Poetry competition CLOSED 9th February 2014 4:43pm
WINNER
Gemini (Geminitalian)
Gemini (Geminitalian)
RUNNER-UP:
caxton
What should Poetry convey?
Mercury
poetry should not be the skin
but should serve its purpose
so that it can escape itself
it must reveal the questions
that the answers betray
in the inspired malleability
of reflecting an alive experience
and recording around it
without thumping it
unto the tackboard
of event
poetry should not be the skin
but should serve its purpose
so that it can escape itself
it must reveal the questions
that the answers betray
in the inspired malleability
of reflecting an alive experience
and recording around it
without thumping it
unto the tackboard
of event
the barometer says
eternity and sorry
it's 111
-me
if she could regulate body temp
the poisoned sun
would go off the grid
na nan na
2 am hot
only buried inside
keep sayin same
alone
can't bridge the endless disconnect
mixin up the old 26
rap in tongues
no other word for love
humans know nothing
it's 666 a.d.
(after david blane)
always dissin
till a forgotten future coin
brings back
a past wheel chair ride
to hell
self control
darwin
satand the fuck up!!!
typos are morning drunk
say what you really feel
hold it not too far from face
coming to grips
everything in parenthesis
upstairs aint been beatin
on the floor no more
say a bunch of shit unimportant
find timeline in unbrushed teeth
blow a kiss
to basement facelifts
a couple power chords might just save your life
a tissue in time
just walked out the door
with .......
but better to keep going with constant ??????????????
eternity and sorry
it's 111
-me
if she could regulate body temp
the poisoned sun
would go off the grid
na nan na
2 am hot
only buried inside
keep sayin same
alone
can't bridge the endless disconnect
mixin up the old 26
rap in tongues
no other word for love
humans know nothing
it's 666 a.d.
(after david blane)
always dissin
till a forgotten future coin
brings back
a past wheel chair ride
to hell
self control
darwin
satand the fuck up!!!
typos are morning drunk
say what you really feel
hold it not too far from face
coming to grips
everything in parenthesis
upstairs aint been beatin
on the floor no more
say a bunch of shit unimportant
find timeline in unbrushed teeth
blow a kiss
to basement facelifts
a couple power chords might just save your life
a tissue in time
just walked out the door
with .......
but better to keep going with constant ??????????????
Pollock in Words
Poetry should simultaneously sing the song
of everybody, somebody, and nobody.
It should, like a Pollock painting,
rapidly and mysteriously make a mess
of that which is accepted as truth.
Poetry should rip open scabs
until pages are soaked in blood
of both reader and writer
to remind us that
although our scars hold novel shapes,
we all bleed the color of the devil.
In this reminder, poetry should
stitch up each wound it's created.
Poetry should simultaneously sing the song
of everybody, somebody, and nobody.
It should, like a Pollock painting,
rapidly and mysteriously make a mess
of that which is accepted as truth.
Poetry should rip open scabs
until pages are soaked in blood
of both reader and writer
to remind us that
although our scars hold novel shapes,
we all bleed the color of the devil.
In this reminder, poetry should
stitch up each wound it's created.
Only the Poetry Truly Knoweth Me
poetry should...
convey all these words encompassing everything on my plate
that I cant just keep in my head just to pray
these words I need you to understand I cant just say
these words to just anyone
how I feel inside like we all died last millenium
I did not care when 2012 came around
the world cant end yet there is still too much pain to be found
to much of suffering abound
for god the one that made us to save us?-you got a better chance to drown
in a dry lake bed
poetry should make you want to seriously live not just play dead
take meds
shake kids
break heads
and I will not stop until every last face red
poetry should...
convey all these words encompassing everything on my plate
that I cant just keep in my head just to pray
these words I need you to understand I cant just say
these words to just anyone
how I feel inside like we all died last millenium
I did not care when 2012 came around
the world cant end yet there is still too much pain to be found
to much of suffering abound
for god the one that made us to save us?-you got a better chance to drown
in a dry lake bed
poetry should make you want to seriously live not just play dead
take meds
shake kids
break heads
and I will not stop until every last face red
poetry should cure cancer and cause teen pregnancy
catharsis, catheter. art in a pump. heart pumping something innovative in your blood. drips of it on the carpet will never wash out. don't scrub, they can stay there, remind you. don't flush the toilet, it wastes water. your darlings won't die, they're immortal, kill me if you can, kill me if you can.
catharsis, catheter. art in a pump. heart pumping something innovative in your blood. drips of it on the carpet will never wash out. don't scrub, they can stay there, remind you. don't flush the toilet, it wastes water. your darlings won't die, they're immortal, kill me if you can, kill me if you can.
Mirror of the soul
Poetry should be the mirror of the soul.
Giving your truest self a place to let go
it should reflect a persons shadow
Their alter ego
All that is held inside, all we hide in shame
a piece of who and what we are.
A version of ourselves that we give a name
I write in riddles that make sense to only me
things i cannot let go of but that need to be free
I choose to share what i write because all i've ever felt is alone
and i hope maybe someone out there will get it.
Someone will see the person that i've shone
Poetry is therapy to me and without it i would be lost in my own mind
chocking back the words that plague and steal away my time
This is the mirror of my soul.
Ugly....i know
Poetry should be the mirror of the soul.
Giving your truest self a place to let go
it should reflect a persons shadow
Their alter ego
All that is held inside, all we hide in shame
a piece of who and what we are.
A version of ourselves that we give a name
I write in riddles that make sense to only me
things i cannot let go of but that need to be free
I choose to share what i write because all i've ever felt is alone
and i hope maybe someone out there will get it.
Someone will see the person that i've shone
Poetry is therapy to me and without it i would be lost in my own mind
chocking back the words that plague and steal away my time
This is the mirror of my soul.
Ugly....i know
Anonymous
Here is my submission: hope you like it!
Epicenter of The Human
Poetry should not reveal...
Too easily, present itself
Nakedly with no
Need for reflection
By the observer, reader, audience,
From the commoner
To the unique
Should not concern itself
With one, should not
Be poisoned by society’s discrimination,
No.
Poetry should praise
Creativity and Realism.
Conjure words and
Collide in structure—
Contain secret,
Hidden message,
Entertain, spark curiosity
Should provide clues
To secret, to message
Writer’s purpose:
Release pain,
Highlight truth,
Ignite reflection.
Yes.
Because poetry shouldn’t
Discriminate non-poets,
Brand itself with elementary
And concern itself with
Selfishness:
It doesn’t.
Because poetry
Idolizes revelation
Concerns itself with
Reflection and heeds
The call of the poet:
It does.
Epicenter of The Human
Poetry should not reveal...
Too easily, present itself
Nakedly with no
Need for reflection
By the observer, reader, audience,
From the commoner
To the unique
Should not concern itself
With one, should not
Be poisoned by society’s discrimination,
No.
Poetry should praise
Creativity and Realism.
Conjure words and
Collide in structure—
Contain secret,
Hidden message,
Entertain, spark curiosity
Should provide clues
To secret, to message
Writer’s purpose:
Release pain,
Highlight truth,
Ignite reflection.
Yes.
Because poetry shouldn’t
Discriminate non-poets,
Brand itself with elementary
And concern itself with
Selfishness:
It doesn’t.
Because poetry
Idolizes revelation
Concerns itself with
Reflection and heeds
The call of the poet:
It does.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
What is Poetry?
Poetry should be—
like breathing, simple and easy.
Poetry should be—
like dreaming, calmly and at peace.
Poetry should be—
emotions escaped on a page.
Poetry should be—
a heart opened for the world to read.
Poetry should be—
tasting the forbidden fruit that (I’ve heard) tastes (oh-so) sweet.
From the tree of Knowledge, if it so pleases.
But poetry is not always sweetness and sugar.
There are sour and bitter parts, words, and speech.
That slip inside of the sweet concoction—
Of smiles, whispers, tears and words unspoken.
Poetry is magic, believed in to be seen.
Poetry is wondering--
Of the good and bad in the world, that you can and cannot see.
Believe in poetry—
Believe in yourself.
And most importantly—
Believe what should and shouldn’t be.
Believe in what you want to see.
When you compose, contrive and of course,
when you write—
Poetry.
Poetry should be—
like breathing, simple and easy.
Poetry should be—
like dreaming, calmly and at peace.
Poetry should be—
emotions escaped on a page.
Poetry should be—
a heart opened for the world to read.
Poetry should be—
tasting the forbidden fruit that (I’ve heard) tastes (oh-so) sweet.
From the tree of Knowledge, if it so pleases.
But poetry is not always sweetness and sugar.
There are sour and bitter parts, words, and speech.
That slip inside of the sweet concoction—
Of smiles, whispers, tears and words unspoken.
Poetry is magic, believed in to be seen.
Poetry is wondering--
Of the good and bad in the world, that you can and cannot see.
Believe in poetry—
Believe in yourself.
And most importantly—
Believe what should and shouldn’t be.
Believe in what you want to see.
When you compose, contrive and of course,
when you write—
Poetry.
Anonymous
A secret society
Poetry should be the voice of voiceless
dripping into the mouth of abyss
words a convoluted mass
greys of metaphor and literalism
setting infectious disease of boredom
into generational gaps
Poetry is dead! Clocks ponderous, slow
the surrealist paints in watercolors
supernova emerge with den and zen
the un-realist paints with wet chalk
sub-versing letters to bedroom visionaries
urging muses to fall from grace
revolution breaks walls of sanctity
We are a secret society
of pseudonyms, nameless, faceless
hidden in shadows
our skin a shelter for broken dreams
thoughts, emotions, spill effortlessly
through skull and shattered bones
passion feeding lonely souls
sprawled at the shrine,
voiceless screams claw at sanity
mockery exposed, vulnerable, fragile.
Poetry should be the voice of voiceless
dripping into the mouth of abyss
words a convoluted mass
greys of metaphor and literalism
setting infectious disease of boredom
into generational gaps
Poetry is dead! Clocks ponderous, slow
the surrealist paints in watercolors
supernova emerge with den and zen
the un-realist paints with wet chalk
sub-versing letters to bedroom visionaries
urging muses to fall from grace
revolution breaks walls of sanctity
We are a secret society
of pseudonyms, nameless, faceless
hidden in shadows
our skin a shelter for broken dreams
thoughts, emotions, spill effortlessly
through skull and shattered bones
passion feeding lonely souls
sprawled at the shrine,
voiceless screams claw at sanity
mockery exposed, vulnerable, fragile.
Anonymous
my apologies for not being available here for questions
I had something going on, I'm back
some great entries here so far
thank's :-)
I had something going on, I'm back
some great entries here so far
thank's :-)
Some many people say that my poetry is is good, but to some my ideas are not so clear. And that is okay, because my words come to me from my Lord through the feelings from my heart, mind and soul.
Your ideas bloom into something as it grows
Some your ideas flow clear and beautiful like a song
And sometimes those thoughts turn into sadness about things that go wrong
But the most important things to remember is where those ideas start.
And that is from a Poet's Heart
By Frank Pulver Dec 3,2012
Your ideas bloom into something as it grows
Some your ideas flow clear and beautiful like a song
And sometimes those thoughts turn into sadness about things that go wrong
But the most important things to remember is where those ideas start.
And that is from a Poet's Heart
By Frank Pulver Dec 3,2012
Poetry
Poetry....
.... are words that create beauty
Poetry....
.... are words that are that are illusions of
the Imagination
Poetry....
.... is the art of saying nothing to about the average thing
Poetry....
.... is like a marriage that are bonded together
to produce bonded together hatred or love
Poetry....
.... is a way of how a poet views the world
Poetry....
.... are words that create beauty
Poetry....
.... are words that are that are illusions of
the Imagination
Poetry....
.... is the art of saying nothing to about the average thing
Poetry....
.... is like a marriage that are bonded together
to produce bonded together hatred or love
Poetry....
.... is a way of how a poet views the world
Poetry
people will tell me that poetry should be explicative
then they'll ask me what mine means.
i don't know why they get offended
when i tell them to shut the fuck up.
they're the ones trying to put my poems
in a box, labelled,tabbed, and color-coded.
what do my poems mean?
about the same as the warmth of her skin
under the blankets on a February night.
why does it have to mean anything?
people will tell me that poetry should be explicative
then they'll ask me what mine means.
i don't know why they get offended
when i tell them to shut the fuck up.
they're the ones trying to put my poems
in a box, labelled,tabbed, and color-coded.
what do my poems mean?
about the same as the warmth of her skin
under the blankets on a February night.
why does it have to mean anything?
