Poetry competition CLOSED 30th November 2015 8:29pm
WINNER
toniscales (Lost Girl)
toniscales (Lost Girl)
RUNNERS-UP:
Viddax
and mebo
Dancing Water
Poetry Contest Description
Describe how water would dance as it is: Coming out of a faucet, Dripping off the roof, Falling from the sky, etc.
Water has been quite interesting to me throughout my life, so I would like to see how others may reflect on it. Haha get it? Reflect. Anyways, you can write in any way you are comfortable with. Long or Short. Everything is good. :3
This is a favorite subject of mine! Please, can you give a bit more about the competition, like:
When will the competition close, date & time?
How many submissions are accepted per participant?
Old and/or new poems?
I think answers to those questions will hold me. Thank you, Alice, nice to meet you!
When will the competition close, date & time?
How many submissions are accepted per participant?
Old and/or new poems?
I think answers to those questions will hold me. Thank you, Alice, nice to meet you!
jumbokitten said:Lol well I said everything is good! You may do multiple just please don't spam it. It ends Nov 30 at 12:30 pm
Ah thank you dear, that really helps cause I'm so new here at DUP, whee! And no way would I ever spam anything, I'm far too polite! *
I just wondered if maybe 2 submissions would be okay, sooo...
I'll be back with entries yaay! 😇
Ah thank you dear, that really helps cause I'm so new here at DUP, whee! And no way would I ever spam anything, I'm far too polite! *
I just wondered if maybe 2 submissions would be okay, sooo... I'll be back with entries yaay! 😇
Anonymous
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The Art of Washing Hands
As intense as one life entering another,
I take your hands into mine.
The intimacy of water from a spigot
pours, as if over our entire bodies-
yours in willing submission to mine
during the act of washing hands.
Your anticipation is a pale shiver
like a bird's wing stretching the wind.
To swoon from the scent of roses
as the glycerin is slowly applied,
and then our fingers entwine;
a lesser tandem of slender limbs coiling.
The froth of friction made languid in its
lubrication. The intent fascination
of my ritual movements when I hear
your breath, your inclining notes,
and our sudden glances meeting, as
cool water rinses clear all expectation.
As intense as one life entering another,
I take your hands into mine.
The intimacy of water from a spigot
pours, as if over our entire bodies-
yours in willing submission to mine
during the act of washing hands.
Your anticipation is a pale shiver
like a bird's wing stretching the wind.
To swoon from the scent of roses
as the glycerin is slowly applied,
and then our fingers entwine;
a lesser tandem of slender limbs coiling.
The froth of friction made languid in its
lubrication. The intent fascination
of my ritual movements when I hear
your breath, your inclining notes,
and our sudden glances meeting, as
cool water rinses clear all expectation.
Rain Garden
The petals are all painted red
the color of sweet passion.
Flowing silver rivulets
down paper leaves turned ashen.
The flowers rare and seldom picked
bloom once each lunar phase,
its waxing light among them mixed,
giving them their ghostly haze.
Gentle showers, piercing flight
with sudden claps of thunder,
till, once again, returns the night
to hide away its plunder.
She never felt its blackened soil.
A deluge lasts the whole day long.
Unaware, the gardener toils
for whom these branches once belonged.
Reaching, and embracing her
with spangled rain adorned,
brings the scent of ink that stirs
a love she's always worn.
The petals are all painted red
the color of sweet passion.
Flowing silver rivulets
down paper leaves turned ashen.
The flowers rare and seldom picked
bloom once each lunar phase,
its waxing light among them mixed,
giving them their ghostly haze.
Gentle showers, piercing flight
with sudden claps of thunder,
till, once again, returns the night
to hide away its plunder.
She never felt its blackened soil.
A deluge lasts the whole day long.
Unaware, the gardener toils
for whom these branches once belonged.
Reaching, and embracing her
with spangled rain adorned,
brings the scent of ink that stirs
a love she's always worn.
http://www.aries.mq.edu.au/projects/ecc/water_drop.jpg
A Tear Drop or a Cascade
Water, those that fall with sounds
of pearls falling on ceramics
or a resounding ping
on empty tin sink
they are like tear drops
of a mourning widow
falling off the canopy
of wide green leaves
they like little tailed jelly fish
fall to the grass below
and sink to the earth
with soft sighing splashes
I with my love dance with misery
feel them course down wrinkled cheeks
thinking of lost opportunities and loves
and those that repose under the ground
allowing the rivulets of tears
to ease the pain of old regrets
they are the same rain water and tears
falling liquid crystals
with purpose of their own.
A Tear Drop or a Cascade
Water, those that fall with sounds
of pearls falling on ceramics
or a resounding ping
on empty tin sink
they are like tear drops
of a mourning widow
falling off the canopy
of wide green leaves
they like little tailed jelly fish
fall to the grass below
and sink to the earth
with soft sighing splashes
I with my love dance with misery
feel them course down wrinkled cheeks
thinking of lost opportunities and loves
and those that repose under the ground
allowing the rivulets of tears
to ease the pain of old regrets
they are the same rain water and tears
falling liquid crystals
with purpose of their own.
Anonymous
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