Poetry competition CLOSED 28th November 2015 3:47pm
WINNER
Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Jade-Pandora (jade tiger)
Page:
Double Poetry
Poetry Contest Description
Poetry pushed to the limits, one of my favorite styles of poetry is the double voiced poem, the act of writing two poems and combining them into one constant flow of work. Be creative, have fun, show off your talents as a writer
her virginity was a treasure
her virginity was so damn cheap
he soft caressed and kissed
he forced with awful rough
holding her in reverent measure
holding her down in cold back seat
to womanhood with gentle assist
to womanhood shoved from a cliff
her virginity was so damn cheap
he soft caressed and kissed
he forced with awful rough
holding her in reverent measure
holding her down in cold back seat
to womanhood with gentle assist
to womanhood shoved from a cliff
Staring at me wanting my dinner
I will take it all soon as I can. I'll be the winner
Dam cats swear them plotting
Ide eat that chicken even if it was rotting
Get away you pest kick against the wall
Oh human wait till you sleep your face I shall maul
Why do these cats continue to pest
Is there a heart in that humans chest
I will take it all soon as I can. I'll be the winner
Dam cats swear them plotting
Ide eat that chicken even if it was rotting
Get away you pest kick against the wall
Oh human wait till you sleep your face I shall maul
Why do these cats continue to pest
Is there a heart in that humans chest
parallel
when she's in my sight, my heart is the king
he's one of many, that won't mean a thing
she's the music i hear, she's the words that i sing
i'll take diamonds or gold, but not in a ring
this is for real, this can't be a fling
if i say i love him, hope he won't cling
she lifts me up, like a hope or a wing
to get what i want, just pull on his string
when she's in my sight, my heart is the king
he's one of many, that won't mean a thing
she's the music i hear, she's the words that i sing
i'll take diamonds or gold, but not in a ring
this is for real, this can't be a fling
if i say i love him, hope he won't cling
she lifts me up, like a hope or a wing
to get what i want, just pull on his string
Camille (or portrait of a woman in a murder mystery or in love)
In this scene she's crumpling
to the black and white checkered floor.
Her French maid's uniform
soiled and torn.
Before him, she lit the prettiest
candles, all pink lace and charms.
The bowl of purple ornaments,
their glittering shiver.
How it filled her, the sight
of those white marble counter tops.
Only the barest, most delicate
finger of dust.
There were the velvet curtains,
red as the scarlet woman’s dress.
Red as her sex. The giant feather boa
while a tiny finch fluttered
in the cage of her ribs.
She would tongue the chipped tooth
at the back of her mouth,
the morning a perpetual taste of blood.
A black velvet ribbon
round her slender, white throat.
The gilt clock on the mantel.
The cut crystal goblet
with its faint lip of arsenic.
She memorized the intricate pattern
of vines in his carpet.
His eyes neither blue nor brown
but some murkiness in between.
Her hands, pale instruments of ache.
The bones worn fine and thin.
Always rain outside.
Thunderstorms and dogs licking at the windows
while corpses waltzed in the ballroom.
A piano playing itself in the conservatory
and a leg of lamb rotting in the kitchen.
In shadowy rooms she could hear
her desire. Soft. Panting.
How it echoed in corners,
the inherent sadness of doorways.
The fog at her lips. Under blankets,
the dolls moaned.
There was the sweet perfume
of paranoia. They all wanted her
or they wanted her dead.
She was a little too much in love with objects.
With lavender journals and chandeliers.
The white Haviland china
and the red Exacto knives.
The man in the smoking jacket.
The library with its books of empty pages.
Always the cook vanished before the meal
and everyone starving to death.
The well-water in her hair.
Glass buttons on her shirt.
Always catching.
Catching.
(This is an old piece rewritten.)
In this scene she's crumpling
to the black and white checkered floor.
Her French maid's uniform
soiled and torn.
Before him, she lit the prettiest
candles, all pink lace and charms.
The bowl of purple ornaments,
their glittering shiver.
How it filled her, the sight
of those white marble counter tops.
Only the barest, most delicate
finger of dust.
There were the velvet curtains,
red as the scarlet woman’s dress.
Red as her sex. The giant feather boa
while a tiny finch fluttered
in the cage of her ribs.
She would tongue the chipped tooth
at the back of her mouth,
the morning a perpetual taste of blood.
A black velvet ribbon
round her slender, white throat.
The gilt clock on the mantel.
The cut crystal goblet
with its faint lip of arsenic.
She memorized the intricate pattern
of vines in his carpet.
His eyes neither blue nor brown
but some murkiness in between.
Her hands, pale instruments of ache.
The bones worn fine and thin.
Always rain outside.
Thunderstorms and dogs licking at the windows
while corpses waltzed in the ballroom.
A piano playing itself in the conservatory
and a leg of lamb rotting in the kitchen.
In shadowy rooms she could hear
her desire. Soft. Panting.
How it echoed in corners,
the inherent sadness of doorways.
The fog at her lips. Under blankets,
the dolls moaned.
There was the sweet perfume
of paranoia. They all wanted her
or they wanted her dead.
She was a little too much in love with objects.
With lavender journals and chandeliers.
The white Haviland china
and the red Exacto knives.
The man in the smoking jacket.
The library with its books of empty pages.
Always the cook vanished before the meal
and everyone starving to death.
The well-water in her hair.
Glass buttons on her shirt.
Always catching.
Catching.
(This is an old piece rewritten.)
he said ... she said ... (During the morning rush)
he said ... They didn't have any blueberry scones.
she said ... Sooooo ...
he said ... Soooo, what? You said you wanted blueberry, they didn't have any, so that's it.
she said ... I'm supposing they didn't have any cranberry or raisin, or maybe even the chocolate chip they make? Muffins, there's a thought! Maybe a blueberry muffin?
he said ... (under his breath, gritting teeth) Look at this idiot driving like it's a Sunday. (yelling) C'mon, some of us have to get to work!
she said ... I guess I should be grateful I got the coffee.
he said ... Yeah, right. You're welcome.
she said ... You sure you don't want me to drive.
he said ... Oh my God! What because I messed up your scone order you don't want me driving either Miss Daisy?
she said ... See, this is why we shoulda fucked this morning. You've been pissy all weekend; and this is how you want to start the week?
he said ... I suppose you wanted to be on top.
she said ... Oh bloody hell! Is that what this is about?
he said ... What this?
she said ... Look for the millionth time, I didn't go looking for that promotion. Rick approached me.
he said ... But you didn't hesitate taking it.
she said ... Yes! Yes! Yes I did! You know damn well I was happy running the team I had. Besides you're the one who kept harping about how the promotion came with a fat raise, and how that would help with daycare costs.
he said ... Yes but I was saying that for me. I bust my ass for four years turning that shit department into something real and now you're my boss, again. So now here I am having to get your scones and coffee, and chauffeur you to work every morning.
she said ... You're being such an ass. At least when you were my intern it was fun fucking you in the conference room, and on Rick's desk.
he said ... Screw you.
she said ... Yeah well, you blew that this morning big fella.
he said ... Tell me honestly, did you even really, I mean really push for me to get that spot.
she said ... Yes I did. I told you, they like your work, love it in fact.
he said ... So what the fuck?
she said ... No blueberries.
he said ... What?
she said ... If there weren't any blueberry scones, ask the store manager, 'Why not?' Walk into the goddamn kitchen if you have to and demand some fresh blueberry scones. Make them yourself if you have to, in their kitchen. That's what I'd have done for you. I always have, and I always will.
he said ... Sometimes I think they don't respect me because I was your intern. And now ...
she said ... You think it's easy on me babe? Look I'm up at 4 a.m. every morning, pumping my 40 something tits to have milk for our manchild of a baby boy. And lemme tell you, pumping these tits for milk, as gorgeous as they still may be, ain't as easy as squeezing milk out of your 20 something cock. Hell, ten years from now you'll be running the whole damn company, and people will look at our son and think I'm his grandmother; but the first bitch that calls me your mom - I'll break her jaw.
Anyway, why don't you take the short cut.
he said ... We've got time, let's just not talk about the promotion, your promotion anymore.
she said ... I know we've got time. That's why you're gonna pull over in that empty lot on Messing and fuck me in the back seat. You might as well sleep your way to the top you pretty young thing, and screw your boss at the same time.
he said ... Oh, is that how you got the promotion?
she said ... Please. You know Rick, if anything he wanted a piece of your nice tight ass, not mine. And don't take out the car seat this time. That thing's a bitch to get back in for an old lady like me.
he said ... They didn't have any blueberry scones.
she said ... Sooooo ...
he said ... Soooo, what? You said you wanted blueberry, they didn't have any, so that's it.
she said ... I'm supposing they didn't have any cranberry or raisin, or maybe even the chocolate chip they make? Muffins, there's a thought! Maybe a blueberry muffin?
he said ... (under his breath, gritting teeth) Look at this idiot driving like it's a Sunday. (yelling) C'mon, some of us have to get to work!
she said ... I guess I should be grateful I got the coffee.
he said ... Yeah, right. You're welcome.
she said ... You sure you don't want me to drive.
he said ... Oh my God! What because I messed up your scone order you don't want me driving either Miss Daisy?
she said ... See, this is why we shoulda fucked this morning. You've been pissy all weekend; and this is how you want to start the week?
he said ... I suppose you wanted to be on top.
she said ... Oh bloody hell! Is that what this is about?
he said ... What this?
she said ... Look for the millionth time, I didn't go looking for that promotion. Rick approached me.
he said ... But you didn't hesitate taking it.
she said ... Yes! Yes! Yes I did! You know damn well I was happy running the team I had. Besides you're the one who kept harping about how the promotion came with a fat raise, and how that would help with daycare costs.
he said ... Yes but I was saying that for me. I bust my ass for four years turning that shit department into something real and now you're my boss, again. So now here I am having to get your scones and coffee, and chauffeur you to work every morning.
she said ... You're being such an ass. At least when you were my intern it was fun fucking you in the conference room, and on Rick's desk.
he said ... Screw you.
she said ... Yeah well, you blew that this morning big fella.
he said ... Tell me honestly, did you even really, I mean really push for me to get that spot.
she said ... Yes I did. I told you, they like your work, love it in fact.
he said ... So what the fuck?
she said ... No blueberries.
he said ... What?
she said ... If there weren't any blueberry scones, ask the store manager, 'Why not?' Walk into the goddamn kitchen if you have to and demand some fresh blueberry scones. Make them yourself if you have to, in their kitchen. That's what I'd have done for you. I always have, and I always will.
he said ... Sometimes I think they don't respect me because I was your intern. And now ...
she said ... You think it's easy on me babe? Look I'm up at 4 a.m. every morning, pumping my 40 something tits to have milk for our manchild of a baby boy. And lemme tell you, pumping these tits for milk, as gorgeous as they still may be, ain't as easy as squeezing milk out of your 20 something cock. Hell, ten years from now you'll be running the whole damn company, and people will look at our son and think I'm his grandmother; but the first bitch that calls me your mom - I'll break her jaw.
Anyway, why don't you take the short cut.
he said ... We've got time, let's just not talk about the promotion, your promotion anymore.
she said ... I know we've got time. That's why you're gonna pull over in that empty lot on Messing and fuck me in the back seat. You might as well sleep your way to the top you pretty young thing, and screw your boss at the same time.
he said ... Oh, is that how you got the promotion?
she said ... Please. You know Rick, if anything he wanted a piece of your nice tight ass, not mine. And don't take out the car seat this time. That thing's a bitch to get back in for an old lady like me.
Oh my, what an honor to have won this competition which included other respected talent! My sincerest thank you to Shaienne for hosting, and for making it all possible...
congratulations to everyone who participated! <3
congratulations to everyone who participated! <3
