Poetry competition CLOSED 23rd August 2012 3:59am
WINNER
Firebyrd
Firebyrd
RUNNER-UP:
Myheartdiesforyou
CONFESSIONS, LIES, SECRETS
Anonymous
Le Colonel - thank you for this lovely poem.
Anonymous
Indie said:do I have to use the words secrets, lies and [i]confessions[/b] or their derivatives? Or can those things simply be implied within the poem?
They can be implied....
One more thing...I have to understand the poem
Some poets are very good but indirect
I am a direct person.....I write directly
Appreciate direct poetry.....
They can be implied....
One more thing...I have to understand the poem
Some poets are very good but indirect
I am a direct person.....I write directly
Appreciate direct poetry.....
I must confess
the truth to you
i must confess this secret i hid
it wasn't meant to hurt you
but it did.
I'm so sorry for that, truly i am
i just wish you would have given me a chance to explain
why i hid it from you.
I thought for some reason
i was protecting you
but i guess i wasn't.
Don't hate me for doing this,
after all i did tell you...
eventually.
If you really must know the whole truth,
and nothing but the black and white truth,
then go to our secret place
in the willow tree
there is a glass box,
with everything you wish to know.
You'll probably hate me afterwards
so i hope you know this already,
i love you
and that is not a secret.
the truth to you
i must confess this secret i hid
it wasn't meant to hurt you
but it did.
I'm so sorry for that, truly i am
i just wish you would have given me a chance to explain
why i hid it from you.
I thought for some reason
i was protecting you
but i guess i wasn't.
Don't hate me for doing this,
after all i did tell you...
eventually.
If you really must know the whole truth,
and nothing but the black and white truth,
then go to our secret place
in the willow tree
there is a glass box,
with everything you wish to know.
You'll probably hate me afterwards
so i hope you know this already,
i love you
and that is not a secret.
Something wicked has taken root in me
it tempts me and trains
it dares me to dream of darkness
it soothes me with violent whispers
Leading me to a labrynth of fire and blood
I thrust it down and behave
I think common thoughts
I cage my lusts with bars of expectations
Underneath the surface it rages
it taunts me and tortures
it knows all I know
it caresses me with fingers like razors
Tearing at the restraints
it tempts me and trains
it dares me to dream of darkness
it soothes me with violent whispers
Leading me to a labrynth of fire and blood
I thrust it down and behave
I think common thoughts
I cage my lusts with bars of expectations
Underneath the surface it rages
it taunts me and tortures
it knows all I know
it caresses me with fingers like razors
Tearing at the restraints
Anonymous
Littlemogirl and Amberrori - thank you for your submissions.
While Dreaming of Bacardi
All it takes is a moment where instinct fails
and stupidity prevails - a drink toasted
against my traitorous lips to drag me languidly
back into the gutter where tears always fall
after the laughter dies somewhere high
in my chest cavity, suffocated by the beating
of my heart that seems to think love
has a cock attached to the end of it
(as though I’m living in Disney’s Aladdin)
and if I rub it hard enough a genie will pour forth
its ageless wisdom and grant me three wishes
one of which would be heterosexuality
that always ends with the dawning
of tomorrow’s hangover
Note: If this doesn't meet criteria, I'm happy to withdraw it
All it takes is a moment where instinct fails
and stupidity prevails - a drink toasted
against my traitorous lips to drag me languidly
back into the gutter where tears always fall
after the laughter dies somewhere high
in my chest cavity, suffocated by the beating
of my heart that seems to think love
has a cock attached to the end of it
(as though I’m living in Disney’s Aladdin)
and if I rub it hard enough a genie will pour forth
its ageless wisdom and grant me three wishes
one of which would be heterosexuality
that always ends with the dawning
of tomorrow’s hangover
Note: If this doesn't meet criteria, I'm happy to withdraw it
Anonymous
Miss Indie - thank you for that fine submission. It is fine as is...
Confessions…
To the world I am smart, sage and wise,
incredibly patient, sweet and kind.
Yet the truth is it is only one side,
the other is ruthlessly grim indeed,
an unfeeling, uncaring sanguine fiend.
A killer, can naught but be what he/she is.
Ice runs through my veins,
compassion a foreign word to my brain.
I have conspired, killed and felt joy,
with my enemy I have toyed,
I have tortured with zeal and relish,
felt cheated when it abruptly ended.
I have given orders break men’s minds,
partaken of such savagery, human decency made blind.
I have felt the bloodlust that makes men wild,
all the more fearsome when it is a woman
standing before a body, unspeakably defiled.
Ahhh… the sheer ecstatic pleasure of inflicting pain,
more orgasmic than the one sexually attained.
But here, where the common folk now walk, I am
nothing more than a poet whose words equal sweet talk.
Words that express more than is read,
decipher what is being left unsaid.
The demons that torment me at night,
reveal my most dark destructive side.
They show what I really am, unedited, unadorned,
a monstrous ghoul, vile and frightening to behold.
I have much to atone for, much for which to make amends,
for these and many more things, I bow my head to confess…
Gypsy Red
To the world I am smart, sage and wise,
incredibly patient, sweet and kind.
Yet the truth is it is only one side,
the other is ruthlessly grim indeed,
an unfeeling, uncaring sanguine fiend.
A killer, can naught but be what he/she is.
Ice runs through my veins,
compassion a foreign word to my brain.
I have conspired, killed and felt joy,
with my enemy I have toyed,
I have tortured with zeal and relish,
felt cheated when it abruptly ended.
I have given orders break men’s minds,
partaken of such savagery, human decency made blind.
I have felt the bloodlust that makes men wild,
all the more fearsome when it is a woman
standing before a body, unspeakably defiled.
Ahhh… the sheer ecstatic pleasure of inflicting pain,
more orgasmic than the one sexually attained.
But here, where the common folk now walk, I am
nothing more than a poet whose words equal sweet talk.
Words that express more than is read,
decipher what is being left unsaid.
The demons that torment me at night,
reveal my most dark destructive side.
They show what I really am, unedited, unadorned,
a monstrous ghoul, vile and frightening to behold.
I have much to atone for, much for which to make amends,
for these and many more things, I bow my head to confess…
Gypsy Red
Anonymous
Gypsy - thank you for your submission.
A Fixation... MiNe.
The bruising
Contusions..
Intrusions..
It's my addiction..
An affliction
To which..
I bow..
Wear the crown..
Soak me with
Havoc..
A natural born addict..
Mother it's merely
a scratch
I was out matched..
Lying little girl
Feigning
to unwhorl
a habit..
If there is no pain..
There
is
NO
pleasure..
How can one measure
the sweet satisfaction
of
Sadistic passion..
A violation
Fixation
of elation..
The sensation of sedation.
Can you give it to me..
Like
that?
Anonymous
Devilish - thank you for your submission.
Lies
Secrets
Confessions
Sitting outside the chamber
where the watching eyes record
his every move,
he leans forward,
acknowledging nothing
and showing all his cards.
The misleading
subterfuge of feigned exhaustion,
autonomic reflexes tied in strands
of telegraphed signals,
the preponderance of informing gestures
motivated for the single purpose
of building a sensation of delivery
so purified as to be beyond reproach
and yet every portion laid in strategic ingenuity.
Each pulse and populated branching
meant to umbrage outwardly
in a rooted purveyance of stylized projection
so that in the moment
when the time is ripe
and every sinker sunk
the striking bridge that brings his freedom
will open like a Chinese box
and slip his truncated journey
back into its motion
a clock that restarts itself
upon the shaking of an earthquake
and releases it from the morass of
its broken ambling through time.
The eyes that watch and the notes
that document these are the fools
in this charade of imagined escape
and yet the motion of their attention
crawls along the ceiling of this sky
and folds the rain back
into the grounding
of it perfect clouds.
No one ever
escapes ward 6.
Ever.
runningturtle87
Secrets
Confessions
Sitting outside the chamber
where the watching eyes record
his every move,
he leans forward,
acknowledging nothing
and showing all his cards.
The misleading
subterfuge of feigned exhaustion,
autonomic reflexes tied in strands
of telegraphed signals,
the preponderance of informing gestures
motivated for the single purpose
of building a sensation of delivery
so purified as to be beyond reproach
and yet every portion laid in strategic ingenuity.
Each pulse and populated branching
meant to umbrage outwardly
in a rooted purveyance of stylized projection
so that in the moment
when the time is ripe
and every sinker sunk
the striking bridge that brings his freedom
will open like a Chinese box
and slip his truncated journey
back into its motion
a clock that restarts itself
upon the shaking of an earthquake
and releases it from the morass of
its broken ambling through time.
The eyes that watch and the notes
that document these are the fools
in this charade of imagined escape
and yet the motion of their attention
crawls along the ceiling of this sky
and folds the rain back
into the grounding
of it perfect clouds.
No one ever
escapes ward 6.
Ever.
runningturtle87
The burden of an untold story
will sicken the stomach of who holds it within.
Its like an infected maggot
sqirming and eating any left over innocence you might have had left lying around
a life lived disgusted
Showers wont cleanse this dirt away
Nor will tears
Living night to night
Screaming im my head
Clawing at the very flesh that held me in captivity
I am a victim of myself
Sad, but, Perhaps the only truth i have come to realise..
Maybe in the after life
I will be forgiven
And I will be free
Free from this captivity
that is held within me
will sicken the stomach of who holds it within.
Its like an infected maggot
sqirming and eating any left over innocence you might have had left lying around
a life lived disgusted
Showers wont cleanse this dirt away
Nor will tears
Living night to night
Screaming im my head
Clawing at the very flesh that held me in captivity
I am a victim of myself
Sad, but, Perhaps the only truth i have come to realise..
Maybe in the after life
I will be forgiven
And I will be free
Free from this captivity
that is held within me
