Poetry competition CLOSED 12th September 2013 8:17pm
WINNER
MaggieG
MaggieG
RUNNERS-UP:
violet
and AlisVolatPropriis8
Growing Pains
Anonymous
http://midlifecrisishawaii.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/At-Seventeen.jpeg
GROWING PAINS
When I became eleven years old
I finally understood the stories my parents told
Of being persecuted for race and religion
All Jews were subject to persecution
When I was twelve I menstruated
Was ashamed, afraid of childbirth
Understood, in other countries
Women still died of it
When I was fifteen and wanted to date
My parents did not let me, nor was I asked
As Janis Joplin observed that love was meant
Not for me, I was not a beauty, neither was she
When I was twenty, I graduated
Got my B. Sc. But not had dated
Only realized too late,
Universities were to find a mate
When I was twenty two, I got my M. Sc.
Nobody cared, is she yet married?
Intelligence meant nothing and I was poor
The dowry system meant a rich father...
JANIS IAN - song.....
"At Seventeen"
I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
In high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth
And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Who called to say come dance with me
And murmured vague obscenities
It isn't all it seems
At seventeen
A brown eyed girl in hand me downs
Whose name I never could pronounce
Said, Pity please the ones who serve
They only get what they deserve
And the rich relationed hometown queen
Married into what she needs
A guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly
Remember those who win the game
Lose the love they sought to gain
Indebentures of quality
And dubious integrity
Their small town eyes will gape at you
in dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received
At seventeen
To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
It was long ago and far away
The world was younger than today
And dreams were all they gave for free
To ugly duckling girls like me
We all play the game and when we dare
To cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown
That call and say, come dance with me
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me
At seventeen
GROWING PAINS
When I became eleven years old
I finally understood the stories my parents told
Of being persecuted for race and religion
All Jews were subject to persecution
When I was twelve I menstruated
Was ashamed, afraid of childbirth
Understood, in other countries
Women still died of it
When I was fifteen and wanted to date
My parents did not let me, nor was I asked
As Janis Joplin observed that love was meant
Not for me, I was not a beauty, neither was she
When I was twenty, I graduated
Got my B. Sc. But not had dated
Only realized too late,
Universities were to find a mate
When I was twenty two, I got my M. Sc.
Nobody cared, is she yet married?
Intelligence meant nothing and I was poor
The dowry system meant a rich father...
JANIS IAN - song.....
"At Seventeen"
I learned the truth at seventeen
That love was meant for beauty queens
In high school girls with clear skinned smiles
Who married young and then retired
The valentines I never knew
The Friday night charades of youth
Were spent on one more beautiful
At seventeen I learned the truth
And those of us with ravaged faces
Lacking in the social graces
Desperately remained at home
Inventing lovers on the phone
Who called to say come dance with me
And murmured vague obscenities
It isn't all it seems
At seventeen
A brown eyed girl in hand me downs
Whose name I never could pronounce
Said, Pity please the ones who serve
They only get what they deserve
And the rich relationed hometown queen
Married into what she needs
A guarantee of company
And haven for the elderly
Remember those who win the game
Lose the love they sought to gain
Indebentures of quality
And dubious integrity
Their small town eyes will gape at you
in dull surprise when payment due
Exceeds accounts received
At seventeen
To those of us who knew the pain
Of valentines that never came
And those whose names were never called
When choosing sides for basketball
It was long ago and far away
The world was younger than today
And dreams were all they gave for free
To ugly duckling girls like me
We all play the game and when we dare
To cheat ourselves at solitaire
Inventing lovers on the phone
Repenting other lives unknown
That call and say, come dance with me
And murmur vague obscenities
At ugly girls like me
At seventeen
Tears are falling from her eyes,
another day and still she cries.
She feels so hopeless, feels so sad,
remembers all the things they had.
She lost the one she needed most,
and all that's left is just a ghost.
Once broken, nothing can repair
a little heart lost in despair.
Outgrowing Chains
I realized I carried a burden
One that was beyond me
A burden that was so heavy
That dragged its weight upon my feet
The burden has been so steep
So painful I've become weak
A burden that's been with me
So far along before I could think.
Now that its been revealed
Now that I been freed
I stumble with my new freedom
Thats painful and I'm still weak.
How can I battle my present
If I just let go of my past.
Why is my new wisdom not easily to grasp.
I want to run yet I am weak,
I want to mourn,
I want to weep.
I am freed but I'm not sleek,
I feel shackled but I'm freed.
I'm no longer who I've been
Im above but I'm beneath.
I'm confused and I'm in grief
I'm alone but I am freed.
Ill be strong eventually
More than I have ever dreamed.
I realized I carried a burden
One that was beyond me
A burden that was so heavy
That dragged its weight upon my feet
The burden has been so steep
So painful I've become weak
A burden that's been with me
So far along before I could think.
Now that its been revealed
Now that I been freed
I stumble with my new freedom
Thats painful and I'm still weak.
How can I battle my present
If I just let go of my past.
Why is my new wisdom not easily to grasp.
I want to run yet I am weak,
I want to mourn,
I want to weep.
I am freed but I'm not sleek,
I feel shackled but I'm freed.
I'm no longer who I've been
Im above but I'm beneath.
I'm confused and I'm in grief
I'm alone but I am freed.
Ill be strong eventually
More than I have ever dreamed.
Anonymous
Grandma's House
Growing up a country boy
Mom would monthly bring a toy
Oh the Joy!
Mom would always cry
when I would call "bye bye"
I never wondered why.
It never mattered much.
Sure, kids at school teased
a fist in the nose cured their
disease, till next time.
I did wonder about Dad
but all they'd say was
he is bad.
I didn't care I guess
just curious
I had Gramps and Gram.
I was eight. No, nine
when Mom drove up with
some new guy.
My dog Rusty didn't like
him. not a bit I could tell.
Gramps and Mom sat me down
and told me I would move to town
to live with Mom from now on.
I didn't like that, not one bit.
I recall it was the first time
I said "shit!" in front of Gramps.
Funny thing was, he didn't swat me
or call to Gram for the soap.
That was more than I could hope.
Then he told me Rusty couldn't go
and boy I raised a fuss!
My cheeks were red and wet,
I couldn't see through tears.
I told my Mom I wouldn't go,
I begged my Gramps "don't make me"
then turned to Gram and pleaded
"Gram, Please don't let Her take me"
Grams eyes were red, her cheeks were
wet as mine.
....and now I wondered why. Why?
Why would Mom want me to live with
her? My life was fine with Gram and
Gramps..and Rusty.
I'd stay near home and she could
visit any time. Stay overnight!
Gram and Gramps had a big old house
and extra bedrooms everywhere.
Gramps finally had enough of this,
his voice was firm when he said
"Son, you have to go with your Mom."
Now I know of course. I've grown up.
I'm a parent. Now a grandparent.
I'll never forget that day, you can bet.
So many tears, so many cheeks so wet.
I remember my Grams face the best.
All red, her eyes wet and puffy.
Only Mom liked this guy I guessed.
Not Gram or Gramps, for sure not Rusty.
Growing up a country boy
Mom would monthly bring a toy
Oh the Joy!
Mom would always cry
when I would call "bye bye"
I never wondered why.
It never mattered much.
Sure, kids at school teased
a fist in the nose cured their
disease, till next time.
I did wonder about Dad
but all they'd say was
he is bad.
I didn't care I guess
just curious
I had Gramps and Gram.
I was eight. No, nine
when Mom drove up with
some new guy.
My dog Rusty didn't like
him. not a bit I could tell.
Gramps and Mom sat me down
and told me I would move to town
to live with Mom from now on.
I didn't like that, not one bit.
I recall it was the first time
I said "shit!" in front of Gramps.
Funny thing was, he didn't swat me
or call to Gram for the soap.
That was more than I could hope.
Then he told me Rusty couldn't go
and boy I raised a fuss!
My cheeks were red and wet,
I couldn't see through tears.
I told my Mom I wouldn't go,
I begged my Gramps "don't make me"
then turned to Gram and pleaded
"Gram, Please don't let Her take me"
Grams eyes were red, her cheeks were
wet as mine.
....and now I wondered why. Why?
Why would Mom want me to live with
her? My life was fine with Gram and
Gramps..and Rusty.
I'd stay near home and she could
visit any time. Stay overnight!
Gram and Gramps had a big old house
and extra bedrooms everywhere.
Gramps finally had enough of this,
his voice was firm when he said
"Son, you have to go with your Mom."
Now I know of course. I've grown up.
I'm a parent. Now a grandparent.
I'll never forget that day, you can bet.
So many tears, so many cheeks so wet.
I remember my Grams face the best.
All red, her eyes wet and puffy.
Only Mom liked this guy I guessed.
Not Gram or Gramps, for sure not Rusty.
once again
my deepest sorrow
drowned in another glass of wine...
keep talking to myself
gargling in tears
a picture of vulgar memories
and an amazing touch of irony
another sip of blood
very short moments of redemption...
I'm dead...with my eyes open
casting illusions of past feelings
creating situations of love...
my glass is empty...let's start again.
my deepest sorrow
drowned in another glass of wine...
keep talking to myself
gargling in tears
a picture of vulgar memories
and an amazing touch of irony
another sip of blood
very short moments of redemption...
I'm dead...with my eyes open
casting illusions of past feelings
creating situations of love...
my glass is empty...let's start again.
Anonymous
*This may not be what you're looking for, Steve, and if it doesn't suit I will enter something else. I wrote this back in 1989, when the truth of mortality really sank in.
GARDEN OF DEVOTION
Broken mouths are the surreptitious pathways
of the dead;
abrupt
unclean hands and unchaste syllables
d
r
o
p
like Hiroshima,
like Edelweiss
like calm...
death cannot be washed away.
Graveside, the rhythm of grief is predetermined
the loss palpable,
the hum incorrigible.
This
is the dance of the living -
to scourge the dead and bleat blessings
ad naseum... to assault God and bystanders
as if the spirit should be disinterred,
a pardon granted.
The living know a hint of dirt,
tasted in the backs of dry throats,
a final kiss...
the dead no longer remember
their pity cannot be bought or sold.
©Aish
GARDEN OF DEVOTION
Broken mouths are the surreptitious pathways
of the dead;
abrupt
unclean hands and unchaste syllables
d
r
o
p
like Hiroshima,
like Edelweiss
like calm...
death cannot be washed away.
Graveside, the rhythm of grief is predetermined
the loss palpable,
the hum incorrigible.
This
is the dance of the living -
to scourge the dead and bleat blessings
ad naseum... to assault God and bystanders
as if the spirit should be disinterred,
a pardon granted.
The living know a hint of dirt,
tasted in the backs of dry throats,
a final kiss...
the dead no longer remember
their pity cannot be bought or sold.
©Aish
Sorry it's a bit rushed.
My Ugly Friend And Him.
A cloak and dagger moment
pre-arranged by an ugly friend
pushing persuasiveness against my chest
I couldn't breathe for her pleas
my nemesis in disguise
caught in her need to control
I succumbed
Led by the hand
into the last day of innocence
I wanted to run all of the way back
to my childhood
my only safe place
He stood over me like darkness
alcohol the numbing fluid I drank
I was alone in his irresponsible hands
that stripped me bare of all my dignity
The growing pains of my deflowering
stung my skin like acid
My first scar
and it burrowed into my heart
decayed my perception
I threw them out with the trash
my ugly friend and him
but the memory always stays
My Ugly Friend And Him.
A cloak and dagger moment
pre-arranged by an ugly friend
pushing persuasiveness against my chest
I couldn't breathe for her pleas
my nemesis in disguise
caught in her need to control
I succumbed
Led by the hand
into the last day of innocence
I wanted to run all of the way back
to my childhood
my only safe place
He stood over me like darkness
alcohol the numbing fluid I drank
I was alone in his irresponsible hands
that stripped me bare of all my dignity
The growing pains of my deflowering
stung my skin like acid
My first scar
and it burrowed into my heart
decayed my perception
I threw them out with the trash
my ugly friend and him
but the memory always stays
"It's just not a circle anyways"
Inculcated fairenough dosed purities
What’s big deal in it anyway
Just happened to be the genes that way
Wide opened eyelids never played impassive blinks
More than a king butterfly in flutters with wild nectar
And, emitting sandalwood-ed essence from skinned sanctorum
Not to forget that magnetic tender finger biting stints often
A materializing image in appearance felt in songs
turns disruptive in its disastrous pride. For anyone, the price!
It’s mission kicking off. The self-destruction.
Almost forgot a hearty laughter from then on.
Big time surprise in crime of shames,
when one is a curious case, unscreened crops in peak
Collected honeys gets a checkmate in brewed staleness
Non-expressions pile up pithy poisons in hungers unknown
Just when turns got steepened, some unscrupulous swindler
bee capitalised a moment of vulnerability, emptied those saps
Not even skeletons left off, eroded to innermost cellular spaces
What's the equation
What's transaction
What's the derogation
Or,a forgotten smile flashing anytime?
Never is the state known
For the loss is immense, the soul
Inculcated fairenough dosed purities
What’s big deal in it anyway
Just happened to be the genes that way
Wide opened eyelids never played impassive blinks
More than a king butterfly in flutters with wild nectar
And, emitting sandalwood-ed essence from skinned sanctorum
Not to forget that magnetic tender finger biting stints often
A materializing image in appearance felt in songs
turns disruptive in its disastrous pride. For anyone, the price!
It’s mission kicking off. The self-destruction.
Almost forgot a hearty laughter from then on.
Big time surprise in crime of shames,
when one is a curious case, unscreened crops in peak
Collected honeys gets a checkmate in brewed staleness
Non-expressions pile up pithy poisons in hungers unknown
Just when turns got steepened, some unscrupulous swindler
bee capitalised a moment of vulnerability, emptied those saps
Not even skeletons left off, eroded to innermost cellular spaces
What's the equation
What's transaction
What's the derogation
Or,a forgotten smile flashing anytime?
Never is the state known
For the loss is immense, the soul
First off I would like to thank my guest judges. anna_grin and Craic Dealer. They did a thorough and fair job. Each poem received a score from one to ten from each of us. Also we put comments and shared the results between the three of us in case the numbers produced a tie. Then after the numbers were tallied I gave an extra day to see if there were any objections. The process worked very well and we came to surprisingly similar conclusions despite our three styles and preferences.
That said, it really came down to three poems that scored head and shoulders above the others. One point is all that separated it from being a three way tie, so any one of the three could be a winner. Life and contests don't work that way, however. So the results for the top three: MaggieG as the winner with 26 points out of a possible 30. Rakhi Rudra and Violet tie as runners up with 25 points each. Damned fine job all three of you. Thank you to all of the others. Better luck with the next one.
That said, it really came down to three poems that scored head and shoulders above the others. One point is all that separated it from being a three way tie, so any one of the three could be a winner. Life and contests don't work that way, however. So the results for the top three: MaggieG as the winner with 26 points out of a possible 30. Rakhi Rudra and Violet tie as runners up with 25 points each. Damned fine job all three of you. Thank you to all of the others. Better luck with the next one.
