Poetry competition CLOSED 30th May 2012 00:21am
WINNER
Betty
View Profile Poems by Betty
rosette
RUNNERS-UP: lynan39 and pretty_normal

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Whip It Out

braggman
Steve Bragg
Dangerous Mind
United States 14awards
Joined 27th Dec 2011
Forum Posts: 1850

Poetry Contest

What's In Your Pocket
Take something out of your pocket, purse, or whatever and write a poem of any length. Repeat, as necessary, for the next two weeks.

Cinny
Fire of Insight
United States 4awards
Joined 21st Feb 2012
Forum Posts: 983

Toy;

I reach into my purse and out you come,
made of metal to link together people for fun.
Sometimes you can rub my wrists raw til they bleed,
But I have an obsession that only you can feed.
When I feel I have no control on my life,
You're a cold embrace to my wrists, sweeter than a knife.
When someone puts you on me and leads me around,
It give me such pleasure I have learned to moan without sound.
Even though I know it's a bit strange that you're in my purse,
Without you I struggle to get through a day and all the hurt.
So there you are, a randomly appearing object of lust,
You are my dear toy, my sweet handcuffs.

Page_Writer
Mad Girl
Thought Provoker
United States 19awards
Joined 25th Nov 2011
Forum Posts: 183

Poetry Journal

A small notebook that I got from a bookstore.
On the cover a girl in  a victorian dress sits in a field.
And ponders away at her thoughts.
Similar to what I do when a subject comes into view.
Thoughts lace together inside of my mind.
And my pen catches them by releasing them on to the page.
Observations of the world around me & the people I see.
Thoughts that I need to catch but am I not ready to share with the world.
So they will stay locked away inside of this notebook.
Until a later date, when I am ready to share these words...
Under an anonymous name.
On an anonymous site.
So people may read it.
And tell me what they think.
About what I see, hear, taste & feel.
Pages get ripped out and words get scribbled out of text.
All apart of being an artist.
Inside my little backpack that I use as a purse.
Keeping a book to read.
And a book to write inside near me at all times.
For the mind needs to be worked all of the time.
Reading works of ficiton.
Then writing down the feelings that one feels walking throughout one's own life.
Inside the suit of one's own skin.
Capturing the essence of human life in words that have never been written before.
Or at least, not in the same context.
Not int the same way.
Poetry journal, lend me your hand.
And together we shall write this world right.
As long as people's ears, they shall lend.
And we shall win a kingdom with words.
For a pen shall always be mightier than a sword.

Betty
Dangerous Mind
United States 17awards
Joined 8th May 2012
Forum Posts: 422

Panties

I reached into the pocket of my
snotty-bitch perma-press dress slacks,
the ones with the teal pinstripes,
that cost too much, but take 10 pounds off my ass
and make my legs look miles long,
and I take out the size-small panties
which absolutely contrast with the
controlled, professional ass
(in which some might say a stick exists)
they covered before lunch break.

They’re wild, flirty, girly, ridiculous
skin-tight, white boy-shorts
with little colored horses
tramping across the front.
Pure whimsy beneath the wasteland.

But you met me on my lunch break,
in the hotel just
around the corner.
I was so desperate to have you in me,
I just got one leg out of the pants,  
as you pushed my jacket off my shoulders and
tore my teal cami (which matched the stripe in the
pants, of course) over my head,
while I pushed the panties to the side
and reminded you the power suit
isn’t just for looks.

When I got back to the office from my lunch break
sated and still starving, the heat in my panties
turned cold, and became rather
indelicately uncomfortable
as the day went on.

So I took them off in the bathroom.
I meant to sneak them into my purse,
But I got caught in a budgeting meeting,
Then a staff meeting,
And there just wasn’t time.

I just got home and quickly threw on a
sensible, and expected, black power-thong

And now, I’m quietly rinsing you off
my flirty little panties,
in the bathroom sink…  

While he gets ready for bed.

Vixenwings
Butterfly
Twisted Dreamer
United States 3awards
Joined 29th Apr 2012
Forum Posts: 47

Not for the faint of heart

Pens and a razor.
Some bandaids.
A wipe.

Thesea are all things
in my pocket
at this very moment.
These are all things
I cannot live without.

The pens draw designs
Slowly on my body.
Wherever the pens go
They're on my skin
Waiting to be traced.

Traced by the razor
Residing next to them.
Just a small blade
Only used in emergency
Situations.

Carved and bleeding
My masterpiece finishes
Blood starts clotting
Almost immediately.

This is where the wipe
Comes into play.
Always on its guard
It sweeps the evidence
Of any new marks.

The bandaid covers up
Just simply put.
It hides my shame.
Until the next time I cut.

These are the things in my pocket.

SupHomeboi
Thought Provoker
United States 15awards
Joined 9th Apr 2012
Forum Posts: 276

It's Not What You Think

The name is on the package
They come in a variety of flavors
They sometimes pop
They have foil wrappers
They have different sizes
They're getting more expensive
They should be carried on dates
It begins with the letter C
Chewing gum
That's what's in my pocket

Whitewand6
Dangerous Mind
India 16awards
Joined 1st Nov 2011
Forum Posts: 2251

      Head On


Walking on the road
listless
lost
I bump into
a man

-withering
-wrung
-wrecked

He smells worse
than death
more like
a roadkill
with the innards
spilling
His eyes
are empty
they are a giveaway

The one word
flashing in my mind is
shower

Akin a Pavlov Dog
I insert my hand
inside my denim
hoping that I might
find a ten or something
my fingers feel
something
and I take it out

It's a sperm bank coupon
may be worth five hundred
that could last me a week
or more

I see his outstretched hand
and hand it over to him
despite myself
ourselves
we both smile
go our separate ways
each of us probably mouthing
'O dear life'

Grace
IDryad
Tyrant of Words
122awards
Joined 25th Aug 2011
Forum Posts: 16070

Just tissue

I watched you walk away
away from me, the other day
you disappeared
into the airport terminal
and I waved goodbye
I started to cry
my tears fell down my cheek
rivulets, water from a creek
from deep within my heart
I whipped out
something from my pocket
a piece of tissue
and began to wipe my cheek
It made me bawl
it made me crawl
within this soul
thats so heartbroken
The tissue had a spot
like a red heart
a dot of ketchup
that you had wiped
from your mustache
before you left
that fateful day...
for this piece of tissue
I needed a box of tissue.

kriticool
Fire of Insight
32awards
Joined 1st Nov 2011
Forum Posts: 596




What's in your pocket?


http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_BApUSasZ2nU/SiOAsWdkJ1I/AAAAAAAAATA/t00X2WxoQ4Y/s400/Swiss+Army+Knife+copy.jpg

[right]Honey? Have you seen it...thought I left it on the dresser?

...What a way to test her...[/right]

the proof
what & how he’d been
an all purpose, on purpose cold cutter
she’d found it there in between his car keys
right there next to his pen
indicators of what & where & how he’d been
judgment impaired and
his mindless mind on everything but team
his, an ongoing adulterous scheme
scribbled paper & cheap jewelry
once again, uncovered
his intention to have another bite
a new-found lover

just for the night...this
carnivorous meat eater
covertly; he sets out to meet her
a rendezvous; one by choice
now his eyes have gotten all moist
caused by a spiraling pain
feasting on agony fostered by deceit
an anguish beyond his abysmal belief

left side pocket
love letter & that cutesy little locket
the one discovered by chance
wife’s jealousy stabs at an uncovered romance
corked & screwed all of his procreative potential
where The Swiss Army was her choice.
the preferred avenging utensil
found...then thrust...
in between car keys and pen
stainless meeting flesh
she then pressed in
summing up her bitterness
about where he’d been.



...

drogedarain
CriticalMass
Thought Provoker
United States 2awards
Joined 26th Jan 2012
Forum Posts: 93

http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2424/3718033236_4ab363a09b.jpg

~My Favorite Pen~

Oh my favorite pen, from it’s tip
My life blood flows,,,
Without you I can’t convey even
The simplest of thoughts…
Without you pen I would be so
Hopeless and  lost…
Paper is easy to find as any piece will do,
But a pen like mine, is more than hard to find…
I dread the day your ink runs dry,
As it will take many days and
Many nights to find another that remotely compares…
I will scribble and scrabble useless words
On a page, until I feel the bond that me
And my favorite pen once felt…
It is a love affair of the best kind with me and
This favorite pen of mine…
It lays my words out just as I envision them in
My minds eye…
So smooth, flowing and crystal clear…
What will I do without you favorite pen
Of mine?
I don’t want a constipation of thoughts to
Ravage my brain…
I want them to flow freely on whatever
Paper I find…
What will I do when your ink runs dry
And a replacement, if there is such a
Thing has yet to be found…
I will start my search now in hopes not
To be lost…
I will miss you my love and all that we’ve
Shared…
But and end comes to everything this we all know
I just wish your fountain would forever freely flow…



pretty_normal
Pretty Normal
Twisted Dreamer
3awards
Joined 29th May 2012
Forum Posts: 76

Purse of sinful thought-

Oh you're there,
Hello my dear.

The purse with engravings of my dignity
creases with the pressure of my indemnity;
whilst struck out of pocket its rural design
graces nor its concepts or aids me in time.

Screeching summer seclusion saw it sat on your dresser,
Me in my room.
It saw you undress her.

Tickled it beige as you struck out alone,
to whitewash the forceps of your lacking back bone.

Tell me how I despair you.
Tell me now, I dare you.

The purse's clasp is nicked on one hinge,
you refrained from dismemberment? and felt not a twinge
of indignation for my skin sat alone
and crawled through the floor as it dissipated.
Condone?

You think I be the fantasia at bay,
my purse witnessed callas, and your moral display.

Oh darling, be fine, be free, be stalled!
For when you were alone, you weren't not alone at all.

Now sitting in my pocket under-wired with stealth,
lies the remainder of my beauty of my only wealth.

Take it please, as you did me,
for its tainted
and created
such thoughts of blasphemy.

stormz_of_fire
River
Thought Provoker
United States 1awards
Joined 7th Mar 2012
Forum Posts: 355

SupHomeboi said:It's Not What You Think

The name is on the package
They come in a variety of flavors
They sometimes pop
They have foil wrappers
They have different sizes
They're getting more expensive
They should be carried on dates
It begins with the letter C
Chewing gum
That's what's in my pocket

This made me laugh out loud! ... In biology class. very awkward

stormz_of_fire
River
Thought Provoker
United States 1awards
Joined 7th Mar 2012
Forum Posts: 355

If I didn't have you
I'd never have my love.
That one little ring
and a vibration in my pocket.
And bliss takes over my mind.
My lover has reached me once again
Thanks to you my friend.
Wait....
SHIT! Where's my phone?

KahakuHiga-Parker
Twisted Dreamer
United States 1awards
Joined 15th May 2012
Forum Posts: 161

as i reach into my pocket
i feel the cold metal
of an object most deadly
a knife of ancient standards
crafted by the best of hands of centuries before
i reach to pull it out to better inspect my blade
snick it cuts my hand
deadly to the wielder
a cursed blade it is
as my blood is added to many others it has tasted before
it grows warm
as my life flows into it
a blade of folded steel
ornately detailed with scenes of war and love
the handle inscribed with language of elders and seasons long gone
it yearns to taste
what it hasn't for many years
its sharp metal teeth seem to call for it
the smooth edge ready to drink
and next to it...
my phone ringing and now i remember why i reached into my pocket

lynan39
Lost Thinker
Joined 11th May 2012
Forum Posts: 75

I took the paper out of an old wooden box
Where there were a few pictures, a poem, and a memory
And, I found a piece about you, G!

It was written years ago, after I tried to call
And your mother answered and then ended it all
Faking I was a friend, I knew you still lived there

I desperately had to hear your voice one more time
After I’d heard that you were near death, I had to try
When you left the last time, you brought me a gift

Then you said you couldn’t see me anymore
It was causing you and her to have a giant rift
Respecting that she was there first, I honored you

But, I’m not saying it was easy, you were the first
From the moment you saw me, you asked, who is that cutie
I never looked back, for months you quenched my thirst

You were older, wiser, and quite a handsome guy
I breathed in your smell when you left and saw the last spark in your eye
I agreed, cried, and I slowly retreated

I don’t remember how long I cried about you
Waiting for a call, waiting for you drive in
I surely remember why, G!  You were my first love

So I wrote the poem after I hung up; the cancer had caused you to forget
You said that my voice sounded familiar, and you offered to meet
But, I was sure you were in a bed, on pain pills, and unable to eat

When your mother took the phone screaming, asking if it was me
It was funny at first, because she thought I was someone else
And it was then that I realized how many there were, I was not even a memory

And I wrote the poem and how she came between us once again
But, I got to hear your voice one more time
It was well worth the dime

Always a lover, never a fighter, I heard you say
You were my tall, brown-eyed lover, the one that got away
You were my first love, G!

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