Poetry competition CLOSED 7th January 2012 2:24pm
WINNER
rayheinrich (Death Plane for Teddy)
rayheinrich (Death Plane for Teddy)
RUNNER-UP:
Whitewand6
When Love Leaves You
Poetry Contest Description
Write a poem about they way you felt when your loved one left you , explain the feelings and associate them with nature and your surroundings
My Desperate Town (SP Summerscales)
I found a hair clip today
tears refill an old
windy bay
I'm alone so cold
no longer can I hold
the morning of a new day .
The time we spent
has left to bigger dent
the feelings left behind
your smile and laugh
of its own kind
you moved the matter
the cells of a scatter
that make up my
shattered mind
of a no better .
We sit together
frozen in pictures
coats of leather
laughing in stitches .
The earth unkind
buries me to hellish heights
all the kings charge and remind
me of the gone knights .
As the bird flies
I rub my hydrated eyes
please god give me
a pleasant surprise .
bring Natalie back
and light up the down
to replace the black
of my desperate town .
I found a hair clip today
tears refill an old
windy bay
I'm alone so cold
no longer can I hold
the morning of a new day .
The time we spent
has left to bigger dent
the feelings left behind
your smile and laugh
of its own kind
you moved the matter
the cells of a scatter
that make up my
shattered mind
of a no better .
We sit together
frozen in pictures
coats of leather
laughing in stitches .
The earth unkind
buries me to hellish heights
all the kings charge and remind
me of the gone knights .
As the bird flies
I rub my hydrated eyes
please god give me
a pleasant surprise .
bring Natalie back
and light up the down
to replace the black
of my desperate town .
solo and so low
once again i find myself alone
half dressed unshaven falling down
my chemical in-balance stretched
i am poles apart
your parting words still echo
reverberating your callous speak
your memory a cilice
cutting ever deeper with time
your chick flicks stacked neatly
mock me with romantic ideals
their tales of happy endings
rub salt sparingly
and so begin the voices
definite and to the point
cold and unrelenting
without reservation
i am alone now with all of me
some shout some curse some hang
i find it hard to keep them at bay
in this head majority rules
once again i find myself alone
half dressed unshaven falling down
my chemical in-balance stretched
i am poles apart
your parting words still echo
reverberating your callous speak
your memory a cilice
cutting ever deeper with time
your chick flicks stacked neatly
mock me with romantic ideals
their tales of happy endings
rub salt sparingly
and so begin the voices
definite and to the point
cold and unrelenting
without reservation
i am alone now with all of me
some shout some curse some hang
i find it hard to keep them at bay
in this head majority rules
Dirge of a broken heart
Love is to give and share
to hold to keep to declare
but as the golden circle
that binds do break
dew drops from aching hearts
fall unheeded on deeply furrowed souls
to ache to hurt in exquisite pain
Knowing not how to love again
Holding on to strangers' hands
willing to hope and feel again
but nary a sound the heart do gain
how far or further still the willingness
to say to talk to speak to tell
the feelings once felt
When one love's hand touches
though it end in betrayal
Meander the crack in hearts do break
cracking like frozen ice in antartica
Following the falling leaves of autumn
dead and helpless in its descent
Watching him with his new love
a nail in love's coffin hammered
while within dying heart screams
Love is to give and share
to hold to keep to declare
but as the golden circle
that binds do break
dew drops from aching hearts
fall unheeded on deeply furrowed souls
to ache to hurt in exquisite pain
Knowing not how to love again
Holding on to strangers' hands
willing to hope and feel again
but nary a sound the heart do gain
how far or further still the willingness
to say to talk to speak to tell
the feelings once felt
When one love's hand touches
though it end in betrayal
Meander the crack in hearts do break
cracking like frozen ice in antartica
Following the falling leaves of autumn
dead and helpless in its descent
Watching him with his new love
a nail in love's coffin hammered
while within dying heart screams
PROCLIVITIES REVERSED ON TENTERHOOKS
Huddled up impressions,when they actuate your appetite,
Only to discover diligence,short of being erudite,
Still kindred predilections strike a symphony and discord,
Albeit,to me obsequious, for I am their sovereign lord.
There might be some, teeming with appellations,
For others,value judgement,seems to settle the equations,
And though we merely have the opposite of what we sought,
Yet,I cannot forbear,to serve your food for thought.
Normative it is, with no rival thus far,
In earnest none,while in farce,a few, there are,
When Nikhil's squinting eyes rummaged through the myriad faces,
Immobilized at one,hallowed by the three Greek Graces.
Blessed beauty and charm,both in a face did converge,
Unmindful though he was of the distant dirge,
Minacious,mournful,mellifluous!the melody did escape his care,
As he boarded the barge of sentiment,oblivious of the fare.
When he met her at first,necessary civilities followed,
Still something there was,that needed to be swallowed,
Besides,a few more exchanges that formed contrived conversations,
The discharged pool of emotions,that stirred his innermost stations.
A welcome change it was,greeted with ecstasy,
Invading the territories,of dream,thought and fantasy,
Curiosity put to rest,that haunted him all the same,
When epiphany echoed,"Hark! for Diya is her name."
At New Delhi,did they meet,with everything at leisure,
The influx of dialogues that precipitated mutual pleasure,
Someone like Ram,is what Diya longed for,in life,
Who could privilege,principle over profit notwithstanding the strife.
Nikhil,however,would choose the irrevocable parental design,
A bucolic lass arranged,for whom he would never pine,
There emanated,all the same,a furtive propensity reciprocal,
Contesting to come to surface,striving to become vocal.
After,much discourse,they had to part at last,
The act unhurried,with rumination running fast,
But not before the confession that Diya had to make,
"You are today's Ram";for Nikhil,an icing on the cake!
Late that night,Diya,put her mental faculties in motion,
Drinking the draughts,of her experience's magical potion,
Realized,however,that Ram,not only favored principle over profit,
But,also,duty over desire,discarding expedience,altercation and wit.
Reckoning could conjure up,images of imminent future bleak,
The degree of affections strong,the prospects of reification weak,
What entailed,thus,was a wild chase of opportunity cost,
Optimizing what could be gained,rebuking what would be lost.
Fixed in intent and purpose,Diya,to Nikhil,did propose,
Not for the initial inclination,if that's what you suppose,
For unrequited it would be and hence the next alternative,
Would you be my brother Nikhil,for sisterly love I'll live?
Left at the crossroads,with a choice to exercise,
Could he make one,as can be deemed wise?
Unbridled desire leading to mayhem,anarchy and mess,
Duty,could however,indemnify for it,never the less.
Besides,Diya,unworthy of Nikhil,is still an understatement,
Nowhere near to Sita,unfit for his Easter and Lent,
For she ran with the hare,and hunted with the hounds,
Outshining in mere beauty,overshadowed on other grounds.
Little,then,did he care,to answer in the affirmative,
The seat of felicity regained,the volition becoming native,
Marginally short she fell,even in his scruples for a sibling,
But,humility,innocence and simplicity did,all vices and follies sting.
Correlative tendencies,thus transposed,designated an inverted itinerary,
Invariably incumbent was the cognitive choice,bereft of what you see,
Not considerate for comeuppance,then,he restrained rejection without worry,
And acquiesced albeit she wasn't,even half as good as he.
Huddled up impressions,when they actuate your appetite,
Only to discover diligence,short of being erudite,
Still kindred predilections strike a symphony and discord,
Albeit,to me obsequious, for I am their sovereign lord.
There might be some, teeming with appellations,
For others,value judgement,seems to settle the equations,
And though we merely have the opposite of what we sought,
Yet,I cannot forbear,to serve your food for thought.
Normative it is, with no rival thus far,
In earnest none,while in farce,a few, there are,
When Nikhil's squinting eyes rummaged through the myriad faces,
Immobilized at one,hallowed by the three Greek Graces.
Blessed beauty and charm,both in a face did converge,
Unmindful though he was of the distant dirge,
Minacious,mournful,mellifluous!the melody did escape his care,
As he boarded the barge of sentiment,oblivious of the fare.
When he met her at first,necessary civilities followed,
Still something there was,that needed to be swallowed,
Besides,a few more exchanges that formed contrived conversations,
The discharged pool of emotions,that stirred his innermost stations.
A welcome change it was,greeted with ecstasy,
Invading the territories,of dream,thought and fantasy,
Curiosity put to rest,that haunted him all the same,
When epiphany echoed,"Hark! for Diya is her name."
At New Delhi,did they meet,with everything at leisure,
The influx of dialogues that precipitated mutual pleasure,
Someone like Ram,is what Diya longed for,in life,
Who could privilege,principle over profit notwithstanding the strife.
Nikhil,however,would choose the irrevocable parental design,
A bucolic lass arranged,for whom he would never pine,
There emanated,all the same,a furtive propensity reciprocal,
Contesting to come to surface,striving to become vocal.
After,much discourse,they had to part at last,
The act unhurried,with rumination running fast,
But not before the confession that Diya had to make,
"You are today's Ram";for Nikhil,an icing on the cake!
Late that night,Diya,put her mental faculties in motion,
Drinking the draughts,of her experience's magical potion,
Realized,however,that Ram,not only favored principle over profit,
But,also,duty over desire,discarding expedience,altercation and wit.
Reckoning could conjure up,images of imminent future bleak,
The degree of affections strong,the prospects of reification weak,
What entailed,thus,was a wild chase of opportunity cost,
Optimizing what could be gained,rebuking what would be lost.
Fixed in intent and purpose,Diya,to Nikhil,did propose,
Not for the initial inclination,if that's what you suppose,
For unrequited it would be and hence the next alternative,
Would you be my brother Nikhil,for sisterly love I'll live?
Left at the crossroads,with a choice to exercise,
Could he make one,as can be deemed wise?
Unbridled desire leading to mayhem,anarchy and mess,
Duty,could however,indemnify for it,never the less.
Besides,Diya,unworthy of Nikhil,is still an understatement,
Nowhere near to Sita,unfit for his Easter and Lent,
For she ran with the hare,and hunted with the hounds,
Outshining in mere beauty,overshadowed on other grounds.
Little,then,did he care,to answer in the affirmative,
The seat of felicity regained,the volition becoming native,
Marginally short she fell,even in his scruples for a sibling,
But,humility,innocence and simplicity did,all vices and follies sting.
Correlative tendencies,thus transposed,designated an inverted itinerary,
Invariably incumbent was the cognitive choice,bereft of what you see,
Not considerate for comeuppance,then,he restrained rejection without worry,
And acquiesced albeit she wasn't,even half as good as he.
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Thank you Paul for your kind words...the reason why I favor this style is because of the deep influence that eighteenth century verse has on me with the likes of Dryden,Pope,Samuel Johnson and Thomas Gray where order,balance,symmetry,proportion and harmony reigns supreme...I somehow am unable to scribble in free verse as then
it almost borders on being implicitly prosaic...Moreover,I never believed that such impoverished lines could ever find even a singular word of praise...So,I am thankful to you for all my college teachers said that my verses are hackneyed,destitute and appurtenances of antiquity...So,these words come as something prophylactic...
it almost borders on being implicitly prosaic...Moreover,I never believed that such impoverished lines could ever find even a singular word of praise...So,I am thankful to you for all my college teachers said that my verses are hackneyed,destitute and appurtenances of antiquity...So,these words come as something prophylactic...