Best Underated Poem

DU has grown into such a large space that by the time one wants to post their work and share it dozens others have also posted meaning you mst go the extra mile to get seen but this does take some effort and being a writer means you are somewhat of an introvert even on a online space.

so the competition is simple, take one of the poems which you have submitted before but has been underated hopefully this advertises your work more.

And Remember this is a competition so chose wisely.

all the best

The Sin Eater
    Several months ago a friend of mine sent me a book. He had been refurbishing an old house that had burned and been abandoned in the 1800's outside of Salem Mass. He found it hidden in a wall, scorched and weathered by the elements this is basically what was left of it.  On it's leather bound cover simply the words sin ducem vivere....or sin eaters guide...in gold lettering.The first page was quite intact and contained the date 1286 and the following poem,after that i pieced together what was left as best i could and it follows....
 
 
 
As times two hands reach out  
to touch on high
i release  my  
gathering of sins    
unto the sky
to collect upon  
*alabaster bones that sing
and drip onto *Carenpatalis  wing
releasing it's charred flesh  
to the fields to glow
were *Calendarum  
grow  row upon row
to mark the dead
there below  
and open to feed
upon the colors of the night
releasing souls
trapped within
to their delight
& a signal to the *Dragulz
to feast
upon the Carenpatalis meat
and into the air
legions of Dragulz flew
to set aflame
the night sky & souls  
to be born anew
 
 
* Carempetalis also known as flos veneno peccati spinam...or sin flower.....is a rare flowering plant that sheds it's wilted dead petals daily and are said to have the appearence of charred flesh and has a stalk in the shape of kinbaku that reaches up to form a hangmans noose around the flowering bud to protect it.the plant  has razor sharp thorns  that release a poison that is produced by eating the sins of souls....the petals are a flesh color at the base and produce the apperance of  a flame at the tip..it is said that the fragrance of the flower is that of insatiable lust which draws in insects that then die from the poison and feed the soil
 
 
*Dragulz also known as the dragon butterfly is a nocturnal lepidoptera and who's appearance mimics that of a dragon with wing patterns  that resemble scales made of black leather and has the ability to breath fire....the consumption of the nectar from the sin flower mixed with a chemical released by the Calendarrum flower which it inhales causing a chemical reaction  that is then released in the form of a flame.
 
* Calendarrum also known as the soul flower is a flower that grows from the mixture of dead petals from the Carempetalis flower and the soil...their pail delicate petals open only to the moonlight and wither and shrivel almost imperceptible during the day...it is said that the flower contains the soul of the person buried below.upon opening these flowers give off a chemical that when consumed by the Dragon-butterfly causes them to breath fire.
 
*Alabaster bones that sing refers to wind-chimes made from human bones

camp

the wooden tree behind cabin 9
we called it "the holy tree"
sliced wood and "natural ant farms"
surrounded us

damp towels hung on white rope lines
the swimming pools we spent every day in
the sky we subdued ourself under at night near campfire
we were wrapped up under clouds of golden and gleaming rays
the purity of a youthful happiness

then his palm met the folds of flesh
beneath the tie dye of my white tank top
soon between underwear and in between my hipbones
on the bus i road just a year before

before i had told him not to
yet the words had already left my mouth and were to afraid to meet my lips again
just as afraid as I was to push the words of conversation between us, middair, yet neither of us can reach.

this year, the day will turn gray and grass will turn lifeless
as my heart beats, yet is still not alive
his single hand stealing my youth
and stealing the last place that brought the corners of my mouth to stretch upwards toward those golden skies
the bare stomach that will swim in the same pool will not have his stain washed away by chlorine

the shrieks of my tears and prayers from my 3rd year there will be brought back again
and i'll make a useless attempt to restart.

I love how you used the description of your words to give the poetry vision of how you visioned the ideal camp sight to be.

Invisible Eyes

Invisible eyes watch me
Disect me, talk to me
With muted mouths
Barely heard above
A whisper.
 
I don't wish any evil to linger but it does
Like a cloud over my head
Pushing and prodding
Until I connect with them.
 
Invisible eyes so greedily feasting
Always want a show
Love it when i'm grieving.
 
Invisible ears always listening
Know when i'm afraid
On the inside trembling.
 
Invisible tongues
Cut me like razors
There words so vicious
I see their maker.
 
He doesn't have invisible eyes
they're grey and dead as coal
Darkness shines bright and reveals his soul.
 
He sent the ones
With the unending appettite
For lust sex and betrayel.
 
The ones with the invisible eyes
Hateful, ungrateful, liers and decievers
Thieves of the heart and mind.
 
Stop,
I'm poking out
Those invisible eyes.

The Fire Burns
Hollow heart and sorrowed life,
the darkened anguish full of strife,
the cold steel echoes from the knife
but the fire burns.

Abused and broken, nobody's right,
to take away that lady's might,
her tears blacker than this cold night
but the fire burns.

Terror upon terror, another day,
aching, old man has lost his way,
his mind screams out what he can't say
but the fire burns.

I seek respite, the world cries out,
hope and faith, riddled with doubt,
love is suffering endless drought,
peace resembling a farcical tout,
humanity faces a torrid rout,
losing to hate in this terrible bout,
and the fire burns,
yes it burns so bright,
pray it does not one day burn out.

http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/234816-the-fire-burns/

BLACK SWAN
(a Sonnet)

As crickets stridulate while summer dies,
And so their generation as it fades,
The outline of a black swan mutely flies
To gentle glide through reeds of gentle glades.
   
Into the chorus of a million songs,
Identical and different in their words.
She settles, folds her wings and rights two wrongs;
In coming back, disturbing other birds.
   
From spreading ripples to crescendo's crash,  
Her love waits onshore for the insane one.
Then calling back and forth 'neath moonlight's flash
Till courtship's ritual between is done.  
   
Sunrise, her quick eyes spy his prickly beard,
His black swan comes to preen, her art revered.


Copyright ©2016 Jade Pandora. All Rights Reserved

(10-syllable lines.)

Cock of the Game  

Bullets fly, like blind hummingbirds
Impaling everything in their way.  
Sunshine occulted by clouds of smoke
Lungs suffocated by the aroma of blood and gunpowder  
Crimson cocktails of fluid and muddy earth  
Bathing bodies void of life.  

The once peaceful village  
Raped by warring sides  
Collateral damage in the games of chess
Being played by those moronic cocks of the walk  
Who Puffs themselves up on podiums
Where they squawk like unintelligible Gods
When behind closed doors, they shaked hands with the gaffers
Then sold them the same arms that choke their very own flocks.

My heart aches for the innocents  
Caught in the crossfire for the sake of bloated balls
For the life they might have led  
For the others they could have met  
For the generation they could have influenced  
For the difference they could have made  
Now wasted, sacrificed in the name of greed and the title - Cock of the game.

~ Plucking Glass w/Tweezers

the sweat of cold beer slips through my hand,
Kool cigarette ashes feather over beige
shag carpeting at 11 in the morning
her body lies naked big tits black
snatch blond hair red nail
polish on fingers and
toes, my teeth grind
my head unwinds

last night rewind
a dingy motel room
lots of booze, horny broad
in carnal systematic positions
this was not the road I’d wish to
take to poetic perdition; I am fucking up
these hands penning words on blank hangover
canvases to create distorted fragments of poetic pornia

wood spent missing linoleum is what my blood-shot
eyes grasp as I reach across the nightstand for
the stenograph but the late morning sun
creaking through red sangria curtains
blinds my sight, warms my skin,
dries my mouth, my big head
throbs as I cannot bare to

think about the remnants
of red nail glass chips embedded
in both ends of my shoulders where her
fingernails had raked across my skin in the heat
of last nights stresscapade so I spend the day plucking
glass with tweezers, true I may not be remembered as the
poet vying for the next Great American Poem but somewhere a
famed poem will be penned of a poet plucking glass with tweezers  





http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/65050-plucking-glass-w-tweezers/

Thank you, however, it's 100% true. I am only 13, and I still attend camp to this year, as well as this summer.

VERSE
(an erotic sestina)

At your beckon my heart answers your call,
Your words bring out my heart in phrase and verse.
Now would I use our lips for other rhymes
That with our tongues the other comes to know
How deep our want invokes our hearts’ express
For in our words our hearts are brought to life

But flesh is meant to bring our wants to life,
Our lips to house these wants of deeper call
And bring to other’s tongue a new express
Whose press and pulse brings on a different verse
Which other lips should sound that we would know
Their liquid throated phrase and fervent rhymes

For certainly we share these measured rhymes,
Our flesh in tongues of verse is given life
And every inch is poetry we know
Receiving from the other’s passioned call,
The need to match our cries both line and verse
In rhythms of our rising needs’ express

In plaintive cants of deepest want’s express
It’s in her opened phrase she takes my rhymes
And with my striving pen she spreads her verse
That we in throbbing lines bring verse to life
Within our other’s flesh we hear our call
That writes new poetry we’ve come to know

We in this coming grace begin to know
How we as lovers do truly express
And answer with our flesh the other’s call
Within those rhythms finding newer rhymes
Awash in pulsing sounds of deeper life
Inscribing on ourselves in wanton verse

When covered in the other’s gleaming verse
And spent in every way we’ve come to know
Each phrase another verse that comes to life
In poetry we brought with our express
We find perfection in the other’s rhymes
That we have shed to match the other’s call

We know our life is found in true express
Our flesh becomes one verse in perfect rhymes
At your beckon my heart answers your call  

FlashBack
These memories are just phantoms,
the dust of demons long since destroyed.
why does the mind always betray?
maybe this what it means to be human ;
they are the ashes of ancient ruins.
from a long forgotten war ;
whose only spectator was me.

Right in front of me.
How could this be.

If not so distracted
I would of reacted.

Even though you were retracting
you were packing,ready to leave

I never thought it would of happend until it did.
You broke everything, I was in love,just a little kid.

I cryed till the drops died even though I still wanted to ball, like waterfalls
Ending my life was all I saw, I wanted to die.
In the end I'm still alive.

You should of saw what you did.
You put Me on the edge oh, yes you did.

I should of never trusted.
Because my trust was rusted slowly busted.

Never will I be whole.
Since you ripped out my soul.

I thought I new my role.
But now there's is a hole missing
I will never reach my goal.

Seasoned Seduction
 
It wasn't your autumn eyes  
or their brisk coolness  
as you took your time  
sizing me up and down  
 
It wasn't your winter's calm  
or your snowflake words  
with their many layered meanings  
all spoken with fireside heat  
 
It wasn't your spring blossom smile  
or the blush in your cheeks  
as you opened up  
about your colorful past  
 
It was all about your summer passion  
the way you'd burn and sweat  
for anything you believed in  
or loved, like me