Poetry competition CLOSED 28th October 2013 12:30pm
WINNER
Hyacinth
Hyacinth
RUNNERS-UP:
Grace
and gardenlover
Bullshit Artist
Poetry Contest Description
Boast about something you've never actually done, but make it look like you did
Write a poem (any style, length) or short story (1000 word limit) telling all about something you did or accomplished, but really didn't. Try to convince the reader that it's actually true, while tooting your own horn about however wild a tale you want to tell--anything goes!
One week, no collabs, and have fun!
One week, no collabs, and have fun!
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
given up on the family
i decided to head south
where it is warm
all i had was a pack on my back
only a few cans of food
a blanket and a sleeping bag
the closest place
to hop a train was
Rapid City South Dakota
the train was in the station
rumbling and grumbling.
hopefully it would move soon
i didnt want to get caught
the train smelled like
coal and burning oil
as we squeeked to a start
my heart began to flutter
with excitement and fear
all i had know
i had left behind
my family, my life
and my no longer existant hopes
i thought i was going to
find a new home
but what insued cought
me completely off gaurd
as the train thundered down the track
i imagined what my new life
would be like, happiness, dreams, and adventure
i didnt know where the next stop was
or even what direction i was heading
night fall came as the train rumbled on
i opened my can of commodity beef stew
it was cold and mushy and the fat was solid
having nothing else to eat
i enjoyed it anyway
i lay down my sleeping bag
and turned in for the night
as the sun rose the next mornign
and i snacked on a piece of frybread
with some stale instant coffee
the train rolled in
i had no idea where i was
as the enginere took his break
i noticed he had a peg leg
i thought no more of it
i seemed to be in the out lying country
i hoped out used the open prarie bathroom
after i was done
i noticed a larg dog running at me
barking ferociously i ran
i was running but the dog seemed
to be getting closer and closer
as the last second i jumped into
my box car seconds before i was
able to pull my foot in the dog latched on
i yanked my foot away
and slamed the door shut
i swore that dog had rubber teeth
there were no marks
putting it all together
i decided to stay on this train
to the sweet candy mountain
the hobo's home
i decided to head south
where it is warm
all i had was a pack on my back
only a few cans of food
a blanket and a sleeping bag
the closest place
to hop a train was
Rapid City South Dakota
the train was in the station
rumbling and grumbling.
hopefully it would move soon
i didnt want to get caught
the train smelled like
coal and burning oil
as we squeeked to a start
my heart began to flutter
with excitement and fear
all i had know
i had left behind
my family, my life
and my no longer existant hopes
i thought i was going to
find a new home
but what insued cought
me completely off gaurd
as the train thundered down the track
i imagined what my new life
would be like, happiness, dreams, and adventure
i didnt know where the next stop was
or even what direction i was heading
night fall came as the train rumbled on
i opened my can of commodity beef stew
it was cold and mushy and the fat was solid
having nothing else to eat
i enjoyed it anyway
i lay down my sleeping bag
and turned in for the night
as the sun rose the next mornign
and i snacked on a piece of frybread
with some stale instant coffee
the train rolled in
i had no idea where i was
as the enginere took his break
i noticed he had a peg leg
i thought no more of it
i seemed to be in the out lying country
i hoped out used the open prarie bathroom
after i was done
i noticed a larg dog running at me
barking ferociously i ran
i was running but the dog seemed
to be getting closer and closer
as the last second i jumped into
my box car seconds before i was
able to pull my foot in the dog latched on
i yanked my foot away
and slamed the door shut
i swore that dog had rubber teeth
there were no marks
putting it all together
i decided to stay on this train
to the sweet candy mountain
the hobo's home
Across the public thoroughfare
Sits an emaciated man
Shaking shamefully his rusty can
Hunger pounding furiously
Through his stomach and eyes
Louder even, than the passing cars
Louder still, than the flocks
Of drunkards exiting near by pubs
Strolling through the traffic
To give what contribution I may
My fingernails scrape
The depths of these pockets
Navigating through parchment and lint
Intending to give the stranger all I have
Nearing the curb I hear a sonorous ringing
An ominous alarm or sound of warning
Instantly I feel a crushing sensation
In every one of my poetic bones
As if I were but a sketch on paper
Crumbled up
And to the trash I'm thrown
With eyes closed and my body broken
I lay in street
Bleeding out with my life before me
After being struck blindly by a careless taxi. I can't help but wonder
Why the first person to come to my aid
was a man in rags
He leans in
And for some reason
His stench is comforting.
Sweet like a dumpster sludge
He leans in closer and whispers softly
" in this world of keepsakes and cheapskates, a man can have millions, only donate thousands, and be seen as a saint. Though the man who gives the last five dollars in his wallet, will never have a name".
Sits an emaciated man
Shaking shamefully his rusty can
Hunger pounding furiously
Through his stomach and eyes
Louder even, than the passing cars
Louder still, than the flocks
Of drunkards exiting near by pubs
Strolling through the traffic
To give what contribution I may
My fingernails scrape
The depths of these pockets
Navigating through parchment and lint
Intending to give the stranger all I have
Nearing the curb I hear a sonorous ringing
An ominous alarm or sound of warning
Instantly I feel a crushing sensation
In every one of my poetic bones
As if I were but a sketch on paper
Crumbled up
And to the trash I'm thrown
With eyes closed and my body broken
I lay in street
Bleeding out with my life before me
After being struck blindly by a careless taxi. I can't help but wonder
Why the first person to come to my aid
was a man in rags
He leans in
And for some reason
His stench is comforting.
Sweet like a dumpster sludge
He leans in closer and whispers softly
" in this world of keepsakes and cheapskates, a man can have millions, only donate thousands, and be seen as a saint. Though the man who gives the last five dollars in his wallet, will never have a name".
ive got the most deceiving eyes
the way you think im lookin
at you
ive got the yellowest smile
the way you think i
really do
buk oww ski
gave me his jet ski
so i could get to aus.
the google maps way
and smoke a bowl with carpe
bring buk back to life
and kill him again
with a bottle too many
bury his body in the greenwoods
his grave unmarked
the story stops
here.
share that shit
with me
and i could love you
swear no never
this is my
first
time
give me
100 advance
i will write a novel
the way you think im lookin
at you
ive got the yellowest smile
the way you think i
really do
buk oww ski
gave me his jet ski
so i could get to aus.
the google maps way
and smoke a bowl with carpe
bring buk back to life
and kill him again
with a bottle too many
bury his body in the greenwoods
his grave unmarked
the story stops
here.
share that shit
with me
and i could love you
swear no never
this is my
first
time
give me
100 advance
i will write a novel
New Leonardo
My book launch was a success
The room was teeming with press
Such a 'versatile talent' was the buzz word
Although to me this was absurd
All that I'd done was to publish
My scribbles, and sundry rubbish
Which I used to keep under wraps
My drawings and literary scraps
Such was the acclaim of my book
The 'New Leonardo' made me smirk
Philosophy, science and art ,
Presented straight from the heart.
My book launch was a success
The room was teeming with press
Such a 'versatile talent' was the buzz word
Although to me this was absurd
All that I'd done was to publish
My scribbles, and sundry rubbish
Which I used to keep under wraps
My drawings and literary scraps
Such was the acclaim of my book
The 'New Leonardo' made me smirk
Philosophy, science and art ,
Presented straight from the heart.
The King and I
I was standing at a bookstore in Castle Rock, which is somewhere in Maine, about 37 miles south of Portland. I really loved the atmosphere, as it was a cold winter's day, dreary and wet.These sort of environment always made me feel alive and invigorated.
The few people in that bookstore were browsing through rows of books on horror fiction and I wondered why. Suddenly there was a silence and everybody looked towards the door. I did too and saw a tall thin man walked in, aided by a cane.
For the first time in my life, I was rooted to the ground as I watched the renown author Stephen King walked in. I mean, I read this man's work since his first book Carrie. I watched the movie too and swooned over John Travolta...not that he would have been interested in a pre-teener. I read Christine, and almost smelled the awful car, I read The Shining...what else have I not read of this man. Misery, The Dark Half, Needful Things...I could have read his shopping list on a toilet paper.
The few people in the shop approached him tentatively as did I. He was quite aloof, but deigned to smile at us. His smile did not reach his eyes, but his pen scrawled his signature on an assortment of items, notebooks, his books, papers...was one a paper plate, I saw?
When my turn came to meet him, I looked into his eyes. It was silvery grey and had this unsettling way of looking deep. He then said softly, his voice deep "I know You."
I backed away, and he moved towards me..."You are back aren't you. They always come back! You are the portal. Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.”
"Huh? I just want...your autograph..." I stammered.
“The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool.”
"Eh...? Wha...?"
He snatched a book from the shelf and thrust it into my hands. I grabbed at it, gaping at him.
"The place where you made your stand never mattered. Only that you were there...and still on your feet.”
He then turned and walked away, still using his cane, but no longer limping. I saw a black rolls Royce drive in up front and he entered, slammed the door and the car moved away almost silently. A lone bat hovered above and disappeared into the grey wintry sky.
I looked at the book on my hand it was called Dark Magic and within was a very beautiful script that stated “Perfect paranoia is perfect awareness.” ― Stephen King
To this day, I still could not fathom what that meant. What was the book all about...I never read it all really. Ancient languages was never my forte.
I was standing at a bookstore in Castle Rock, which is somewhere in Maine, about 37 miles south of Portland. I really loved the atmosphere, as it was a cold winter's day, dreary and wet.These sort of environment always made me feel alive and invigorated.
The few people in that bookstore were browsing through rows of books on horror fiction and I wondered why. Suddenly there was a silence and everybody looked towards the door. I did too and saw a tall thin man walked in, aided by a cane.
For the first time in my life, I was rooted to the ground as I watched the renown author Stephen King walked in. I mean, I read this man's work since his first book Carrie. I watched the movie too and swooned over John Travolta...not that he would have been interested in a pre-teener. I read Christine, and almost smelled the awful car, I read The Shining...what else have I not read of this man. Misery, The Dark Half, Needful Things...I could have read his shopping list on a toilet paper.
The few people in the shop approached him tentatively as did I. He was quite aloof, but deigned to smile at us. His smile did not reach his eyes, but his pen scrawled his signature on an assortment of items, notebooks, his books, papers...was one a paper plate, I saw?
When my turn came to meet him, I looked into his eyes. It was silvery grey and had this unsettling way of looking deep. He then said softly, his voice deep "I know You."
I backed away, and he moved towards me..."You are back aren't you. They always come back! You are the portal. Monsters are real, and ghosts are real too. They live inside us, and sometimes, they win.”
"Huh? I just want...your autograph..." I stammered.
“The trust of the innocent is the liar's most useful tool.”
"Eh...? Wha...?"
He snatched a book from the shelf and thrust it into my hands. I grabbed at it, gaping at him.
"The place where you made your stand never mattered. Only that you were there...and still on your feet.”
He then turned and walked away, still using his cane, but no longer limping. I saw a black rolls Royce drive in up front and he entered, slammed the door and the car moved away almost silently. A lone bat hovered above and disappeared into the grey wintry sky.
I looked at the book on my hand it was called Dark Magic and within was a very beautiful script that stated “Perfect paranoia is perfect awareness.” ― Stephen King
To this day, I still could not fathom what that meant. What was the book all about...I never read it all really. Ancient languages was never my forte.
*Confession Time*
Yeah
I shot Tupac
Nine times
Of course no one ever found out about it
My good friend,Biggie Smalls,was the main suspect
He promised not to tell anyone
And he never did
(It earned him more street cred)
Of course Tupac asked for it
We had some mad beef y'all
He stole my woman
(I was bi back then)
So I shot him
Nine times
Had to make sure he'd die
Yeah
I shot Tupac
Nine times
Of course no one ever found out about it
My good friend,Biggie Smalls,was the main suspect
He promised not to tell anyone
And he never did
(It earned him more street cred)
Of course Tupac asked for it
We had some mad beef y'all
He stole my woman
(I was bi back then)
So I shot him
Nine times
Had to make sure he'd die
Bullshit
Big Hitter
I once went to a party
That turned into an orgy
The girls were all nude
Not one was a prude
This made me feel so horny
I was the only male at the party
And the girls made it my duty
To service them all
The short and the tall
And most were very fruity
The task took me the whole night
Trying to treat them all right
Giving each an orgasm
Delivered with passion
I was exhausted before first light
They all cheered me on
As I communed with each one
My thirst was refreshed
Each time that I meshed
I have never had so much fun
This caper made me feel fitter
To the girls it made me glitter
They all wanted a date
So we could mate
I became known as 'The Big Hitter'
Big Hitter
I once went to a party
That turned into an orgy
The girls were all nude
Not one was a prude
This made me feel so horny
I was the only male at the party
And the girls made it my duty
To service them all
The short and the tall
And most were very fruity
The task took me the whole night
Trying to treat them all right
Giving each an orgasm
Delivered with passion
I was exhausted before first light
They all cheered me on
As I communed with each one
My thirst was refreshed
Each time that I meshed
I have never had so much fun
This caper made me feel fitter
To the girls it made me glitter
They all wanted a date
So we could mate
I became known as 'The Big Hitter'