Poetry competition CLOSED 7th February 2012 6:34am
WINNER
Ariadne_Diamond (Ariadne)
Ariadne_Diamond (Ariadne)
RUNNER-UP:
Jordanne
Page:
Why do you read?
Poetry Contest Description
Write a poem about why you read poetry or what poetry means to you?
New or old write.
Any length
one entry
no collabs
:p heres a little something to get you thinking
"Can you tell me"
…What?
…Did you come to read some poetry?
…Maybe a short or dark story
…Lost love or erotic glory
…Rambling rhymes of what I think of me
…Miscellaneous rants or something happy
Tell me… what did you come to read?
Thoughts that share your insanity
Something hot to fuel your fantasies
My thoughts on a worthless world
Some lines you can recite to your girl
How many times I can attempt suicide
And live to write why I am still alive
Tell me…Is this what you expected
I bet your thinking, what is this 20 questions?
Is there even any meaning to this?
I apologize… I must admit
I only ask… because I ask me this
What did I come to read?
Not a clever piece or rhyming spree
To be honest something about me
A shared thought or story
To know it’s not just me
To feel a little less lonely
But this just me
What did you come to read?
Any length
one entry
no collabs
:p heres a little something to get you thinking
"Can you tell me"
…What?
…Did you come to read some poetry?
…Maybe a short or dark story
…Lost love or erotic glory
…Rambling rhymes of what I think of me
…Miscellaneous rants or something happy
Tell me… what did you come to read?
Thoughts that share your insanity
Something hot to fuel your fantasies
My thoughts on a worthless world
Some lines you can recite to your girl
How many times I can attempt suicide
And live to write why I am still alive
Tell me…Is this what you expected
I bet your thinking, what is this 20 questions?
Is there even any meaning to this?
I apologize… I must admit
I only ask… because I ask me this
What did I come to read?
Not a clever piece or rhyming spree
To be honest something about me
A shared thought or story
To know it’s not just me
To feel a little less lonely
But this just me
What did you come to read?
Poems; I read because…
I read poems
Written by poets in this portal
and other’s beyond
for poems to me are words
In pretty colours
All maroon and white
And red and blue too
They float around so carelessly
Read and they become a story
Said in pretty proses and phrases
I read poems by broody poets
For at time times they like thunder be
And lightning on tapestry
Of words sewed and woven
By a poet’s pen
So dark and gloomy
And shivery delicious
When read quietly at midnight
I read poems by poets
Whose words are wisdom
written in deep thoughts
Without fancy imaginings
Just words that speak
Of certain creed
Of beliefs and ethics
And God’s creations
Poets with visions beyond the ordinary
Are favourites of mine
For like me they talk of dreams
And the surreal
Painting pictures way beyond
The imaginings of human mind
Splashes of colours
Dark on the mind’s landscapes
Tell stories of the macabre
I read poems by any poets
For I wish someday to be
One of them
For poets’ world of words
Do clash and tumble
Merge and part like dances
They pull apart
And then they mate
Mere words become words and beyond
Born of poets mind
I read poems
Written by poets in this portal
and other’s beyond
for poems to me are words
In pretty colours
All maroon and white
And red and blue too
They float around so carelessly
Read and they become a story
Said in pretty proses and phrases
I read poems by broody poets
For at time times they like thunder be
And lightning on tapestry
Of words sewed and woven
By a poet’s pen
So dark and gloomy
And shivery delicious
When read quietly at midnight
I read poems by poets
Whose words are wisdom
written in deep thoughts
Without fancy imaginings
Just words that speak
Of certain creed
Of beliefs and ethics
And God’s creations
Poets with visions beyond the ordinary
Are favourites of mine
For like me they talk of dreams
And the surreal
Painting pictures way beyond
The imaginings of human mind
Splashes of colours
Dark on the mind’s landscapes
Tell stories of the macabre
I read poems by any poets
For I wish someday to be
One of them
For poets’ world of words
Do clash and tumble
Merge and part like dances
They pull apart
And then they mate
Mere words become words and beyond
Born of poets mind
Drawing Inspiration
Get a pencil my friend
sketch my words
read them as they curve
they're yours to lend
into mental swirls ,
do they strike a nerve
all short words can bend
if you draw them observe ,
how they apprehend
a mind can , stray to swerve
between depicted pen
two meanings you learn
in one line that's only read ,
a single verse
an implosion through the head
if you get the burst
all paper should be fed ,
with the letters that nurse
the pen who has just bled .
Drawing inspiration
a law in all creation ,
artistic imagery
articulation , swinging free
words draw lines , trigonometry
we translate the signs
to what we read ,
this fills the mind
eyes do receive
pictoral lines
in poetry .
Get a pencil my friend
sketch my words
read them as they curve
they're yours to lend
into mental swirls ,
do they strike a nerve
all short words can bend
if you draw them observe ,
how they apprehend
a mind can , stray to swerve
between depicted pen
two meanings you learn
in one line that's only read ,
a single verse
an implosion through the head
if you get the burst
all paper should be fed ,
with the letters that nurse
the pen who has just bled .
Drawing inspiration
a law in all creation ,
artistic imagery
articulation , swinging free
words draw lines , trigonometry
we translate the signs
to what we read ,
this fills the mind
eyes do receive
pictoral lines
in poetry .
"Gloriously Low"
Surrendering to a mistake or delusions,
of a past I hardly ever talk about now,
the fear of exploding within my bed,
the top scorer of many scores that's one too deep,
and I needed some one to pour to,
to tell what happened and why I was doing this,
my journal, my love, where there were no stones,
nothing could tell me not to say these things,
my pen was my sword against dark thoughts,
even if they were just a recording of them,
pushing them to get redder and blacker with marks,
a super explicit of pure white that had been stained,
smears of oil and disected until nothing is left,
a transformation that's hard to admire at a young age,
I didn't know what I was truely doing until it was done,
until the note had been written and I wanted to die.
It was the release I hadn't known would help so much,
the moment I knew I could be loved by a book with words,
the coils of organs something painfully sweaty like suicide,
I wrote and wrote until I couldn't stop and then here I am,
writing about why I write,
what it all means to me.
It means that even though I hardly notice,
it's the greatest release.
Surrendering to a mistake or delusions,
of a past I hardly ever talk about now,
the fear of exploding within my bed,
the top scorer of many scores that's one too deep,
and I needed some one to pour to,
to tell what happened and why I was doing this,
my journal, my love, where there were no stones,
nothing could tell me not to say these things,
my pen was my sword against dark thoughts,
even if they were just a recording of them,
pushing them to get redder and blacker with marks,
a super explicit of pure white that had been stained,
smears of oil and disected until nothing is left,
a transformation that's hard to admire at a young age,
I didn't know what I was truely doing until it was done,
until the note had been written and I wanted to die.
It was the release I hadn't known would help so much,
the moment I knew I could be loved by a book with words,
the coils of organs something painfully sweaty like suicide,
I wrote and wrote until I couldn't stop and then here I am,
writing about why I write,
what it all means to me.
It means that even though I hardly notice,
it's the greatest release.
Anonymous
eye reeds two lurn
Word Maze
Touching pen to paper,
worlds detach
and come undone.
I was and
now I am.
I can be,
and so I shall.
I am her,
I am him,
I am you,
I am them--
Poetry--
This expression,
this life,
this meaning,
this world,
these thoughts.
It's all I have,
it's one of the many things.
That keeps me alive
today,
tomorrow,
yesterday--
Here.
There-
Now-
Then.
This is the reason,
the reason I write,
stories--
poems--
prose--
& my life.
This is the tale
of a girl
like you,
like me,
like everyone
and like no one--
It's all the same.
My story
is somewhere,
lost inside the pages,
inside of a word maze.
(Hope it works just the same but I wrote about a poem why I write poetry instead of why I read it but this is what it means to me.)
Touching pen to paper,
worlds detach
and come undone.
I was and
now I am.
I can be,
and so I shall.
I am her,
I am him,
I am you,
I am them--
Poetry--
This expression,
this life,
this meaning,
this world,
these thoughts.
It's all I have,
it's one of the many things.
That keeps me alive
today,
tomorrow,
yesterday--
Here.
There-
Now-
Then.
This is the reason,
the reason I write,
stories--
poems--
prose--
& my life.
This is the tale
of a girl
like you,
like me,
like everyone
and like no one--
It's all the same.
My story
is somewhere,
lost inside the pages,
inside of a word maze.
(Hope it works just the same but I wrote about a poem why I write poetry instead of why I read it but this is what it means to me.)
Anonymous
Which Do I Prefer Tonight
A Writers Sensation...
The delicate grip of the pen
The sensual flow of the ink
The erotic words on the page
The moment as it is captured
Or
A Readers Moment...
The beauty of their story
The depth of it's meaning
The creativity of someone else's poem
The emotion I feel when I visualize it
A Writers Sensation...
The delicate grip of the pen
The sensual flow of the ink
The erotic words on the page
The moment as it is captured
Or
A Readers Moment...
The beauty of their story
The depth of it's meaning
The creativity of someone else's poem
The emotion I feel when I visualize it
My mind so sick I need poetry
No television show or no other entries
My life has just become a shortened list
I need this flow to back me up like forencies
I loose my direction I forget about forestry
If my mood could be rated it would be 420
This days I fail to recognize hot ladies
Only poetry makes me a gold frame thing.
Unexpected trumors hurt and all make me
A sad person miserable and a hopeless being
Just when I think am a lost game kid
Poetry gives me a power to face this things.
Yes I cry like a small baby
Help my be far to be obtained by a call battery
And u know this is not a low rating
Thanks to poetry I got the message to fight this long cakings.
Those who hate it go baby
I let all know my life is a soft taking
I'm now like a gold main hit
Why? The answer is poetry.
R.E.A.D
The world of words
Speak my soul’s delight
These words on paper
Bring imagination to light
A search for all connotations and elicits
Written from different creeds and dialects
I read Black to structure my White
(Recognising Expositions Accepting Dissertations)
Write a poem about why you read poetry or what poetry means to you?
under the sheets with
flashlights and paper bound
novels,
syllables formed stories,
Unbound imagination
Connect with masterful
conviction
like ancient constellations
now too dim to see
poetry, with
silent
swift
thoughts
illuminates a single star,
and for a moment
a word is worth a thousand pictures
under the sheets with
flashlights and paper bound
novels,
syllables formed stories,
Unbound imagination
Connect with masterful
conviction
like ancient constellations
now too dim to see
poetry, with
silent
swift
thoughts
illuminates a single star,
and for a moment
a word is worth a thousand pictures
Anonymous
I read erotic poetry because it turns me on
I read avant-garde poetry because I learn something new
The house is FILLED with poetry books
They are like little candies
Read a poem, satisfied, go ahead read another
They fill me with surprise and inspire me to write
Unfortunately for the dirty poetry
I have to write my own
This small town is so prudish
The library does not have a section
On literary erotica
Although I did find one poem in a book
Read it standing in the stacks
Got me so hot and sweaty
I felt guilty when I left the library
I read avant-garde poetry because I learn something new
The house is FILLED with poetry books
They are like little candies
Read a poem, satisfied, go ahead read another
They fill me with surprise and inspire me to write
Unfortunately for the dirty poetry
I have to write my own
This small town is so prudish
The library does not have a section
On literary erotica
Although I did find one poem in a book
Read it standing in the stacks
Got me so hot and sweaty
I felt guilty when I left the library
Ariadne_Diamond said:Word Maze
Touching pen to paper,
worlds detach
and come undone.
I was and
now I am.
I can be,
and so I shall.
I am her,
I am him,
I am you,
I am them--
Poetry--
This expression,
this life,
this meaning,
this world,
these thoughts.
It's all I have,
it's one of the many things.
That keeps me alive
today,
tomorrow,
yesterday--
Here.
There-
Now-
Then.
This is the reason,
the reason I write,
stories--
poems--
prose--
& my life.
This is the tale
of a girl
like you,
like me,
like everyone
and like no one--
It's all the same.
My story
is somewhere,
lost inside the pages,
inside of a word maze.
.)
winnerrrrr :)
Touching pen to paper,
worlds detach
and come undone.
I was and
now I am.
I can be,
and so I shall.
I am her,
I am him,
I am you,
I am them--
Poetry--
This expression,
this life,
this meaning,
this world,
these thoughts.
It's all I have,
it's one of the many things.
That keeps me alive
today,
tomorrow,
yesterday--
Here.
There-
Now-
Then.
This is the reason,
the reason I write,
stories--
poems--
prose--
& my life.
This is the tale
of a girl
like you,
like me,
like everyone
and like no one--
It's all the same.
My story
is somewhere,
lost inside the pages,
inside of a word maze.
.)
winnerrrrr :)
Anonymous
Congratulations to Ariadne, Great poem 
Well done Jordanne
Thank You October
Well done Jordanne
Thank You October
