Poetry competition CLOSED 3rd July 2016 2:56pm
WINNER
SatansSperm
SatansSperm
RUNNER-UP:
Kou_Indigo
Cats, Crows and Ravens
oh what a way to pass,
do you not agree?
Just imagine it,
to fall under the light of moon,
to be undisturbed until decay has long passed,
only bones,
a skeleton to say,
that is to say if a bird or scavenging animal has not yet carried them away,
skull found by stranger as it is to heavy for a bird to lift away by wing,
being the only thing left unharmed,
dusty and grey,
to be carried away by human hand,
to become a mantle piece for that of a stranger,
using the time that your spirit is trapped nearby to come to know
the person now keeping your former skull in their home,
above the fire as decoration or conversation piece.
What a way to pass,
do you not agree?
do you not agree?
Just imagine it,
to fall under the light of moon,
to be undisturbed until decay has long passed,
only bones,
a skeleton to say,
that is to say if a bird or scavenging animal has not yet carried them away,
skull found by stranger as it is to heavy for a bird to lift away by wing,
being the only thing left unharmed,
dusty and grey,
to be carried away by human hand,
to become a mantle piece for that of a stranger,
using the time that your spirit is trapped nearby to come to know
the person now keeping your former skull in their home,
above the fire as decoration or conversation piece.
What a way to pass,
do you not agree?
After The Raven
The night engulfed in drear;
an ambient fear
did strike me weary.
Such a lonesome evening,
almost as though I'd been forsaken
by humanity itself.
I longed for that voice,
I did implore!
But sadly I say quite sure
the raven will answer no more
My dear Lenore!
Thy voice I implore,
my heart beseeches thee
Answer me!
How hath thee forsaken me?
The ebony bird I once did see
whilst I dreamed dreams
no mortal dared to dream.
The dreams hath grown cold;
just stories tired of being told.
Why does thy voice not reply?
Hath thy tongue grown shy?
I once did dread your voice,
for I was ignorant unto it.
Yet now I long for it,
do not abhor me raven!
Allow me to recompense thee,
then your voice shall come to me
I pray.
For this midnight is a bore,
speak unto me, raven, once more.
The night engulfed in drear;
an ambient fear
did strike me weary.
Such a lonesome evening,
almost as though I'd been forsaken
by humanity itself.
I longed for that voice,
I did implore!
But sadly I say quite sure
the raven will answer no more
My dear Lenore!
Thy voice I implore,
my heart beseeches thee
Answer me!
How hath thee forsaken me?
The ebony bird I once did see
whilst I dreamed dreams
no mortal dared to dream.
The dreams hath grown cold;
just stories tired of being told.
Why does thy voice not reply?
Hath thy tongue grown shy?
I once did dread your voice,
for I was ignorant unto it.
Yet now I long for it,
do not abhor me raven!
Allow me to recompense thee,
then your voice shall come to me
I pray.
For this midnight is a bore,
speak unto me, raven, once more.
Eureka Lost
(Edgar Allan Poe, 1809-1849)
Giving a purer sense to the
Dialect of the tribe, to get
The ecstasy and the heightening
Of the drug, the indolence, to
Lay hands upon all other hands
That I could, the sensation of
Ev'ry experience that I could,
The challenge of not only reading
But solving me, a draft of speech
Of a lurid existence
Grown ashen and sober, this star
With pallor I mistrust - hasten,
Let us not linger,
Let us fly, for we must.
Oh! That my young life were a lasting dream!
My spirit not awake'ning till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow
Lest the night be senescent
With the moon of its crescent,
Disrobed and fallow in its sorrow.
(Edgar Allan Poe, 1809-1849)
Giving a purer sense to the
Dialect of the tribe, to get
The ecstasy and the heightening
Of the drug, the indolence, to
Lay hands upon all other hands
That I could, the sensation of
Ev'ry experience that I could,
The challenge of not only reading
But solving me, a draft of speech
Of a lurid existence
Grown ashen and sober, this star
With pallor I mistrust - hasten,
Let us not linger,
Let us fly, for we must.
Oh! That my young life were a lasting dream!
My spirit not awake'ning till the beam
Of an Eternity should bring the morrow
Lest the night be senescent
With the moon of its crescent,
Disrobed and fallow in its sorrow.
corpse
A final bated breathe delivered a determined death
To a mountain of muscle, a meal of man meat
Abandoned destitute and left in solitude to decay
the vehicle, the vessel that once had so much to say
Surrounded by a murder of a few who flew in to feast
An autopsy of this casual carcass of an empty beast
The house the home a human set silently free
The being, occupied by someone, who was once me
Salutations & a farewell flight send off this soul
Leaving an empty head to serve as a dinner bowl
Vultures acknowledge the victim evident in attendance
A famine of flesh gifts gluttony a secured sentence
Ration regret make a meal of the memory of this life
Fashion fingers into forks crack bones & use as a knife
Eat & evacuate any rigor mortis from this dead domain
Skin & sinew satiate, baste in blood begin on the brain
Fertilised to farm & feed the future all that once was mine
Taxidermied to be transported to apon another other time
Harvest the hair, tap a tune with the teeth, a talisman create
Death determined & fate forecast relocated to reincarnate
A final bated breathe delivered a determined death
To a mountain of muscle, a meal of man meat
Abandoned destitute and left in solitude to decay
the vehicle, the vessel that once had so much to say
Surrounded by a murder of a few who flew in to feast
An autopsy of this casual carcass of an empty beast
The house the home a human set silently free
The being, occupied by someone, who was once me
Salutations & a farewell flight send off this soul
Leaving an empty head to serve as a dinner bowl
Vultures acknowledge the victim evident in attendance
A famine of flesh gifts gluttony a secured sentence
Ration regret make a meal of the memory of this life
Fashion fingers into forks crack bones & use as a knife
Eat & evacuate any rigor mortis from this dead domain
Skin & sinew satiate, baste in blood begin on the brain
Fertilised to farm & feed the future all that once was mine
Taxidermied to be transported to apon another other time
Harvest the hair, tap a tune with the teeth, a talisman create
Death determined & fate forecast relocated to reincarnate
"The death of a beautiful woman, is unquestionably the most poetical topic in the world."
Edgar Allan Poe
headstone
to die with and for her is what I desire most
i seek not the dreary existence of the complacent
i crave the insanity of her unknown
her untapped reservoirs
i beg her to smother me with the dreams of other men
and women who cull her
she's afraid to love me that endlessly
says I don't deserve it
because I've failed at the most critical times
she says
that it's better if I let her die
let the bells till the soul
coffee black and muddied
are mine intentions on the spade
trapped in my nostrils for days on end
evaporating with the morality meant to condemn what's most native to mine eyes
And tongue
I speak her
though she says it's a lie
shall I be drawn and quartered
my sinew
gossamer for the carrion feeders
until I choke out one utterance
which shall be my last
her name
Edgar Allan Poe
headstone
to die with and for her is what I desire most
i seek not the dreary existence of the complacent
i crave the insanity of her unknown
her untapped reservoirs
i beg her to smother me with the dreams of other men
and women who cull her
she's afraid to love me that endlessly
says I don't deserve it
because I've failed at the most critical times
she says
that it's better if I let her die
let the bells till the soul
coffee black and muddied
are mine intentions on the spade
trapped in my nostrils for days on end
evaporating with the morality meant to condemn what's most native to mine eyes
And tongue
I speak her
though she says it's a lie
shall I be drawn and quartered
my sinew
gossamer for the carrion feeders
until I choke out one utterance
which shall be my last
her name
