Poetry competition CLOSED 19th June 2014 5:45pm
WINNER
XXcrazychickXX (Kiy)
XXcrazychickXX (Kiy)
RUNNERS-UP:
UnknownEmo
and Krosgood
For What Nostalgia Is Worth
My entry, hopefully it's correct like this.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/78507-in-my-arms/
Whoo, getting a LOT of entries to this! And you know what, they're all simply so AMAZING! I'm glad I hosted this competition, because I'm finding a lot of great poets now. I would like to warn you guys that three entries currently don't qualify... I sent pm's to the people who don't qualify, so you know who you are. (All three of you made the same mistake, so it's obviously not an uncommon mistake). I hope to see those entries fixed soon, so I can count them in. AMAZING job everyone, thank you for entering!
Anonymous
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/155023-the-oak-tree/
The Oak Tree
A hillock of olive and tufts of lichen
cling to speckled rocks in a verdant garden
by the old wooden porch
pale, cracked with anemic lines, confronted
many years under a questioning sun
She sits rocking in his chair
staring at the unkempt brush
overgrown with thistles, impassive
to the lullabies of the night
the lace curtain rustles at the window
breaking the silence in her mind
somewhere a distant dog howls
at the mournful tears of distant stars
the iced tea translucent with vibrant colors
shimmers, untouched
with orange hues of the skyline
did she lean out that window
when the shadows of youth were kind
listening to songs of tomorrow?
the breeze kisses her hair like feathered grass
She gazes at the footpath, branches overhung
at the waterway into the thicket
a bank sculpted by the curves of a pond
where drowned things live dormant
her footsteps steady, gripping at the memories
and the scarred grains on the ground
reaches the clearing in the woods
and kneels by the wild geraniums
their necks bowed gracefully, mourning
in the twilight hour of the night
presses the bark of the old oak tree
with the warmth of the cave in her hand
the initials faded, barely visible
carved to the bone without flesh
The Oak Tree
A hillock of olive and tufts of lichen
cling to speckled rocks in a verdant garden
by the old wooden porch
pale, cracked with anemic lines, confronted
many years under a questioning sun
She sits rocking in his chair
staring at the unkempt brush
overgrown with thistles, impassive
to the lullabies of the night
the lace curtain rustles at the window
breaking the silence in her mind
somewhere a distant dog howls
at the mournful tears of distant stars
the iced tea translucent with vibrant colors
shimmers, untouched
with orange hues of the skyline
did she lean out that window
when the shadows of youth were kind
listening to songs of tomorrow?
the breeze kisses her hair like feathered grass
She gazes at the footpath, branches overhung
at the waterway into the thicket
a bank sculpted by the curves of a pond
where drowned things live dormant
her footsteps steady, gripping at the memories
and the scarred grains on the ground
reaches the clearing in the woods
and kneels by the wild geraniums
their necks bowed gracefully, mourning
in the twilight hour of the night
presses the bark of the old oak tree
with the warmth of the cave in her hand
the initials faded, barely visible
carved to the bone without flesh
What happened to your pal that u used to see
or that girl.who was true to u exclusively
nastalgia? It ain't what it used to be
its failure, when used as an excuse to be
Uselessly
re
living the past
which was given the best
even if now things.are messed?
Dont let it leave u deppressed
my only request?
Notice the rest
of the life ahead
U survived as kid
its time to bid
it goodbye
Some try
to deny
and I
wonder. Why?
Kk that's all
Live your life like a cats fall
and land on your feet
command it and lead
handle.the.greed
or dismantle the seed
ok? Indeed
or that girl.who was true to u exclusively
nastalgia? It ain't what it used to be
its failure, when used as an excuse to be
Uselessly
re
living the past
which was given the best
even if now things.are messed?
Dont let it leave u deppressed
my only request?
Notice the rest
of the life ahead
U survived as kid
its time to bid
it goodbye
Some try
to deny
and I
wonder. Why?
Kk that's all
Live your life like a cats fall
and land on your feet
command it and lead
handle.the.greed
or dismantle the seed
ok? Indeed
The Other Side
It calls to me
A whisper yet strong and alluring
Its voice loud in my mind
Cool like the autumn breeze
It stirs something within
I struggle to recognize it but
Nothing comes to mind
I can’t turn away
It’s so loud and inviting
So lovely to hear
It beckons and I want to go
Go and see
Go and stay
Where I feel safe
Like a child in its mother’s shadow
The new but familiar home
Someday,
I will go.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/133422-the-other-side/
It calls to me
A whisper yet strong and alluring
Its voice loud in my mind
Cool like the autumn breeze
It stirs something within
I struggle to recognize it but
Nothing comes to mind
I can’t turn away
It’s so loud and inviting
So lovely to hear
It beckons and I want to go
Go and see
Go and stay
Where I feel safe
Like a child in its mother’s shadow
The new but familiar home
Someday,
I will go.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/133422-the-other-side/
the muddy creek bonfire of nostalgia
this was when youth came as a hands down the pants
spinning in circles cause it feels good like lunatic laughter
on the front end of a bawling baby just before the dreamtime blackouts
and lying about everything when caught cause nothing seems a better rebellion,
when clothes meant dirty bare no-shirt sunburned tree-top scratched feet,
black bear mommas and wooly bear caterpillars,king snakes,and stealthy owl-horned
wingspans eclipsing riots of light in the crooked bark leaf hand arms of the
maple gum forest sentinels, of bones and creeks, vines and thorns,
a thousand stings and the swampy choruses of come to papa night frogs'
jowl-bag rhythms, and you could suck sassafras roots tucked
in the crux of a tree, do good works digging holes, go to church
in afternoon attics where the resurrection in your pants met the burning bush of hers,
throw rocks at friends, tell stories of stitches like sermons,drink your sweaty
sweet tea southern life in the worm eaten cemetery kitchen of your genesis
and wipe your full lips with the universal ohm coming out your redneck mouth like ahhh
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/159345-the-muddy-creek-bonfire-of-nostagia/
this was when youth came as a hands down the pants
spinning in circles cause it feels good like lunatic laughter
on the front end of a bawling baby just before the dreamtime blackouts
and lying about everything when caught cause nothing seems a better rebellion,
when clothes meant dirty bare no-shirt sunburned tree-top scratched feet,
black bear mommas and wooly bear caterpillars,king snakes,and stealthy owl-horned
wingspans eclipsing riots of light in the crooked bark leaf hand arms of the
maple gum forest sentinels, of bones and creeks, vines and thorns,
a thousand stings and the swampy choruses of come to papa night frogs'
jowl-bag rhythms, and you could suck sassafras roots tucked
in the crux of a tree, do good works digging holes, go to church
in afternoon attics where the resurrection in your pants met the burning bush of hers,
throw rocks at friends, tell stories of stitches like sermons,drink your sweaty
sweet tea southern life in the worm eaten cemetery kitchen of your genesis
and wipe your full lips with the universal ohm coming out your redneck mouth like ahhh
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/159345-the-muddy-creek-bonfire-of-nostagia/
Building Ships
They start from seeming chaos,
Molten metal poured, moulded, hammered, rolled.
In machine shops, men hunch over lathes
And frown at slow-revolving shapes,
Engrossed in mysteries of size and tolerances,
Like alchemists who turn base metal into ships.
And somehow, one day, on the sloping slip,
Giant ribs stand stark, pointing skywards,
Like a carcass picked clean by colossal vultures.
Men swarm over them for weeks
Amid the endless din of drills and riveting,
And the hiss and spray of welders’ sparks.
Steel sides appear, decks are laid,
And suddenly a towering ship is there,
Black-sided, vast, festooned with ropes and cradles,
Impossibly balanced on its narrow keel.
Then launch day has arrived -
A bottle breaks and she is on her way.
Slowly at first, and then with massive, gathering speed,
She slides with grace towards her raison d’être.
Drag chains rattle and pull taut,
The waiting waves receive her like a bride,
The tugs hoot and she is gently towed away
To be prepared for life upon the seas.
So we, conceived by chance and shaped by many hands,
Set out. We know not where, nor what shores we shall see,
What storms, what calms we shall endure,
What monsters of the deep, what siren songs,
Our only certainty a final resting place
Far from the lost land of our home.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/25694-building-ships/
They start from seeming chaos,
Molten metal poured, moulded, hammered, rolled.
In machine shops, men hunch over lathes
And frown at slow-revolving shapes,
Engrossed in mysteries of size and tolerances,
Like alchemists who turn base metal into ships.
And somehow, one day, on the sloping slip,
Giant ribs stand stark, pointing skywards,
Like a carcass picked clean by colossal vultures.
Men swarm over them for weeks
Amid the endless din of drills and riveting,
And the hiss and spray of welders’ sparks.
Steel sides appear, decks are laid,
And suddenly a towering ship is there,
Black-sided, vast, festooned with ropes and cradles,
Impossibly balanced on its narrow keel.
Then launch day has arrived -
A bottle breaks and she is on her way.
Slowly at first, and then with massive, gathering speed,
She slides with grace towards her raison d’être.
Drag chains rattle and pull taut,
The waiting waves receive her like a bride,
The tugs hoot and she is gently towed away
To be prepared for life upon the seas.
So we, conceived by chance and shaped by many hands,
Set out. We know not where, nor what shores we shall see,
What storms, what calms we shall endure,
What monsters of the deep, what siren songs,
Our only certainty a final resting place
Far from the lost land of our home.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/25694-building-ships/
Okay, guys. I have caught up on reading the entries. Unfortunately, a lot of you have failed to follow the rules (I messaged you if I noticed a violation). The two most common mistakes are: 1. posting an entry that was published after the starting date of the competition, and 2. not leaving a link. If you notice your entry doesn't follow those rules, you need to fix that.
Aside from that, I'm loving these entries. Great work, all of you! I can't wait to see what other jewels this competition brings forth!
Aside from that, I'm loving these entries. Great work, all of you! I can't wait to see what other jewels this competition brings forth!
And, since Sar_val said it wouldn't be socially unacceptable... here's what would be my entry, if I wasn't hosting the competition. http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/100612-take-me/
