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

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    Weekly Poetry Contest (119) - Losing Someone

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Jun 29, 2010.

    Weekly
    Poetry Contest
    One Hundred and Nineteen




    Welcome to the (metaphorical) jungle!


    The Rules

    • All entries must be on the set theme.
    • Only one entry per member.
    • No editing of entries once posted without my express permission (i.e. PM me and ask).
    • Poems must be titled
    • Poems must be at least seven lines in length.
    • Entries must not have previously posted on the forums, and are not permitted to be posted for critique until AFTER the contest is completed.
    • Any violation of these rules will result in disqualification of entries, and possibly infraction.


    The entry stage will last six days, meaning it will close on Monday 5th July 2010.

    The voting stage will begin immediately, and will be open for three days, ending on Thursday 8th July 2010.


    And this week's theme is (courtesy of Leaka): Losing Someone


    Be imaginative, have fun, and get writing


    Banzai


    PS: If you have any questions, please feel free to PM me. I don't bite (much).
     
  2. Legacy1306
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    Legacy1306 Senior Member

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    U.S.
    Regrets

    The soft curls of your hair.
    The soft feel of your flesh.
    The soft ring of your voice...
    all are so distant.
    I wish we had more time.
    One more kiss,
    one more dance,
    one more chance
    to prove that I loved you.
    To prove that I loved you.
    Now you'll never know.
    I will never know.
    The gleaming gold
    of the ring in my pocket
    now belongs to no one.
    You, to whom it should,
    now speed away.
    You speed away, to places unknown.
    I wish I'd have shown you.
    I wish I'd have told you.
    I wish I'd proved that I loved you.
     
  3. Leaka
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    Leaka Creative Mettle

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    The Other Raven

    The heart chambers
    echo Nevermore
    and the picture
    of the fair winged
    angel burns delicately

    Feathers turn
    from white to black
    like ash and the
    flames bend, Nevermore

    A light doze
    and the image of
    the only seraph
    lingers in thoughts
    her lips utter, Nevermore

    The night gets
    no peace as it
    cowers in it's thoughts
    the heavy shadow of
    life watches through
    bird eyes and the
    regret I have lies
    in the dark corner
    of the room
     
  4. Aconite
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    Aconite Senior Member

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    Location:
    Albany, NY, USA
    Neorealism

    If they had been in a film,
    she would have said nothing,
    closed lips over perfect teeth
    and bitten her tongue.

    The moment he looked back,
    she would have turned away,
    started back through the iron gates
    and pulled them shut.

    She'd have written about him in her diary
    using a fluffy pink pen,
    and then cried on the phone
    to a slightly less attractive friend.

    He would have stared until she vanished,
    as if willing her into that space
    between everything and nothing,
    and said "I love you" seconds too late.

    He'd have drunk the memory away
    where the only lights were beer signs,
    and moved on to the next girl,
    a brunette to her blonde.

    He'd have shown up two weeks later,
    with flowers from some overpriced florist,
    and rung the bell, shuffling and nervous,
    to be greeted by another guy.

    Instead, she stared, waiting for him,
    but when he said nothing,
    she asked, "So. We done?"
    and with a shrug, he was gone.
     
  5. Jane Beryl
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    Jane Beryl Member

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    California, USA
    Zanier and Cael

    I pulled a tear across my mind.
    I wiped away my heart dry.
    No need to explain what happened here.
    I have lost him, that is what happened here.

    He rustled my clothes in the dim shadow-light.
    He rustled my heart to a bright light of fright.
    The light left that night, glowing on him.
    It settle across the hall, glowing on him.

    He was to bring the sword.
    He was to bring that Bridget.
    The Bridget that would save my city.
    The Bridget that would stop crimson waves.

    The crimson waves drowned my city.
    The crimson waves brought the fears.
    The fears of my people could now be silenced.
    The fear of my heart would throb on in an echo.

    An echo which scratched the walls.
    An echo which pierced my heart.
    The hero would save my city-state.
    The hero would die for my life sake.

    The meeting was over between my council men.
    The meeting new brought me my man.
    He spoke words of rest to my soul.
    He spoke words that would wreck my soul.

    I stared into his magic eyes one last time.
    I grabbed onto his powerful soul one last time.
    His lips graced me twice before he left me.
    His presence endearing before he left me.

    After that he was gone from my life.
    He save a kingdom, but gone from my life.
    Only he had waited to see,
    Only to see what he had brought.

    Ah, the sun.
    Oh my son!
     
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  6. divjyot
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    divjyot New Member

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    Location:
    India
    losing someone.

    On a searing, parched summer afternoon,
    Sheltered in my home,lazying around i
    lie stretched on the turf covered with
    a walnut wooden layer..
    Bright, bloodshot sun rays sieve through
    the roman blinds,the air conditioner
    bellows gusts of cool air,nostalgia is
    so there..

    Your swathed memories, omnipresent,
    assertive, reluctant to leave..
    Maybe once i am asleep;this wave of
    thoughts would cede..

    Closing my eyes tight, usurping the
    bed sheet to hide, i try try try..
    Sleep seems perfidious, your thoughts
    just do not disappear, tears roll on,
    and i cry cry cr
     
  7. bangtail
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    bangtail New Member

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    Location:
    Texas
    Your family

    Your brothers are asking
    questions I cannot answer.
    Your brothers need strength
    that I cannot muster.
    Your father is silent,
    stoic and cold.
    You father won't tell me
    what you were like to hold.
    Your family now sits
    with a void that can't be filled.
    This ache and this pain
    won't be cured, quelled, or killed.
    Your mother is distant
    not sure what to say.
    Your mother is struggling
    a little more every day.
    Apart from the silence
    things are eerily the same.
    No cries fill the home.
    No one here to blame.
    Your mother is toiling
    with remorse and regret.
    As she sits and stares
    at your empty bassinett.
    Your family can't sleep,
    and they can't find the words.
    But you won't go through this.
    You're safe from this hurt.
     
  8. jo spumoni
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    jo spumoni Active Member

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    Location:
    La Jolla, CA (and Mission Viejo, CA, during the su
    Missing

    Gender: Female

    Age: 18 ¾

    Height: Five foot four
    On an honest day, five foot, three and a half

    Weight: When wanting a dress, 110lbs
    When donating blood, 115

    Hair: dirt-brown
    Perpetually tangled
    And always worn long

    Face: Ovalish
    Like a lopsided egg

    Nose: Enormous,
    Rather Jewish,
    But don’t tell the Germans

    Race: Uneven-
    Cheeks reddened from too much sun,
    Legs whiter than powdered sugar

    Last seen: head bent over her notebooks
    Scratching at the page
    Ignoring the busy morning traffic
    As she steps directly into it

    If you see me,
    Please return me
    I am lost
     
  9. themotions
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    themotions Member

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    Losing nobody

    Timid feet take me deeper in
    with a numb feeling of nothing to loose.
    In search of someone, but who i can't recall,
    my memory altered by booze.

    I remember that I once knew her well
    and I know for certain shes long gone
    the dead leaves remind me nothing last forever
    and the wind sings her name like a forgotten song

    Ive mindlessly wondered too deep it seems
    The sunlight is gone that led me to this place
    No trace remains of her to prove she existed
    Was she really lost or did she hide in disgrace?

    No memories of her leaving to ease my hazy mind
    one day i looked up and I couldnt find her anywhere.
    But in her place I found a mirror
    That held a broken girl with a blank stare.

    In the solitude of dusk I convinced my mind
    that I had imagined her ever being there.
    i was almost certain i had nothing to miss
    and yet my pillow smelt like her hair


    How curious that she should leave me all alone
    was she a friend or just a foe?
    People came to help me search for her,
    And they watched my resentment grow

    They were eager to help me find the one i lost
    but i was scared to let her back in
    for once you find something theres no telling how
    or when it will get lost again

    They suggested i record all the wrong turns she made
    To find where wrong had won.
    Honest blood spilled from my pen and i wrote in fear
    a melancholy tribute to my lost one.

    I sat in the forest my hand spilling truth
    lost words set this lost girl free
    for i saw the lost girl in the mirror, with love in her eyes
    realizing the person i lost was me.
     
  10. Romanarms
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    Romanarms New Member

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    Forever my firend:



    To you my friend I send
    My loving warm, soft hand
    I don't care that I can't, at least I'll try.

    I hope you hear me friend
    The things I never said
    I was too scared, I didn't want to cry

    I weep for you my friend
    I wander all the land
    Too find you, though I know- that you're too high

    I will meet you my friend
    When I'll be cold in bed
    And then are souls in heaven- they will fly

    Forever my friend
    Until I will ascend
    Wait for me up there, beyond the sky.

    The questions that I had
    Are flowing through my head
    The only thing I ask you god, is why.
     
  11. TrueShot
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    TrueShot Member

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    Stikliu Gatve (Glass Street)

    Down the narrow moonlit street she walks
    Clenching tightly her palling fist
    That holds the chipped black phone and waits,
    Till vibrations promised come.
    She answers and quietly listens,
    And sees,
    Her shadowed young man lift to his lips
    Shimmering liquid of social lubrication.
    He drinks,
    In that gutter through which Lethe flows
    And grins as he turns his ashen face to her,
    Offering his corked love with familiar cruel smile.
    She sighs,
    Then cringes,
    As the bottles icy shards explode.
    “Yes, I understand,” She says,
    And shuts the phone.
    Alone.
     
  12. hoist
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    hoist Member

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    Location:
    The corner of Bedlam and Squalor
    Homonymphomania

    Gestalt theory states that the Whole
    is always greater
    than the sum of its parts;
    that once you tear something from its home;
    from its place;
    then that something, and its home;
    its place;
    both,
    have been changed in a drastic and fatal way.
    I tell her this, (in the) after(glow).

    “You got your hair cut,” she notes dreamily. Her grin is crooked like a carwreck.

    It is - at least peripherally - relevant;
    but I have a solid feeling
    that she had not meant for it to be.

    She wriggles onto her side. “They took off a little much, I think. You’re so pretty with it long... I like it now, though. It's probably cooler for the summer.”

    And so I tell her that, beneath Gestalt theory,
    with its parts and its wholes and its fatalities,
    that with this change;
    this trimming;
    I could be a complete stranger, here, with her now:
    a foreigner whose script and guise and guile is immaculate;
    with me - the me that she knows - laying somewhere cold, perhaps in a ditch;
    (such dramatics are used,
    by me,
    very sparingly -
    only to draw her attention to dull things.)

    “You still look like you to me.” Her lips twist up and around like a kitestring. She is lukewarm and unimpressed, for a moment, but breaks sharply into a twenty-four karat leer. “And you’re awful lively for, y’know... a body in a ditch.”

    And so I ask her: what if something else
    something more more
    had been trimmed;(?)
    My sense of humor or;
    my manner of speaking to her or;
    my frontal lobe or;
    my meeting her - a huddled-up bundle of wet-faced ache - in the corner of the airport bathroom or;
    my tendency to eat lemons like apples that puts her in fits of revolted giggles or;
    my smell of rosemary and pale leather that drives her to breathe deeply into my clothing and bedding or;
    the frown that I save especially for her flippancy when I make attempts to be brooding or;
    my tireless memorization of her favorite poets and jellybean flavors and ways to be kissed or--

    She interrupts with teeth in a shoulder. The resulting yelp fills her grin with satisfaction. “Has it happened yet?”

    I am uncertain how to answer that;
    I tell her so.

    “Are you - the you that’s you right now - the you that’s here right now?”

    I am uncertain how to answer that;
    I ask her what she means.

    “What I mean is, enough about your parts and your wholes.” She moves, slow and joking and shy and eager, half-wincing and laughing at her own words: “I’m more interested in your parts and your holes.

    It is a terrible warping of words but it stuns laughter from me.
     
  13. Jinxi
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    Jinxi New Member

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    Location:
    Johannesburg, South Africa
    Another One for You

    I always used to think that the worst thing in the world would be to never find love – how wrong I was!
    The worst thing in the world is to lose somebody that you love.

    The emptiness of never finding love can be cured in a romantic instant.
    The emptiness of losing somebody that you love can never be filled, never be fixed.

    It’s a pain that you live with everyday of your life, every second your heart continues to beat.
    You are always hurting.
    Wondering.
    Missing.

    Where is she now?
    What is she doing?
    Does she think about me, remember me?

    The scariest thing is to be alone with your own thoughts.
    They haunt you, horrify you.
    You think about doing things that you never thought you’d think about.
    You cry – all the time.
    You feel completely lost in everything that you do.
    You can never remember anything clearly, except for the last time you saw her.

    Laying naked on the bathroom floor.
    No pulse.
    No warmth.
    No movement.
    Sitting there, staring at a body that shows no attempt at life.
    Knowing that 1 hour earlier, she was your living, breathing mother, who was going to wake you up in the morning like she always used to, bring you your cup of coffee.

    Instead now, I have nothing.
    Nothing but memories and an empty hole in my heart that can never be filled.
    Forever I will feel that loneliness, whether I’m in a crowded room or all by myself.

    It’s still so hard to believe.
    How could this have happened to me?
    Why?
    But these questions will forever remain unanswered.

    It’s almost a year now, and I can still clearly hear her saying “I love you”.

    What I don’t understand is if my memories are still so vivid, why can I not see her, dream about her?
    Why can’t I when everyone else can?
    I don’t understand that.

    Everybody else sees her at night.
    I never see her.
    Is it because I haven’t let her go?
    Am I being punished?
    Why?

    Please mom, please let me see you, talk to you.

    Just one last time.
     
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