Poetry competition CLOSED 7th December 2013 1:57am
WINNER
LunaObscura (Utmakalitho Petragammata)
LunaObscura (Utmakalitho Petragammata)
From Poetry to Prose (It's Time to Adapt)
Anonymous
I had written a poem from a short story I wrote. Both are posted here, although I would probably have to edit the story for length. Could they be entered?
Anonymous
Thank you!
Sealed By Fate
(A Short Prose)
Hi I’m EngrVV, an electrical engineer by profession and never in wildest dream did I imagine that I would be writing poems, most especially love poems. It all started on June 4, 2011, when my childhood sweetheart and I found each other on Facebook. She became my inspiration for all my love poems that were first published in Viewshound, now a defunct online UK publication.
Who would have thought that after 43 years, my childhood sweetheart Aida, and I would meet once again. Thanks to Facebook and a mutual friend, it became possible. After that, we spent time together either chatting on Facebook and Skype, or just merely whispering sweet nothings on the phone on a daily basis every time we got a chance... because I was still married at that time.
Aida was alone with her cat, Stitch in her condo that night when Hurricane Irene struck Maryland and the whole Eastern Seaboard on August 27, 2011. I called her earlier than usual to check up on her, and to lessen her worries. We sang praises to God and recited verses from the Bible, especially Psalm 91.
I stayed with Aida on the phone from 8:00 PM until break of dawn…that’s when Hurricane Irene started to subside. After that fateful night, we realized that we became closer with each other, although we were approximately 2,750 miles apart. Our love for each other became stronger, as if we were bonded and sealed together that no external forces, may it be natural disasters or man-made can take us apart.
Aida already made a flight reservation to come and see me in California on my birthday, twelve more days before that disastrous event. We were so anxious to see each other that we became worried every time we hear of a bad weather forecast. We prayed and kept our fingers crossed that our forthcoming rendezvous would be a pleasant one. Finally, on September 10th last year, our lips sealed every loving word that supposedly to come out from our hearts forty-three years after our first innocent kiss.
“My God… my God,” was all I could say as we embraced each other so tight and for so long, not wanting to let go, as if we were afraid to be separated once more. No longer able to hold back tears, our loving hearts cried out with mixed emotions of joy and bitterness, as bittersweet memories began to flashback. Back then we loved each other with a love incomparable with any other love, for we had loved each other long before we knew the real meaning of love.
After Aida and I met, our lives were never been the same. I realized every passing day that I could no longer live without her, and to do so would be futile and meaningless. I decided to divorce my wife, whom I had three kids: two sons and a daughter, and moved in with my first and true love. That was a big move and a risky decision on my part. I just relied on pure instincts and trusted her loving words. What is true love, without risks and trust? We are now living happily together and plan to get married any time soon, after a few storms and trials along the way.
I wrote a poem entitled, “A September To Remember” to commemorate that memorable event, and more poems were written after that, celebrating our love for each other. Honestly, I have never written a poem in my life until now that I found my first and true love, Aida, whom I later called “Adelaide” in my poems. Had I not met Adelaide, no poems could have been written. I guess if you write from the heart, nothing could go wrong, so they say.
And I bit my lips as you came into my dreams
The silhouette of a girl appeared with long flowing hair
Walking slowly down the beach as if floating on air
Your undying love, hope never to give up
And the power of love brought us back together
On this special day, a September to remember!”
This last stanza of the above mentioned poem became a favorite among my co-writers at Viewshound, most especially Dr. Dave Katague who encouraged me to continue writing, as he saw in my poems—the fires burning within my heart!
Between phone calls and Skype, but mostly on Facebook private messages, Aida told me how she always dream and think about me, often wondering what had become of me. Did I become a lawyer, a doctor, an engineer, or did I finish my college studies at all. Believe it or not, two months before we first met, I started seeing apparitions of a beautiful girl with long flowing black hair. She was walking down the beach where Aida and I used to swim and play when we were kids. But, I can’t recognize her face because it was blurry, and her whole figure was just a silhouette as she appeared in my dreams every night before we met. What was interesting to note, was the fact that every time she thought about me, I would bit my lips at exactly the same time. Mere coincidence or was it Fate trying to work its way out, you tell me! Everything happened for a reason, and that is what I believe… even up to this day.
Even though Viewshound discontinued their online publication, that did not stop me from writing more poems and short stories trying to chronicle every single event in our lives complete with pictures that we took on our new journey together. I began sharing selected poems and photographs on Facebook and Wix where I created a site featuring my poems, and a preview to our love story, which is being written by Aida herself.
I discovered Deep Underground Poetry last year, on September 11, 2012 - a day after my birthday. The rest was history…more and more love poems are being written every single day of our lives. Thanks to DUP and my poetic friends, this diamond on the rough is slowly beginning to shine trying to learn this craft, we call poetry.
(Here is the link to this subject poem: A September to Remember http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/67993-a-september-to-remember/… and if you’re interested to read more on my other poems, please click this link: http://www.engrvv.wix.com/4everlove.)
I’ve always hated Halloween. For as long as I can remember I’ve thought it a stupid holiday. Not so much what it stems from but how we celebrate it. Dressing up in costumes and knocking door to door saying, “Trick or treat” has always seemed completely stupid and in fact made me feel stupid as a child doing this. Not to mention doing it in the snow which surprise, I hated with a passion as well.
For the most part I could ignore Halloween when I found my voice and spoke up saying I didn’t want to celebrate. This declaration probably made my dad happy that he didn’t have to spend money on a silly costume. I didn’t participate in the Halloween activities at school unless required however the teachers never paid any attention to me so it wasn’t a problem when I sat in a corner with a book in my hand ignoring the fun and games I wanted no part of.
As an adult I worked retail and Halloween was one of those times when the crazies would emerge even more than normal though this I didn’t mind. I could get a good laugh at their ridiculousness while getting paid.
Ignoring this holiday has always been simple until my daughter was born. Even then, her first Halloween was simple. I’d never have taken her out since she wasn’t even a year but her daddy vetoed my decision so we took her out to a trunk or treating. No big deal. She had a sucker (she was close to a year so back off on the dangers) and then we went home. There were too many cops for my liking and too many teenagers being stupid.
My daughter, Grace, was a year when the next Halloween started to roll around and though I had never liked the holiday I’d never paid too much attention to it, gave the fears Halloween brings about any attention either, this year was different. I’d been vetoed again for taking Grace Trick or treating. Not by Daddy this time, but by Grammy and Poppy whom we were going to visit that year, but it didn’t bother me. This was the kind of stuff Grammy was looking forward to so, so be it.
I went to sleep one night, thoughts of different costumes she could wear but the costume would be the least of my worries on this Halloween. That night I dreamt of trick or treating with Grace. She walked away from me in an area I didn’t know. I went after her but she was quick and in a second she was gone. I remember though, she was different in my dream. She had long black hair instead of brown and she was three years old. Two days later in my dream she was dead and the killer arrested. As it turned out, it was I that was the killer even though I’d no memory of it at all.
I woke up sweating with fear and anguish. A sense of loss I’d never experienced before. My cheeks stained with dried and fresh wet tears. I couldn’t go back to sleep and that Halloween she did not leave my side. That Halloween went by without a problem and I let go of my fear the dream had inflicted until over a year later in the delivery room.
It was December and my second daughter was coming quickly. After the nurses cleaned her up and began to hand her to me my heart dropped. She had black hair. Shiny, straight black hair filled her head and my heart with dread. Had I been dreaming of my unborn child the entire time? I tuned the dread and the dreams out and enjoyed the newest love in my life deciding to not let my dreams get the better of me.
Several nights ago I woke up gasping for breath; tears sliding down my cheeks and fear in my heart. My Grace had been stolen and I’d spent all night looking for her. Chasing her kidnapper and fighting to keep her alive only to fail. I woke relieved to find it only a dream however remembering the holiday in which we are approaching. My fears only enhanced as I realize also, to my utter horror that my youngest is almost three, with long black hair and it’s Halloween season.
My fears go unnoticed because they are only dreams and again I am vetoed by their Daddy on Halloween. My dread is pushed aside as overly cautious and protective mother. Unnecessary fears should not restrict a child’s fun. Of course, I think he’s just a jackass and he takes my fears like a grain of salt.
Dreams they were, but the fears always remain. I pray nothing goes wrong on this awful holiday, but should it go sour, he’ll wish he’d taken my fears seriously after I’ve shot him with his own gun. These dreams of mine are conflicting. Which child is in danger? The eldest or the youngest or both perhaps are in danger. You ask why I take these seriously when they are but dreams.
I dreamt of Ivan only a few years before he struck. I dreamt of the flood in my hometown just a few months before it hit. I dreamt of my baby’s face (Grace) while she was still in the womb and have a picture that shows her face exactly as it was in my dream. So my dreams I take seriously just to be on the side of caution.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/127045-halloween/
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/126197-missing/
For the most part I could ignore Halloween when I found my voice and spoke up saying I didn’t want to celebrate. This declaration probably made my dad happy that he didn’t have to spend money on a silly costume. I didn’t participate in the Halloween activities at school unless required however the teachers never paid any attention to me so it wasn’t a problem when I sat in a corner with a book in my hand ignoring the fun and games I wanted no part of.
As an adult I worked retail and Halloween was one of those times when the crazies would emerge even more than normal though this I didn’t mind. I could get a good laugh at their ridiculousness while getting paid.
Ignoring this holiday has always been simple until my daughter was born. Even then, her first Halloween was simple. I’d never have taken her out since she wasn’t even a year but her daddy vetoed my decision so we took her out to a trunk or treating. No big deal. She had a sucker (she was close to a year so back off on the dangers) and then we went home. There were too many cops for my liking and too many teenagers being stupid.
My daughter, Grace, was a year when the next Halloween started to roll around and though I had never liked the holiday I’d never paid too much attention to it, gave the fears Halloween brings about any attention either, this year was different. I’d been vetoed again for taking Grace Trick or treating. Not by Daddy this time, but by Grammy and Poppy whom we were going to visit that year, but it didn’t bother me. This was the kind of stuff Grammy was looking forward to so, so be it.
I went to sleep one night, thoughts of different costumes she could wear but the costume would be the least of my worries on this Halloween. That night I dreamt of trick or treating with Grace. She walked away from me in an area I didn’t know. I went after her but she was quick and in a second she was gone. I remember though, she was different in my dream. She had long black hair instead of brown and she was three years old. Two days later in my dream she was dead and the killer arrested. As it turned out, it was I that was the killer even though I’d no memory of it at all.
I woke up sweating with fear and anguish. A sense of loss I’d never experienced before. My cheeks stained with dried and fresh wet tears. I couldn’t go back to sleep and that Halloween she did not leave my side. That Halloween went by without a problem and I let go of my fear the dream had inflicted until over a year later in the delivery room.
It was December and my second daughter was coming quickly. After the nurses cleaned her up and began to hand her to me my heart dropped. She had black hair. Shiny, straight black hair filled her head and my heart with dread. Had I been dreaming of my unborn child the entire time? I tuned the dread and the dreams out and enjoyed the newest love in my life deciding to not let my dreams get the better of me.
Several nights ago I woke up gasping for breath; tears sliding down my cheeks and fear in my heart. My Grace had been stolen and I’d spent all night looking for her. Chasing her kidnapper and fighting to keep her alive only to fail. I woke relieved to find it only a dream however remembering the holiday in which we are approaching. My fears only enhanced as I realize also, to my utter horror that my youngest is almost three, with long black hair and it’s Halloween season.
My fears go unnoticed because they are only dreams and again I am vetoed by their Daddy on Halloween. My dread is pushed aside as overly cautious and protective mother. Unnecessary fears should not restrict a child’s fun. Of course, I think he’s just a jackass and he takes my fears like a grain of salt.
Dreams they were, but the fears always remain. I pray nothing goes wrong on this awful holiday, but should it go sour, he’ll wish he’d taken my fears seriously after I’ve shot him with his own gun. These dreams of mine are conflicting. Which child is in danger? The eldest or the youngest or both perhaps are in danger. You ask why I take these seriously when they are but dreams.
I dreamt of Ivan only a few years before he struck. I dreamt of the flood in my hometown just a few months before it hit. I dreamt of my baby’s face (Grace) while she was still in the womb and have a picture that shows her face exactly as it was in my dream. So my dreams I take seriously just to be on the side of caution.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/127045-halloween/
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/126197-missing/
I have four poems that all coincide with each other that I think would make for a great prose, is this okay? It's basically already a story and with the right engineering I believe I could make it quite an admirable adversary in this comp.
Balefulmalevolence said:I have four poems that all coincide with each other that I think would make for a great prose, is this okay? It's basically already a story and with the right engineering I believe I could make it quite an admirable adversary in this comp.
Yeah, just adhere to the rules. As long as your prose is relevant to the four poems you have chosen.
Yeah, just adhere to the rules. As long as your prose is relevant to the four poems you have chosen.
