Poetry competition CLOSED 19th January 2012 8:56pm
WINNER
OctoberArts (October)
OctoberArts (October)
RUNNERS-UP:
diddi
and Whitewand6
Every Picture Tells A Story
Anonymous
Poetry Contest Description
Write a true or fictitious story about a true of fictitious picture in your home.
One hundred words or less.
Any format and category accepted.
One entry per person.
No collabs.
Good luck!
****Competition will self-destruct in two weeks****
Any format and category accepted.
One entry per person.
No collabs.
Good luck!
****Competition will self-destruct in two weeks****
On My Wall
Blonde and bountiful
but dark and dusky
fond of and accountable
lovable but lusty
not cheap but affordable
to keep and unsellable
excitable
and lightable
intellectual
and perfectional
flammable
and confectional
annexable
and flexible
a connectable
but sexual
a sensual conversational
an observational
self preservational
loving but insatiable
my apple valley girl
in my world
a must to have
to you I'll crawl
you turn on the smiles
from a few thousand miles
you are the paper
on my wall .
Blonde and bountiful
but dark and dusky
fond of and accountable
lovable but lusty
not cheap but affordable
to keep and unsellable
excitable
and lightable
intellectual
and perfectional
flammable
and confectional
annexable
and flexible
a connectable
but sexual
a sensual conversational
an observational
self preservational
loving but insatiable
my apple valley girl
in my world
a must to have
to you I'll crawl
you turn on the smiles
from a few thousand miles
you are the paper
on my wall .
Bon Jovi- Dagger through Heart
Hearts in vacant spaces
Adjacent to my 80's cd stack
The heart it doesn't function;
And the wings they fail to fly.
The roses don't grow any bigger
But they won't die or wilt out either
The thorns aren't dangerous
But the colours are contagious;
As they spread across my eyes
Then to my hand ofwhich in it:
I hold a pen
And I sketch a replica down my arm;
Reminants on my Knuckles,
And Upside down across my chest
The heart that doesn't beat
The Roses with no scent,
The thorns as smooth as uncut diamond
Distorted to the edge of insanity.
Now edited to my preferable vision
As if it's really living,
As if the blood is really dripping
From the dagger forced through the vessels.
And the barbed wire I wrapped around it
Encaging it nearly bursting.
The shading across the self suspending banner
Lets light filter, through the ancient font and creases
With paper bag beige, and baby custard yellow
Curled in and graced with fire crackle blue
Perfect contrast to the blood red heart.
And Jet black outlines.
The taken aback wings white and golden as if they belonged to an angel;
With superior pureness,
And infinite Beauty.
Never something so perfect, and yet the daggers so ruthless.
Letting this play on my mind
For: days upon days
Sitting here sketching,
My body the canvas
Wishing I had more flattering colours.
A week has now gone by
Still I lay on my bed
Playing my favourite record,
This time with a tatooing gun
To make it permanent.
A diehard fan for life
Bon jovi I love you
Dedication to the music
And to the artwork
And ofcourse to my life ofwhich has followed
Hearts in vacant spaces
Adjacent to my 80's cd stack
The heart it doesn't function;
And the wings they fail to fly.
The roses don't grow any bigger
But they won't die or wilt out either
The thorns aren't dangerous
But the colours are contagious;
As they spread across my eyes
Then to my hand ofwhich in it:
I hold a pen
And I sketch a replica down my arm;
Reminants on my Knuckles,
And Upside down across my chest
The heart that doesn't beat
The Roses with no scent,
The thorns as smooth as uncut diamond
Distorted to the edge of insanity.
Now edited to my preferable vision
As if it's really living,
As if the blood is really dripping
From the dagger forced through the vessels.
And the barbed wire I wrapped around it
Encaging it nearly bursting.
The shading across the self suspending banner
Lets light filter, through the ancient font and creases
With paper bag beige, and baby custard yellow
Curled in and graced with fire crackle blue
Perfect contrast to the blood red heart.
And Jet black outlines.
The taken aback wings white and golden as if they belonged to an angel;
With superior pureness,
And infinite Beauty.
Never something so perfect, and yet the daggers so ruthless.
Letting this play on my mind
For: days upon days
Sitting here sketching,
My body the canvas
Wishing I had more flattering colours.
A week has now gone by
Still I lay on my bed
Playing my favourite record,
This time with a tatooing gun
To make it permanent.
A diehard fan for life
Bon jovi I love you
Dedication to the music
And to the artwork
And ofcourse to my life ofwhich has followed
diddi said:On My Wall
Blonde and bountiful
but dark and dusky
fond of and accountable
lovable but lusty
not cheap but affordable
to keep and unsellable
excitable
and lightable
intellectual
and perfectional
flammable
and confectional
annexable
and flexible
a connectable
but sexual
a sensual conversational
an observational
self preservational
loving but insatiable
my apple valley girl
in my world
a must to have
to you I'll crawl
you turn on the smiles
from a few thousand miles
you are the paper
on my wall .
That was great!
Blonde and bountiful
but dark and dusky
fond of and accountable
lovable but lusty
not cheap but affordable
to keep and unsellable
excitable
and lightable
intellectual
and perfectional
flammable
and confectional
annexable
and flexible
a connectable
but sexual
a sensual conversational
an observational
self preservational
loving but insatiable
my apple valley girl
in my world
a must to have
to you I'll crawl
you turn on the smiles
from a few thousand miles
you are the paper
on my wall .
That was great!
http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs71/f/2011/181/2/7/bon_jovi_dagger_through_heart_by_obliviouskisses-d3klr2i.jpg just the artwork, a.k.a bon jovi band logo. I actually drew this one ages ago. Just to go along with the poem.
Anonymous
A Picture Of Scion
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
She sat on her throne of scion
she judged each ones' soul
but she had not a soul of her own.
To live or die to be eaten by lions
or to walk the pearly gates of Heaven.
She was the master of their fate
entwined by Hell's gate.
She drank of the wine and ate of the fruit
with out reason or rhyme
she was full of hate.
She worshiped the moon at night
and made love to the stars in the sky
and the sun burned in her open palm.
She was the goddess of scion....
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
She sat on her throne of scion
she judged each ones' soul
but she had not a soul of her own.
To live or die to be eaten by lions
or to walk the pearly gates of Heaven.
She was the master of their fate
entwined by Hell's gate.
She drank of the wine and ate of the fruit
with out reason or rhyme
she was full of hate.
She worshiped the moon at night
and made love to the stars in the sky
and the sun burned in her open palm.
She was the goddess of scion....
Look..See?
Its just a photograph
an old one
weathered by finger and eye
hospitable in so far as
it welcomes a gaze
and plays with imagination
a moment lost
but for the snap of a lens
and the time given
to ease it from the darkness
Its just a photograph
an old one
weathered by finger and eye
hospitable in so far as
it welcomes a gaze
and plays with imagination
a moment lost
but for the snap of a lens
and the time given
to ease it from the darkness
Concrete Capsule & Conspicuous absence
The sun beams of
harmonized togetherness
get filtered thru
the stained glass hue
of her moods
The winter dried leaf fall
of her occasional words
get drowned
in the moonhigh tides
of howling silence
The music
the lilt
the song
the verse
die
sans the orchestral baton
in the sands of
cancerous time
The hours of the day cling
to the insignificant insignia
which tiptoes
in mechanical indifference
on the wall
Endless attempts to connect
the caved bridge continue
and finally
the framed photograph glints
at sunrise
with the end of hide and seek
of sleep with my eyes.
The sun beams of
harmonized togetherness
get filtered thru
the stained glass hue
of her moods
The winter dried leaf fall
of her occasional words
get drowned
in the moonhigh tides
of howling silence
The music
the lilt
the song
the verse
die
sans the orchestral baton
in the sands of
cancerous time
The hours of the day cling
to the insignificant insignia
which tiptoes
in mechanical indifference
on the wall
Endless attempts to connect
the caved bridge continue
and finally
the framed photograph glints
at sunrise
with the end of hide and seek
of sleep with my eyes.
This is a picture
That was never taken
Of the clouds that shuffled slowly over head
The soft breeze that whispered and hissed against the sand
My shoes in one hand
Your hand in the other
How our eyes met at the exact second
the sky split
And the rain engulfed everything
In that roaring stillness
And we stood together on the beach
as everyone eles ran for cover
Picture perfect
That was never taken
Of the clouds that shuffled slowly over head
The soft breeze that whispered and hissed against the sand
My shoes in one hand
Your hand in the other
How our eyes met at the exact second
the sky split
And the rain engulfed everything
In that roaring stillness
And we stood together on the beach
as everyone eles ran for cover
Picture perfect
To the dreamer that dared to dream
The artist that dared to create
In the face of all imperfections
Something beautiful grew and smiled
The smile is perhaps weary
The eyes heavy and tired
Who are you dear lady
For centuries we have wondered
But there you sit, looking out
Peaceful and calm, eyes ever open
Passers by marveling upon your charm
Unknown and yet with such reknown
How did you come to be so great
Your true name we'll never know
We'll just sit and admire
And quietly contemplate
The artist that dared to create
In the face of all imperfections
Something beautiful grew and smiled
The smile is perhaps weary
The eyes heavy and tired
Who are you dear lady
For centuries we have wondered
But there you sit, looking out
Peaceful and calm, eyes ever open
Passers by marveling upon your charm
Unknown and yet with such reknown
How did you come to be so great
Your true name we'll never know
We'll just sit and admire
And quietly contemplate
"Oops"
The frame is warped.
You're the only person I don't hate.
Glass fragile and tender.
I never hide anything from you.
Faces grinning like we're rich.
You're so amazing!
Skin blushing almost drunkly.
Dude let's just get wasted.
Smiles bruised red.
Oh, well don't do that to yourself.
My hands shake as I hold it limply.
No, mom's being a bitch.
Heart pounding in my chest.
Hung out with Lala today!
Blood collecting at the tips of my ears.
You're going to be fine, bye.
Cheeks cold and puffy with hurt.
I don't understand why you're sad.
Salty tears plip and drop against the image.
I'm sorry, I miss you hun.
I wished that it would soak the picture.
You don't understand what it's like!
Suddenly filled with anger I raised it high.
You're my best friend but...
I held my breath as I threw it against the hardwood.
God, you're pissing me off!
A sound almost like a cry explodes out.
I'M SORRY.
Silence beeps in my ears as my mother walks in.
Lala is being a bitch, wanna hang?
She covers her mouth and pulls me away from the glass.
No! She'd never replace you!
Didn't want her psycho daughter stealing a piece.
Why do you hurt yourself?
She asks me what happened but I don't answer.
You don't have it so hard.
Just stared at the mess of glass and frame.
I love you so much buddy!
When she cleaned it and walked out I wiped my tears.
Best friends forever!
Oops.
The frame is warped.
You're the only person I don't hate.
Glass fragile and tender.
I never hide anything from you.
Faces grinning like we're rich.
You're so amazing!
Skin blushing almost drunkly.
Dude let's just get wasted.
Smiles bruised red.
Oh, well don't do that to yourself.
My hands shake as I hold it limply.
No, mom's being a bitch.
Heart pounding in my chest.
Hung out with Lala today!
Blood collecting at the tips of my ears.
You're going to be fine, bye.
Cheeks cold and puffy with hurt.
I don't understand why you're sad.
Salty tears plip and drop against the image.
I'm sorry, I miss you hun.
I wished that it would soak the picture.
You don't understand what it's like!
Suddenly filled with anger I raised it high.
You're my best friend but...
I held my breath as I threw it against the hardwood.
God, you're pissing me off!
A sound almost like a cry explodes out.
I'M SORRY.
Silence beeps in my ears as my mother walks in.
Lala is being a bitch, wanna hang?
She covers her mouth and pulls me away from the glass.
No! She'd never replace you!
Didn't want her psycho daughter stealing a piece.
Why do you hurt yourself?
She asks me what happened but I don't answer.
You don't have it so hard.
Just stared at the mess of glass and frame.
I love you so much buddy!
When she cleaned it and walked out I wiped my tears.
Best friends forever!
Oops.
- Sappho Smiles -
I look up at that portrait of thee, standing by the sea…
Holding thy lyre in thy hand, so solemnly regarding me.
Wouldst I, have been like a daughter to thee, of old?
Or wouldst thou have made me thy lover, thusly bold!
I wonder, Sappho, poetess whom my soul so adores,
Why people still judge thee, by foolish human mores!
Were thou not a goddess of poetry, after thy fashion?
A muse to which the soul might turn with full passion!
I like to imagine thy lovely face smiles,
When poetry brings out thy wiles.
I look up at that portrait of thee, standing by the sea…
Holding thy lyre in thy hand, so solemnly regarding me.
Wouldst I, have been like a daughter to thee, of old?
Or wouldst thou have made me thy lover, thusly bold!
I wonder, Sappho, poetess whom my soul so adores,
Why people still judge thee, by foolish human mores!
Were thou not a goddess of poetry, after thy fashion?
A muse to which the soul might turn with full passion!
I like to imagine thy lovely face smiles,
When poetry brings out thy wiles.
