Very nice entries, and wonderful to hear from new poets! Contest ends March 31. Keep 'em coming!
Printable View
Very nice entries, and wonderful to hear from new poets! Contest ends March 31. Keep 'em coming!
I don't know where to start.
If I start at the beginning
I'll have nothing to tell for a while
but then it'll end with a bang. But
if I start at the end the story will
slowly fizzle out like life
and hope and endings.
Dreams of the Dead
A remembrance
of the sunlight,
now becomes but a distant memory
muted and beyond reach,
a soft saffron dream
which seems ever more to begin
to abandon me, while existing
in eternal night.
Where there is silence
once there were voices,
a tickle like the rain never more seen,
or at moments a roar as the long
ago seas.
And how vivid was the color blue,
it was endless, but do I still
remember the subtle shades,
of has it been reduced now only
to a word within my mind,
an impression that once in the world
something known as blue existed.
There is no color here, there is nothing,
but the dark earthy smell of decay
and the cold comfort of solitude,
do I yet still remember childhood
aromas that lingered through the kitchen.
So it seems that the dead still do dream.
Oh, my dear girl,
My mother whispers softly,
How I miss those sweet days
When you were so young
And I would sing to you
To make you go to sleep.
Oh, dearest mother,
I think but do not say,
How I miss those lost days
When you were so pretty
And knew very well
That you'd never sung to me.
Contest now closed. Extremely close race, hardest decision I've ever made in a poetry judging! Here goes:
BookBeauty Welcome to the contest 1Loved these lines:
YesNo A captivating hilarious poem! :rofl:Quote:
As the day wears on,
There's one thing amiss
Then another and another,
Who says ignorance is bliss?
cacian Wonderful beginning!Quote:
Remembering what Joey did
With his sweet Suzy lingers on
Except he's now no longer mad
But glad that crazy Suzy's gone.
jajdudeQuote:
in the beginning there was nothing
in the middle there was something
and in the end it was little but known
Great lines here:
Thomas Novosel First, welcome to the competition! you had some fantastic lines:Quote:
Good and bad the laden spirit carries through its time,
and through its time the laden spirit carries right and wrong
....The laden spirit carries these.
Veho Welcome to the competition, good to have you! Not the least bit amateurish! Loved this:Quote:
so now i sit and recollect,
of days gone and when emotions did collide,
and how my love is now a sunken wreck,
which is why i am alone,
breathtest Very strong beginning:Quote:
I take out your wild gift
To remember me and you.
Dark Muse Always your sweet, lovable, macabre self!Quote:
I don't know where to start.
If I start at the beginning
I'll have nothing to tell for a while
but then it'll end with a bang.
moonbird I won't hesitate to declare your poem virtually perfect for this contest. Two memories, same event, differing perspective! Bravo! :hurray::hurray::hurray:YOU ARE THE WINNER! :hurray::hurray::hurray:Quote:
There is no color here, there is nothing,
but the dark earthy smell of decay
and the cold comfort of solitude,
do I yet still remember childhood
aromas that lingered through the kitchen.
And moonbird's winning poem once more:
Quote:
Oh, my dear girl,
My mother whispers softly,
How I miss those sweet days
When you were so young
And I would sing to you
To make you go to sleep.
Oh, dearest mother,
I think but do not say,
How I miss those lost days
When you were so pretty
And knew very well
That you'd never sung to me.
Pendragon thank you for the feedback.
moonbird well done and congratulations!!!:hurray:
Yes, thank you for your comments, Pendragon. :)
Well done, moonbird! Well-deserved!
Thank you! Wow, I almost didn't enter this one, but I'm glad I did.
Our next subject will be macabre.
Deadline April 20.
I hope to get lots of entires. Good luck everyone!
Disposing of the Remains After the Interrogation
The lack of sleep wakes sadness to its grind
Of nervous pacing, wishing he were fed.
He's blamed but then he can't hear what they said
And words that weaken spirits are not kind.
His anus opens as they hope to find
If they could squeeze some shame into his head,
And blows make sure that sleeping on the bed
Would make him wish they'd knife him from behind.
And then there comes that final contact on
His head which breaks without a warning shout.
Their spit now stains his blood that flows around.
His wife's in pain and wonders where he's gone,
But should they care if she cannot find out?
They'll lay him where he never will be found.
Danse Macabre
Around the silent headstones
in the cold moonlight,
burnished bones gleaming with unearthly glow;
they dance to the beating
of each fearful heart that’s pleading
for this nightmare to simply vanish! Enough!
But as the rat-tat-tat of the heart continues
and the blue lights flicker
on the top of every tomb,
the shades weave in and out of shadows
in a ghastly tarantella,
the moonbeams dancing with them
in unrestrained revelry.
The heartbeats pick up the tempo
and the dancers keep the rhythm,
finger bones all clattering, clinking
like Spanish castanets;
whirling, spinning, bowing
‘til the heart reaches a crescendo,
and the sleeper jerks awake
with a horror filled scream!
Pendragon
Lost Beyond the Sea
Annabel Lee, she haunts me
in my dreams, her name a whisper
within the night, the death bringer
upon owl wings, hath stolen her
soul away.
Yet her eyes, as dark as the
waters of the sea, drawing me forth
into the abyss, burn through me
in accusation, and as I breathe
I know I am condemned.
The Hanged Man, my shadow
waits upon the black sands of the
hour glass, he grins contemptuously,
bitter the laughter of the Fool of the Damned.
What I have lost, that can never be found,
I watched her slip away from me,
my Annabel Lee, a wisp in the wind.
They came for her as I knew they would,
it had been foretold by the gypsy's fortune,
and the night before I awoke amid raven
feathers.
Rather would I embrace oblivion
than move corpse like through another
day, while the nights are a torment to me
for how her name, my Annabel Lee haunts
my sleep.....
These are your bones, I presume,
and those of your children
While I step over them and recall
how well they tasted,
I feel no sympathy.
I was hungry then and I still am,
the meat was good but they were rude.
They cried while I enjoyed the food.
Reminder that the contest ends April 20th. Keep those macabre entries flowing in!
Last Will
Weave a hammock
Out of my hair
For the oak tree.
Then Pull my skin,
And write on it
My saddest poem.
Dry my guts
And make leis
Of sweet marigolds.
Into the sea,
Let my blood flow
With the waves.
Leave my flesh
For the garden ants
Not for the vultures.
With my bones,
Grow roses and lilies
For my dead eyes.
Results time!
YesNo: That may be the creepiest sonnet I have ever read. Not a form I would have expected for this subject. Way to think outside the box.
Pendragon: I actually was thinking of Danse Macabre when I suggested this subject. Great minds think alike! I definitely enjoyed your poem.
Dark Muse: I expected you to do well with this subject, and I wasn't disappointed. Very grim, very dark. Well done.
jajdude: Is it just me, or it is impossible to read this poem without picturing it being recited from Hannibal Lector in "Silence of the Lambs"? I love how you completely made it work with so few words.
And the winner is...
mikayo73: The other pieces were great but yours stood out to me. By far the creepiest, most macabre entry, in my opinion. I simply loved it. I look forward to reading many more of your pieces in the future!