies,
One can hear the singing of the elfin kin, in their far homes.
Across seas older than time, where alien stars at night rise,
One can oft journey through the magic of enchanted tomes.
Locked with no key of physical fashion made, nor as bound,
As are the tomes we may handle in pursuits more mundane.
Difficult to understand, yet simplest of all, is the word found,
Contained in that wisdom which itself can be reason's bane.
What use is reason, when in the coldness of logic is doom...
And life lies with childlike innocence, abundant in happiness.
Better to cast aside, the trappings which lead us to gloom...
And know a contentment that is beyond this world's duress.
Some say the paths enter the other world of ancient dream,
Where eternal autumn holds the land in colors rainbow-like.
Older magic even than Dana's shines like bright moonbeam,
There: in that realm where lies fulfilled every passing delight.
Call it Avalon, call it Faerie, but speak thus with reverence,
For gods of old yet call it home, unseen by mortals here...
Except for when one crosses the bounds beyond existence.
Through roads walked with care, one may so draw near...
And behold the glory and the splendor that rules there still!
Though long past it's time, as we reckon the hours on earth.
In castles and palaces that in this world lie in ruins on a hill,
There are opulent and new as a babe just given of it's birth.
In shadows wrapped, glistening wet with the morning dew,
Out of the corner of our eyes, we can see them flying about.
With glamours bound about them, the faeries old and new,
Timeless they are, and can be discerned beyond any doubt.
In meadows where of old heroes battled, and nations rose,
Born of legends spun from threads of gossamer, silken rare.
From lands and ages past, gone to where God only knows,
They endure still, those enchantments so beyond compare!
Bejeweled and sparkling, more precious than gold or silver,
Mighty as the works of Merlin in the age when Arthur ruled.
Such are the treasures of the other world, a realm so elder,
That in its' infancy it was wise, 'ere our wisdom was pooled.
What faded ghosts of greater glory do eyes untrained see...
That for every truth we make a myth, and believe it is false.
Whilst I have traveled on truer roads, beyond land and sea,
Until at last I have stood within the old and hallowed halls...
But of such things, no tongue can form the words to speak,
Lest on failing to convey the magnitude of what lies therein...
The magic is lost upon words alone, when words are weak.
Let it just be said that there are worlds without, and within!
In all of us a piece of the magic lies, untainted and untrained,
Waiting for a chance to show us its' fairness and its' beauty.
Though in some magic begets darkness alone, and strained,
And so, a heaven can thus become a hell, almost tragically.
We bring our darkness wherever we go, and wield our light,
More than we know, causing much sadness or making merry.
Leaving nothing as untouched by our passing, dark or bright,
As we would have ourselves believe, wherever we may tarry.
How we squander the inheritance left to us by elder kindred,
Heedless of their sacrifice for this age of mankind, boundless!
Crooked, is our remembrance of them, and only a hindrance,
For when we seek truths beyond ourselves, we gain far less.
Unless we walk like Galahad, in a purity of spirit and strength,
Seeking after finer things than this modern world provides us.
The Grail will, forever, remain for us but a chalice, if at length,
We do not see beyond the things over which we make a fuss.
So when you walk in places of power and feel of their wonder,
Respect the spirits and forces that shape the soul of the land.
They can be soft, as rain, or they can be as harsh as thunder,
As tangible as stone, or as passing as but one grain of sand!
These things and more the druids of old, beheld in their lore,
Lasting with time, as the oak and the yew of their old groves.
Only the wise now remember the tales as they were of yore,
Before fairy tales spoke of witches being pushed into stoves!
How much we have lost, through ignorance of the elder way,
Remembering as one in an illusion, seeking truth of confusion!
Whilst the path is simple to tread, unchanged with each day,
It exists in plain sight, whilst we but see it through a delusion.
Written by Kou_Indigo
(Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
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Entitle(d)ment
Meanwhile in another (W)alternate universe...
And when the Great voice was heard over the loudspeakers
The declaration of a free society had been rightly proclaimed
So from the eccentric tycoon to the common job seeker
Money became an obsolete thing of dishonor and shame
In the cities everyone went into the streets to burn their bills
Stock had no more power or meaning from borrower to lender
For all across the globe leaders had picked up their quills
Making bartering and human kindness the new legal tender
And no matter the time zone the biggest party ever was thrown
Cold hard cash fell like shredded paper from building windows
It was a ticker-tape parade for morality and civility coming home
The age of corruption and decadence had finally come to a close
Without prejudice civilization had reached enlightenment
Regardless of color or creed all peoples celebrated as one
In this alternate world there was a change in what entitle(d)ment
A new plane of understanding where humanity finally won
And when the Great voice was heard over the loudspeakers
The declaration of a free society had been rightly proclaimed
So from the eccentric tycoon to the common job seeker
Money became an obsolete thing of dishonor and shame
In the cities everyone went into the streets to burn their bills
Stock had no more power or meaning from borrower to lender
For all across the globe leaders had picked up their quills
Making bartering and human kindness the new legal tender
And no matter the time zone the biggest party ever was thrown
Cold hard cash fell like shredded paper from building windows
It was a ticker-tape parade for morality and civility coming home
The age of corruption and decadence had finally come to a close
Without prejudice civilization had reached enlightenment
Regardless of color or creed all peoples celebrated as one
In this alternate world there was a change in what entitle(d)ment
A new plane of understanding where humanity finally won
Written by wallyroo92
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