Poetry competition CLOSED 30th August 2012 6:02am
WINNER
SupHomeboi
SupHomeboi
RUNNER-UP:
Kou_Indigo
Characteristics of Rain
Poetry Contest Description
Post a poem about the most mesmerizing type of weather; Rain.
This is my first competition so sorry if it's a bit vague.
Rain has captured the imagination and soul of so many writers.
With it's slate grays, sparkling droplets, and solemn nature it's the perfect muse.
Each poem submitted must be rain themed, and have a strong emphasis on how rain affects the feelings, ideas, memories, etc, of each poet.
Have fun and wow me.
Creativity is essential.
No more than two entries per poet, please.
AlwaysCaliban
Rain has captured the imagination and soul of so many writers.
With it's slate grays, sparkling droplets, and solemn nature it's the perfect muse.
Each poem submitted must be rain themed, and have a strong emphasis on how rain affects the feelings, ideas, memories, etc, of each poet.
Have fun and wow me.
Creativity is essential.
No more than two entries per poet, please.
AlwaysCaliban
A clear mind
.....................
I'm just listening
The composition of beaded notes
dive at an angle aimed at my calves
Clear projectiles implode on my skin
slinking down toward my ankles
The rhythm is constant
Solid patterns
drumming
playing
trickling
A humming opus composed by the grey
leaving translucent tones around my feet
I could listen forever
The drenching sound
makes me
forget..
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/22550-a-clear-mind/ If you'd like to hear Jestalessa's gorgeous recital of this one
.....................
I'm just listening
The composition of beaded notes
dive at an angle aimed at my calves
Clear projectiles implode on my skin
slinking down toward my ankles
The rhythm is constant
Solid patterns
drumming
playing
trickling
A humming opus composed by the grey
leaving translucent tones around my feet
I could listen forever
The drenching sound
makes me
forget..
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/22550-a-clear-mind/ If you'd like to hear Jestalessa's gorgeous recital of this one
- Silver and Raindrops -
Prologue: An Orphan in Shadow
Once upon a distant time passed, a queen both fair and wise,
Did rule over a modest realm, not so very great in it's size:
Surrounded by pleasant meadows, and by forests green, lush,
Where gently dwelled all animals and birds, all so diversely!
That one might look up and behold an eagle or spy a thrush,
Amidst trees where slumbered the squirrels, ever so timidly.
The people in their hearts knew only gladness, in the queen,
Whose kindness and compassion were fair: without any lies.
It ended on the day the queen passed away, whilst in a sleep,
Her heart swift breaking: from her king's battlefield demise.
As war left their only daughter an orphan in a land accursed,
Inhabited by that child alone, all else becoming of the dead.
Part One: Light Within Darkness
Upon the hilltop crag, within the darksome swamp of old mire,
There rose a fortress lost to time, forgotten for many an age.
Once great, perhaps, now only rubble due to humanity's ire,
Where dark shadows so were said to dwell, by many a sage.
Proud and mighty men knew fear and trembling in that land,
Forsaken as it was, and wrapped in eternal and rosy twilight.
Knowing well the fate of falling beneath the quickened sand,
There on the moors, most stout hearts avoided the sad blight.
Those who walked there, it was said, were evil in their heart,
And so it was that none dared to journey there, even to start!
Save one: a man shunned and lonely, though handsome fair,
Some say, and this one ventured hither where none did dare.
Across the marshes and fens, walked swift the quiet pilgrim,
His slender blade of silver cutting vines and webs in his path!
No hindrance would deny his passage, beyond that gray rim,
Where waited like a crouching beast the fastness in all wrath.
For if a place could hold malice, that castle surely had a will,
And a desire for evil, unsurpassed save in legendry and myth.
Hastening in all his steps, the pilgrim could barely hold still,
Such terror held the twisted green around him, like a wreath.
Soon, behind him lay the barbarous countryside so forsaken,
That had he not come this way, it would remain hidden there.
As he gazed up, the pilgrim spied the old lair, and was taken,
At that moment, with awe and fear, his heart crying: beware!
Mounting steps that saw nothing living in centuries long past,
The pilgrim strode up, toward gutted turrets and a silent keep.
Where no flowers or plants dared to hold, save ivy, ever fast,
To the walls: crumbled and blackened with years grown steep.
Casting open the keep's doors: which creaked open so rotten,
The pilgrim stood, at last, within this place shunned by others.
Wreckage and rubble filled once richly appointed halls within,
Until only old stone steps remained, that so vanished upwards.
He climbed those, as he had the ones outside, into higher halls,
Where once dwelled nobles in times brighter than these walls!
Devoid of light and life so long, that they have become unwell,
Thusly one could sense the sickness within the very earth: fell.
Though through a door in the halls above, the pilgrim strayed,
And found himself in a bright and joyous chamber, so arrayed:
That surely none but royalty could have lived in such a space,
Where rich crimson draperies hung, trimmed in gold delicate.
Whilst therein danced a maid both fair and young in her face,
To an unheard tune, eerily, her features ever so cheerfully set.
Lamps brightly hung from the rafters, illuminated all her steps,
A waltz of one lost in the madness of memories, of past glory.
The strange young maiden circled about, free of life's regrets,
Much like a butterfly in the field will flit twixt flower and tree.
She sang some old song, her voice like a child's in every tone,
Ever youthful: filled with hope, amidst the despair of her home.
Part Two: A Rain of Fallen Tears
The pilgrim wept to know such insanity in one so young, but he,
As is polite: stepped toward her, bowed, and asked for her name.
' No name can I give, but dance with me for but a while and see!
Even within these shadows, there is light, in warmth and flame. '
And so he reached out his hand toward the girl's, who covered it,
With her own: like a white clam upon the rough sand of a shore.
His world spinning, as her face filled the center, her eyes ever lit,
Like stars in a void, into which the pilgrim sank to his very core.
The girl's silver gown flashed like lightning as she moved about,
Faster and faster, her steps, until her dance was lunacy embodied.
The pilgrim fell to his knees, unable to keep up and full of doubt,
Wondering if what he saw was real, or some hallucination's seed.
All was black, and upon the waking the pilgrim sat up screaming,
The light of the fireplace, holding his gaze transfixed, unmoving.
For a long time, he stirred not, then turned his gaze all about him,
Seeing the same chamber in which he had fallen, no dream at all!
Everything was perfect: the curtains like new, all proper and trim,
Although nowhere was the girl-child in silver, in that opulent hall.
He left that room and entered, once more, the decaying corridors.
Following the sound of the girl's singing, leading him further on,
Past windows peppered by raindrops, rain leaking unto the floors.
A window blew open as the pilgrim passed, blowing water down!
Into his face, but strangely the rain was salty as the sea, and pale,
More like tears than raindrops, which rained down as loud as hail.
The singing led the pilgrim up one last flight of stairs, to a tower,
Whilst the girl's singing was in a time to the rain outside, falling.
Until the two blended together like a symphony passing the hour,
In an orchestral rhythm both surreal and unearthly: like a wailing.
He entered the tower, the pilgrim, and saw the girl huddled sadly,
Upon the floor, holding her knees as she wept and sang her song.
Rocking back and forth like a ship at sea, lamenting ever so madly,
Surrounded by morbid darkness, her light almost did not belong.
' Let me dry your tears, sweet child, for whilst they fall I sorrow,
There is light within you, I have seen it and will lead you hither.
Unto places fair, where bright is the day and lovely the morrow,
Where flowers bloom gaily, and fruit does not so easily wither! '
The silver child's eyes opened, tears ceasing at bright dreaming,
Born from the pilgrim's kindly words, like a river softly streaming.
He dried her eyes upon his sleeves, and helped her stand again,
The rain outside ceasing: the curse upon the land at last broken.
He had stood within her tears, and saw into her soul, to deliver,
The silver child: to lift her from all dark musings with his promise.
Outside of the window, the first frost of winter began to shiver,
And the pilgrim and the child wintered in the castle, so blessed.
For upon the spring flowers bloomed, the swamps now a wood,
Fair to walk in; the lands transformed, into sleepy meadowland.
And everywhere the pair traveled, only goodness thereby stood,
Whilst they journeyed unto a fair future, walking hand in hand.
Epilogue: A Lost Child No More
The stars and constellations of the night sky, were shimmering,
Upon the hilltop where a pilgrim and child lay watching those.
The child raised her voice in quiet contentment, sweetly singing,
Music to match that of the spheres above: angelic even as a rose.
Whilst the pilgrim taught her the names of these distant spheres,
Filling her imagination with images from myths and ancient lore.
So much time had passed since she crossed over from her tears,
Into the enjoyment of life free from mourning those lost of yore.
The pilgrim named her Phoenix, for she rose far from ashes,
Of her lost kingdom, to inherit a world of wonder else unknown.
There are things more precious than gold and fine silken sashes:
When we awaken to one another, we no longer dream alone.
Prologue: An Orphan in Shadow
Once upon a distant time passed, a queen both fair and wise,
Did rule over a modest realm, not so very great in it's size:
Surrounded by pleasant meadows, and by forests green, lush,
Where gently dwelled all animals and birds, all so diversely!
That one might look up and behold an eagle or spy a thrush,
Amidst trees where slumbered the squirrels, ever so timidly.
The people in their hearts knew only gladness, in the queen,
Whose kindness and compassion were fair: without any lies.
It ended on the day the queen passed away, whilst in a sleep,
Her heart swift breaking: from her king's battlefield demise.
As war left their only daughter an orphan in a land accursed,
Inhabited by that child alone, all else becoming of the dead.
Part One: Light Within Darkness
Upon the hilltop crag, within the darksome swamp of old mire,
There rose a fortress lost to time, forgotten for many an age.
Once great, perhaps, now only rubble due to humanity's ire,
Where dark shadows so were said to dwell, by many a sage.
Proud and mighty men knew fear and trembling in that land,
Forsaken as it was, and wrapped in eternal and rosy twilight.
Knowing well the fate of falling beneath the quickened sand,
There on the moors, most stout hearts avoided the sad blight.
Those who walked there, it was said, were evil in their heart,
And so it was that none dared to journey there, even to start!
Save one: a man shunned and lonely, though handsome fair,
Some say, and this one ventured hither where none did dare.
Across the marshes and fens, walked swift the quiet pilgrim,
His slender blade of silver cutting vines and webs in his path!
No hindrance would deny his passage, beyond that gray rim,
Where waited like a crouching beast the fastness in all wrath.
For if a place could hold malice, that castle surely had a will,
And a desire for evil, unsurpassed save in legendry and myth.
Hastening in all his steps, the pilgrim could barely hold still,
Such terror held the twisted green around him, like a wreath.
Soon, behind him lay the barbarous countryside so forsaken,
That had he not come this way, it would remain hidden there.
As he gazed up, the pilgrim spied the old lair, and was taken,
At that moment, with awe and fear, his heart crying: beware!
Mounting steps that saw nothing living in centuries long past,
The pilgrim strode up, toward gutted turrets and a silent keep.
Where no flowers or plants dared to hold, save ivy, ever fast,
To the walls: crumbled and blackened with years grown steep.
Casting open the keep's doors: which creaked open so rotten,
The pilgrim stood, at last, within this place shunned by others.
Wreckage and rubble filled once richly appointed halls within,
Until only old stone steps remained, that so vanished upwards.
He climbed those, as he had the ones outside, into higher halls,
Where once dwelled nobles in times brighter than these walls!
Devoid of light and life so long, that they have become unwell,
Thusly one could sense the sickness within the very earth: fell.
Though through a door in the halls above, the pilgrim strayed,
And found himself in a bright and joyous chamber, so arrayed:
That surely none but royalty could have lived in such a space,
Where rich crimson draperies hung, trimmed in gold delicate.
Whilst therein danced a maid both fair and young in her face,
To an unheard tune, eerily, her features ever so cheerfully set.
Lamps brightly hung from the rafters, illuminated all her steps,
A waltz of one lost in the madness of memories, of past glory.
The strange young maiden circled about, free of life's regrets,
Much like a butterfly in the field will flit twixt flower and tree.
She sang some old song, her voice like a child's in every tone,
Ever youthful: filled with hope, amidst the despair of her home.
Part Two: A Rain of Fallen Tears
The pilgrim wept to know such insanity in one so young, but he,
As is polite: stepped toward her, bowed, and asked for her name.
' No name can I give, but dance with me for but a while and see!
Even within these shadows, there is light, in warmth and flame. '
And so he reached out his hand toward the girl's, who covered it,
With her own: like a white clam upon the rough sand of a shore.
His world spinning, as her face filled the center, her eyes ever lit,
Like stars in a void, into which the pilgrim sank to his very core.
The girl's silver gown flashed like lightning as she moved about,
Faster and faster, her steps, until her dance was lunacy embodied.
The pilgrim fell to his knees, unable to keep up and full of doubt,
Wondering if what he saw was real, or some hallucination's seed.
All was black, and upon the waking the pilgrim sat up screaming,
The light of the fireplace, holding his gaze transfixed, unmoving.
For a long time, he stirred not, then turned his gaze all about him,
Seeing the same chamber in which he had fallen, no dream at all!
Everything was perfect: the curtains like new, all proper and trim,
Although nowhere was the girl-child in silver, in that opulent hall.
He left that room and entered, once more, the decaying corridors.
Following the sound of the girl's singing, leading him further on,
Past windows peppered by raindrops, rain leaking unto the floors.
A window blew open as the pilgrim passed, blowing water down!
Into his face, but strangely the rain was salty as the sea, and pale,
More like tears than raindrops, which rained down as loud as hail.
The singing led the pilgrim up one last flight of stairs, to a tower,
Whilst the girl's singing was in a time to the rain outside, falling.
Until the two blended together like a symphony passing the hour,
In an orchestral rhythm both surreal and unearthly: like a wailing.
He entered the tower, the pilgrim, and saw the girl huddled sadly,
Upon the floor, holding her knees as she wept and sang her song.
Rocking back and forth like a ship at sea, lamenting ever so madly,
Surrounded by morbid darkness, her light almost did not belong.
' Let me dry your tears, sweet child, for whilst they fall I sorrow,
There is light within you, I have seen it and will lead you hither.
Unto places fair, where bright is the day and lovely the morrow,
Where flowers bloom gaily, and fruit does not so easily wither! '
The silver child's eyes opened, tears ceasing at bright dreaming,
Born from the pilgrim's kindly words, like a river softly streaming.
He dried her eyes upon his sleeves, and helped her stand again,
The rain outside ceasing: the curse upon the land at last broken.
He had stood within her tears, and saw into her soul, to deliver,
The silver child: to lift her from all dark musings with his promise.
Outside of the window, the first frost of winter began to shiver,
And the pilgrim and the child wintered in the castle, so blessed.
For upon the spring flowers bloomed, the swamps now a wood,
Fair to walk in; the lands transformed, into sleepy meadowland.
And everywhere the pair traveled, only goodness thereby stood,
Whilst they journeyed unto a fair future, walking hand in hand.
Epilogue: A Lost Child No More
The stars and constellations of the night sky, were shimmering,
Upon the hilltop where a pilgrim and child lay watching those.
The child raised her voice in quiet contentment, sweetly singing,
Music to match that of the spheres above: angelic even as a rose.
Whilst the pilgrim taught her the names of these distant spheres,
Filling her imagination with images from myths and ancient lore.
So much time had passed since she crossed over from her tears,
Into the enjoyment of life free from mourning those lost of yore.
The pilgrim named her Phoenix, for she rose far from ashes,
Of her lost kingdom, to inherit a world of wonder else unknown.
There are things more precious than gold and fine silken sashes:
When we awaken to one another, we no longer dream alone.
Rain Drops
There is a sense of profound grief and joy
blended in the much awaited rain drops,
the moment they escape from the cloud-hills.
As if they have waited for years of freedom
and those years have been slow and fast,
eluding glory from the tiny soldiers marching
towards death in the pit of the thirsty hell.
In the kingdom of Cloud-hills they were gods
of divine evolution waiting for a supreme order,
to re-unite with the earth’s crust into matter-
tiny beads of light, happiness, love.
So they kiss the grass, fix the butterflies,
Wets the soil to become fertile like the mother’s womb-
And then die gradually for another birth.
There is a sense of profound grief and joy
blended in the much awaited rain drops,
the moment they escape from the cloud-hills.
As if they have waited for years of freedom
and those years have been slow and fast,
eluding glory from the tiny soldiers marching
towards death in the pit of the thirsty hell.
In the kingdom of Cloud-hills they were gods
of divine evolution waiting for a supreme order,
to re-unite with the earth’s crust into matter-
tiny beads of light, happiness, love.
So they kiss the grass, fix the butterflies,
Wets the soil to become fertile like the mother’s womb-
And then die gradually for another birth.
:: unleash ::
A let-loose wild drumming is your
ascending note
Drenching a dry heart inside cemented
escape-less dromes
Nature wets even the remotest of
robust synthetics
Those sweaty roofs and walls with
compacted hearts
Those beats in a symptomless clinical correctness
Those that have forgotten the exploding wilderness
The geosminic magic to bring back a wet pasture?
The thinking reeds never ever get the point, do they?
For cooled down soils in silence greets champion frogs
You still lie down lingering in redundant mindwaves
A small pause he is in now...Romantic
rainman just descended to a restive refuel
Like a dark knight he rises again in night-shifts now
Get soaked in his high-pitched battling music of love
A let-loose wild drumming is your
ascending note
Drenching a dry heart inside cemented
escape-less dromes
Nature wets even the remotest of
robust synthetics
Those sweaty roofs and walls with
compacted hearts
Those beats in a symptomless clinical correctness
Those that have forgotten the exploding wilderness
The geosminic magic to bring back a wet pasture?
The thinking reeds never ever get the point, do they?
For cooled down soils in silence greets champion frogs
You still lie down lingering in redundant mindwaves
A small pause he is in now...Romantic
rainman just descended to a restive refuel
Like a dark knight he rises again in night-shifts now
Get soaked in his high-pitched battling music of love
Famous
In a country famous for rain
we nosh on fish and chips
but food's not our religion
so diners don't leave tips
In a country famous for rain
we drive on a different side
road rage is our hobby
when skidding cars collide
In a country famous for rain
we battle with our bins
wet rubbish underfoot
reminds us of our sins
In a country famous for rain
umbrellas aren't required
a safety net's installed
to pay when we retire
In a country famous for rain
getting pregnant's a career
and younger Mums abound
weaning babies on warm beer
In a country famous for rain
the weather may turn funny
but when the thunder stops
we wonder why it's sunny
In a country famous for rain
we nosh on fish and chips
but food's not our religion
so diners don't leave tips
In a country famous for rain
we drive on a different side
road rage is our hobby
when skidding cars collide
In a country famous for rain
we battle with our bins
wet rubbish underfoot
reminds us of our sins
In a country famous for rain
umbrellas aren't required
a safety net's installed
to pay when we retire
In a country famous for rain
getting pregnant's a career
and younger Mums abound
weaning babies on warm beer
In a country famous for rain
the weather may turn funny
but when the thunder stops
we wonder why it's sunny
Perfect Storm
My favourite part of a Florida summer is the constant rainfall
I have my bed right underneath my window
A perfect view of every raindrop
When night falls, I curl up with
my blanket, my music, notebook, and a pen
Complete darkness
The only light is the flash of lightning across my page
Striking the countryside
And the melody to my music is the rumbling thunder
This is my time
To think, dream, and wonder
Let my mind run
Now it's time to move my words
From my notebook to the world.
My favourite part of a Florida summer is the constant rainfall
I have my bed right underneath my window
A perfect view of every raindrop
When night falls, I curl up with
my blanket, my music, notebook, and a pen
Complete darkness
The only light is the flash of lightning across my page
Striking the countryside
And the melody to my music is the rumbling thunder
This is my time
To think, dream, and wonder
Let my mind run
Now it's time to move my words
From my notebook to the world.
-Life's Rain-
A path of broken bones.
They litter my way.
A path of lies.
They burden my crossing.
A cool wetness,
on my cheek.
Like a cool slim finger,
Slowly running down my cheek,
More cool drops,
Not burdening me or littering my way,
Only to bring me comfort,
Washing away the rest.
The only thing that remains,
Is the drops.
Collecting in pools,
Where the path dips and hills.
There are no more bones,
Reminisce of the past.
No more lies to cloud my vision.
Only the clear rain,
To accompany me on my path
Only one thing i am certain about,
This rain is my ally.
Nothing but these cool drops,
Allowing utter peace.
I thank you rain,
You relieve me of the bones,
And the lies.
Until the time you stop.
The bones reappear,
The lies pay a long term visit.
I will wait for you.
To clear my path once again.
A path of broken bones.
They litter my way.
A path of lies.
They burden my crossing.
A cool wetness,
on my cheek.
Like a cool slim finger,
Slowly running down my cheek,
More cool drops,
Not burdening me or littering my way,
Only to bring me comfort,
Washing away the rest.
The only thing that remains,
Is the drops.
Collecting in pools,
Where the path dips and hills.
There are no more bones,
Reminisce of the past.
No more lies to cloud my vision.
Only the clear rain,
To accompany me on my path
Only one thing i am certain about,
This rain is my ally.
Nothing but these cool drops,
Allowing utter peace.
I thank you rain,
You relieve me of the bones,
And the lies.
Until the time you stop.
The bones reappear,
The lies pay a long term visit.
I will wait for you.
To clear my path once again.
Wasurerareta Jinsei
Were the earth is cover by thickening smoke,
and voices herd by dancing folk.
cant speak of whom that's forbidden name,
forgiveness globe is not the same.
somewhere in life were love is bright,
never no more darkness and fright.
chattering teeth of refuge goal,
stations journey of preserved soul.
the compass that you carry is always at kindness,
abyss of quality always at blindness.
-Kumiko Yamamoto
(means forgotten life)
Were the earth is cover by thickening smoke,
and voices herd by dancing folk.
cant speak of whom that's forbidden name,
forgiveness globe is not the same.
somewhere in life were love is bright,
never no more darkness and fright.
chattering teeth of refuge goal,
stations journey of preserved soul.
the compass that you carry is always at kindness,
abyss of quality always at blindness.
-Kumiko Yamamoto
(means forgotten life)
Anonymous
Summers come / Demonic visit
Singing in the rain,
clouds of hatred overhead,
unclad, covered in mist,
mortal being, soul was shed.
Dancing the streets
the night turned cold,
jive, samba and twist.
Lightning, wet – alive was one.
Joyous to see it,
at an age very old
taste the happy bit.
“Stand in line” they spray,
I enjoyed the airs breezy smell
as a leader shouts orders
we can even enjoy the rainbows
Your way, “Do it”, they say.
Long tail, colourful delight,
As the first blow bellows,
the sun shines bright.
Resounding hum,
a pot of gold at the end of the light.
Stop, pop, the bleeding some,
twinkle the prisms, the fairies made
gnaw at flesh as they devour
sit together as the colours fade.
Grass grows, flowers bloom.
Eat the souls in half an hour.
Remember now not to bow,
oh it’ll be summer really soon!
The devil curtsies, the fat cow.
-x-
Thank you for the cool competition, this is a past write and was written and published on DU on 20th September 2011.
Singing in the rain,
clouds of hatred overhead,
unclad, covered in mist,
mortal being, soul was shed.
Dancing the streets
the night turned cold,
jive, samba and twist.
Lightning, wet – alive was one.
Joyous to see it,
at an age very old
taste the happy bit.
“Stand in line” they spray,
I enjoyed the airs breezy smell
as a leader shouts orders
we can even enjoy the rainbows
Your way, “Do it”, they say.
Long tail, colourful delight,
As the first blow bellows,
the sun shines bright.
Resounding hum,
a pot of gold at the end of the light.
Stop, pop, the bleeding some,
twinkle the prisms, the fairies made
gnaw at flesh as they devour
sit together as the colours fade.
Grass grows, flowers bloom.
Eat the souls in half an hour.
Remember now not to bow,
oh it’ll be summer really soon!
The devil curtsies, the fat cow.
-x-
Thank you for the cool competition, this is a past write and was written and published on DU on 20th September 2011.
