Poetry competition CLOSED 15th June 2012 3:44am
WINNER
MidnightXDawn (Wynter-frost)
MidnightXDawn (Wynter-frost)
RUNNER-UP:
pretty_normal
Page:
Your Own Divine Trilogy
Poetry Contest Description
Inspired by Dante, write three poems, one about your hell(Inferno), one about waiting(Purgatorio), and your heaven(Paradiso)
one week
Come up with your own versions of these poems, don't try to rip off Dante if you can.
Other than that no rules.
Bene Fortuna
Come up with your own versions of these poems, don't try to rip off Dante if you can.
Other than that no rules.
Bene Fortuna
Anonymous
Nice, Levi, I'll be back only because I admire Dante:)
Well I am just topically in the state of my mind and this is what I have been able to produce:
I
Maybe hell is fun.
When the world moves
Opposite, it’s coming to me.
The earth opens to seduce me
& the clouds are no longer
Clouds, they seem like
Soap foams, making me
Pose like hot & wanted.
Those naked trees are thorny
As if they reproach like a rock-star.
The king of death is the tax
Of my heaven, where I am wanted
To be showered with presents
Because I embrace the ghosts
& never complain.
II
Nothing seems to move
Like I have wanted
But then the planets are moving.
I am progressing for sure
Like a creatures length
Making it unaware,
Like millions of cells
Living and dying everyday.
The sun is hot above
Just enough for photosynthesis
Desire versus temptations
Occupy like sexual domains,
Pay & use!
III
An illusion comes
Made of something precious
Than the golden biscuits,
Wrapped & hidden.
The king of death is treasurer
Of a frequently haunting place
That moves slower than the clouds.
They seem to move away,
Slip away like a hot porn scene
When not browsed.
When I try to buy my heaven
Only repentance looms,
Larger than life & cinema,
Shining inside the kaleidoscope
The machine of burying dreams
Or a rollercoaster tumbling me down
Smashing my brains into the
Pit of the hell.
Heaven kills.
I
Maybe hell is fun.
When the world moves
Opposite, it’s coming to me.
The earth opens to seduce me
& the clouds are no longer
Clouds, they seem like
Soap foams, making me
Pose like hot & wanted.
Those naked trees are thorny
As if they reproach like a rock-star.
The king of death is the tax
Of my heaven, where I am wanted
To be showered with presents
Because I embrace the ghosts
& never complain.
II
Nothing seems to move
Like I have wanted
But then the planets are moving.
I am progressing for sure
Like a creatures length
Making it unaware,
Like millions of cells
Living and dying everyday.
The sun is hot above
Just enough for photosynthesis
Desire versus temptations
Occupy like sexual domains,
Pay & use!
III
An illusion comes
Made of something precious
Than the golden biscuits,
Wrapped & hidden.
The king of death is treasurer
Of a frequently haunting place
That moves slower than the clouds.
They seem to move away,
Slip away like a hot porn scene
When not browsed.
When I try to buy my heaven
Only repentance looms,
Larger than life & cinema,
Shining inside the kaleidoscope
The machine of burying dreams
Or a rollercoaster tumbling me down
Smashing my brains into the
Pit of the hell.
Heaven kills.
I
Slithers of life form, not great enough to bed,
devoured in function and words that they've bled.
As the five-fingered talons that break-back their sores,
spit lingo, and ailment upon death's sweaty pores,
or for you, I imagine, can collaborate far worse,
as you were evil in vigour, before placed in that hearse.
You're bequeathed in the guilt that could cripple your mind,
as you've dissipated to hell, and marooned me in mine.
II
The puss of those waiting, the white slippery fluid,
of the condemned the forsaken- that broke us. So lurid,
Spitting virtue in the flavourless favour of the damned,
but the mass collective interest is congealing at hand.
With that salt in the eye, you can see where you stand.
You hope it rips them alive and consolidates- how grand.
As the clocks tickle your demeanour, break hours on your back,
you're reminded of the faith, and the amount of it you lack.
III
I could breach paths to hell, but I'm here now I guess,
so disgruntled be the sound of surrealism at best.
It's a false-weep of desire, that parts you from sin,
and eliminates the degenerate within everything.
The posies that mosey from here up the walls,
explain little of the faith and the perfection that enthrals.
Please, deliver me in satin, soaked with serenity’s spice,
to wherever you aren't and it'll be just as nice.
Slithers of life form, not great enough to bed,
devoured in function and words that they've bled.
As the five-fingered talons that break-back their sores,
spit lingo, and ailment upon death's sweaty pores,
or for you, I imagine, can collaborate far worse,
as you were evil in vigour, before placed in that hearse.
You're bequeathed in the guilt that could cripple your mind,
as you've dissipated to hell, and marooned me in mine.
II
The puss of those waiting, the white slippery fluid,
of the condemned the forsaken- that broke us. So lurid,
Spitting virtue in the flavourless favour of the damned,
but the mass collective interest is congealing at hand.
With that salt in the eye, you can see where you stand.
You hope it rips them alive and consolidates- how grand.
As the clocks tickle your demeanour, break hours on your back,
you're reminded of the faith, and the amount of it you lack.
III
I could breach paths to hell, but I'm here now I guess,
so disgruntled be the sound of surrealism at best.
It's a false-weep of desire, that parts you from sin,
and eliminates the degenerate within everything.
The posies that mosey from here up the walls,
explain little of the faith and the perfection that enthrals.
Please, deliver me in satin, soaked with serenity’s spice,
to wherever you aren't and it'll be just as nice.
Hell Purgatory Heaven
A burning water that never ends
As all religon says
Encountering the worst pain we ever could
The smell of burning flesh as we rot in a fiery pit only to have our skin regrown and then reburned until we are nothing but a withering ball of nothing.
Until there is someone laughing at our pain as we scream out in horror awaiting the next burns to come.
There is nothing there for us to live for to love to want
If we had only been what was said of us
What was expected of us
Why did we have to expect there to be nothing?
Something created this all, someone...
Waiting and watching for another sign
That maybe someone else is there is this other hell
Something you cannot run from
Something that you must wait for and it is not kind to the soul
You must sit there and not go anywhere for running will end you back up in the same place you started
There is no running from here
I hope you know.
Golden gates that were said to be there are
Greeted by the many angels and saints that were there
You are in the place you belong
No waiting
No pain
Only love
The thing you can feel from all sides
The one thing and the only thing you want
Why do you insist that it is not there?
It would be amazing to walk down the golden paths
See the creator of all
No matter what color and what gender
The path up there is gold and so are we
Nothing is ever sad, or angry, or upsetting
All is at peace
Thank you...
A burning water that never ends
As all religon says
Encountering the worst pain we ever could
The smell of burning flesh as we rot in a fiery pit only to have our skin regrown and then reburned until we are nothing but a withering ball of nothing.
Until there is someone laughing at our pain as we scream out in horror awaiting the next burns to come.
There is nothing there for us to live for to love to want
If we had only been what was said of us
What was expected of us
Why did we have to expect there to be nothing?
Something created this all, someone...
Waiting and watching for another sign
That maybe someone else is there is this other hell
Something you cannot run from
Something that you must wait for and it is not kind to the soul
You must sit there and not go anywhere for running will end you back up in the same place you started
There is no running from here
I hope you know.
Golden gates that were said to be there are
Greeted by the many angels and saints that were there
You are in the place you belong
No waiting
No pain
Only love
The thing you can feel from all sides
The one thing and the only thing you want
Why do you insist that it is not there?
It would be amazing to walk down the golden paths
See the creator of all
No matter what color and what gender
The path up there is gold and so are we
Nothing is ever sad, or angry, or upsetting
All is at peace
Thank you...
Anonymous
Uno
These everyday raging fires
burning within my body
are tributes to a baptismal
of God’s seed and Satan’s greed;
I am cursed for being born
Due
Stranded within a gorge, I am
a crossroad in the intermediate
of the just and the unjust succeeding
the righteous and the wicked;
I am cursed for living
Tre
Broken is my body
withered is my heart
splayed is my flesh
maggots banquet on my corpse;
I am cursed for dying
Inferno Purgatorio Paradiso. . .Riscatto Divino
These everyday raging fires
burning within my body
are tributes to a baptismal
of God’s seed and Satan’s greed;
I am cursed for being born
Due
Stranded within a gorge, I am
a crossroad in the intermediate
of the just and the unjust succeeding
the righteous and the wicked;
I am cursed for living
Tre
Broken is my body
withered is my heart
splayed is my flesh
maggots banquet on my corpse;
I am cursed for dying
Inferno Purgatorio Paradiso. . .Riscatto Divino
Anonymous
Runner-up. . .Cool
. Thanks, Levi. Congrats to Frost and Pretty!
. Thanks, Levi. Congrats to Frost and Pretty!
