Poetry competition CLOSED 8th May 2013 6:32pm
WINNER
Abracadabra
Abracadabra
RUNNER-UP:
Kou_Indigo
Tick Tock
- The Mists of Time -
Each era of man is thought lost to all the ages,
When in reality, time is not ever so simply done...
Every deed is imprinted so well upon the ether,
So that the living universe itself remembers it all.
Each (every) forgotten moment known to sages,
Writ in tomes of history, in every known tongue...
And all of the poetry, every line and every meter,
Will be remembered long after a civilization's fall.
Measureless and measured, nothing is lost,
Everything endures, no matter what the cost.
All the cities that fade into the desert sands,
May one day rise again by an architect's hands.
There is a place in every mind we think is hidden,
But which every living soul possesses so secure.
A palace, grander than the gilt of old Versailles...
Wherein the moments of a lifetime are preserved.
Some think as little of it as they would a midden,
Whilst others flee to it as to some familiar shore.
Welcome and forbidden, like the evening skies...
Which either frighten or move when so observed.
Boundless and bound, nothing is forgotten,
All that is best, along with all that is rotten.
Every notion that has ever been given vent,
Cannot be taken back, once it has been sent.
In the mists of time, nothing is ever so truly past,
For even the cycles of ages can turn, like wheels.
Moving days and destinies to come and also go...
Only to come again, when the moment is at hand!
For eternity the wheels turn, and forever will last,
Causing every soul to wonder whenever it feels...
A moment that we lived before, of joy or of woe.
For always that moment will be a part of the land!
Endless and ending, nothing is beyond reach,
Not even the Heaven of which holy men preach.
We are only as far from the sacred as we sink,
And we are never truly as damned as we think.
Each era of man is thought lost to all the ages,
When in reality, time is not ever so simply done...
Every deed is imprinted so well upon the ether,
So that the living universe itself remembers it all.
Each (every) forgotten moment known to sages,
Writ in tomes of history, in every known tongue...
And all of the poetry, every line and every meter,
Will be remembered long after a civilization's fall.
Measureless and measured, nothing is lost,
Everything endures, no matter what the cost.
All the cities that fade into the desert sands,
May one day rise again by an architect's hands.
There is a place in every mind we think is hidden,
But which every living soul possesses so secure.
A palace, grander than the gilt of old Versailles...
Wherein the moments of a lifetime are preserved.
Some think as little of it as they would a midden,
Whilst others flee to it as to some familiar shore.
Welcome and forbidden, like the evening skies...
Which either frighten or move when so observed.
Boundless and bound, nothing is forgotten,
All that is best, along with all that is rotten.
Every notion that has ever been given vent,
Cannot be taken back, once it has been sent.
In the mists of time, nothing is ever so truly past,
For even the cycles of ages can turn, like wheels.
Moving days and destinies to come and also go...
Only to come again, when the moment is at hand!
For eternity the wheels turn, and forever will last,
Causing every soul to wonder whenever it feels...
A moment that we lived before, of joy or of woe.
For always that moment will be a part of the land!
Endless and ending, nothing is beyond reach,
Not even the Heaven of which holy men preach.
We are only as far from the sacred as we sink,
And we are never truly as damned as we think.
- Time and Blossom -
A Meditation on My Existence
If thou thought to waken in me, some far recollection,
Then know that all the old memories, in me, are total.
Complete and whole, as approaching unto perfection,
The entirety of my being, and the core of my vast soul…
Which recalls those things thou could not hope to see.
Like the blossoms of the trees, by the ziggurats rough,
When the ancestors of the Babylonians, in true dignity…
Raised the sacred altars of the goddess, ne’er enough.
For the gods are insatiable, even I in maddest manner!
I who was in the past days, the mouth of my goddess…
When I sat in the temple atop the steps, by her banner.
When I walked with her, I recall her with all fondness!
“A queen with no crown swore an oath to the gods…
The day her world was engulfed in flames of conflict.
She swore that her people would conquer the odds,
And she held herself to her oath with a will so strict!
That queen I knew, and I stood by her side of old…
Even unto perdition, and beyond, into times passing.
We conquered death, but were conquered so bold,
Becoming mortal, whilst the gods were busy laughing.”
But below those storied stones, of her blessed temple,
There lay secrets unknown, kept by those in shadow…
Passed down through the ages, complex yet so simple.
Yet, to me, those are but one portion of what I know!
For those times, though ancient, were more recent far,
Than, the time before history had yet begun its’ march.
It is no idle fancy that I beheld many a hot distant star,
And on other worlds than this I began my mad search.
What had I hoped to find, that I did not possess once,
When on high I soared, and stood beautiful and bright?
Would thou understand if I told thee and realize thence,
The boundlessness of passion: in darkness and in light?
“None can conquer fate, for destiny is unique to each,
With every soul walking the path that is theirs alone…
I too swore an oath of old, as to Heaven I did reach!
But now I dwell on a world far from my ancient home.
That old life seems alien now for once human so long,
You forget what it was like to walk in celestial glory.
Sometimes you remember, and the memory is strong!
It inspires you to write and share an interesting story.”
If the cosmos could stretch forth its’ hand in pointing…
To the place where all life so began, that first paradise,
Whose waters were most clear, so blessedly anointing:
That world would be familiar to me, and its’ vast skies.
For, this too is mine to remember, and to pass down…
That the old secrets may not perish, but persist always!
There were cities and palaces built beneath the ground,
On that distant planet whose glory faded with the days:
Until what lay above ground fell into decay ceaseless…
And in the dark places, lurked evils that eternally haunt.
Some sins are too great even for the gods to confess…
I cannot speak of some, even had I so wicked a want!
“I often think of that queen, and I wonder after her so!
Does she ponder the things that I do, wisdom to bestow?
Of the ancient oaths we both swore, we kept our vow,
We endure throughout all time; we survive, even now.”
Better to speak of fair things, of roses and spring rains,
Than to dwell upon the fates of places long forsaken…
For any world can become lost, and fallen its’ domains.
Look not too deeply to Heaven lest faith grow shaken!
I once sought knowledge and I learned far too much…
Until I could not contain the things some see in dreams.
For my vision was cosmic and through it I did watch…
The ebb and flow of time and all of its’ infinite streams!
Is this what mortals seek to learn, and hope to fathom?
Then I pity them, for in discovering such, no joy exists.
Look instead, unto the simple flower with its’ blossom!
Hold it in thy heart, for that is where all beauty persists.
A Meditation on My Existence
If thou thought to waken in me, some far recollection,
Then know that all the old memories, in me, are total.
Complete and whole, as approaching unto perfection,
The entirety of my being, and the core of my vast soul…
Which recalls those things thou could not hope to see.
Like the blossoms of the trees, by the ziggurats rough,
When the ancestors of the Babylonians, in true dignity…
Raised the sacred altars of the goddess, ne’er enough.
For the gods are insatiable, even I in maddest manner!
I who was in the past days, the mouth of my goddess…
When I sat in the temple atop the steps, by her banner.
When I walked with her, I recall her with all fondness!
“A queen with no crown swore an oath to the gods…
The day her world was engulfed in flames of conflict.
She swore that her people would conquer the odds,
And she held herself to her oath with a will so strict!
That queen I knew, and I stood by her side of old…
Even unto perdition, and beyond, into times passing.
We conquered death, but were conquered so bold,
Becoming mortal, whilst the gods were busy laughing.”
But below those storied stones, of her blessed temple,
There lay secrets unknown, kept by those in shadow…
Passed down through the ages, complex yet so simple.
Yet, to me, those are but one portion of what I know!
For those times, though ancient, were more recent far,
Than, the time before history had yet begun its’ march.
It is no idle fancy that I beheld many a hot distant star,
And on other worlds than this I began my mad search.
What had I hoped to find, that I did not possess once,
When on high I soared, and stood beautiful and bright?
Would thou understand if I told thee and realize thence,
The boundlessness of passion: in darkness and in light?
“None can conquer fate, for destiny is unique to each,
With every soul walking the path that is theirs alone…
I too swore an oath of old, as to Heaven I did reach!
But now I dwell on a world far from my ancient home.
That old life seems alien now for once human so long,
You forget what it was like to walk in celestial glory.
Sometimes you remember, and the memory is strong!
It inspires you to write and share an interesting story.”
If the cosmos could stretch forth its’ hand in pointing…
To the place where all life so began, that first paradise,
Whose waters were most clear, so blessedly anointing:
That world would be familiar to me, and its’ vast skies.
For, this too is mine to remember, and to pass down…
That the old secrets may not perish, but persist always!
There were cities and palaces built beneath the ground,
On that distant planet whose glory faded with the days:
Until what lay above ground fell into decay ceaseless…
And in the dark places, lurked evils that eternally haunt.
Some sins are too great even for the gods to confess…
I cannot speak of some, even had I so wicked a want!
“I often think of that queen, and I wonder after her so!
Does she ponder the things that I do, wisdom to bestow?
Of the ancient oaths we both swore, we kept our vow,
We endure throughout all time; we survive, even now.”
Better to speak of fair things, of roses and spring rains,
Than to dwell upon the fates of places long forsaken…
For any world can become lost, and fallen its’ domains.
Look not too deeply to Heaven lest faith grow shaken!
I once sought knowledge and I learned far too much…
Until I could not contain the things some see in dreams.
For my vision was cosmic and through it I did watch…
The ebb and flow of time and all of its’ infinite streams!
Is this what mortals seek to learn, and hope to fathom?
Then I pity them, for in discovering such, no joy exists.
Look instead, unto the simple flower with its’ blossom!
Hold it in thy heart, for that is where all beauty persists.
The Time Stamp
A clockwork planet
its contours embossed
a jade garnet
spiked with frost .
Two tone colours
pave the hillside
tors carved from stone
rumble to landslides .
The sun screams a glare
to floral definition
all the hedge rows
stretch out
to a colourful collision .
The earth quakes
while one half awakes .
The other half tremors
as they live
their night terrors .
My floating head upon
a pillow
does dream a mute
blinking within lifes shadow
asleep . thinking , profound
and shallow
now its time to wake
as day will break
the night
to follow .
A clockwork planet
its contours embossed
a jade garnet
spiked with frost .
Two tone colours
pave the hillside
tors carved from stone
rumble to landslides .
The sun screams a glare
to floral definition
all the hedge rows
stretch out
to a colourful collision .
The earth quakes
while one half awakes .
The other half tremors
as they live
their night terrors .
My floating head upon
a pillow
does dream a mute
blinking within lifes shadow
asleep . thinking , profound
and shallow
now its time to wake
as day will break
the night
to follow .
Red Giants And White Dwarfs
Planets turn
a circle of sol
around each mind
that whirrs , orbital
throughout all time
dimensional lines
incurred measurement
none .
Masses
are shaking
global gasses , rotating
lunar massive , keeps making
the world it passes
keep quaking .
lethal comets they zoom
getting close
to this bloom
we have no choice
in the doom
of asteroid , smoke plumes ..
A red giant , white dwarf
the speed of light
in worm holes .
Magnetism , imagination
axis spinning
in comprehension
a planet living
with vegetation
the air is thinning
to condemnation .
.
Planets turn
a circle of sol
around each mind
that whirrs , orbital
throughout all time
dimensional lines
incurred measurement
none .
Masses
are shaking
global gasses , rotating
lunar massive , keeps making
the world it passes
keep quaking .
lethal comets they zoom
getting close
to this bloom
we have no choice
in the doom
of asteroid , smoke plumes ..
A red giant , white dwarf
the speed of light
in worm holes .
Magnetism , imagination
axis spinning
in comprehension
a planet living
with vegetation
the air is thinning
to condemnation .
.
The Journey
In the beginning all is new,
Our lives are filled with first events:
The first snow, the first summer,
The first maternal smile of boundless love.
As we grow up, we see the start of things around us:
A road built, a new hotel or store,
A clever new device to enhance our lives,
Which skip along, bright with novelty and innovation:
New feelings, new success, and then: first love.
But, cruelly, we start to see the ends of things:
Love fades, our bright ambitions come to nought,
What we saw built, we now see brought to dust.
Our parents grow enfeebled, pass away,
And then mortality taps us on the shoulder -
A friend dies.
So what to do? Take refuge in despair?
Pursue the dress, the speech, the styles of youth
In hopeless, sad and foolish self-deceit?
No - look around, enjoy the time you have,
And revel in the things you’ve seen along the way;
Accept your age, it too is part of life.
In the beginning all is new,
Our lives are filled with first events:
The first snow, the first summer,
The first maternal smile of boundless love.
As we grow up, we see the start of things around us:
A road built, a new hotel or store,
A clever new device to enhance our lives,
Which skip along, bright with novelty and innovation:
New feelings, new success, and then: first love.
But, cruelly, we start to see the ends of things:
Love fades, our bright ambitions come to nought,
What we saw built, we now see brought to dust.
Our parents grow enfeebled, pass away,
And then mortality taps us on the shoulder -
A friend dies.
So what to do? Take refuge in despair?
Pursue the dress, the speech, the styles of youth
In hopeless, sad and foolish self-deceit?
No - look around, enjoy the time you have,
And revel in the things you’ve seen along the way;
Accept your age, it too is part of life.
HOW TO CHANGE
How did I get here?
How did this happen?
A choice masked
by distractions
that fueled a systematic
chain reaction
So, all I have now
are memories;
but time is an enemy
that eventually
will be the end of me
There's got to be
another way
to take back yesterday
and watch
the clocks grey face
melt and fade away
Instead;
I'm in this ambulance
doing ninety five
Swerving; merging;
taking out curbs
while I slowly die
Times run out,
am I still alive?
I'll take a knife
and another life
before I say goodbye
Now its my turn,
my vision blurred;
my last thoughts
before I leave this earth
are that of her
How did I get here?
How did this happen?
A choice masked
by distractions
that fueled a systematic
chain reaction
So, all I have now
are memories;
but time is an enemy
that eventually
will be the end of me
There's got to be
another way
to take back yesterday
and watch
the clocks grey face
melt and fade away
Instead;
I'm in this ambulance
doing ninety five
Swerving; merging;
taking out curbs
while I slowly die
Times run out,
am I still alive?
I'll take a knife
and another life
before I say goodbye
Now its my turn,
my vision blurred;
my last thoughts
before I leave this earth
are that of her
The Factory
There's all sorts in here
all broken in some way or another
and some are too far gone
to survive the upgrade
I've seen some tread these tiles
without a sliver of light in their eyes
they don't even walk anymore
just shuffle their feet
with their arms either by their sides
or held slightly outwards
in an effort to steer themselves
to whatever direction
they're not really going in
There's all sorts in here
all broken in some way or another
and some are too far gone
to survive the upgrade
I've seen some tread these tiles
without a sliver of light in their eyes
they don't even walk anymore
just shuffle their feet
with their arms either by their sides
or held slightly outwards
in an effort to steer themselves
to whatever direction
they're not really going in
One Minute
Eyes meeting across the room
A look exchanged
A smile replied
With a raised eyebrow
Fingers on lips
Love sets to bloom
A look exchanged
A silent wave
Eyes averted
Smiles tremulous
Touches of fingers
Breakups in process
That one minute
Of acts given away
Decides the path
Of come what may
An over-bright smile
A look, a sigh
In one Minute
They give it away
Eyes meeting across the room
A look exchanged
A smile replied
With a raised eyebrow
Fingers on lips
Love sets to bloom
A look exchanged
A silent wave
Eyes averted
Smiles tremulous
Touches of fingers
Breakups in process
That one minute
Of acts given away
Decides the path
Of come what may
An over-bright smile
A look, a sigh
In one Minute
They give it away
[b]At the Crossroads
[/b]
Fields of roses
Shouts of laughter
A smeary fingerprint
On printed wallpapers
They remind me of you
Whispered words of love
Tightened hands on arms
A light overhead
Misty morning kisses
Here you are lying
Still without a noise
Breathing through tubes
Inserted into your nose
No laughter on your lips
Just pressed together so pale
Your eyelashes against your cheeks
Without a flicker
You are still so still
The tubes will come out this morning
The doctor says I should stop mourning
You have been gone too long
You are starting to fade
But as the pump dies down
I once again hear the distant laughter
Feel the gentle butterfly kisses
On my wet cheeks
Goodbye my Love
“…the car was wrapped around the tree
Wondered how they got him free…”
[/b]
Fields of roses
Shouts of laughter
A smeary fingerprint
On printed wallpapers
They remind me of you
Whispered words of love
Tightened hands on arms
A light overhead
Misty morning kisses
Here you are lying
Still without a noise
Breathing through tubes
Inserted into your nose
No laughter on your lips
Just pressed together so pale
Your eyelashes against your cheeks
Without a flicker
You are still so still
The tubes will come out this morning
The doctor says I should stop mourning
You have been gone too long
You are starting to fade
But as the pump dies down
I once again hear the distant laughter
Feel the gentle butterfly kisses
On my wet cheeks
Goodbye my Love
“…the car was wrapped around the tree
Wondered how they got him free…”
.:Parody of Time Thought & Position 1.0:.
http://8020.photos.jpgmag.com/3077011_281609_ae544f8605_l.jpg
these thoughts of hours; shared moments
climbing riding that raw edge
that next thought going at it non stop
gone into that next moment
one on top of a second thought;
cleansed…a thought scrubbed & polished
gone ahead ascending traveling a surreal distance
motioning in pursuit of what’s been said
crafted comments, a listening given over to the pursuit
a distance in time; a desire to capture
seizing upon that next line
that next measurement of time; like
someone asking the question…questioning?
what time is it? knowing it’s the time that’s already gone…and
whatever it is...it was
like that time when we’re not thinking
perhaps like now; this second, this minute
that moment while sleeping or
half-awake dreaming of what time took
what it takes, what it creates within our thoughts
like now…how are we thinking?
what are we making?
are we making or reassigning time?
while knowing or not knowing the details
as time prevails; our thoughts
how are they inter-mingling?
at this time how are they relative
comparative to the time now?
the time gone…time yet to arrive
how does time survive?
those seconds; the ones we’ve spent thinking?
stretched out in a line over time
where collected are our afterthoughts
the passing thoughts of each & every mind
that rapid momentum of mystifying moments
again here we are without even thinking
quicker than any motion that’s set aside for blinking
where in another second
we may or may not know what time is like
the significance being only what it would be like
while to others…it’s that last time; that very moment
the one relevant or irrelevant to the next
where the current moment will have to suffice
a roll of the dice right through to the end
a trend where perhaps time will be similar
but still, the seconds…they do vary
each variation traveling a timeline unto itself
each subsequent second; bound
then, boundlessly streaming ahead
somewhere out there are moments
moments coming to us
back to us; then
perhaps through us
without knowing for sure that
during each second, during that moment
time was neither here nor there
but be assured in knowing
time was wherever it was
no longer here where time has left..
off to where? who knows? who really cares?
because there’s always the knowing
that time, it could be here
but for sure it'll be somewhere
now…there
...
photo: silmara albi
Plastic Cogs
What's a moment without the thread?
Every clock brakes and begins to slow
So long since a tears been shed
Hazy eyes don't look but low
Seeing higher than the status quo
Freely oppressed like an opening window
Lies are true and pride is gay
Counting time from doe to doe
Pricey fees I don't care to pay
Menial lives of grass to hay
Withering the vastest shade to grey
Shaping paths into cracked Concrete
My face plastered on your dismay
Pulling me out to every heart beat
Fates revealed from simple body heat
Lying dead on a scorching sheet;
Beginnings lost just as they were found
Pictures taken as blind love meets
Creating reality out of invisible sound
Judgement conceived with no one around
Walking with chains nailed to the ground
Fastened tightly to stop me from growing
Drifting from pace enslaved as a hound
Keeps me from where I need to be going
Holding back all that I've been showing
Planting emotions I shouldn't be sowing
Igniting proposals of fragile connectivity
Claim to be committed but I tend to do nothing
Isolated inside of a crawling relativity
With depleted self esteem disguised as complexity
What's a moment without the thread?
Every clock brakes and begins to slow
So long since a tears been shed
Hazy eyes don't look but low
Seeing higher than the status quo
Freely oppressed like an opening window
Lies are true and pride is gay
Counting time from doe to doe
Pricey fees I don't care to pay
Menial lives of grass to hay
Withering the vastest shade to grey
Shaping paths into cracked Concrete
My face plastered on your dismay
Pulling me out to every heart beat
Fates revealed from simple body heat
Lying dead on a scorching sheet;
Beginnings lost just as they were found
Pictures taken as blind love meets
Creating reality out of invisible sound
Judgement conceived with no one around
Walking with chains nailed to the ground
Fastened tightly to stop me from growing
Drifting from pace enslaved as a hound
Keeps me from where I need to be going
Holding back all that I've been showing
Planting emotions I shouldn't be sowing
Igniting proposals of fragile connectivity
Claim to be committed but I tend to do nothing
Isolated inside of a crawling relativity
With depleted self esteem disguised as complexity
Anonymous
in passing hours
The clock ticks three more seconds
stomach growls with starvation
honing the hollowness into words,
one fractured syllable
to the next
silence has never bled such throes
drips; ticks,
all blend into one
rhythm after circadian rhythm.
In my dream I dreamed
your idle hands lay next to mine,
shattering our existence
into blissful atoms
and you are still here
when I wake
with warm breath -
as the clock loses three more seconds
and I wait for the world to end
The clock ticks three more seconds
stomach growls with starvation
honing the hollowness into words,
one fractured syllable
to the next
silence has never bled such throes
drips; ticks,
all blend into one
rhythm after circadian rhythm.
In my dream I dreamed
your idle hands lay next to mine,
shattering our existence
into blissful atoms
and you are still here
when I wake
with warm breath -
as the clock loses three more seconds
and I wait for the world to end
you are a dependable measurement of time on a long voyage at sea
precisely used by many seafarers in the twilight years of yore
your metaphorical wings have been a fleeting symbol
for human existence in the golden days as today
as the sands of time will slowly run out
for every passing day of our lives
so are the days I remember
building sand castles
just you and me
in the shores
of Tigwi
Love
or just lust
you often asked
as we try to reminisce
our blissful first innocent kiss
your Mona Lisa smile as you caught
my naughty wink and mischievous glance
will remain etched in my aging bright temple
we are coming closer to the dawning of a new age
as prophesied by old cultures and their traditional sages
yet we simply smile and continue with our daily conversation
about our love transcending time and space and defying old logic
[A poem about the importance of an hourglass and its impact on two lovers separated by the sands of time for 43 years.]
To see enlarged view of image please click: http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/77905-infinite-loop/
Sloth (from Seven Parables)
Sloth -
Yes.. Pause
Chi-chings of breath, lacking
that twenty-four convenience
flip the sign over.
No one needs to come in right now
for the value to be appreciated.
Yes... Pause
Split the difference, storing
up, stockpiling as hard winters
rake across the plow
of hand, and mind when your total
is bad arithmetic.
Cashings of life, in, and out
exchanges wanting to be made. But
there are never any refunds
in this bustling mercantile.
Can you hear it?
That pause -
Or have you forgotten the time?
Sloth -
Yes.. Pause
Chi-chings of breath, lacking
that twenty-four convenience
flip the sign over.
No one needs to come in right now
for the value to be appreciated.
Yes... Pause
Split the difference, storing
up, stockpiling as hard winters
rake across the plow
of hand, and mind when your total
is bad arithmetic.
Cashings of life, in, and out
exchanges wanting to be made. But
there are never any refunds
in this bustling mercantile.
Can you hear it?
That pause -
Or have you forgotten the time?
