Poetry competition CLOSED 4th December 2011 9:22am
WINNER
Kou_Indigo (Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
Kou_Indigo (Karam L. Parveen-Ashton)
RUNNERS-UP:
diddi
and Grace
My Other World
Anonymous
Antidote.
When women dance, we disappear
somewhere only we know.
The strobes become our sun.
Charged, we battle towards the aching dawn.
A transcendent dimension
that floods both the floor and mind,
with a beat that begs legs
to move and sway
and when we sweat, our sins are purged.
Feeling bass vibrations
from speakers that make us shiver
with multiple kicks.
Writhing hard bodies swell up
in a humanitarian tide.
We sweep matted hair from our faces
and loose ourselves in those dirty rhythms.
We stand until we cannot feel,
our feet. Our minds. Anything at all.
Hands above our head,
saluting heaven on earth.
The music heals all, and we are one
with the sound.
United, we're never alone.
We aint never going home.
Just try and make us go home.
When women dance, we disappear
somewhere only we know.
The strobes become our sun.
Charged, we battle towards the aching dawn.
A transcendent dimension
that floods both the floor and mind,
with a beat that begs legs
to move and sway
and when we sweat, our sins are purged.
Feeling bass vibrations
from speakers that make us shiver
with multiple kicks.
Writhing hard bodies swell up
in a humanitarian tide.
We sweep matted hair from our faces
and loose ourselves in those dirty rhythms.
We stand until we cannot feel,
our feet. Our minds. Anything at all.
Hands above our head,
saluting heaven on earth.
The music heals all, and we are one
with the sound.
United, we're never alone.
We aint never going home.
Just try and make us go home.
One kiss, one touch,
Our first date;
Pushing me against the wall with your body
I try to escape, smiling but
You're eyes were so serious
Keeping me, hurting my arms,
I said 'No' but you don't listen
Your hands are more and more violent
You rip my clothes, I try to run, you cover me
Your desire is so strong, your not a human
Penetrating my body, the pain makes my mind fly.
I'm with the angels in a garden,
Each of your touch is flower petals covering me,
The summer rain drops I feel are my tears,
My laugh, my smile are my screams and sufferings,
I'm the moon between the stars,
As with you I'm falling apart,
The song I hear is your moans I transformed,
So wonderful world full of colors and light,
As the dark is covering our bodies.
Suddenly I'm slipping, I fall
You've finished, my body is liyng on the ground
My world is gone.
Our first date;
Pushing me against the wall with your body
I try to escape, smiling but
You're eyes were so serious
Keeping me, hurting my arms,
I said 'No' but you don't listen
Your hands are more and more violent
You rip my clothes, I try to run, you cover me
Your desire is so strong, your not a human
Penetrating my body, the pain makes my mind fly.
I'm with the angels in a garden,
Each of your touch is flower petals covering me,
The summer rain drops I feel are my tears,
My laugh, my smile are my screams and sufferings,
I'm the moon between the stars,
As with you I'm falling apart,
The song I hear is your moans I transformed,
So wonderful world full of colors and light,
As the dark is covering our bodies.
Suddenly I'm slipping, I fall
You've finished, my body is liyng on the ground
My world is gone.
I imagine a world of no disruptions
Grey buildings line the sky of dull blue
The gentle breeze calming and pure
A sidewalk to travel on for eternity's time
Hear the laughter of the past within the city
Never venturing inside to pop this precious bubble
A lime light of sun showing through the clouds
Illuminating this grey world with a dull shine
The opposite side of the path becomes a field
Filled with golden stalks and green waves
Fruits of the wild in vast directions
Breathe in the untamed air
Walk amongst the beauty of nature
Listen to the wind whisper and the clouds soar
Lie down in the fields of verdant fullness
sleep under the vast skyline.
~This is where I go in my head~
Grey buildings line the sky of dull blue
The gentle breeze calming and pure
A sidewalk to travel on for eternity's time
Hear the laughter of the past within the city
Never venturing inside to pop this precious bubble
A lime light of sun showing through the clouds
Illuminating this grey world with a dull shine
The opposite side of the path becomes a field
Filled with golden stalks and green waves
Fruits of the wild in vast directions
Breathe in the untamed air
Walk amongst the beauty of nature
Listen to the wind whisper and the clouds soar
Lie down in the fields of verdant fullness
sleep under the vast skyline.
~This is where I go in my head~
- 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 it's 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 is 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 it's fairness and it's 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 it's 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 is 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 it's fairness and it's 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.
- Upon the Wings of Dragons -
Upon the wings of dragons, dreams descend upon the slumbering mind's eye,
Bringing forth such imaginings, that in their surreal beauty would oft surprise...
For all that we are, and all that we could be, within those dreams do thusly lie.
It matters not the face we wear, when upon we awaken upon the sun's rise...
We all have our dreams, and our dragons aplenty, that guide us upon our way,
When we do rise to face yet another hour in another long and laborious day.
'Upon the eyes that look and see, with understanding, there is such wonder,
And all who wonder thus, as children are want to, they are strong as thunder.'
Oh to fly on the wings of dreams made fresh and real, and savor the illusion...
Knowing it will not fade, nor grow distant with time, nor fail to inspire our soul!
Oh to know that what wonder we find is of this world, free of any confusion...
The songs we might sing in that hour would rival the angels in all glory to extol!
Are we not glorious when in the light of our dreams, we wield a power mighty,
And using it for good, create an art like no other, sharing it so that all may see?
'Upon the winds of Elysium, every dream is borne unto a far, destined shore,
And upon the cheeks of those where they blow, contentment is had evermore.'
Where would we go, if in one instant, we could cross the spans that separate?
What would we do, if in one instant, we could touch any heart with our poetry!
To know for a certainty that inspiration could make a difference in every state,
The conscious and the unconscious, both elevated to heights beyond all ecstasy.
Now that would be an art most fair, and what music upon our lyres so shaped,
That the Muses would be all clad in it, and over their forms it would be draped!
'Upon the hours of the day, a day spent well is crowned with a shining raiment,
And those who spin such cloth of their lives, are forever made joyfully content.'
Oh to sing with a voice that could touch heaven, and move the gods to manifest,
Their glory filling every space, and of every place an Olympus made from earth!
Then would mankind know divinity well, and the sovereignty of it never contest,
Lest to question it would thusly be: to question even the hour of one's own birth.
And to every hand that reaches out, another reaching back like God to Adam...
Would that not be art, to stand forever in the light of understanding's kingdom!
'Upon the heights of paradise, every voice raised in song: echoes passing fair,
And every face beholds the glory that, before, had hidden from them there.'
What magic even in magic made, where Diana from her lofty place descends...
To share in the fellowship of her faithful, and join in their gatherings down here!
What glory even in glory known, in such a world: where no one so condemns...
The faith of another, for all faiths manifest would be as equal and draw all near,
To hear what truths may be learned from listening to others, and so not judging!
A first for mankind, and what dreams that it might birth would cause fair singing.
'Upon the wings of dragons, every fantasy is made a thing of beauty ever pure,
And every dreamer is rewarded, with a wisdom that is both certain and sure.'
Upon the wings of dragons, dreams descend upon the slumbering mind's eye,
Bringing forth such imaginings, that in their surreal beauty would oft surprise...
For all that we are, and all that we could be, within those dreams do thusly lie.
It matters not the face we wear, when upon we awaken upon the sun's rise...
We all have our dreams, and our dragons aplenty, that guide us upon our way,
When we do rise to face yet another hour in another long and laborious day.
'Upon the eyes that look and see, with understanding, there is such wonder,
And all who wonder thus, as children are want to, they are strong as thunder.'
Oh to fly on the wings of dreams made fresh and real, and savor the illusion...
Knowing it will not fade, nor grow distant with time, nor fail to inspire our soul!
Oh to know that what wonder we find is of this world, free of any confusion...
The songs we might sing in that hour would rival the angels in all glory to extol!
Are we not glorious when in the light of our dreams, we wield a power mighty,
And using it for good, create an art like no other, sharing it so that all may see?
'Upon the winds of Elysium, every dream is borne unto a far, destined shore,
And upon the cheeks of those where they blow, contentment is had evermore.'
Where would we go, if in one instant, we could cross the spans that separate?
What would we do, if in one instant, we could touch any heart with our poetry!
To know for a certainty that inspiration could make a difference in every state,
The conscious and the unconscious, both elevated to heights beyond all ecstasy.
Now that would be an art most fair, and what music upon our lyres so shaped,
That the Muses would be all clad in it, and over their forms it would be draped!
'Upon the hours of the day, a day spent well is crowned with a shining raiment,
And those who spin such cloth of their lives, are forever made joyfully content.'
Oh to sing with a voice that could touch heaven, and move the gods to manifest,
Their glory filling every space, and of every place an Olympus made from earth!
Then would mankind know divinity well, and the sovereignty of it never contest,
Lest to question it would thusly be: to question even the hour of one's own birth.
And to every hand that reaches out, another reaching back like God to Adam...
Would that not be art, to stand forever in the light of understanding's kingdom!
'Upon the heights of paradise, every voice raised in song: echoes passing fair,
And every face beholds the glory that, before, had hidden from them there.'
What magic even in magic made, where Diana from her lofty place descends...
To share in the fellowship of her faithful, and join in their gatherings down here!
What glory even in glory known, in such a world: where no one so condemns...
The faith of another, for all faiths manifest would be as equal and draw all near,
To hear what truths may be learned from listening to others, and so not judging!
A first for mankind, and what dreams that it might birth would cause fair singing.
'Upon the wings of dragons, every fantasy is made a thing of beauty ever pure,
And every dreamer is rewarded, with a wisdom that is both certain and sure.'
Escape upon the wings of thought,
running from reality.
Blending into free form worlds,
created by the unsaid word.
Flying on the sea of dragons,
fighting perils of rain,
running from darker shadows,
anything to escape reality.
On days it blends, on days it don't,
until the truth of mind and not,
are lost to free form thought,
that said we escaped on clouded heads.
Reality is gone, but a jump away,
a micro step inside the mind,
with vast chambers of worlds unknown,
to future, to past, and present- gone.
No more exist the perils of truth.
I escaped- flying- fighting- running-
upon the wings of thought.
running from reality.
Blending into free form worlds,
created by the unsaid word.
Flying on the sea of dragons,
fighting perils of rain,
running from darker shadows,
anything to escape reality.
On days it blends, on days it don't,
until the truth of mind and not,
are lost to free form thought,
that said we escaped on clouded heads.
Reality is gone, but a jump away,
a micro step inside the mind,
with vast chambers of worlds unknown,
to future, to past, and present- gone.
No more exist the perils of truth.
I escaped- flying- fighting- running-
upon the wings of thought.
Another Dimension (SP Summerscales)
Limited perception
the cause of religious deception .
Standing within an ornate chateau
thats positioned on a discular plateau .
Gasping on violet tarnished air
fly with the silver coated crows
even though
your not physically there .
Domed and conical moulded towns
where evocative sorcerers live
wearing ruby and emerald encrusted gowns.
Dominant irregular pillars
of adjacent
jagged rock
peer between and watch
the ancient sorcerers flock
they dance beneath an inane
stagnant clock .
Huge suspended
orbital
embossed
and compressed
lunar eyes
which are glaring at you
through scarlet incomprehendable
infinitive tiger breath skies .
You see the sabre teeth
you think all of what you have will be bequeathed.
Try to conceive
how to breath ,
your a crow now
you dont have any sleeves
Sand dunes
of granular
opal ,encrusted jewels,
they create tear rippling pools
of emotion,
promotion ,of concept
its mental dialect .
Whilst in this dimension
your in suspension
so while you can perambulate
before its too late ,
Limited perception
the cause of religious deception .
Standing within an ornate chateau
thats positioned on a discular plateau .
Gasping on violet tarnished air
fly with the silver coated crows
even though
your not physically there .
Domed and conical moulded towns
where evocative sorcerers live
wearing ruby and emerald encrusted gowns.
Dominant irregular pillars
of adjacent
jagged rock
peer between and watch
the ancient sorcerers flock
they dance beneath an inane
stagnant clock .
Huge suspended
orbital
embossed
and compressed
lunar eyes
which are glaring at you
through scarlet incomprehendable
infinitive tiger breath skies .
You see the sabre teeth
you think all of what you have will be bequeathed.
Try to conceive
how to breath ,
your a crow now
you dont have any sleeves
Sand dunes
of granular
opal ,encrusted jewels,
they create tear rippling pools
of emotion,
promotion ,of concept
its mental dialect .
Whilst in this dimension
your in suspension
so while you can perambulate
before its too late ,
Ponderland.
The Tyre rolls down the smoking street,
shattered glass, bleeding feet
little girl only slightly wheezing
focuses on Daddy, he's no longer breathing -
the pool of oil still slightly ignited
like the news reporter's cigarette five minutes
before 'LiveTime'; another tragedy, another day.
The clock ticks, ticks, ticks, ticks in frustration.
The face of the small girl melts into wax,
the shattered glass become large raindrops sweeping me up into a tidal wave, a tsunami
attacking the smoking street.
Que the screaming, other people
only wax faces bobbing,
bobbing as I struggle to stay afloat.
My breathing is in my throat...
It's a psychotic's nightmare,
if the only positive,
it makes me appreciate what's real.
The Tyre rolls down the smoking street,
shattered glass, bleeding feet
little girl only slightly wheezing
focuses on Daddy, he's no longer breathing -
the pool of oil still slightly ignited
like the news reporter's cigarette five minutes
before 'LiveTime'; another tragedy, another day.
The clock ticks, ticks, ticks, ticks in frustration.
The face of the small girl melts into wax,
the shattered glass become large raindrops sweeping me up into a tidal wave, a tsunami
attacking the smoking street.
Que the screaming, other people
only wax faces bobbing,
bobbing as I struggle to stay afloat.
My breathing is in my throat...
It's a psychotic's nightmare,
if the only positive,
it makes me appreciate what's real.
Placid tears under one's eyes
Is where I stay within your demise
The currents are strong as I fall from your cheek
A secret hidden oh so well deep
Into the ground is where I lay
Shall taste the earth where another may sleep
Seeping into pores of the gravel I am
One hand in the ground with my head in the sand
A darkness of bliss overwhelming the senses
I escape into the place where no one mentions
A place where your feelings lie buried deep
Sunk into the ground where they sleep
A comatose feeling of peaceful forever
This is the place I go to remember.
Is where I stay within your demise
The currents are strong as I fall from your cheek
A secret hidden oh so well deep
Into the ground is where I lay
Shall taste the earth where another may sleep
Seeping into pores of the gravel I am
One hand in the ground with my head in the sand
A darkness of bliss overwhelming the senses
I escape into the place where no one mentions
A place where your feelings lie buried deep
Sunk into the ground where they sleep
A comatose feeling of peaceful forever
This is the place I go to remember.
Quiet little me,
In a quiet lonely world.
Sitting in the back,
of a quite loud class.
Thinking of a dream,
dreaming of a thought,
remembering past,
and looking far.
Sitting in chair,
quiet little me,
a page of wonders upon my knee,
crossed in thought,
and lost in words-
Of all those people,
who let me read.
I thank you for the book.
In a quiet lonely world.
Sitting in the back,
of a quite loud class.
Thinking of a dream,
dreaming of a thought,
remembering past,
and looking far.
Sitting in chair,
quiet little me,
a page of wonders upon my knee,
crossed in thought,
and lost in words-
Of all those people,
who let me read.
I thank you for the book.
