Poetry competition CLOSED 26th August 2013 2:11am
WINNER
BloodyTears
BloodyTears
Buried Alive
Poetry Contest Description
You've been buried alive--what's going through your mind?
Write a poem about being buried alive, any style, length, no collabs.
Are you literally buried alive such as in a coffin, avalanche, earthquake, etc., or are you figuratively buried alive in a mound of work at the office, school, responsibilities at home, or any other ideas you come up with?
Go for it !
Are you literally buried alive such as in a coffin, avalanche, earthquake, etc., or are you figuratively buried alive in a mound of work at the office, school, responsibilities at home, or any other ideas you come up with?
Go for it !
The ceiling so close.
My breath blows against my face.
Suffocation leads to comatose,
Who will be my saving grace?
I have been betrayed.
The ceiling creeks, will it give way?
I'm frightened, I'm afraid,
How will I make it out okay?
Pounding, hoping for someone to hear.
It's not working, nor did I think it would.
The silence gives way to new fear,
Will the dirt break through the wood?
I'm terrified, I'm frightened.
I may now have claustrophobia.
My lungs tighten,
Yup, I have a new phobia.
Images race to my mind,
Who are they again?
In lucid moments I find,
I love them, they are friends.
But oh, dear, what am I to do?
I'm 6 feet under and my air is running out.
But, I think I'm okay, it's true,
My life is being snuffed out.
But I still got this claustrophobia.
My breath blows against my face.
Suffocation leads to comatose,
Who will be my saving grace?
I have been betrayed.
The ceiling creeks, will it give way?
I'm frightened, I'm afraid,
How will I make it out okay?
Pounding, hoping for someone to hear.
It's not working, nor did I think it would.
The silence gives way to new fear,
Will the dirt break through the wood?
I'm terrified, I'm frightened.
I may now have claustrophobia.
My lungs tighten,
Yup, I have a new phobia.
Images race to my mind,
Who are they again?
In lucid moments I find,
I love them, they are friends.
But oh, dear, what am I to do?
I'm 6 feet under and my air is running out.
But, I think I'm okay, it's true,
My life is being snuffed out.
But I still got this claustrophobia.
Trapped within a dark and cold box of iron
Long since cut off from the warmth of another
I try over and over again to claw my way out
I cannot as the sea of life's ever criticizing wave consumes me
Drowning me within a whirlpool of dirt, darkness, and despair
The verbal worms and insect drive me back down to the Earth
Slamming me into my casket of sorrow
Tightening savagely around my soul
Crushing my frail spirit and Psyche
I fade away into black as the pain is too much
Long since cut off from the warmth of another
I try over and over again to claw my way out
I cannot as the sea of life's ever criticizing wave consumes me
Drowning me within a whirlpool of dirt, darkness, and despair
The verbal worms and insect drive me back down to the Earth
Slamming me into my casket of sorrow
Tightening savagely around my soul
Crushing my frail spirit and Psyche
I fade away into black as the pain is too much
Thoughts from within a Landslide
The soil that I worked with
the land that I tilled
the land that I tended
embraced me today
sudden and swift
it gave me no time to say goodbye
Within its all engulfing warmth
I grow faint….
I wish for a last look at the blue sky
To feel the wind blow into my face
I wish for a last smell of perfume
from bunches of lilacs
in my beloved’s garden
I hope to embrace my mother
Kiss my lost boy
In the other side
Hail Mary, Full of Grace…..
The soil that I worked with
the land that I tilled
the land that I tended
embraced me today
sudden and swift
it gave me no time to say goodbye
Within its all engulfing warmth
I grow faint….
I wish for a last look at the blue sky
To feel the wind blow into my face
I wish for a last smell of perfume
from bunches of lilacs
in my beloved’s garden
I hope to embrace my mother
Kiss my lost boy
In the other side
Hail Mary, Full of Grace…..
Anonymous
“How Special I Was”
http://www.ebsqart.com/Art/Trading-Cards/Colored-pencil-and-ink/197191/650/650/The-Cask-of-Amontillado.jpg
(Shades of Amontillado)
Christ,
what on Earth was I thinking!?
I always knew Barnes had it in for me,
was hot on my wife,
but I went anyways.
My love for the good red stuff
was greater than
my good old common sense.
And Myers had warned me,
told me never to ever trust him,
there was something up his sleeve.
Now I know why!
I could cry,
but what’s the use,
who would hear me anyways!?
Jesus, these manacles hurt
worse than the hangover,
I can’t believe he sealed me up like this,
chained me to the wall,
the mortar’s drying already.
Oh, how nice of him,
he’s left me a glass of the good stuff,
the ’45 Chateau Mouton-Rothschild Jeroboam
is not as great as I thought it would be.
Guess this is the price I pay
for my stupidity,
letting my guard down.
The air’s getting staler.
As soon as the
candle on the ground
burns out,
I’ll be gone forever…
All I can see is him and her
spending the insurance claim,
telling others
how special I was,
bastards!
http://www.ebsqart.com/Art/Trading-Cards/Colored-pencil-and-ink/197191/650/650/The-Cask-of-Amontillado.jpg
(Shades of Amontillado)
Christ,
what on Earth was I thinking!?
I always knew Barnes had it in for me,
was hot on my wife,
but I went anyways.
My love for the good red stuff
was greater than
my good old common sense.
And Myers had warned me,
told me never to ever trust him,
there was something up his sleeve.
Now I know why!
I could cry,
but what’s the use,
who would hear me anyways!?
Jesus, these manacles hurt
worse than the hangover,
I can’t believe he sealed me up like this,
chained me to the wall,
the mortar’s drying already.
Oh, how nice of him,
he’s left me a glass of the good stuff,
the ’45 Chateau Mouton-Rothschild Jeroboam
is not as great as I thought it would be.
Guess this is the price I pay
for my stupidity,
letting my guard down.
The air’s getting staler.
As soon as the
candle on the ground
burns out,
I’ll be gone forever…
All I can see is him and her
spending the insurance claim,
telling others
how special I was,
bastards!
Underground
The taste of the Earth fills my mouth.
I am inside of a wooden box.
Through the cracks I can see nothing but dirt.
Don't panic.
Don't panic.
That's what people say.
Panic and you'll lose air quicker.
But what else can I do but panic.
This is my worst fear.
The worst thing someone could do to me.
Bury me alive.
It's one of the slowest and probably the most painful ways to die.
And here I am, about the find out first hand.
I want to pound on the board that separates me from the rest of the Earth.
But I am afraid that dirt will come in, pour on top of me.
And there will be nothing left of me.
Just a broken body, a bag of bones.
That someone may find.
What will people think of me then?
My mother will miss me.
I can only assume.
Tears slide down my cheeks.
What did I do to deserve this?
What have I done to be shoved down into this hole.
An early grave for someone who threatened death upon herself as easily as she would breathe.
That who I am.
The girl the cried wolf.
"I'll kill myself this time, you'll see-- Well now what is left of me?"
Someone obviously got tired of hearing my lies.
And decidedly to put my need to die to the final test.
Put underground and see if she wants to be put to rest.
I wanted to die.
I know I did.
And sometimes everything hurts and I just want to give in.
But it's never been this strong before.
Why is it when you're at the end.
That the moment you have that much more to lose.
I think of sunlight.
I think of smiles.
I think of happiness.
And that's what I leave this world seeing.
They think they beat me.
Gave me what I want.
Killed the girl that wanted to die, or so she thought.
But I am not dead.
I will live on.
My soul.
My heart.
My words.
I am immortal in others minds.
So go on bury me alive.
But no broken body will be found.
I will live beyond this world.
Live beyond this feeble broken life.
I will live on, forever.
Underground.
The taste of the Earth fills my mouth.
I am inside of a wooden box.
Through the cracks I can see nothing but dirt.
Don't panic.
Don't panic.
That's what people say.
Panic and you'll lose air quicker.
But what else can I do but panic.
This is my worst fear.
The worst thing someone could do to me.
Bury me alive.
It's one of the slowest and probably the most painful ways to die.
And here I am, about the find out first hand.
I want to pound on the board that separates me from the rest of the Earth.
But I am afraid that dirt will come in, pour on top of me.
And there will be nothing left of me.
Just a broken body, a bag of bones.
That someone may find.
What will people think of me then?
My mother will miss me.
I can only assume.
Tears slide down my cheeks.
What did I do to deserve this?
What have I done to be shoved down into this hole.
An early grave for someone who threatened death upon herself as easily as she would breathe.
That who I am.
The girl the cried wolf.
"I'll kill myself this time, you'll see-- Well now what is left of me?"
Someone obviously got tired of hearing my lies.
And decidedly to put my need to die to the final test.
Put underground and see if she wants to be put to rest.
I wanted to die.
I know I did.
And sometimes everything hurts and I just want to give in.
But it's never been this strong before.
Why is it when you're at the end.
That the moment you have that much more to lose.
I think of sunlight.
I think of smiles.
I think of happiness.
And that's what I leave this world seeing.
They think they beat me.
Gave me what I want.
Killed the girl that wanted to die, or so she thought.
But I am not dead.
I will live on.
My soul.
My heart.
My words.
I am immortal in others minds.
So go on bury me alive.
But no broken body will be found.
I will live beyond this world.
Live beyond this feeble broken life.
I will live on, forever.
Underground.
Wræc
Roiling, thick black tar
Stews and bubbles,
Its bitter taste cloying
And flavoring the last days.
The crone of condemnation
Plots with the ogre of outrage.
Now the once-elusive victory
Falls within their gnarled reach.
The tender heir of bliss and
Delight is the target of their
Design and savage glee.
And I allow it.
The glumps of mucid poison
Pour forth, leaching and stifling.
The light muddies and
My air extinguishes.
The murk of apathy,
Leaves me entombed,
Still and cold. What matter
That end or this?
Roiling, thick black tar
Stews and bubbles,
Its bitter taste cloying
And flavoring the last days.
The crone of condemnation
Plots with the ogre of outrage.
Now the once-elusive victory
Falls within their gnarled reach.
The tender heir of bliss and
Delight is the target of their
Design and savage glee.
And I allow it.
The glumps of mucid poison
Pour forth, leaching and stifling.
The light muddies and
My air extinguishes.
The murk of apathy,
Leaves me entombed,
Still and cold. What matter
That end or this?
FINAL BREATH
As I lay here in the gloom
Pondering my doom
In my tomb
What brought me to this?
What was the wish
That’s served me
A dish?
What is to shut my mouth?
To keep me out
I want to shout!
But no one will hear
The utter fear
Is death near?
It looms over me, death
Of light I’m bereft
As I take my final breath.
As I lay here in the gloom
Pondering my doom
In my tomb
What brought me to this?
What was the wish
That’s served me
A dish?
What is to shut my mouth?
To keep me out
I want to shout!
But no one will hear
The utter fear
Is death near?
It looms over me, death
Of light I’m bereft
As I take my final breath.
