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  1. Banzai

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

    Mar 31, 2007
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    Reading, UK

    Weekly Poetry Contest (135) - Rhyming Couplets

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Jan 4, 2011.

    Poetry Contest
    One Hundred and Thirty Five

    The first contest of the new year! Everyone energised and ready to go?

    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 be open for six days, closing on Monday 10th January 2011.

    The voting stage will begin immediately, and will be open for three days, ending on Thursday 13th January 2011.

    And this week's theme is: Rhyming Couplets

    All entry poems must be composed of Rhyming Couplets.

    The next (136th) contest's theme will be: Rebirth, and it will be opened on 10th January 2011.

    Be imaginative, have fun, and get writing.


    PS: If you have any questions, please feel free to PM me. I don't bite (much).
  2. ffakih08

    ffakih08 New Member

    Dec 27, 2010
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    Queen of Rain

    In torrents of rain trying to find a way .
    Trembling ,I feel my senses sway.
    Raindrops fall in monotonous rhyme
    prancing along the shores of time.

    Trying to stride through a blissful life
    I slip ,I slide in endless strife.
    Lies betrothed to my truth for good
    I hide my visage under the darkest hood.

    I remember a time when there was light.
    Choice of dreams was my lonesome plight.
    I stood alone then ,wings aloft
    The very thorns I walked felt velvety soft.

    I flew over once the fields of gold
    I thought I saw something that shines tenfold
    I flew down , walked through the gold dust
    a pursuit fueled by an unfamiliar lust.

    And I saw her there ,a shining aura
    My light inside ,shone like an aurora ,
    Dancing away upon the sky inside,
    as I opened my wings and offered a ride.

    She flew with me high , but not higher than my glee
    I told my angels to stop the songs ,and let me be.
    For I wanted to hear the sound of every breath she took,
    only then I noticed her saddened look.

    And there it began ,my world of pain
    as she told me , she was the queen of rain.
    As I reached the clouds ,I lost her in a flash
    I felt my body fall into a muddy clash.

    I walk this path of rain where ever the clouds go,
    I look for my queen,as the waters flow.
  3. bangtail

    bangtail New Member

    Jun 12, 2010
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    She's Gone Silent

    She's gone silent, eyes closed.
    Feeling things that no one knows.

    She's gone silent, built a wall.
    Four feet thick and ten feet tall.

    She's gone silent, closed the door.
    She lets in no one anymore.

    She's gone silent, cold and hard.
    Her heart is stone with entry barred.

    She's gone silent, built a levee
    to hold in tears, so cold and heavy.

    She's gone silent, the levee is breaking.
    The tears let loose as her heart is aching.

    She's gone silent, holding in screams.
    Silent tears fall in silent streams.

    She yells aloud at a closed door,
    "I can't be silent anymore!"
    1 person likes this.
  4. Nonny Mouse

    Nonny Mouse Member

    Jan 17, 2009
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    Suddenly listening and sniffing the air,
    detecting the mustiness subtly there.
    That hint of acridity, scent of the past,
    the smell of a steam train approaching us - fast!

    Frantically scanning the track then I saw,
    a feint plume of smoke, just a feather no more.
    Then in buzzed a diesel, obscuring my view
    so I snatched up my bags in a second or two,

    and clumsily running I made for the gate,
    galumphed up the stairway towards platform 8.
    Dodging commuters, ignoring their glares
    puffed over the bridge, and panted downstairs.

    Down to the platform where scurried in droves
    smug-looking people in holiday clothes.
    excited and happy with day-tripping spirit,
    all in possession of that “special ticket”.

    That ticket which bought them a place on the train,
    travelling to Bristol down memory lane.
    In old vintage coaches, fresh cream enamelled,
    interiors glossily varnished and panelled.

    I rushed to the front were the engine stood steaming,
    immaculate brass-work all polished and gleaming.
    Her green painted body with gold lines traversed,
    a nameplate proclaimed her ‘King Edward the first’.

    Shuddering heat-haze, spray venting and jetting,
    she stood wreathed in steam still panting and sweating.
    Her hot breath condensing ‘til droplets ran teaming,
    and poured from her pistons as rivulets, streaming.

    Her wheels and her bearings glinted and glistened,
    anointed with chrism as a new baby christened.
    Luxurious lining, a smooth lubrication.
    The soft smell of oil suffusing the station,

    mingled with coal dust and muddled with smuts
    which pulsed from her chimney with dull thuds and ‘phuts’.
    Not altering volume, nor varying rating;
    A rhythmic percussion; a heartbeat pulsating.

    Gathered around her, and gazing in pride
    emotional onlookers (some dewy-eyed)
    Multifarious people with one admiration,
    completely absorbed in a shared fascination.

    All laden and ready to set off for Bristol,
    announcing departure she blows on her whistle.
    Shrilling and shrieking and screaming and singing,
    her voice fills the station, sets our ears ringing.

    Her breathing pace quickens, she heaves at the train
    and heart beating faster she takes up the strain.
    With a clank of the couplings and squeak of the wheels
    slowly but surely it trembles and yields.

    Delicate tendrils of smoke kiss the awning
    as gathering pace she puffs through the morning.
    Cacophony fading, noises decrease;
    dumbing and muffling then finally cease.

    Temporarily deafened yet drunk with elation.
    Numbed by the silence engulfing the station.
    Slowly awakening, as from a dream,
    dragged back from the magical era of steam.

    Fumbling and stumbling, half-witted, half-blind,
    entranced by the images etched in our minds
    In love with her spirit, her ghost that she leaves,

    the Special train to Temple Meads
  5. Doctor Tao

    Doctor Tao Member

    Dec 8, 2010
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    The Storm Keeper

    Three clicks and fifteen are dead
    minutes that speak of silence ahead.
    The chessboard fear of witless sense
    Atropos shears the fate’s offense.
    Blemished, white-plaster nails
    grasp the boon of Neptune’s sail.

    The prophets themselves are drowning

    Could the Furie’s call be sounding?
    Through all the nations force-fed ends
    with pitchforks rising as the watch descends.
    Breaking the curse of Dana’s earth
    quenching the flame of Dante’s berth.

    This revolution is a black ember

    can the gods somehow remember?
    The dances around Pictish fires
    music from the Roman’s spire.
    The fields a vampire’s wine
    a wasteland where the vultures dine.

    The saints wish to feast again

    their souls bleeding where the past begins.
    Touching the heart of blackened sight
    chancing the claws of Fendrick’s might.
    Breathing life to undead lies
    with this hate the phoenix flies.

    These sacred ashes are giving birth

    singing with the ocean’s serf.
    The wind holds a final gift
    as the devil’s plates begin to shift.
    A thousand tears from voiceless eyes
    slowly fall as the world dies.
  6. FrankABlissett

    FrankABlissett Active Member

    Nov 29, 2008
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    Sault, Michigan
    Feet Rising, Falling In Love

    Two lovers
    Under the covers -

    An adolescent dream.
    And how at that age our minds would scheme

    And wander from one to another but ne’er could find
    Or create the steadiness of mind, the chance or the time.

    Then love narrowed its scope to one and broadened its depth,
    While years flowed on and breath gave way to breath.

    Carnal passion mellowed as well -
    Now I can truly tell:

    I can and do
    Love two.
  7. Aerokes

    Aerokes New Member

    Jan 10, 2011
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    You’re my beginning, you’re my end,
    You’re the sun, as it descends,
    You kept me up, when I was down,
    It’s all my fault, you’re not around.
    I wish I’d known, what you would do,
    I could have guessed, I’d fall for you,
    For your smile, for your face,
    For your body, oh your waist!
    I miss your kiss, I miss your eyes,
    I miss my hand, upon your thigh.
    I go to bed, I start to dream,
    I look around, it’s you I see.
    On a beach, it’s you and me,
    I hear the ocean, your all I see,
    We walk and laugh, we stop and kiss,
    In this moment, It’s utter bliss.
    I come awake, from a flooding light,
    Your like the moon, oh so bright,
    Or like a star, in the sky,
    I think of you, I want to cry.
    Clouds come in, it starts to rain,
    I’m missing you, I feel the pain,
    I try to sleep, but not to dream,
    because I wake alone, and want to scream.
    You’re in my thoughts, controlling my mind,
    I clutch my heart, It’s you inside,
    I was in yours, a time ago,
    but not in sync, It brings me woe.
    It’s all my fault, I know that fact,
    I wish I wasn’t, so slow to act,
    You’re my beginning, You’re my Demise,
    You’re the sun, as it starts to rise.
  8. lisalieder

    lisalieder New Member

    Jan 7, 2011
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    It's Snowing

    I’d write a poem but I’ve got nothing to say.
    Nothing very important anyway.
    Nothing dramatic, nothing too witty.
    It’s snowing outside, I wonder if I am still pretty.

    I wonder if my kids know how my heart yearns
    When they leave for school each day, as this year turns
    Them from children’s joy and laughter. I see
    Them plugging into Ipods and ennui.

    I watch my husband when I am awakened by the cold.
    He looks so beautiful, it makes me feel old.
    I run home from work to get dinner on the table
    Pick up the kids, l am barely able

    To keep it all together. I have nothing to complain about
    Lovely house, great kids. Detergent to get the stains out.
    So why do I feel like crying right now?
    I think poetry makes me feel like I should be more somehow.

    More romantic, adventurous. We should move to Europe
    We talked about that once, but there’s nothing here I would give up.
    To go there. So, just like yesterday I stay calm and carry on.
    I am, after all, the one they all depend upon.

    I went out and bought sexy underwear, the kind I wear only on vacation.
    It makes me feel like I’ve taken control of the situation.
    I’d write a poem but I’ve got nothing to say.
    White flakes come down and hide the grey.
  9. evelon

    evelon Active Member

    Aug 26, 2009
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    Moving on

    For me, for you, in darkest light
    In deepest day, through longest night
    In pain, in hurt, in loneliness
    In life’s outrageous wretchedness
    To face the foe, deflect its blow
    Think brave and let your courage grow
    And don’t you count the struggle’s cost
    The love that’s gone, the hope long lost,
    When all the heart can feel is dread
    Relinquish tears, hold up your head
    Begin again and start anew
    There will be more, for me, for you
    When past is past, its time is done
    Move on. New life. The old is gone.
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