Poetry competition CLOSED 12th November 2013 00:01am
WINNER
LunaObscura (Utmakalitho Petragammata)
LunaObscura (Utmakalitho Petragammata)
RUNNER-UP:
EngrVV
Page:
books galore
Anonymous
Can it be a play? Like a written play published in the 19th Century???
Creepy! Crawlers by Teresa Domanauer
http://img.rakuten.com/PIC/56675861/0/1/75/56675861.jpg
Creepy crawlers on the ceiling—
rejuvenated, roaming and rejoicing
Cozy as the cold climate comes
weaving webs, waiting for their prey
silently searching, stalking, salivating…
Scornful sinners like scorpions—
they sting like a bee and sing like a king
Sadistic and sarcastic swears
feast on fears, their feat:
the creepy crawlers on the ceiling.
Hear them come home on Halloween,
always alluring and aloof
Suspicious scoundrels go scot-free
enjoying the evening every
inch of the way, itchy bitsy spiders
feel free to feast on your prey!
copyright 2013 EngrVV All rights reserved.
http://img.rakuten.com/PIC/56675861/0/1/75/56675861.jpg
Creepy crawlers on the ceiling—
rejuvenated, roaming and rejoicing
Cozy as the cold climate comes
weaving webs, waiting for their prey
silently searching, stalking, salivating…
Scornful sinners like scorpions—
they sting like a bee and sing like a king
Sadistic and sarcastic swears
feast on fears, their feat:
the creepy crawlers on the ceiling.
Hear them come home on Halloween,
always alluring and aloof
Suspicious scoundrels go scot-free
enjoying the evening every
inch of the way, itchy bitsy spiders
feel free to feast on your prey!
copyright 2013 EngrVV All rights reserved.
The Magicians by Lev Grossman
Who would ever think
That the oil sheen streets
Of Brooklyn’d ever lead
To the land of which dreamers do dream
A place where things are mainly what they seem
Though the seasons skip freely, as does anything with leaves
Magic long hid from the layman, that cow
An invisible bastion like few
Where honor roll magi with fey grow in bounds
But not in proportion, not like people do
The toils of sorcery like all burdens cripples
And one young soul has only his heart to lean on
Who in the hell would think
That comprehensively manifesting
The very substance of your dreams
Could be the worst possible thing
The girl, the gang, the glory, trusty formula for songs to be sung
Unless you’re Quentin Coldwater, then the bell tolls, more than once
A hopeless manic depressive
Cursed with love and his heart’s desire
Who couldn’t get the message
Led by his own heart into denial
A league below the earth
In trauma, his stemming legacy deflowered
His better half, in foul necessity, burns
To save him from himself, that coward
Virgin hope rose and with more fervor fell down
Boy became mage became king with spare crown
Who would ever think
That the oil sheen streets
Of Brooklyn’d ever lead
To the land of which dreamers do dream
A place where things are mainly what they seem
Though the seasons skip freely, as does anything with leaves
Magic long hid from the layman, that cow
An invisible bastion like few
Where honor roll magi with fey grow in bounds
But not in proportion, not like people do
The toils of sorcery like all burdens cripples
And one young soul has only his heart to lean on
Who in the hell would think
That comprehensively manifesting
The very substance of your dreams
Could be the worst possible thing
The girl, the gang, the glory, trusty formula for songs to be sung
Unless you’re Quentin Coldwater, then the bell tolls, more than once
A hopeless manic depressive
Cursed with love and his heart’s desire
Who couldn’t get the message
Led by his own heart into denial
A league below the earth
In trauma, his stemming legacy deflowered
His better half, in foul necessity, burns
To save him from himself, that coward
Virgin hope rose and with more fervor fell down
Boy became mage became king with spare crown
Anonymous
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