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  1. thirdwind

    thirdwind Contributing Member Contest Administrator Reviewer Contributor

    Jul 17, 2008
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    Past Contest Poetry Contest #264 -- Theme: "Windows"

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Poetry Contest' started by thirdwind, May 10, 2015.

    The theme for this contest is "windows" (courtesy of @LOliver). 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, May 30. 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. Aaron DC

    Aaron DC Contributing Member

    May 12, 2015
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    At my keyboard

    A girl by the window
    In sheer dressing gown
    Sad news from a letter
    It falls to the ground

    Her hand on the mantle
    So cold to the touch
    The rain outside scolding
    This pain is too much

    Part shrouded in shadows
    They circle her head
    No tears have fallen
    Her eyes are quite red

    Red eyes that are amber
    Windows to the soul
    Memory is flooding
    It now takes control

    Of times that were younger
    So busy and full
    Online conversations
    A familiar pull

    A popup chat window
    But time is so tight
    It sits there unanswered
    The rest of the night

    An offer to meet up
    Connect, face to face
    But no chance of stopping
    This headlong rat race

    Connection was squandered
    This window of time
    So fleeting the offer
    A sad, screaming mime

    To the start we return
    A tear now shed
    Pass out through the window
    Its pattern of lead

    We climb even higher
    Through wind and the rain
    Leaving far behind us
    The grief and the pain

    Like a bird on the wing
    Her mother is free
    The sickness that bound her
    Is gone, so is she.
    RachHP likes this.
  3. BrianIff

    BrianIff I'm so piano, a bad punctuator. Contributor

    Apr 26, 2015
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    Title: Jet Stream

    Breaking through the clouds,
    The vista, for a moment, bleak

    On a plane with literature,
    Everyone's character?

    Small window;
    How many feet?

    If a good request,
    I'll ring for a hand.

    Better off to casually raise mine,
    Won't wave a pricey ticket

    Endless outlook,
    Staring, head in the clouds
    Last edited: May 18, 2015
  4. thewritingguy

    thewritingguy Member

    Aug 15, 2014
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    Not a Good Day

    The steam of coffee, like a soul ascending to the heavens,
    The birds annoying me outside, since eight-eleven.

    Opened up the curtains, expecting a bright and early sun,
    Then heading back to my chair, a cushion adjusted under my bum.

    I began to pick up the pen, when I knocked the hot drink over,
    It was ironic, because the other day I had found a four-leaf clover.

    So I sat and stared at the mess, as it grew worse upon the minute,
    A thing such as this, was often thought as an annoyance.

    But potential sought through my skull, for I realized,
    This was the beauty of life, that I had been searching for all life long.

    Perfected not in melody, book, paper, or song,
    But through the act of opening a window and forgetting.

    All of the mundane that poisons one till' solitude comes.
    In the day, I had found darkness.

    But only a poet, could understand what I found was a gift,
    Now lost in time, but memory still un-parted.
  5. Chained

    Chained Don't trust anything I say.. Contributor

    May 18, 2015
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    Austin, Texas
    Fertile Fields

    Close enough to touch seems so far from me
    The world you show is where I would be
    Though try as i might, and struggle i do
    My dream seems a farce that could never come true.

    The adventures you share, every roll of the dice
    Ever spent minute I would gladly pay twice
    But your hunger grows while my fortunes shrink
    An inflation of thought leaves my income meek

    Underfoot grew a wasteland, but I never knew
    The lush other side has long been my only view
    There is so much of you that it's all I can see
    A million lives lived, not one of them me
    GingerCoffee likes this.
  6. Darkkin

    Darkkin Reflection of a nobody Contributor

    Jun 21, 2012
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    Following the footprints in the sand...
    A Truth as Witnessed by the Kitchen Window

    Flashlight?! That nobody's head lifting from knobby knees.
    Eyes bloodshot, shoulders heaving--that nobody choking--
    Trapped halfway between hysterical laughter and angry tears.
    Was it a glitch, a joke, or possibly something more?
    Snuffling, a deep breath drawn, that nobody, listens, looks--

    He's there in front of that bionic clockwork with the shattered mask.
    Patched and patient, head cocked--sitting, watching and waiting.
    A tag on his collar, the first thing that lost little clockwork nobody sees.
    Rugby 979...It reads, and beneath it's there waiting to be found.
    A name, her name: Celtic, meaning blind. A clan name meaning cliff nose.

    Blind and stubborn, apt and speaking, everything striped to bare bones.
    The rage fades as quickly as it rose, that nobody, sniffing, wipes her nose.
    That iPod, again repeats--Flashlight--Savage Garden, now done and gone.
    Rugby, called Rue, rose as those knobby knees go down, only to bury his head--
    Tight against her chest, just above her heart--Here was the light, her light.

    Too stubborn to die, too blind to see until the whole world went dark.
    She hugged that fluffy fool dog with her feeble might, as she let go.
    He didn't care about the damage, the stents, the weakness and scars--
    All that mattered to him was that she was really, truly there.
    A living thing, that knew her, needed her--missed her.

    A flashlight, her flashlight--Rugby 979.
  7. Woof

    Woof Contributing Member

    Feb 8, 2014
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    The Frame

    i. End

    Fire rages, burns and turns these rooms
    from something to nothing effortlessly.
    Scouring the layers of memories from
    the walls and windows, these children’s lives.

    ii. Between

    Life follows death, or so they hear,
    but existence, echoes of days, is more
    than they can hope for now. Until
    they have to move, keep on. Better this though
    than death, better this than an end,
    nothing; better existing, starting new
    journeys. This only possible
    with a spark of life, with their beating hearts.

    iii. Begin

    Primed gleaming white, wounds cleaned and dressed
    in cool, steady balm that forgets what first
    set restoration in motion.
    Memories give way; weave fresh history,
    beyond misery. Change catches
    hold again of possibility, life.
  8. edamame

    edamame Contributing Member Contributor

    Apr 5, 2013
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    Cool Hands

    your cool hands against me
    as upon a window pane
    left me with fingerprints

    whorls, slippery
    and grimy

    today, the rain came
    and washed me of you:

    the world in crisp clarity

    I am rife and see-through
    I am pure light
  9. LOliver

    LOliver Member

    Mar 14, 2015
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    Wales, UK
    Through the Window

    My window is a canvas,
    stained by sight and sound.
    An ever changing portrait
    of a world I haven't found.

    The colours of a sunrise,
    golden rays of light,
    dance upon an aperture
    that keeps me out of sight.

    Each day watching the seasons:
    Winter turns to spring.
    Blossoms dance upon the sill
    Whilst I reside within.

    As the leaves of autumn fall,
    Laid upon my bed,
    When the wind howls through the trees,
    I'll watch the sky instead.

    Now, my winter approaches.
    This world, I must depart.
    Goodbye my treasured window.
    Goodbye my fragile heart.
  10. ladybird

    ladybird Contributing Member

    Jul 7, 2013
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    The Window of Despair

    The window of hope is firmly closed.
    Blinds drawn, love dead, heart – indisposed.
    Eyes are the windows to the soul
    Festering with maggots eating us whole.
    Yours dark and smeared with hate
    Mine, misty with tears to compensate
    For shattered dreams, betrayal and more.
    Go. Close the window then slam the door!
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