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weekly poetry Contest (10) Voting.

Poll closed Jun 26, 2007.
  1. Heather (We all use it)

    1 vote(s)
    6.7%
  2. Nadala (The second hand dress)

    2 vote(s)
    13.3%
  3. Cogito (Bubble)

    2 vote(s)
    13.3%
  4. *water*sprite* (Realflowers)

    1 vote(s)
    6.7%
  5. Wordwizard (Vociferation)

    1 vote(s)
    6.7%
  6. Torana (Painted Illusions)

    2 vote(s)
    13.3%
  7. Sayso (Our World)

    0 vote(s)
    0.0%
  8. Gannon (Earth - for what it's worth)

    2 vote(s)
    13.3%
  9. Baywriter (I See Them Kissing)

    3 vote(s)
    20.0%
  10. SnipSnap (GAEA WAS HERE)

    1 vote(s)
    6.7%
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  1. Raven
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    Weekly Poetry Contest. (10) Voting

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Raven, Jun 23, 2007.

    Poetry Contest (10)
    Voting Time


    As way of our land mark tenth weekly poetry contest.
    The Winner will be given a new title of Senior Member. Means your name is a different colour. And also your poem will be stickied for 7 days.

    Voting will end 25/06/07. You can vote for yourselfs But i would hope in the name of good sportsman ship you'd vote for a poem you haven't written. But I'll leave that decission up to you.


    Good Luck and happy Voting.


    Also again Thank you for all the themes you've PM'd, keep them coming.:)




    Please PM me Your suggestions for new themes regarding the poetry contest.




    ~Raven.


    Below are the poems.
     
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    Heather

    We all use it,


    We all use it,
    And we all abuse it,
    We’ve got no rights,
    To demolish these sights,
    A waterfall so high,
    With water cascading by,
    But then litter in the plunge-pool,
    Doesn’t look very cool,
    Trees so tall and green,
    Keeping our air clean,
    But then in the clearing,
    The trees are disappearing,
    We all use it,
    But please don’t abuse it,
    Think for a second,
    Keep litter in your hand,
    Think about what it’s worth,
    And just enjoy this special earth.
     
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    Nadala


    The second hand dress


    This ball is a bleeding wh***.
    A dress second hand,
    A hundred times worn.
    Dressed in spangled flags of split union,
    Filled with crying, screaming, disillusion.
    Yet the planet its self does not cry,
    Meanwhile it’s afloat in crimson tide.
    While the rights of the racial society are denied,
    All the weak, the helpless follow through and abide,
    While we the lucky turn a blind eye.
    Shrug our shoulders, flick the channel as they die.

    This world is bitter,
    Far from Eden and all that hypothetical glitter.
    Soldiers are sent to fight another’s war,
    Politicians are killed for rebellious encore.
    Children are killers,
    Fathers broken pillars,
    Once the strength a family rested upon.
    Where have the values of our people gone?

    We cut her open with mechanical knifes,
    Shut her down and disrupt her life.
    To pull from her what’s as good as gold,
    Disregard warnings she’s fragile, getting old.
    What we want it’s hard and it’s cold
    Even a body has a price.
    What can be brought can be sold

    We tie her down with picket and wire,
    Burn her body and torture her with fire.
    Break her away chip by chip,
    Marr her name with word from lip.
    But from our own lives we slowly slip.
     
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    Cogito


    Bubble



    Shining bubble blue
    Coated with a smear of life
    Tiny grain nearby

    Lonely in the dark
    Lighted by a distant spark
    Emptiness surrounds

    With its siblings dance
    Motes in distant circles drift
    Around that lonely spark

    A silent black ocean
    Without any waves
    A few tiny grains
    Are all that it bears

    This whole lonely family
    Reduced to a speck
    Far distant remains
    From its nearest kin

    Shining bubble blue
    Coated with a smear of life
    Bursts and is forgot
     
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    *water*sprite*

    Realflowers

    The flowers from my innocent days
    are broken and inside out.
    My mind may not revolve around planet earth,
    but I like to keep an open mind.
    I see the people stepping on
    pavement and sand,
    makes me wish I could always walk upon clouds.
    That way I could look down,
    see acheivements and faults,
    it's not every day that we don't seen love.
    Then in the distant were butterflies roam,
    I see charm that lets flowers bloom.
    A kind young girl dressed in white,
    giving birth to flowers.
    Past a milky heaven made of life,
    I see yellow strands of gold,
    like that of an angel.
    Some little boy frail and timid
    tries to steal a loaf of bread.
    Some gentlemen takes his hand,
    he pays for his food and gives him a few bills.

    I see beauty and I smiles,
    but evil still exists.
    Flowers with little drops of sweetness all around.
     
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    Wordwizard

    Vociferation



    The globe slowly moves
    like the hand of a clock,
    complying day to night.
    We follow our leader.

    we desire a purpose,
    turning a rock into a home.
    Creating life and new paths,
    ignorant with hopes and dreams.

    We inhale it's vital breath,
    and smell its sweet spirit.
    We taste it's exotic flavor,
    and dance to it's soothing song.

    An orb thriving and alive
    speaks it's anger through thunder,
    and cries depressed tears
    when it's detests go unheaded.

    We turn blind eyes, and deaf ears,
    seeing gold, while we rape the land.
    Unplugging our mind to the damage.
    We bite the hand that feeds us.
     
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    Torana


    Painted Illusions


    Somebody once told me of a world,
    that was full of beauty to unfold.
    Full of life and rejoicing but,
    I'm yet to be convinced.

    I see a red rose wilting
    and the grass ain't greener on the other side.
    A perfect place for a hollowed grace,
    a million tears and the soils still dry.

    An icy stillness in a shipping lane,
    so many lives I know it will claim.
    A motherless child
    and a childless mother.
    So much love to give and
    no one to hold.

    Broken hearts and suicidal thoughts.
    No one cares;
    not anymore.

    So I stand on the edge of the world,
    looking down over shadowed lands.
    Where are the rainbows for the child to find,
    the lepricorns and the pot of gold.
    The field of flowers for the animals to hide,
    with a perfume so profound.

    And as the last tree reaches up
    into the darkest of clouds,
    trying to find it's sunlight;
    the lightning strikes and it's cries are heard.
    As it falls to the ground and dies.
     
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    Sayso



    Our World


    Our world is a molecule upon a tiny flea,
    that only the strongest of the microscopes can see.

    The flea is living on the back of a large dog,
    that runs for its master to fetch a small log.

    The dog sometimes shares his home with a single man,
    who treats the world no better than a dirty trash can.

    The human lives in houses, built of wood and stone,
    to shelter from the weather and calls it his home.

    The houses rest upon the land of countries galore,
    some built a long time ago and to last forever more.

    The land and sea join to make this wonderful place,
    and all the time it moves through infinite space.

    For our world is a molecule that rests upon a flea
    and there is so much more out there, that we will never see.
     
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    Gannon


    Earth - for what it's worth.




    Born on an axis of evolution -
    our undeserving yet hospitable host -
    she supports and sports a shawl of social strata.
    She welcomes to her shores the weird, the wind
    and furthermore, the wonderful.

    Earth is denotationally difficult
    and life is understandably rare.
    In an atom I sea a universe,
    and thus a multiverse to share.

    Split that atom however and get a big bang.

    Focus in and focus out, ebb and flow
    as far as the universe continues to stretch,
    to the limit of comprehension and imagination,
    and back to earth, that swirling marble
    and life, her motherly marvel.

    So simple, a cyclical and infinite reproduction,
    the product of some scientific reduction.

    The mystery removed and marvelous replaced,
    life is what we make of it, podgy and overgrown,
    the equator, a sad omen of our and her waist.
     
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    Baywriter


    I See Them Kissing


    Earth, sinners call fervently to you,
    you mangled mind. I see them bask in that soil,
    slathering adulterous bodies across your embrace,
    green warmth tickling the remnants of all that is so evil.
    You are (So evil).

    Sing to me, sweet piano of Earth—play your distant melody:
    Sin, round and round. I see it sway. And why?
    Why may it not melt as late snow—as that smile you used to wear?
    Earth did smile (In the days when smiles were abundant indeed.)

    I want the sin, I do; I am among Earth’s sinners.
    But that grin, beautiful and flamboyant, it’s plaguing,
    plaguing as evil does—as you do, Earth.
    These strings sticking through my silence hold to that.

    I cannot be freed or tempted to glance at your grin.
    Street lights, graffiti: artwork of the damned.
    I hear your tune now, and I do not pay mind to it.
    It comes from my lips, the sinner’s lips.

    Earth’s kiss.
     
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    SnipSnap


    GAEA WAS HERE



    Deeple potted marigolds line
    the path up to the little girl's
    house. It's a place in Earth Tones,
    with a high shackled roof and the
    windows are always as clear as her head.
    She wears a sylvan dress and earthly
    brown hair that flows deep into
    forever, and thus we'll see the rivers.

    She has a dream of perspiration:
    To see her works of art thrive in
    jargon, to see her splendid little words
    of love stand upright, and speak
    to her late at night under frenzy lakes,
    as they teach her all the modernisms,
    and walk off again as humans,
    until next time, and -

    Behold! Little Gaea has an inspiration!
     
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