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  1. thirdwind

    thirdwind Contributing Member Contest Administrator Reviewer Contributor

    Jul 17, 2008
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    Past Contest Poetry Contest #257 -- Theme: "Voices"

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Poetry Contest' started by thirdwind, Dec 14, 2014.

    The theme for this contest is "voices" (courtesy of @Darkkin). You are free to interpret the theme however you wish, but please make sure your poem does take the theme into account in some way.

    All entries are due by 11:59 PM EST on Saturday, January 3. All entries should be posted directly in this thread. Replies will be anonymized by the anonymizer system, and they will be de-anonymized once voting ends. Keep in mind that you're responsible for making sure the formatting of your poem is correct.

    Good luck to everyone who enters!
  2. Dagolas

    Dagolas Banned

    Feb 4, 2012
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    ding dong
    how art thou mr
    said mr urmbella over divers alarums
  3. Darkkin

    Darkkin Reflection of a nobody Contributor

    Jun 21, 2012
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    Following the footprints in the sand...
    Bright Shadow

    He flowed with the mistral, roaring 'cross the blue sloped peaks.
    All around trees creaking in fear, as a blaze began to burn,
    there in the heart of the hinterlands as the season gave with a savage turn.
    For this was the Keeper of Frost's delicate art,
    a fury of ice and fire, tearing the world apart.

    A dragon, wild and brutal, his heart bleeding,
    loosed his rage upon the world,
    as he skimmed the heights on massive wings, unfurled.
    Snow and vapour drifted through the air,
    cloaking the beast concealed there.

    Lightning flickered between the clouds, thunder, deep and boding, barked
    as a storm billowed up, feeding on the dragon's fire and the brutal cold.
    The mountains heaved, an avalanche, straight toward the vale, now rolled.
    And yet above the roar, soaring out over the rage,
    came a song, a voice, thought to be lost with the passing age.

    The huge black drake, slowed his flight, circling round searching,
    delving into the heart of the vale for the elusive sound.
    It was a voice on the wind, a song from a memory that made his heart pound.
    As his massive wings stilled just enough to hold him aloft,
    he saw an ethereal blue light, in a poplar glade where the snow's whisper was soft.

    And there, in the midst of that elemental glow, rose a crown of molten flame.
    A lodestone unto the seething beast, a memory hazy and bright,
    through the storm unto the ending of days it called, a shimmering light,
    cleaving the darkness that held him bound to his rage,
    a key that could unlock his heart's icy cage.

    She was the lady of fire and ice, born of a legend great,
    holding her own against the coming storm,
    waiting...waiting...for with a final rune she would take her true form.
    A rush of wings, whispered over the thunder of the tumbling snow,
    Eyes to the sky, she saw him closing fast, rune laid down, she let herself go.

    Virga rose as the world fell away, the snow had wings lighter than down.
    Lifting her arms in a graceful twirl, Aster with her song, so bright,
    seized the coming fall, forcing each flake back in the sky, a task of skill not might.
    Spiraling up, up, up into the amethyst clouds, a great dome, forming,
    as in her veins Aster felt her blood slowly warming.

    Aster went into her dance, whirling down the runes, now reflected in the dome.
    Set and sealed with a cacophonous crack,
    Aster at last came face to face with her cursed Jack.
    Spitting flame and rearing back, Jack roared, his talons reaching out,
    Aster spun, her skates turning tight, as she came about.

    The moon was nigh and she had him bound,
    there in that place that once meant so much.
    This raging thing, was the boy, who had taken her heart with but a touch.
    An argent glimmer, through the clouds came peaking,
    Now was the moment, Aster was seeking.

    Moon runes across the dome, beneath the ice, in silver fire, did ignite.
    Into the argent burning, she stepped, her fae from breaking.
    The molten metal of her hair, silvered, her true form waking.
    And where there had been merely one, there now were two,
    for Aster was of the line, which Sacorum slew.

    The voice of the runes held sway, as the moon shone down,
    Jack, that seething black drake, howled, as the spell took hold,
    The scales shifted as the dragon took the form of a great stag of old.
    The odds were evened as Aster pawed the snow,
    now possessed of the Unicorn's ethereal glow.

    Horn and antlers silhouetted against the night,
    Jack and Aster circled, slowly, cloven hooves gripping the snow.
    Cobalt and ebony locked and held, as the voice of the runes, did flow.
    Aster reared, feinting right, a bright shadow, with the moonlight, merging.
    Jack trumpeted in rage, dropped his head, surging.

    Hooves gathered, pressing tight, as she wheeled about.
    The stag, skidded, coming up short,
    twisting round, he shook his head, breathing a savage snort.
    Clad in the form of the fabled red elk, he bellowed and pawed,
    while into her throat, Aster's heart seemed to have clawed.

    She held her ground, the slope to the uplands, guarded.
    Yet she knew, there on the snow, against Jack she had no chance,
    of bringing him down, when suddenly at the pond, she happened to glance.
    Liquid cobalt beneath the ice, burning bright.
    She was small and quick and light...

    Dancing...jibbing...tension rising.
    Her shimmering hide rippled, as she pawed, her heart aflutter.
    Tossing her mane, she went into her stride, smooth as butter.
    Churning earth, flying snow...
    Down...down...down...did Aster flow.

    Jack, that mighty red stag, startled and heaving,
    pretzeled round to avoid, Aster's foolhardy attack.
    Leaping high, she cleared the stag, her horn laying open his back.
    Antlers tore her gleaming hide,
    raking a great, bleeding wound down her sleek side.

    Silver blood coursing, a pattered rain upon the snow,
    Aster kept stride,
    a beacon with her tattered hide.
    Fleet feet flying...
    Making for the ice, desperately trying.

    Jack swung round, his mind ahaze.
    In his heart burned a bloodlust rage,
    at this creature so small and bright, she the key to his cage.
    He followed the tracks, bounding onto the ice.
    She stood at the centre, he charging, the ice beneath his hooves, cleaving...once, twice.

    The surface shattered, spiraling out in fractal glory.
    Into the depths plunged the wounded unicorn and mighty stag.
    And with blood and runes, Aster broke the spell of the Hag.
    For she was willing to save her Jack's life at the price her own,
    because in his absence her love for him had merely grown.

    Fae form restored, his wrath abating,
    Jack dove beneath the waves, pulling his Aster free of the water, dark.
    "Forgive me?" she whispered, against his chest, her eyes stricken and stark.
    Jack laughed in relief and held her tight.
    True love warming them, bathing their souls in light.

    Such is the Voice of the Bright Shadow
    Last edited: Dec 21, 2014
  4. Jovon Green

    Jovon Green New Member

    Nov 7, 2012
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    Minneapolis, MN USA
    Voice of Death: Eternal Truth.

    Human's are so naive at times.
    Some laugh some Cry and others find reason to kill.
    Some lie, some tell the truth yet many falter.
    Even the greatest humanity has to offer save a few get it right.

    God takes no pleasure in the order's I am given by his decree.
    Which God some say? Other say no such thing yet all find death anyway.
    Most want eternal life at a selfish price yet they will not find it.
    I see it is time soon for the gathering of the eternal harvest, well we shall see soon.......
  5. Boger

    Boger Contributing Member

    Sep 27, 2014
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    The Dome of the Slate
    The wrong pillow

    please pillow, grin
    winning my heart was a game as a thief

    I cover the hassock acock
    my head shackled
    while I listen to its whispers
    wishing it'd stop

    I'd take off my sock to put it in
    have cold feet and still catch no sleep

    it must be dreaming because it's not real
    there's no entrance to allow for my heel
  6. Lancie

    Lancie Contributing Member

    Oct 20, 2014
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    Birmingham, UK

    Hello, you've reached...

    Empty house, empty rooms
    pressing in and down
    Surrounded by nothing and
    Silence closing all around

    Cold, deep void
    lapping at my feet
    I hold your shirt
    Curled in our empty bed

    Your voice calls
    a beacon in the night
    Hello you've reached...
    Pieces of you left behind

    Ouija board
    with signal to the other side
    Your voice held in time
    When you didn't say goodbye
  7. ameliam325

    ameliam325 New Member

    Dec 27, 2014
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    Hers was a voice of fire,
    Accompanied by dancing hands,
    Bouncing side to side,
    Wanting to shake me from this stupor
    Like the weeds outside the pane,
    Pulling themselves from the ground
    Screaming with fresh breath,
    Shrill and overbearing

    I won't go, I won't go.

    Hers was a voice mellowed with age,
    Prudent and soft,
    Curling around each word,
    Powdered cheeks cracking,
    Melting in the July heat,
    Dripping, thick,
    Like her southern drawl,
    Persistent and strong,
    and all the more wretched.

    I won't go, I won't go.

    His was a voice of cool September
    His lip pulled back against stained teeth,
    Mustache frayed and soaked with sweat
    Syllables drawn across gravel
    Like the car up the driveway,
    Slow, determined
    Wind piercing through wilted branches
    Leaves orange and peeling,
    Sinking down

    I won't go. I won't go.

    All of these voices danced among the others,
    Cataclysmic, psychedelic, intertwining,
    Some of them real.
    For certain.
  8. SwampDog

    SwampDog Contributing Member

    Mar 5, 2013
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    Back in Blighty

    I dug a hole in a sand-pit in the sky
    Children's voices playing and laughing.
    But what brought me so high? Moist sand near the pond
    Scooped out so dark; but when I looked into the void
    I'm in a floating park with no bottom to the hole;
    It allows me to look through onto treetops and a wandering path below.
    A most unusual view of parents talking with children
    Distant voices carried near from only a few feet away
    But there's no fear concerning this height.
    A beautiful scene. There's plenty of light
    With which to see a great distance well beyond the trees.
    The sand is around me yet I'm on and above
    Solid earth, standing yet floating over all,
    Watching as a young dove. What happened?
    Was I for a moment of Life's spirit freed,
    Or somehow privileged?
  9. cutecat22

    cutecat22 The Strange One Contributor

    Feb 20, 2014
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    "Where's my shoe?"
    "I don't feel well,"
    "The cat's puked in the toaster ..."
    "I need the loo!"
    "Hey, Mum, that smells ..."
    "Why should I use a coaster?"

    "I'm going to be late!"
    "I need a drink!"
    "Will you get your damn PE kit?"
    "It's ten past eight!"
    "What must people think?"
    "Forgot my keys, I'm such a tit!"

    "Bloody traffic!"
    "You're here at last!"
    "Decided to come to work then?"
    "Let me get on with it ..."
    "Maybe the day will go fast!"
    "Now it's rush hour all over again."

    "What's for tea?"
    "I don't like eggs!"
    "It's your turn to make a cuppa!"
    "Just sit down and eat!"
    "I'll sort the coffee dregs!"
    "Maybe I'll sit down by supper!"

    Then the characters start,
    "Don't make me do that!"
    "I don't want to be a bad schmo!"
    "Just play your damn part!"
    "I'll figure it out,"
    "For now, just go with the flow."

    Now, all is quiet,
    It's time to sleep,
    The voices around me have gone.
    Silence, I don't buy it,
    Makes me want to weep.
    Without you, my days are too long.
    Boger likes this.
  10. lustrousonion

    lustrousonion Contributing Member

    Oct 7, 2014
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    Things are not always as they seem,
    and familiarity often contempt breeds.

    Milk that's spilled isn't worth a tear.
    All's fair in love and war.

    Gather ye rosebuds because time flies.
    Yes, to err is human. To forgive, divine.

    But though your adage be wise,
    and your advice be nice,

    truest was said with simple wealth,
    that god helps her who helps herself.
  11. Gawler

    Gawler Contributing Member

    Aug 31, 2014
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    Australia via Hawaii via Australia via England

    Words without sounds.
    From where light cannot see.
    We are separate but one.
    And fulfill each other’s needs.

    Pain you do not know.
    And only love you receive.
    I strain my back.
    To treat you delicately.

    My precious soul.
    How heavy you weigh on me.
    The life that awaits you.
    Will make my world whole.

    Only I can hear you.
    In a language never heard.
    The power of your silence.
    Is known by all.

    Bound to me, until you are free.
    The day approaches when you will know.
    The strength of my love.
    And the joy you bring.

    For even when we part.
    You will remain attached to me.
    My unborn child.
    I will love you eternally.
  12. Twigstar

    Twigstar Member

    Jun 14, 2008
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    Voice Employed

    we are the voices behind
    an uneasy bumble of features
    barely distinguishable
    from the wet grey of urban concrete
    and the dripping black of asphalt
    as they linger and approach
    in the queue for the dole

    we are the silent voices
    that tabloid pages speak for
    with an easy classification
    without the pain of names or

    we are the voices behind eyes
    rolling from men and women in cheap suits
    lolling out directions for pigeon people
    to be properly cordoned into the appropriate places
    clutching papers with numbers
    water damage and creases
    that dully delegate dates and times

    you don’t know the cattle from the cow
    and the cows don’t know you from the cattle
    as you sit side by side avoiding eyes
    waiting for affirmation to eat and live

    we are voices abhorred

    we are voices

  13. pk.

    pk. Active Member

    Oct 24, 2011
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    Anti-nausea Pills

    These pills don't seem to work
    I took them this morning
    Three of them, to be precise.

    & yet, standing here,
    Standing waist deep in
    The city center:

    I see them all here.

    The people moving about,
    The shattered jigsaw puzzle
    Of advertisement;
    Neologisms, the term a neologism
    In itself.

    All of it.

    An then an announcer proclaims,
    In a large voice over the speaker:

    The free-market has won

    & I begin to vomit.
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