Poetry competition CLOSED 31st March 2014 00:36am
WINNER
PsychicApocalypse (Darker Half)
PsychicApocalypse (Darker Half)
WINNER
HadesRising
HadesRising
Page:
Best of your Reading List (J - Q)
Poetry Contest Description
What ONE piece from your Reading List would get painted on a wall in your house.
The same breakdown as the previous competition ...
We all have writers here on DUP we adore and admire for their craft; consequently we've all created Reading Lists.
Choose that ONE piece you couldn't see yourself parting with ... you'd get it tattooed into your skin if you could.
To make judging this reasonably sane for myself, I'm asking you only nominate writers who's pen names start with the letters J - Q (the name that appears in Online Now) R - Z is another competition that's currently running.
If you entered the A - I competition, sorry you're not eligible to nominate a writer for either of the current competitions as I'm looking for that ONE piece you love most.
If you see a writer has been nominated twice - then pick another.
Also the nominee must offer a critique of the piece and why it's your best of best .. Noting it's strength in style - structure and content (aka why it's so freaking good!)
Copy and paste the poem as well as the link. My great hope is we can all discover some new ink in all this.
I'll contact the mods about awarding two trophies - one for the nominee and one for their sponsor.
We all have writers here on DUP we adore and admire for their craft; consequently we've all created Reading Lists.
Choose that ONE piece you couldn't see yourself parting with ... you'd get it tattooed into your skin if you could.
To make judging this reasonably sane for myself, I'm asking you only nominate writers who's pen names start with the letters J - Q (the name that appears in Online Now) R - Z is another competition that's currently running.
If you entered the A - I competition, sorry you're not eligible to nominate a writer for either of the current competitions as I'm looking for that ONE piece you love most.
If you see a writer has been nominated twice - then pick another.
Also the nominee must offer a critique of the piece and why it's your best of best .. Noting it's strength in style - structure and content (aka why it's so freaking good!)
Copy and paste the poem as well as the link. My great hope is we can all discover some new ink in all this.
I'll contact the mods about awarding two trophies - one for the nominee and one for their sponsor.
The Tears of a Love Star by PsychicApocalypse
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/135606-re-write-competition-entry/
A loneliness,
of such I've never felt,
As he departed from my side.
I reached out to emptiness,
as his face disappeared,
from my sight.
My angel, my warrior,
From this war,
I yearned for your return.
For evil is inferior,
I won't will let my heart be marred,
my love for you will continue to burn.
God's eyes, followed
my empty, yearning being.
Without my mate,
I was lost in my thoughts
I kept thinking.
Lonesome nights haunted me,
as crystal like tears
betrayed my angelic mask.
I prayed to God,
for his safety,
his return, oh! I don't dare ask.
Little did I know,
to where belong my inner fear.
Little did I know,
that God had cursed be with displeasing glares.
Boisterous was the heavens,
at the little news
of the war.
I heard the word,
Victory,
Was he returning at last?
His name was mention,
but not a word of his life.
The tension ate at me,
for my want to know if he was,
dead or alive.
With what seemed
like sadness in eyes,
God spoke to me.
That death had overcome,
the one, bravest in
victory.
A pain like no other,
sent through my spine,
an electrifying shudder.
As I double over in agony,
at the lost of my
one and only angelic lover.
Hear, I could barely,
as God's voice thundered,
"Thou shall worship no other
God than me"
ME! ME! ME!
As it echoed in my head.
Due to this war,
my love is now dead.
Consumed my darkness,
tears of torture I bled.
Selfish God!
My chest tightened,
my eyes blinded red.
I will never feel the
texture of his radiant wings,
the feel of his soft feathers.
I love so pure,
a touch so innocent
how could I love another?
If this is sin in your eyes,
I cast myself out
of your heavenly domain.
Where I alone,
can continue to cry
in vain.
For no amount of tears
will bring bring him back
to my side.
I shimmered out of his
selfish egoist protection,
and let myself fall from the sky.
This poem is very dear to me. Darker wrote this masterpiece in the Re-Write comp a few months back. She did this rewrite for my poem "Underneath the Mourning Star" and it was a great honor for me. Her form and style is absolutely perfect and spot on. The flow of the poem was seem less. I think this probably one of the best poem I've ever read.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/135606-re-write-competition-entry/
A loneliness,
of such I've never felt,
As he departed from my side.
I reached out to emptiness,
as his face disappeared,
from my sight.
My angel, my warrior,
From this war,
I yearned for your return.
For evil is inferior,
I won't will let my heart be marred,
my love for you will continue to burn.
God's eyes, followed
my empty, yearning being.
Without my mate,
I was lost in my thoughts
I kept thinking.
Lonesome nights haunted me,
as crystal like tears
betrayed my angelic mask.
I prayed to God,
for his safety,
his return, oh! I don't dare ask.
Little did I know,
to where belong my inner fear.
Little did I know,
that God had cursed be with displeasing glares.
Boisterous was the heavens,
at the little news
of the war.
I heard the word,
Victory,
Was he returning at last?
His name was mention,
but not a word of his life.
The tension ate at me,
for my want to know if he was,
dead or alive.
With what seemed
like sadness in eyes,
God spoke to me.
That death had overcome,
the one, bravest in
victory.
A pain like no other,
sent through my spine,
an electrifying shudder.
As I double over in agony,
at the lost of my
one and only angelic lover.
Hear, I could barely,
as God's voice thundered,
"Thou shall worship no other
God than me"
ME! ME! ME!
As it echoed in my head.
Due to this war,
my love is now dead.
Consumed my darkness,
tears of torture I bled.
Selfish God!
My chest tightened,
my eyes blinded red.
I will never feel the
texture of his radiant wings,
the feel of his soft feathers.
I love so pure,
a touch so innocent
how could I love another?
If this is sin in your eyes,
I cast myself out
of your heavenly domain.
Where I alone,
can continue to cry
in vain.
For no amount of tears
will bring bring him back
to my side.
I shimmered out of his
selfish egoist protection,
and let myself fall from the sky.
This poem is very dear to me. Darker wrote this masterpiece in the Re-Write comp a few months back. She did this rewrite for my poem "Underneath the Mourning Star" and it was a great honor for me. Her form and style is absolutely perfect and spot on. The flow of the poem was seem less. I think this probably one of the best poem I've ever read.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/66342-beads-of-courage/
by Kaatho
Beads of courage
(Beads given to children undergoing cancer treatment)
those beads
a great swathe
a myriad of colour
but from a distance, black and blue
as if they, not the boy, took the hiding
beaten to death, from the inside out
by the cruelty they call treatment
too quickly too heavy for his young neck
bead by bead, day by day, they grow
on the back of the last door he'll ever see
barring escape
feeding on him, cell by punished cell
he labours under the weight of breaking skin
and his mother's unrelenting hope
as she says yes, yes, to every one
on what he knows to be his last day
punch drunk, almost blinded, nose running blood
he hurries to thread the final few glass baubles
his gift to her
courage on a string
they open out his chest
in the name of knowledge
she threads the final bead, a purple heart
in the name of love,
drapes the whole sorry mess on his emptied chest
her only son
to hide the row of staples
showing through his Sunday best
more than two thousand beads ...
do it, count them
count them angry
one bead for every faith inflicted pain
every one a wasted prayer
count them down to a six-nailed coffin,
and the six nails where they now hang
pride of place, in his mother's house
an unbeliever's cross, rosary for a lost son
their job is done
she prays no more
those beads
those fucking beads
he never wore them
but by God she still does
I have to find the courage to critique this, because I don't want it to fail on my account. The topic is close to home for me, but the poem stands on its own even without my personal connection to it. The use of the beads as a guide through keeps the reader close, keeps the focus of the time, the pain, the burdens of each bead, the boy's achievements of enduring the treatments, until he cannot. That is cancer, right there, enduring the treatments (and only the lucky ones survive the treatment). This poem shows us the achingly sad truth of the patient and his family when the child loses the final battle. Here, we share the mother's pain, and although subtle, also the pain of the narrator. The passion and anger is in short, intense bursts: "they grow on the back of the last door he'll ever see" and "courage on a string", growing in intensity in the fourth stanza... Then the fifth and sixth stanzas hit us squarely in the chest, gripping us, unrelenting, mirroring on a smaller scale the experience of the boy and his family.
Beautiful writing, just the most sublime ink... I'm honored to have it on my list.
by Kaatho
Beads of courage
(Beads given to children undergoing cancer treatment)
those beads
a great swathe
a myriad of colour
but from a distance, black and blue
as if they, not the boy, took the hiding
beaten to death, from the inside out
by the cruelty they call treatment
too quickly too heavy for his young neck
bead by bead, day by day, they grow
on the back of the last door he'll ever see
barring escape
feeding on him, cell by punished cell
he labours under the weight of breaking skin
and his mother's unrelenting hope
as she says yes, yes, to every one
on what he knows to be his last day
punch drunk, almost blinded, nose running blood
he hurries to thread the final few glass baubles
his gift to her
courage on a string
they open out his chest
in the name of knowledge
she threads the final bead, a purple heart
in the name of love,
drapes the whole sorry mess on his emptied chest
her only son
to hide the row of staples
showing through his Sunday best
more than two thousand beads ...
do it, count them
count them angry
one bead for every faith inflicted pain
every one a wasted prayer
count them down to a six-nailed coffin,
and the six nails where they now hang
pride of place, in his mother's house
an unbeliever's cross, rosary for a lost son
their job is done
she prays no more
those beads
those fucking beads
he never wore them
but by God she still does
I have to find the courage to critique this, because I don't want it to fail on my account. The topic is close to home for me, but the poem stands on its own even without my personal connection to it. The use of the beads as a guide through keeps the reader close, keeps the focus of the time, the pain, the burdens of each bead, the boy's achievements of enduring the treatments, until he cannot. That is cancer, right there, enduring the treatments (and only the lucky ones survive the treatment). This poem shows us the achingly sad truth of the patient and his family when the child loses the final battle. Here, we share the mother's pain, and although subtle, also the pain of the narrator. The passion and anger is in short, intense bursts: "they grow on the back of the last door he'll ever see" and "courage on a string", growing in intensity in the fourth stanza... Then the fifth and sixth stanzas hit us squarely in the chest, gripping us, unrelenting, mirroring on a smaller scale the experience of the boy and his family.
Beautiful writing, just the most sublime ink... I'm honored to have it on my list.
Anonymous
I won the last comp, so I'm just sharing a piece that I enjoy for the hell of it.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/86343-smoking-in-the-hospital/
Smoking in the Hospital - by JohnVincent
Sitting, dying, waiting
Casually ticking my eyes back and forth
At doctors and nurses rushing
Trying to save one more life
Just trying to make it to the end of their shift
When I saw you walk out the elevator
The look on your face told me you could use a lift
Of spirit, of body and mind
And that's when you took out that pack of Parliaments
"You can use a cigarette,"
You said through gritted teeth
I looked, smiled, obliged the notion
"How'd you know?"
As I pulled one from the pack
"This is a hospital, man, everyone here can use a smoke.""
As more doctors and nurses speedily scurried along
Scattering jitters
Bouncing them off the walls
Throughout the white washed waiting area
We looked at each other, smiled
Popped the cigarettes in our mouths
Lit up
And no one said a word
As the smoke drifted, floated and danced
Above the sick and dying
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/86343-smoking-in-the-hospital/
Smoking in the Hospital - by JohnVincent
Sitting, dying, waiting
Casually ticking my eyes back and forth
At doctors and nurses rushing
Trying to save one more life
Just trying to make it to the end of their shift
When I saw you walk out the elevator
The look on your face told me you could use a lift
Of spirit, of body and mind
And that's when you took out that pack of Parliaments
"You can use a cigarette,"
You said through gritted teeth
I looked, smiled, obliged the notion
"How'd you know?"
As I pulled one from the pack
"This is a hospital, man, everyone here can use a smoke.""
As more doctors and nurses speedily scurried along
Scattering jitters
Bouncing them off the walls
Throughout the white washed waiting area
We looked at each other, smiled
Popped the cigarettes in our mouths
Lit up
And no one said a word
As the smoke drifted, floated and danced
Above the sick and dying
I absolutely love this write by Levi. It speaks to me on a level of my life that I have become very acquainted with. Not a happy part of my life, but it still seems as if this write was talking specifically to me.
A Void Where my Dreams Escape to by Levi (siphondarkness)
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/102658-a-void-where-my-dreams-escape-to/
Ever have those days,
Where everything is siphoned away?
Ideas, thoughts, ambitions,
Even passions wither and fade.
Blow a wish on a Dandelion,
Only to have the seeds return;
Shattering all hope of being pulled out,
Of the hole you're left in to burn.
My thoughts are pushed away,
Drained into a void.
There isn't a thing I can do,
To fight off this annoyance.
My Green Lantern ring is dead,
All will power lost from my head.
I need to find a way,
To defeat the emptiness.
No, I'm not insane,
At least not anymore than anyone else.
No, I'm only having an uninspiring day,
Which for me, is the Ninth Circle of Hell.
A Void Where my Dreams Escape to by Levi (siphondarkness)
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/102658-a-void-where-my-dreams-escape-to/
Ever have those days,
Where everything is siphoned away?
Ideas, thoughts, ambitions,
Even passions wither and fade.
Blow a wish on a Dandelion,
Only to have the seeds return;
Shattering all hope of being pulled out,
Of the hole you're left in to burn.
My thoughts are pushed away,
Drained into a void.
There isn't a thing I can do,
To fight off this annoyance.
My Green Lantern ring is dead,
All will power lost from my head.
I need to find a way,
To defeat the emptiness.
No, I'm not insane,
At least not anymore than anyone else.
No, I'm only having an uninspiring day,
Which for me, is the Ninth Circle of Hell.
