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  1. thirdwind
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    thirdwind Contributing Member Contest Administrator Reviewer Contributor

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    Past Contest Poetry Contest #259 -- Theme: "Reincarnation"

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Poetry Contest' started by thirdwind, Jan 25, 2015.

    The theme for this contest is "reincarnation" (courtesy of @Fullmetal Xeno). 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, February 14. 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. lustrousonion
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    lustrousonion Contributing Member

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    The Journey of Pu Songling

    Pu Songling is a writer of tales.
    A Pu Songling story often details:
    a woman in white
    who appears in the night
    and captures the heart of a man.

    This man is clever, but very naive;
    Can't see his love for what she must be:
    a ghost from below
    who's come for his soul.
    Deceit is her wicked plan.

    What a surprise when in from the night
    a figure appears to give Old Pu a fright.
    A beauty as such
    Pu Songling's ever touched.
    He falls in love at first sight.

    Her name is Mai and, no, she's not dead,
    but betrothed to Wai, who comes for her head.
    Wai is a brute,
    sends Mai down hell's route,
    although Old Pu came to the fight.

    Mai's body is buried in a fresh grave.
    Pu Songling decides it's hell he must brave.
    This just won't do;
    without her he'd be blue.
    Takes a knife to the gut and expires.

    Hell's not so bad in the grand scheme of things,
    No fire, brimstone, or demons with wings.
    It's just like above,
    and fits Pu like a glove.
    But it's Mai that Pu truly desires.

    Pu Songling is a Buddhist at heart,
    so Pu Songling petitioned the court.
    He wept and he plead
    to bring her back from the dead
    and to cut through all the red tape.

    The old judge looked kindly on Pu,
    stamped all the forms and sealed them with glue.
    What magic is this?
    Once again Mai exists.
    Back up they go and escape.

    But wait! Don't think it's as simple as that.
    What about Wai and his former spat?
    He's there at the grave
    and he's feeling depraved,
    Pu and Mai flea before they are caught.

    Back to court go all three: Mai, Pu and Wai.
    It's up to the judge this knot to untie.
    He thinks hard and long,
    decides Old Wai is wrong.
    He marries Pu and Mai on the spot.

    Now Pu Songling is a happy fellow.
    Our Pu Songling journeyed down below.
    He brought back his dear,
    can always keep her near
    and get back to writing his yarns.

    Pu Songling writes still about women in white,
    who have unearthly glows and magical sight.
    But now they are kind;
    They've no evil in mind,
    though their skin is crawling with worms.
     
  3. Darkkin
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    Darkkin Reflection of a nobody Contributor

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    Following the footprints in the sand...
    The Question of a Name

    It began as with all things, with a question.
    Simple and stark.
    A question of a name, echoing across all that is known.
    A riddle countless pondered in the dark.

    A Moment...so many memories.
    Regret and rage for things lost.
    A sound of hope, a Song that is Long.
    A buried past, a staggering cost.

    As the Demons run,
    A verse of the River, a riddle of a sort.
    The Last Centurion, the patient one, Pandora guarding.
    Silence in the Library, a heartbreaking port.

    Angels weeping, time breaking.
    Queens and La Pompadour, a mad man trying.
    Drums sounding, a son called home,
    So many places...time flying.

    Now and again, this mad man dying...

    Sainted by some, cast in the cathedral's glass.
    Great warrior, according to the tongues of others.
    A great web connecting all, minutiae and details, small.
    A hymn of battle by the Headless, those robed Brothers.

    Always there, always blue...
    From the pit spit forth from the Demon's mouth.
    An explosion, in a Master's art,
    Breaking sideways, rightways, wrongside south.

    An Impossible Girl, a ghost, an extinction, great,
    Smaller on the outside, inside an infinte place.
    With this mad man, through it all, generations in and out.
    The only surviving remenants of a great race.

    The tale of a singular leaf told,
    The Infinite Potential of days never had.
    The Silence seeking to stifle the fated question,
    As a prisoner is swept away to the last Frost Faire, her tale, sad.

    There is Silence in the Library, but not so the Question...

    Who?
     
    Last edited: Jan 31, 2015
  4. LorenaTralala
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    LorenaTralala Member

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    What's mine is yours now,
    the love of my life,
    I'm sorry we could never meet
    someone had another plan for us.
    It's unfair that I should die
    but it was so you could live,
    ripping myself apart
    willingly.
    I never saw you my world
    but I love you.
    Know that.
    I hope your life is full
    and your love is never ending,
    that your happiness is infectious
    and you never know pain
    or sorrow.
    Remember,
    life isn't always fair
    but you have someone
    who will always be there.
    And if you think of me
    smile
    and know I will be thinking of you too.
    I'm sorry I had to go my love,
    you were my greatest creation
    and the only wish I ever had.
    So what's mine is yours now
    the love of my life,
    I will be with you.
    Always.

    "She's beautiful,"
    Don't give her to me.
    My first look at my daughter,
    clouded by pain
    and sorrow.
    I cant look.
    Cant feel any more
    today.
    She moved
    in my arms.
    Cant ignore it,
    I have to look.
    "She has her eyes."
     
  5. qwertyportne
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    qwertyportne Member

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    Reinkarmation

    Weeds--
    I love 'em.
    Outsiders like me:
    wild and radical to the root.

    Weeds are not sown.
    They blow in the wind,
    bloom out of season
    and break the laws
    of cultivated soil.

    Weeds are not pruned, groomed,
    nor kept alive in glass vases .

    Weeds are dug up,
    cast out
    and carried away
    in the shoveled jaws
    of civil birds,
    then deposited in scat
    and left for dead.

    But weeds don’t die.
    Weeds reinkarmate
    outside the field of farm and fence--
    home again on feral ground.
     
  6. Garball
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    Garball Sometimes nothing can be a real cool hand. Supporter Contributor

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    The Lemming

    I die
    only to live again
    To jump
    off the cliff and then

    I die
    only to live again
    To jump
    off the cliff and then

    I die
    only to live again
    To jump
    off the cliff and then

    I'll die
    never to live this life again
    When I
    finally learn how to swim
     
    Last edited: Feb 6, 2015
  7. Michael R. Kage
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    Michael R. Kage New Member

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    False Promises

    With the tip of a blade
    A promise was made
    In life,

    And now they don’t care
    For paying their fare
    With death,

    Forever was made to be bliss
    With many a maiden’s sweet kiss
    Beyond death,

    But fate had a contrary view
    And laid them at the end of a queue
    For life,

    A punishment fit for the crime
    Eternity now looks like a line
    Unending.
     
  8. The Cuckoo's Nest
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    The Cuckoo's Nest Member

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    I do
    not know the
    limit of suffering
    because every time
    I tell myself
    this has to be
    the last time
    because I can’t
    go through this again…

    it’s not, and
    I do.
     
    auntiebetty likes this.
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