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  1. Banzai

    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Contributor

    Mar 31, 2007
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    Reading, UK

    Cacian, akexodia & pinkgiraffe - Joint Weekly Poetry Contest (180) Winners

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Feb 10, 2012.

    Bueno Bye
    By Cacian

    cringing behind a curtain vail
    runing away something to hide
    step up the mark
    see if you dare,
    life has yourself
    only to blame.

    do you feel real
    when you speak fear
    or is faint you try
    and tear?

    turn in yourself
    make your goodbyes
    manners are put
    requires tact
    courage has it
    you have a doubt.

    domine sine veritas,
    domine mors est.
    what was before
    is passed and gone
    make your goodbyes
    compose a price
    see if you can recite it fast
    then give yourself
    a pat on back.

    losing is not a target
    you must pass
    or else your self
    is up for grabs,
    make your goodbyes
    speak not of else
    compose a whine
    and see it fly,
    rhyme does not
    get better then that.


    By akexodia

    Nuance of those wee days,
    Artifacts of thine innocence.
    Yearning, these wishful eyes,
    For the candid rains,
    At thy depleted windows.

    Times when thee made
    That paper boat,
    Like a world rising
    In the mind of a poet.
    Times, with a boat, thee bent down.
    Whilst the stream kissed
    Thine knees.
    And away the boat hurried.
    A numinous mirth then
    Adorned thy face.

    The boats are a past.
    But they reside somewhere
    At their destination last.
    Epitomising thy bliss there.

    Those times die.
    But, Ah! They reside deep;
    Still breathing, they still fly
    Epitomising thy life to thee...


    Leaving, again
    By pinkgiraffe

    We parted in a tunnel under the city.
    You kissed me with a passion I didn't know you had,
    teeth clashing in a battle for possession,
    and then

    You rode the Piccadilly line east to Heathrow and America,
    while I was north-bound via King's Cross:
    heading home to grey skies, January drizzle,
    and the long agony of waiting.

    I watched you turn the corner and be gone,
    your wheeled suitcase following faithfully,
    while I stood still in the tide of commuters
    and wept.
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