Poetry competition CLOSED 16th April 2013 10:46pm
WINNER
kriticool
kriticool
RUNNERS-UP:
13
and ryteoutlet
CHOICE OF THREE POEMS IDEAS
Anonymous
Kriticool and Soul - thank you very much for supporting this competition with your good poetry.
Anonymous
The punisher - thank you for your poem!
Phobic
image #2
http://en.artoffer.com/_images_user/9487/157937/large/Ela-Nowak-Game-Fantasy-Contemporary-Art-Post-Surrealism.jpg
before the last millennium’s jazz riffs. before they ended
before what came to be known as hard art [somehow it got soft]
it got blue; like sticky glue...a slow movement
was it an ascension or was it a descent?
is it part or past time to repent?
how about another
another real, feel good event?
meanwhile we're chill-beings
our seeing's
that it’s all in the doings
all in the angles
one’s perception…how it prevails
remaining interwoven somewhere within time and space
wild in this place...asking is it time again?
truth and what it len[d]s;
what it does
asking what does it see?
is it. memory
memory has detached itself, yet it still lingers
always lingers lurking around the peripheral
just outside of the negative or the positive of human possibility
for instance...viewing today’s and tomorrow’s activity
always been a coin toss
between barbarism and new world civility
in between is the ongoing hostility
hope – somehow - somewhere you’re out there feeling me
we mean not by imagination but
real feeling
because this is what we’re not experiencing...have experienced not
a thing
what’s made up from the huff and puff?
just more days of the rough?
wherein jokers they take advantage of another’s advantageous gamble
doing it with the same vicious and voracious amount of detail
shit, most of us rather have our roll and a snail
the take-out…pray we make-out
wherein this will remain the pace-out
more to our liking
nothing like some slimy hiking
once again feeling like a phobic thing
but can you hear liberty ring?
because that’s what another’s rosy color might bring
but only to other than themselves
ignoring the tint; the semblance,
the resemblance to their own spilt blood
the finest of fading fluid
yo blood.. placed irreverently upon the earth and into the sea
because that’s how we’ve been treated G...you and me
where there was a time.. a time and space when
most knew our perception was more keen
when most knew; what sharper eyes could always see
privy to it...exclusively
..
The Chess-ter (inspired by picture two)
The Jester sat there
looking at himself
from a wall projection
playing solo chess
with an hourglass relentless
that's spilling
die topped sands
and an off the board
dark castle
who's overgrown and mad .
There's a red afterglow
and a clown mask face
on grey clad bones
and a broken base
to the timer's bowl
that's running late
with it's inner soul
trying to escape
into the unknown
Harlequin's fate .
The Jester sat there
looking at himself
from a wall projection
playing solo chess
with an hourglass relentless
that's spilling
die topped sands
and an off the board
dark castle
who's overgrown and mad .
There's a red afterglow
and a clown mask face
on grey clad bones
and a broken base
to the timer's bowl
that's running late
with it's inner soul
trying to escape
into the unknown
Harlequin's fate .
image2
when i walked in
all i saw was a red flash
but when my eyes finally adjusted to the scene
he appeared
a jester at the bar
dressed in red and gray
to match the wall
with a pale, pale face.
i could not pull my eyes from him
he could not pull his eyes from a mirror
that hung before us
and i could imagine
just what he was seeing in it
his face, rested on his hand
bore it all.
a failed game of chest
with a giant king
just mocking back at him
and there are seven days a week
that appear in the form of dice
to break the hourglass of his life,
so he can watch all his time
pour out in a million little grains of quartz
and oh, dear god
...
i can see it in his eyes
and i bet that it hurts.
when i walked in
all i saw was a red flash
but when my eyes finally adjusted to the scene
he appeared
a jester at the bar
dressed in red and gray
to match the wall
with a pale, pale face.
i could not pull my eyes from him
he could not pull his eyes from a mirror
that hung before us
and i could imagine
just what he was seeing in it
his face, rested on his hand
bore it all.
a failed game of chest
with a giant king
just mocking back at him
and there are seven days a week
that appear in the form of dice
to break the hourglass of his life,
so he can watch all his time
pour out in a million little grains of quartz
and oh, dear god
...
i can see it in his eyes
and i bet that it hurts.
STRUGGLE: The Seating of Raw Pupils - Image #3
http://www.vakras.com/contra-gleeson/matta.jpg
Class assist…who’s pissed?
To make the case…this place. Metaphorically
It’s in need of an Exodus. No more wrecks with this…
Forward. The gathering of the best of scruples…Ever onward
Private v. Public v. Charter…tell us
Who’s smarter?
I would wager that we’re All-Human.
Our Plan should reflect this… That we’re all…in this…together
So maybe tomorrow we’ll go out and gather
Why? Because it matters
Vouchers v. Increased taxes…
Support should be for whatever improves them classes
Each updated book to improve what’s shook
Let’s take a clean-it up look..
Perhaps star jack some cart o’ facts
Recorders, their recordings that’ll provide what’s exact,
Those who are true while still knowing a few…knowing
They’re only looking out for themselves and not you
We gotta end the treachery that’s found in the schism
This is the ABC’s of a Correct-O-Prism
We need Unity Eyes, not Union Lies
Folks who can accurately assess our struggle
Schools are a place where there’s no need for trouble
Absolutely no need for a guarded (A+)
However the obtaining of a few is still a must
At least an honest & thorough attempt
To that end…nobody from *The Trilogy’s exempt
Students – Parents - Teachers*
No longer acceptable as indifferent creatures
All should continue to be right on and.. Write on the same page
PROGRESS… It goes forward to the Graduate’s Stage
Break - Time?
No, It ain’t over ‘til it’s over
Class then dismissed! Then the Dance in The Clover
umm...
paradoxes under tables
walled open doors
back alleys, woodwork streets
all busy, all morose
rat podium picture maze
my arms are gelatin
affixed in spares
left to be eaten
windows with glare
the arches of Rome
panels of glass
the musical sheets
orchestration aligned
trumpets on my right
tubas on my left
the open door
let the rats in
http://www.vakras.com/contra-gleeson/matta.jpg
edited.
paradoxes under tables
walled open doors
back alleys, woodwork streets
all busy, all morose
rat podium picture maze
my arms are gelatin
affixed in spares
left to be eaten
windows with glare
the arches of Rome
panels of glass
the musical sheets
orchestration aligned
trumpets on my right
tubas on my left
the open door
let the rats in
http://www.vakras.com/contra-gleeson/matta.jpg
edited.
Anonymous
Diddi, Laceyspacey,Kriticool and 13....appreciate your poems which were all very good....thanks for supporting the competition.
Inspired by image 2
Jolted Joker
Of yesterday…
Life has been a continuous gamble
His days spent in a shambles
Roaming and rambling around town
With lady luck swinging on his arm
Being a players’ club phenomenon
Blackjack, roulette and poker
The façade of the happy joker
The last gamble…
Couldn’t resist a last game of craps
Bad decisions and inhibitions
Rent overdue and time has elapsed
Subconscious vividly exposed
Filled with despair, and that last chance of hope
Around his neck, an invisible rope
Lingering thoughts drive him
Into a dark tunnel, vision blurred
Caught up in an emotional haze
Strewn and nowhere to turn
Future of his life, about to
Crash and burn
In the tumble and roll of the dice
Like a birthday kid making a wish
He gasps, then, blows in his clenched fist
And watches his world
F
A
L
L
Apart…
The cringe…
Halfway through his imaginings
A wish, a dream, a chance, a hope
Is smashed…
The sight and sound of broken glass
Unbearable to his senses
His ego shattered, beyond repair
At a weak point, his insides fold
He is checkmated
With nowhere to go
Each fallen piece
His grim reality
His final thoughts…
Trapped in his mental anguish
Imprisoned between his two temples
Streaming in tears
Depressed, lonely
And overcome with fear
His last moments filled with despair
He checks out…
Awash, with the tears of a clown
Jolted Joker
Of yesterday…
Life has been a continuous gamble
His days spent in a shambles
Roaming and rambling around town
With lady luck swinging on his arm
Being a players’ club phenomenon
Blackjack, roulette and poker
The façade of the happy joker
The last gamble…
Couldn’t resist a last game of craps
Bad decisions and inhibitions
Rent overdue and time has elapsed
Subconscious vividly exposed
Filled with despair, and that last chance of hope
Around his neck, an invisible rope
Lingering thoughts drive him
Into a dark tunnel, vision blurred
Caught up in an emotional haze
Strewn and nowhere to turn
Future of his life, about to
Crash and burn
In the tumble and roll of the dice
Like a birthday kid making a wish
He gasps, then, blows in his clenched fist
And watches his world
F
A
L
L
Apart…
The cringe…
Halfway through his imaginings
A wish, a dream, a chance, a hope
Is smashed…
The sight and sound of broken glass
Unbearable to his senses
His ego shattered, beyond repair
At a weak point, his insides fold
He is checkmated
With nowhere to go
Each fallen piece
His grim reality
His final thoughts…
Trapped in his mental anguish
Imprisoned between his two temples
Streaming in tears
Depressed, lonely
And overcome with fear
His last moments filled with despair
He checks out…
Awash, with the tears of a clown
Anonymous
Myheartbeats....beautifully written and presented - thank you
More poems please....I think this ends tonight.......
All poems have been sooooooooo good......x0x00xx0
More poems please....I think this ends tonight.......
All poems have been sooooooooo good......x0x00xx0
Book of Twisted Faces
Twisted, bleeding sands of time,
suspended in death, chaos sublime.
As the jester plays his game again,
life shatters in chaotic reign.
Feel time and space,
fade to oblivion.
Interfacing with this social disease,
I hope someday again to breathe again!
Twisted, turning, life yet yearning,
hoping not to hear the scream!
Red and filling,
buckets spilling,
can you unhook your life?
Now you are suspended in animation,
welcome to the book of twisted faces!
I was inspired by all 3 pictures.......
Twisted, bleeding sands of time,
suspended in death, chaos sublime.
As the jester plays his game again,
life shatters in chaotic reign.
Feel time and space,
fade to oblivion.
Interfacing with this social disease,
I hope someday again to breathe again!
Twisted, turning, life yet yearning,
hoping not to hear the scream!
Red and filling,
buckets spilling,
can you unhook your life?
Now you are suspended in animation,
welcome to the book of twisted faces!
I was inspired by all 3 pictures.......
Anonymous
COMPETITION - CHOICE OF THREE POEMS
WINNER - kriticool
RUNNER-UP: myheartbeats (ryteoutlet) and 13
Thank you to all who participated.
The poems were all very well written.
