It's a KNOCKOUT

The Passing
(Ode To A Stranger)


I noticed you were in a hurry
Your steps were fast yet also heavy
The shoes you wore were patched and a bit muddy
You looked dishelved, with curly hair unruly
Clad in stained white shirt tucked in pants, baggy
Your backpack's half unzipped, it was so dirty
Looks like you woke up late from a night study
A sticky note hangs by your arm, scraggly

You were so loud on the phone, so angry
Your face was red and your eyes, teary
Who were you arguing with so desperately?
I wonder what was making you weary
My mind was almost lost in its curiosity
Until your shadow was gone from my scrutiny
Leaving me frustrated to draw your story
Seems that joy escaped youth, what a pity

      Out in the world
      Cased in life's tragedy
      Fashion victim
      Broke and in debt
      Failing grades
      Love and lies
      Abandoned and alone
      Betrayed by him
      I'm assuming
         Reality

OxymoronicMe - Minimum of 150 words. Just gonna give you a last chance to rectify this before the deadline.

Thank you Missy...

Ode to a Modern Lover

I noticed
You were in a hurry
Not watching where you go
ear buds burrowed in too deep
head bowed to smart-phone glow

Pavement slick from morning downpour
Black Wingtips lost their footing
Witness a feat n’er seen before
Falling body still texting

Cue Samuel Barber’s
“Adagio for String”
As in slow motion,
phone slips from your grasp
From your mouth emits
A little girl scream
From the crowd an audible gasp

With a mighty splash
There it lay motionless
In a puddle deep and muddy
Kneeling down you pick him up
“I tried to save you li’l buddy”

Amid the crowd of somber faces
a barely audible whisper
“Oh come on, give me a break”
It’s just a stink’in device
Take it home, dry it off,
Put it in a bag of rice.

http://i1072.photobucket.com/albums/w371/missysub/F403B312-A667-4C0F-8D7B-61511DC3A3E6_zps4t2x0gb4.png

Judging will commence over the next 24 hours.

Judging slightly delayed. Waiting on the other judge. 👍🏻

ROUND THREE RESULTS

Sorry about the delay, guys. I've had to make the decision to judge this round myself as I can't get hold of my other judge for an unknown reason. To wait any longer would delay the final round. So the results this time are out of a total of 15 points. They are as follows:

MadameLavender - 12
Trixareforkids - 12
David_Macleod - 10

Sadly leaving us in this round are the following poets who have been knocked out. Thank you so much for your participation in what has been an excellent competition on entries alone. *Applause*

OxymoronicMe - 8
Gahddess_Worship - 8
Todski28 - 0 (non entry)
0bs3ss3dp0ss3ss3d - 0 (non entry)

And then there were 3!!

Stand by for the final round!

http://i1072.photobucket.com/albums/w371/missysub/B45BCC56-23F2-45B9-BF42-7FA6659DFE1F_zpseipruac5.png

http://i1072.photobucket.com/albums/w371/missysub/C11E8597-0236-4975-954C-5744FF13D0D5_zpshwnllqyx.jpg

Vessel


There is no choice but
to breathe and
to write—

Neither pen nor
words
are mine, yet
I pull forth what
is already written, in some
era before existence.

Letters hung in ancient
scrolls, arrange
themselves in phrases,
conduit-ready, for
their Kairos moment.

I am their vessel,
their Earth Mother, and
in return for birthing, I
am given glowing moons and
the hiss of waves upon shores.

I have had railroads
that disappeared into brush, and
I pushed through to the worlds
on the other side, skeletons
of mechanical revolutions, beckoning

“Come paint us in words,
lest we be forgotten….”

Roaring winds bring more, with
each day I live, and deposit treasures
in my eternal storehouse, things
I never knew I wanted,

just for the use of my hand,
my eyes,
my mind,
which make the intangible, visible
to those who cannot step into
into other realms.  

I can hear storm clouds gathering, wishing
to have their say, and
they pay me in gold coins
to put atop my eyelids, when
there is nothing left to write
on the journey
home.

Asylum Scribe

I write because it protects me
I write because it saves me
From ever being just me
It puts me in a rubber room
It puts me in a straight jacket
It keeps me locked in an asylum
I am encouraged or forced to write
Sometimes I labour and toil
To produce anything of quality
Sometimes it spews on the page
No real effort, no real editing
I write behind the mask
It literally protects me from you
More so it protects you from me
In theory I am relatively safe

It allows me to unburden myself
The asylum is, in the main, dank
I am enveloped in deep darkness
I want the orgasmic thrill of the kill
I am encouraged or forced to write
My pen goes bump in the night
My writing becomes dark and dreary
I write to intentionally hurt and disturb
All my evil thoughts come out to play
As do my demons past and present
They spit vile ink on my blank pages
I am such a dangerous man to know
Capable of such unspeakable things
Instead of acting out; I write it out
In theory you are relatively safe

It’s not always dank and dark
I observe my asylum carefully
It is full of crazy, mad people
And not being politically correct
Most of them are funny, laughable
They are unintentionally comedic
I am encouraged or forced to write
My writing becomes whimsical
It becomes lightness of foot
The words gaily dance around
Instead of pointing and laughing
With palatable nonsense I write it out
In theory they are relatively safe

The asylum is a place of occasional light
There are times in the day, sunshine dependant
Where the sun streaks through the stained glass
It flickers and strobes almost discoesque
I can feel the warmth of its colours
Lay over me like a patchwork quilt
I am encouraged or forced to write
It brightens my mood and I can see
My writing becomes positive and concise
It becomes uplifting, it almost shines
These periods of light are few and far between
‘Make hay while the sun shines.’
Has a definite significance here
I have little time to cogitate
With great speed I write it out
In theory everyone is relatively safe

As with most asylums
The staff are cruel and unusual
Not averse to violence and torture
To all other patients except me
I am encouraged or forced to write
You would think that I would be thankful
But it gives me nothing but rage
A constant reminder of man’s inhumanity
And how much I hate my species
My writing becomes full of ire
My writing takes no prisoners
Those in power get my full wrath
Those capable of evil doing get my hate
And my hate is good and righteous
It grows daily, it cannot be bound
I do not explode or implode, I write it out
In theory none of us relatively safe

The asylum and my straight jacket
Are purely constructions of my mind
I need the selfish safety and solitude
I am encouraged or forced to write
Not only to write my poetry
But also to keep my sanity
What little sanity I have left
I write because it’s therapeutic
I write because it’s Cathartic
I write to protect me
I write to protect you
I write to protect them
They say the pen is mightier than the sword
Oh If you could see me work my claymore
You just wouldn’t agree and drop your pen
Better a writer in a straight jacket
Than a madman on the lose
Safety should not be an issue

Best wishes and the best of luck to MadameLavender & Trixareforkids - your poems have been outstanding :-)

Best wishes to you and Trix, as well, David!  We've all had a good run for our money here , everyone including those who didn't advance past each round .

Competitions in DU, in  the main, tend to bring out the best in writers. In this one there has been so many excellent entries all the way through - I have really enjoyed this comp and been greatly inspired by the other entrants

thank you for your wishes :-)

Everyone that has entered throughout has made this one of the best comps I've run in a long, long time. You've all made this SO hard to judge, because the quality has been incredible.

Thank you so much to everyone that has entered throughout the comp. you've given it your all.

Best of luck in the final round my dears