Poetry competition CLOSED 10th May 2017 1:16am
WINNER
dustyjjewels
dustyjjewels
RUNNERS-UP:
wallyroo92
and souladareatease
Characterise Me
Beautiful Chaos
She’s a beautiful chaos,
Picture perfect, it’s exactly what you think,
Bestowed with gifts that were heaven sent,
It’s enough to bring anybody to the brink.
There is a serenity about the whirlwind,
As she walks in the eye of the hurricane,
Wondering why sometimes she feels alone,
As the temptation can drive anyone insane.
A lovely bedlam with an appealing mayhem,
When love is pure but desires are adulterated,
A flawless image, it’s exactly what you think,
Her devotion is lost in lust, ravenous and agitated.
You’ll fall in love with her simply because…
She’s a beautiful chaos.
She’s a beautiful chaos,
Picture perfect, it’s exactly what you think,
Bestowed with gifts that were heaven sent,
It’s enough to bring anybody to the brink.
There is a serenity about the whirlwind,
As she walks in the eye of the hurricane,
Wondering why sometimes she feels alone,
As the temptation can drive anyone insane.
A lovely bedlam with an appealing mayhem,
When love is pure but desires are adulterated,
A flawless image, it’s exactly what you think,
Her devotion is lost in lust, ravenous and agitated.
You’ll fall in love with her simply because…
She’s a beautiful chaos.
Anonymous
I Girl Georgie Gyrl Is A Legend Not
I write with real fake zeal,
zebra-like with seven legs,
I cannot for the life of me change my stripes, ever,
not in a million years.
I use big f-ing complicated words & put them in a trance.
It makes me feel like a goat,
I appear cultured,
act superior,
a genius poet,
karma chameleon is my sister child with bangs of fire.
Girl George Gyrl.
Truthfully, no pun intended, I'm the real deal---I am a lowlife pilot,
I have a distended intestine leftover from the war,
a piece of a crumb lying & sniveling
beneath the whale shit up piled on the bottom of the Mariana trench,
somewhere over the rainbow, basking on the pacific oceanic tectonic plate.
No words in any language can hide the facts of this legend.
Apples & Onions.
I write with real fake zeal,
zebra-like with seven legs,
I cannot for the life of me change my stripes, ever,
not in a million years.
I use big f-ing complicated words & put them in a trance.
It makes me feel like a goat,
I appear cultured,
act superior,
a genius poet,
karma chameleon is my sister child with bangs of fire.
Girl George Gyrl.
Truthfully, no pun intended, I'm the real deal---I am a lowlife pilot,
I have a distended intestine leftover from the war,
a piece of a crumb lying & sniveling
beneath the whale shit up piled on the bottom of the Mariana trench,
somewhere over the rainbow, basking on the pacific oceanic tectonic plate.
No words in any language can hide the facts of this legend.
Apples & Onions.
Scarf on the assumed gay man
A character like him can't be seen
... you can't even read him between the lines
I first met him alone on a forest path
... I climbed down from a tree and said 'what up'
Scarf blowing to the left in the wind
... I asked him if his neck was cold but he said no
It was nearly 80 degrees that day
... but he didn't give a F because he had style
I told him I had grace
... we'd be a perfect pair except I'm not gay
Not that it matters anyways
... the only people that cared were onlookers
So we strolled on down the path
... his damn scarf kept licking my head
I guess he could tell I was annoyed
... because he tossed his scarf into the wind
I turned around to watch it blow away
... but my footing slipped and I started to trip
He caught me for just a moment
... it was in that moment I heard someone say 'What are you, gay?'
I said no... but it's like 80 degrees out so I guess I'll let the scarf get away
A character like him can't be seen
... you can't even read him between the lines
I first met him alone on a forest path
... I climbed down from a tree and said 'what up'
Scarf blowing to the left in the wind
... I asked him if his neck was cold but he said no
It was nearly 80 degrees that day
... but he didn't give a F because he had style
I told him I had grace
... we'd be a perfect pair except I'm not gay
Not that it matters anyways
... the only people that cared were onlookers
So we strolled on down the path
... his damn scarf kept licking my head
I guess he could tell I was annoyed
... because he tossed his scarf into the wind
I turned around to watch it blow away
... but my footing slipped and I started to trip
He caught me for just a moment
... it was in that moment I heard someone say 'What are you, gay?'
I said no... but it's like 80 degrees out so I guess I'll let the scarf get away
A Mission:
an adventurous "spirit" dwells within;
perhaps the most distant traveler;
daring enough to stand before the bridge,
between two inevitable paths;
caring enough to carry,
any access baggage from another's back pack;
never quite self assured the limits of a brave heart;
humble enough to imagine,
everlasting peace on the other side;
active is a matter of fact,
regardless of an undecided path;
perhaps one's just another generous act,
in a play that never stops;
like a rabbit by the ears from the magicians' hat;
so really....how original is that?;
perhaps a strange creature,
would know only the rocky mountain top....
