Poetry competition CLOSED 17th November 2014 11:14am
WINNER
Pishashee
Pishashee
RUNNERS-UP:
JohnFeddeler
and sammy4444
Lost gem ... WTF!?!
Poetry Contest Description
Enter your least read piece so it might be recognized.
I'm sure we've all written one or two poems that we thought Pulitzer worthy yet it only got ten reads on DUP and nine of them were your own 
...
Well here's a chance to retrieve that pearl and bring it into the light. Simply pick your least read piece on DUP (there's a sort feature on the My Poems page that will help) and post it with the link.
Up to two enteries but the piece cannot have won a DUP competition.
I'm looking for the "beast"
of the least!
If you're concerned about more recently posted work in the context of number of reads I'd say look at your work posted prior to 3 November 2014. Most poets get their greatest number of reads and or comments in that first week of publishing on DUP.
... Well here's a chance to retrieve that pearl and bring it into the light. Simply pick your least read piece on DUP (there's a sort feature on the My Poems page that will help) and post it with the link.
Up to two enteries but the piece cannot have won a DUP competition.
I'm looking for the "beast"
of the least! If you're concerned about more recently posted work in the context of number of reads I'd say look at your work posted prior to 3 November 2014. Most poets get their greatest number of reads and or comments in that first week of publishing on DUP.
My first entry
Trespasser
*
He tipped me his tailored tongue
gratified my mind with eloquent faltering
the street light charmed his frame
and dusted my eyes with warmth
his vantage point lulled my prudence
I imagined he could pull me inside out
with those extravagant fingers
his aura 'vintage and compelling'
held my gut in a butterfly dance
there was nothing, more out of my control
my body was rejecting me and the walls I built
my brain the traitor to my cause
every caution and lesson learned, disintegrated
I felt abandoned and vulnerable
and he stepped into my susceptibility
he would cut me open, I knew that
his lab rat, pinned to the bed of our making
finding relief in a palliative cocktail
he kissed my throat and watched me crumble
I never felt so helpless
*
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/176902-trespasser/
Trespasser
*
He tipped me his tailored tongue
gratified my mind with eloquent faltering
the street light charmed his frame
and dusted my eyes with warmth
his vantage point lulled my prudence
I imagined he could pull me inside out
with those extravagant fingers
his aura 'vintage and compelling'
held my gut in a butterfly dance
there was nothing, more out of my control
my body was rejecting me and the walls I built
my brain the traitor to my cause
every caution and lesson learned, disintegrated
I felt abandoned and vulnerable
and he stepped into my susceptibility
he would cut me open, I knew that
his lab rat, pinned to the bed of our making
finding relief in a palliative cocktail
he kissed my throat and watched me crumble
I never felt so helpless
*
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/176902-trespasser/
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/183566/shell-opening
SHELL OPENING
cracks
appearing
shell
opening
truths
unfolding
heart
pounding
wildly
why?
pain?
lies?
goodbyes?
NO
blindfold
removed
water
calling
healing
energy
releasing
negativity
perspective
gained
nothing was
there
in the
first place
SHELL OPENING
cracks
appearing
shell
opening
truths
unfolding
heart
pounding
wildly
why?
pain?
lies?
goodbyes?
NO
blindfold
removed
water
calling
healing
energy
releasing
negativity
perspective
gained
nothing was
there
in the
first place
Developments
Each year, during the soft gear-shift
Between late summer and early autumn,
A member of the briefly sun-tanned millions,
You download all your snaps, and cannot wait
To view them, avid for the truth
Of what they will reveal, or fail to show:
A myriad of foreign restaurant tables,
Shining faces grinning at the flash,
Dishes of exotic food, carafes of wine,
Colourful drinks, like trophies, waved aloft;
Sunsets, mountains, ruins, glass-blue sea,
Smiling loved ones posing on a wall;
Markets, fishing-boats, locals with no teeth,
Their faces satisfyingly gnarled.
Yes, that's it! That's just the way it was!
But secretly, you know it isn't so.
It never can be just the way it was -
The time has changed and you're no longer there.
The images speak to us of other lives
And places that we visited like Marley's ghost,
Seen and heard, but not touching.
And when we're back, and getting on with
Unremitting, unsurprising life,
They let us know that we were, once, elsewhere.
This thought can cheer and comfort, but beware,
Lest it should taunt and crush your heart with grief.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/125923-developments/
Each year, during the soft gear-shift
Between late summer and early autumn,
A member of the briefly sun-tanned millions,
You download all your snaps, and cannot wait
To view them, avid for the truth
Of what they will reveal, or fail to show:
A myriad of foreign restaurant tables,
Shining faces grinning at the flash,
Dishes of exotic food, carafes of wine,
Colourful drinks, like trophies, waved aloft;
Sunsets, mountains, ruins, glass-blue sea,
Smiling loved ones posing on a wall;
Markets, fishing-boats, locals with no teeth,
Their faces satisfyingly gnarled.
Yes, that's it! That's just the way it was!
But secretly, you know it isn't so.
It never can be just the way it was -
The time has changed and you're no longer there.
The images speak to us of other lives
And places that we visited like Marley's ghost,
Seen and heard, but not touching.
And when we're back, and getting on with
Unremitting, unsurprising life,
They let us know that we were, once, elsewhere.
This thought can cheer and comfort, but beware,
Lest it should taunt and crush your heart with grief.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/125923-developments/
Anonymous
Never mind. Deleted it because it's not introspective (since now I see that's what you are hoping for.) Enjoy your comp. :)
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/120562-premature-obituary/
Premature Obituary
A good man died
not a honourable man
never the best man, I was
just a man they never knew
a tranquil child with dirty eyes
years content in my mother’s arms
until the lovers I held she mistook
she died broken hearted, exalted
and united in the being of her three
I was the young man she never knew
a youth I’ve forgotten and buried
as friendships waned like sinking ships
their drunken tales clutch to legends
of my shameful past, lost friends
summoned to bear the load of regret
of an old friend they no longer knew
the woman I wed was widowed
long ago in a rose red wedding dress
the day I drew black to buy her back
with loving lies I left behind, discarded
gathering dust, like a broken object
a good husband I could never be
a child, my cinder of pure love
fear of my mortality wells in my eyes
as I scribe these departing words to you
you are my legacy, my blood and hope
that my every godforsaken failure
can be set right by beauty in your being
in bloom, as you grow into the woman
my daughter
a young lady I will never know.
Written by the late Alexander Case
Magdalena ... Thanks for the question but I'm looking for your least read regardless of category ... I'm expecting most of these entries to pieces posted in the Miscellaneous - Observational or even Prose category which is exactly what I want and why I asked for the original link.
I want to see more introspective pieces.
If one of your least read pieces is an erotic one because you listed as "dark" or "spiritual" ... so be it.
But again the key is - use that sort key in My Poems - and pick two of your least read that are reflective of your best energies (piss on those who didn't catch your gem the first time out).
Again many thanks for joining and your question.
I want to see more introspective pieces.
If one of your least read pieces is an erotic one because you listed as "dark" or "spiritual" ... so be it.
But again the key is - use that sort key in My Poems - and pick two of your least read that are reflective of your best energies (piss on those who didn't catch your gem the first time out).
Again many thanks for joining and your question.
Krill and Sea Gods
I face the low swells and try to breathe air, not the saltwater bubbling in my snorkel. I push against the waves and am mindful that the sea can push back harder. I face it, and in a few heartbeats am one with the krill, small and helpless in the vastness, ultimately sucked in and swallowed without a blink.
After a few dozen strokes, I turn and fly — the sea lifts me. Through the mask, I see the sand and rocks below, moving at a pace known by sea gods and my spirit soars.
Once I get closer to shore, I turn again. Back out towards the chopping and slapping, I try not to cough and splutter. Again, I am nothing, a dot under a microscope. I need to finish my count, each arm stroke is one, and one thousand is my final tally.
Back and forth I swim, between the krill and the sea gods until I’m woozy from the oscillating perspectives. I finish my tally on the gods’ side, navigate through the closer rocks and sea urchins and stagger out.
For a few minutes, I wonder where my saltwater world went, and why the air feels so thin.
The pebbles and towels, seagulls and people help me orientate myself, although I still feel like I lost something. I’ll be back to find it tomorrow.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/173524-krill-and-sea-gods/
I face the low swells and try to breathe air, not the saltwater bubbling in my snorkel. I push against the waves and am mindful that the sea can push back harder. I face it, and in a few heartbeats am one with the krill, small and helpless in the vastness, ultimately sucked in and swallowed without a blink.
After a few dozen strokes, I turn and fly — the sea lifts me. Through the mask, I see the sand and rocks below, moving at a pace known by sea gods and my spirit soars.
Once I get closer to shore, I turn again. Back out towards the chopping and slapping, I try not to cough and splutter. Again, I am nothing, a dot under a microscope. I need to finish my count, each arm stroke is one, and one thousand is my final tally.
Back and forth I swim, between the krill and the sea gods until I’m woozy from the oscillating perspectives. I finish my tally on the gods’ side, navigate through the closer rocks and sea urchins and stagger out.
For a few minutes, I wonder where my saltwater world went, and why the air feels so thin.
The pebbles and towels, seagulls and people help me orientate myself, although I still feel like I lost something. I’ll be back to find it tomorrow.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/173524-krill-and-sea-gods/
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/152616-dancing/
Dancing
When we met and first danced,
It started with,
A grand slow waltz by Johann Strauss,
And evolved,
By the end of the evening,
Into a series of,
Kay Starr rock-’n-roll waltzes.
As we parted,
You ask for my phone,
To enter your number, you said,
So that by sending to yourself,
You would be able to text me later,
And, by name,
I would know it was you.
At 2 in the morning,
My phone played,
That 1964 number by Miss Star,
I had assigned to your name.
No words in your message,
But the picture displayed there,
Raised hope in my mind,
(and else where),
Of what would come,
That evening,
When again,
We danced together.
As I lay back down,
I was dreaming Sinatra’s version,
Of dancing being,
Making love set to music.
I had visions of what might begin,
As a grand fancy dress ballroom waltz from Strauss,
Ending in the frantic,
Twisting, rocking and rolling,
Of an entirely different sort of,
Undressed dance to music,
Played by our bodies,
In harmony.
Dancing
When we met and first danced,
It started with,
A grand slow waltz by Johann Strauss,
And evolved,
By the end of the evening,
Into a series of,
Kay Starr rock-’n-roll waltzes.
As we parted,
You ask for my phone,
To enter your number, you said,
So that by sending to yourself,
You would be able to text me later,
And, by name,
I would know it was you.
At 2 in the morning,
My phone played,
That 1964 number by Miss Star,
I had assigned to your name.
No words in your message,
But the picture displayed there,
Raised hope in my mind,
(and else where),
Of what would come,
That evening,
When again,
We danced together.
As I lay back down,
I was dreaming Sinatra’s version,
Of dancing being,
Making love set to music.
I had visions of what might begin,
As a grand fancy dress ballroom waltz from Strauss,
Ending in the frantic,
Twisting, rocking and rolling,
Of an entirely different sort of,
Undressed dance to music,
Played by our bodies,
In harmony.
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/156611-chance-encounter/
Chance encounter
She was riding a skateboard,
In cut off jeans,
And a worn t-shirt,
Ink showing on her arms,
Her upper chest,
Her tummy,
Between her shirt and jeans,
Also on her legs.
He was walking,
Coming from the other direction,
In a suit,
Pink shirt,
Perfectly knotted tie showing above his vest,
Sharply crested pants,
And shoes with a spit polished shine.
Just as she stepped off her board,
He crossed in front of her,
She reached out,
He reached out,
Put their arms around each other,
Pulled tightly together,
And kissed.
As their lips separated,
He smiled,
Winked,
And said,
”May your day be filled with,
The sweetness of that kiss,
And the thoughts of the,
Warmth it stirs within your heart.”
He walked on down the street.
I caught up with him,
And ask,
“How long have you known her?”
He answered,
“I’ve never seen her before.”
Smiled at me,
Winked,
And walked on down the street.
I turned back to her,
She was standing,
With her fingers lightly touching her lips,
And with her eyes,
Smiling.
Chance encounter
She was riding a skateboard,
In cut off jeans,
And a worn t-shirt,
Ink showing on her arms,
Her upper chest,
Her tummy,
Between her shirt and jeans,
Also on her legs.
He was walking,
Coming from the other direction,
In a suit,
Pink shirt,
Perfectly knotted tie showing above his vest,
Sharply crested pants,
And shoes with a spit polished shine.
Just as she stepped off her board,
He crossed in front of her,
She reached out,
He reached out,
Put their arms around each other,
Pulled tightly together,
And kissed.
As their lips separated,
He smiled,
Winked,
And said,
”May your day be filled with,
The sweetness of that kiss,
And the thoughts of the,
Warmth it stirs within your heart.”
He walked on down the street.
I caught up with him,
And ask,
“How long have you known her?”
He answered,
“I’ve never seen her before.”
Smiled at me,
Winked,
And walked on down the street.
I turned back to her,
She was standing,
With her fingers lightly touching her lips,
And with her eyes,
Smiling.
Ashes of Yesteryear
it's that time of year
where the trees start
furiously combusting
into riotous hues
as the ground starts to freeze
the streets are lined and alight
with purging blooms
erasing yet another yesteryear
it's hell that's freezing over
oh honey, hell is freezing over
it's that time of year
where the trees start
furiously combusting
into riotous hues
as the ground starts to freeze
the streets are lined and alight
with purging blooms
erasing yet another yesteryear
it's hell that's freezing over
oh honey, hell is freezing over
Second entry.
The Origin of her Eclipse
*
slow movement and sad songs in a land of ashes and rock
absent of a velvet sanctuary and no soothing sun rescue
a curse splintered and driven into flesh already bruised and broken
eyes wept blisters of pain, into palms of hopelessness
slipping through spaces, drenching the will and weighing it down
with an iron fist full of thistled promises, she held them in her blood
her blood—pooled beneath her heart
her heart—always working to fix itself, always torn, the colour blue—spreading
I don't want to attach this to me, it is not about me, but a girl I once knew
she crawled away and I lost her, somewhere in a place of dying flowers
and Cemetery whispers, a place where her haunted soul held onto every ghost
her burial ground, where she still breathed and the sand still fell
there is no planned rescue, not that I know of
I should shower, wash away the memory, let it suffocate—let her suffocate
she might come back
*
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/181554-the-origin-of-her-eclipse/
The Origin of her Eclipse
*
slow movement and sad songs in a land of ashes and rock
absent of a velvet sanctuary and no soothing sun rescue
a curse splintered and driven into flesh already bruised and broken
eyes wept blisters of pain, into palms of hopelessness
slipping through spaces, drenching the will and weighing it down
with an iron fist full of thistled promises, she held them in her blood
her blood—pooled beneath her heart
her heart—always working to fix itself, always torn, the colour blue—spreading
I don't want to attach this to me, it is not about me, but a girl I once knew
she crawled away and I lost her, somewhere in a place of dying flowers
and Cemetery whispers, a place where her haunted soul held onto every ghost
her burial ground, where she still breathed and the sand still fell
there is no planned rescue, not that I know of
I should shower, wash away the memory, let it suffocate—let her suffocate
she might come back
*
http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/181554-the-origin-of-her-eclipse/
