Poetry competition CLOSED 30th July 2012 1:03am
WINNER
PierreTheMad
PierreTheMad
RUNNER-UP:
marielavoue
Ghosts and Spectres
Poetry Contest Description
Write about the haunting of the above on the living
[b]“From beyond, they call with hollow voices
Demanding remembrance from those still alive
So they do not fade to nothingness
The hearth once theirs be home to strangers”
[/b]
1: Read the short poem, and write your version of the dead haunting the living, demanding for attention.
2: Your poem should not be more than 200 words
3: One poem per person and please title your poems.
Inviting DUP friends and family to join the competition
Demanding remembrance from those still alive
So they do not fade to nothingness
The hearth once theirs be home to strangers”
[/b]
1: Read the short poem, and write your version of the dead haunting the living, demanding for attention.
2: Your poem should not be more than 200 words
3: One poem per person and please title your poems.
Inviting DUP friends and family to join the competition
Phantasmic Stride
A child of ten years she was
Her parents had sent her to bed
In her room she was not sleeping
She had other plans in her pretty head.
Staring at the night was one of them
Since moon was low and crescent
A shiver ran down her skin
For eeriness was again more than present.
She heard a soft sigh of grief
Looking down and looking quiet shocked
It was not a mere thief
It was the dead… Rising to an unexpected occasion.
It seems Samhain is around the corner
Don’t panic and please don’t fear
Ignite a candle and feel warmer
They’ve come to visit those they hold dear.
A child of ten years she was
Her parents had sent her to bed
In her room she was not sleeping
She had other plans in her pretty head.
Staring at the night was one of them
Since moon was low and crescent
A shiver ran down her skin
For eeriness was again more than present.
She heard a soft sigh of grief
Looking down and looking quiet shocked
It was not a mere thief
It was the dead… Rising to an unexpected occasion.
It seems Samhain is around the corner
Don’t panic and please don’t fear
Ignite a candle and feel warmer
They’ve come to visit those they hold dear.
(poem on poltergeist/shadow beings)
Echoes like soft rose petals on sand
They sway gently with the wind of emotion
They sift under the light of the sun and moon
Lingering like the scent of memories
Written with black ink on an old parchment
They wait as faithful children
Waiting for their mother to return
Each one a fingerprint to her heart
Each one a chapter in her life
Together they stand as shards of a mirror
Reflecting light but can’t hold any of their own
together still only a fragment
in the dark they are fragile shadows
only to run and hide at any heart beat
that may pass by
afraid that they too will search their chest
and find no heart to call their own
they know they are not whole
and weep with anger and emptiness
they wear the face of their mother as a mask
one they peer into longingly
yearning to reunite with the source
they were cut off like broken limbs
only their host still walks
cauterized from the core
without their mother ever knowing why
conceived in a seasoned soul
they were born out of the remorse
Echoes like soft rose petals on sand
They sway gently with the wind of emotion
They sift under the light of the sun and moon
Lingering like the scent of memories
Written with black ink on an old parchment
They wait as faithful children
Waiting for their mother to return
Each one a fingerprint to her heart
Each one a chapter in her life
Together they stand as shards of a mirror
Reflecting light but can’t hold any of their own
together still only a fragment
in the dark they are fragile shadows
only to run and hide at any heart beat
that may pass by
afraid that they too will search their chest
and find no heart to call their own
they know they are not whole
and weep with anger and emptiness
they wear the face of their mother as a mask
one they peer into longingly
yearning to reunite with the source
they were cut off like broken limbs
only their host still walks
cauterized from the core
without their mother ever knowing why
conceived in a seasoned soul
they were born out of the remorse
Reach (197 words)
Awakening from the shattering
Clear away debris and see that you're missing
Questioning this scheme of things
Looking to the sky but no one's answering
If you're picture's worth a thousand words
Where do I cash it in?
I've been staring at yours for months
And I still don't know where to begin
How to begin
Begin again
Begin to appreciate the past
To try and make sense of
This puzzle that you left
Now piece of mind
Is the last one left to find
To make this a vision
Of brighter times
Can you reach a little further?
I can almost touch your fingertips
Can you speak a little louder?
I can almost feel the warmth of your breath
If I could reach to where you are now
I would grab you and hold you tight
If I could speak so you could hear me
I would finally get to say goodbye
And break the silence
If you're picture's worth a thousand words
Where do I cash it in?
I've been staring at yours for months
And I still don't know where to begin
How to begin
Begin again
Begin to listen...
...to the silence
Awakening from the shattering
Clear away debris and see that you're missing
Questioning this scheme of things
Looking to the sky but no one's answering
If you're picture's worth a thousand words
Where do I cash it in?
I've been staring at yours for months
And I still don't know where to begin
How to begin
Begin again
Begin to appreciate the past
To try and make sense of
This puzzle that you left
Now piece of mind
Is the last one left to find
To make this a vision
Of brighter times
Can you reach a little further?
I can almost touch your fingertips
Can you speak a little louder?
I can almost feel the warmth of your breath
If I could reach to where you are now
I would grab you and hold you tight
If I could speak so you could hear me
I would finally get to say goodbye
And break the silence
If you're picture's worth a thousand words
Where do I cash it in?
I've been staring at yours for months
And I still don't know where to begin
How to begin
Begin again
Begin to listen...
...to the silence
Anonymous
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http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-THyOW6IcbyQ/T6Fi_gOJ2oI/AAAAAAAABJg/SMUzof86vLw/s1600/centering.jpg
The Egun and The Seer
From the land of the ancestors, a call
to the chosen one of this generation,
deciphering a must, the messages they recall
powerless to deny the Egun’s dilation.
They wail and whisper, their wants will not wait,
their existence entraps them on this living plane,
business unfinished, robbed by fate,
they seek one who can speak their warnings or pain.
Time is irrelevant to the Egun, already finite,
come and go as they please, with demands to be met,
a seer has no choice but to hear their plight ,
yet darker entities a curse on the seer they beset.
“Get thee behind me unclean spirit,
torment me not, my light you shall not have.”
“I am guardian of the Egun, heir to their insight,
keeper of secrets and facilitator of their afterlife.”
They warn of ill intentions and harm,
of good fortunes and births to come,
they prophesied what the year will bring
and how to change ill tidings with offerings.
Let us not be too modern and forget,
that our ancestors are the undeniable reason
we enjoy the lives we live and covet,
they paved the way for us, to have our season.
Gypsy red
*Egun - the ancestors/dead
The Egun and The Seer
From the land of the ancestors, a call
to the chosen one of this generation,
deciphering a must, the messages they recall
powerless to deny the Egun’s dilation.
They wail and whisper, their wants will not wait,
their existence entraps them on this living plane,
business unfinished, robbed by fate,
they seek one who can speak their warnings or pain.
Time is irrelevant to the Egun, already finite,
come and go as they please, with demands to be met,
a seer has no choice but to hear their plight ,
yet darker entities a curse on the seer they beset.
“Get thee behind me unclean spirit,
torment me not, my light you shall not have.”
“I am guardian of the Egun, heir to their insight,
keeper of secrets and facilitator of their afterlife.”
They warn of ill intentions and harm,
of good fortunes and births to come,
they prophesied what the year will bring
and how to change ill tidings with offerings.
Let us not be too modern and forget,
that our ancestors are the undeniable reason
we enjoy the lives we live and covet,
they paved the way for us, to have our season.
Gypsy red
*Egun - the ancestors/dead
Old piece, new edit.
The Dead Don't Give A ****
Spectral remnant ashes
Weightless deemed the wind
Traveling on etheral breeze
Scattered beyond the elusive summit
Spectral deeply engraved footprints
Crimson stains laid on the earth
Cleansed with the halcyon waves
Buried by the perpetual landscaping
Stygian dreams of the lost
Whispers relayed through descendants
Indoctrinated in subconscious
Beating hearts struggles to true silent beats
a haunting chose by the living
spectral's baggage, they carry
... the dead have no opinion
The Dead Don't Give A ****
Spectral remnant ashes
Weightless deemed the wind
Traveling on etheral breeze
Scattered beyond the elusive summit
Spectral deeply engraved footprints
Crimson stains laid on the earth
Cleansed with the halcyon waves
Buried by the perpetual landscaping
Stygian dreams of the lost
Whispers relayed through descendants
Indoctrinated in subconscious
Beating hearts struggles to true silent beats
a haunting chose by the living
spectral's baggage, they carry
... the dead have no opinion
Captured By The Past
A girl stands at a window
pale , unphased , alone
without a halo
lost but in her home .
It's a long time since she walked
the crumbled floors
an after image stalks
the castle doors .
Captured by camera
never before seen
she looks like a Hannah
maybe eighteen .
Many years have passed
outside the walls
clouds conspire to an overcast
to trap her in those halls .
I see the image and wonder
why was she so young
back then it was easy to go under
death so often sprung .
Now I think what was her name
and what a pity
what a crying shame
she was so pretty .
A girl stands at a window
pale , unphased , alone
without a halo
lost but in her home .
It's a long time since she walked
the crumbled floors
an after image stalks
the castle doors .
Captured by camera
never before seen
she looks like a Hannah
maybe eighteen .
Many years have passed
outside the walls
clouds conspire to an overcast
to trap her in those halls .
I see the image and wonder
why was she so young
back then it was easy to go under
death so often sprung .
Now I think what was her name
and what a pity
what a crying shame
she was so pretty .