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Weekly Poetry Contest (156) Voting

Poll closed Jul 14, 2011.
  1. The Allure of Distortion ~ Vespers

    1 vote(s)
    10.0%
  2. Works of Art ~ Omega14

    0 vote(s)
    0.0%
  3. Stitches and String ~ another wasted day

    0 vote(s)
    0.0%
  4. Artifact (a sonnet) ~ jo spumoni

    1 vote(s)
    10.0%
  5. Sixteen Years and Sixteen Hours ~ emwinshi

    2 vote(s)
    20.0%
  6. It's a Wonder ~ seelifein69

    0 vote(s)
    0.0%
  7. Skeletal ~ wmcbride1983

    2 vote(s)
    20.0%
  8. The Lover Left Behind ~ Ourosboros

    2 vote(s)
    20.0%
  9. Shapeshifters ~ Radrook

    1 vote(s)
    10.0%
  10. Strawberry Fields ~ Muir

    1 vote(s)
    10.0%
  11. Stuck on One ~ Kontrast

    0 vote(s)
    0.0%
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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 (156) Voting - Broken and Fixed

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Jul 11, 2011.

    Weekly
    Poetry Contest
    One Hundred and Fifty Six
    Voting


    Time to vote!

    And this week's theme was (courtesy of TheHedgehog): Broken and Fixed

    Voting will end on Thursday 14th July 2011.

    Voting for yourself is entirely at your own discretion. I'm frankly sick of discussion on the matter, so any in here will be deleted. If you want to vote for yourself, go for it, but I personally wouldn't do that unless I genuinely believed mine was the best.


    The winning poem will be stickied for a week in the poetry contest.



    Oh, and if I catch anyone cheating, their entry will be removed from the contest and you will be unable to enter a poem into the contest for a month. Sorry to be such an ogre about this, I don't want to be, but rules are rules and are in place for valid reasons. If you can not follow the rules, you face the consequences.

    Best of luck to all entrants, and happy voting.


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

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    The Allure of Distortion
    By Vespers


    From a perfect design,
    An impressionist’s ocean of rainbows.
    The mechanical grindings of hardship beneath
    This array of blotches,
    A fierce contention when corrected,
    Creating a shoreline divine.

    Two swatches collide and create the sea,
    Engulfing a small patch of green.
    A lonely golden sun, overcome,
    Blushes with hues of fiery red.
    The last meek bastions of fair ivory
    And clusters of citrus-orange
    Want not with the others to compare,
    Yet long for their equivalence near.

    Gyrating beneath my hands,
    Like an ill-maintained lawnmower—
    To turn your firm sides in my palms
    Would be heaven to my unrequited heart.
    Your facets beckon me like brilliant stars,
    All glowing brighter than Apollo himself.
    O ye cube! Rubik is forever gratified in you!
     
  3. Banzai
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    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Contributor

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    Works of Art
    By Omega14


    Falling, falling to the floor,
    then SMASH! My antique jug's no more
    a work of art, a priceless thing.
    Instead, it's shards. I think I'll fling
    it in the bin. But as I pick
    the pieces up, I think to stick
    them in a frame, and look: I'll make
    a priceless antique jug mosaic.
     
  4. Banzai
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    Stitches and String
    by another wasted day


    They closed him up
    With ribbon and string
    To suffocate the sting
    1,2,3 four cell walls
    Underneath the crying calls
    The truth he knew
    Of stitches and glue
    Nothing repairs
    Such honest despair
     
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    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Contributor

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    Artifact (a sonnet)
    By jo spumoni


    Six thousand years ago, a woman carried on her head
    A vessel made of clay
    To carry water to a town long dead
    In the heat of a summer day

    And her bare feet hit the sand
    And her old limbs creaked and sighed
    And she stopped to take a hand
    And wipe her forehead's dampened hide

    And down tumbled the vase
    Which glittered in pieces on the ground
    And down fell teardrops from her face
    As she cried without a sound

    The shards fit together on the shelf, and we tourists bend our backs
    And only imagination remains to fill in mosaic cracks
     
  6. Banzai
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    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Contributor

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    Sixteen Years and Sixteen Hours
    By emwinshi


    Sixteen years of faith
    Only one person he cared
    One body he touched
    And one heart he shared

    Time brought on troubles
    She slept through the days
    Always hating herself
    And whatever came her way

    No reason or cause
    The pain still remained
    No doctor could help
    The depression that stayed

    One at a time
    She swallowed a pill
    Till the bottle was gone
    Her pain went still

    She drifted asleep
    Her dreams were deep
    He sat by her side
    Using his guilt to weep

    His world seemed to end
    Watching his love in this bed
    Hoping to live that one day
    The vows he once said

    Her eyes opened slowly
    He squeezed her hand tight
    Things were going to be okay
    He hoped through that night

    They returned home
    Love rekindled their past
    Only to fade quickly
    The depression came fast

    She was a one-time thing
    A cheater dissolved a dream
    Of I do’s and I love you’s
    Vows broken at the seam

    That ring that circled her finger
    He broke with a kiss
    She left her home saddened
    No longer hidden in bliss

    Anger and hatred
    A betrayed heart
    Feelings she felt
    A new life to start

    He made a mistake
    This he did know
    He wanted her back
    Her love to regrow

    He was her support
    The one she leaned on
    When her times were tough
    And she needed some calm

    She discovered her strength
    She had buried with in
    No longer needing support
    She used to get from him

    His life become lost
    In regrets from his past
    No grasp on reality
    He was unraveling fast

    His misdeeds were forgiven
    She loved him too much
    But she still moved on
    Alone but in touch

    To this day he’s still lost
    His regrets are his fears
    He misses her touch
    Her kisses and tears

    Once she was broken
    But now she is fine
    No regrets no lost love
    She learned over time

    He was once fixed
    But now he is broken
    Searching for forgiveness
    In all words he has spoken
     
  7. Banzai
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    Banzai One-time Mod, but on the road to recovery Contributor

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    It's a Wonder
    By seelifein69


    A watch in his pocket
    A mouse by his side
    A thimble of margarine
    A hat full of pride

    A madman who's shouting
    to the left and to the side
    a rocking horse and dragon
    in mid-air to glide

    An Alice is watching
    her tongue a quickly tied
    the horsemen are coming
    in the teapot she hide

    When Jabby was slain
    the white queen she sighed
    for the Alice had conquered
    and the castle they ride

    Then Hat said goodbye
    his heart a bit mixed
    His watch and his mind
    Both broken but fixed
     
  8. Banzai
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    Skeletal
    By wmcbride1983


    And these walls come tumbling down
    ebbed away by this need to speak; concealed
    venture forth from reclusive calm
    display to all my true face, revealed.
    All these safeguards have failed me now
    tattered remnants of emotion laid out bare to see
    bruised and neglected, these feelings cry out
    stripped and skeletal; strengthening.
    But for this stand, this last embrace
    (and give the girl a kiss)
    (put a gun to my lips)
    (place this razor on my wrist)
    (fuck this parody of a dream; was it worth all of this?)
    I stand before the world skeletal, of my mask not a trace.
    Sick of the bile rising, for when the day has gone
    you have the audacity to call me a good person
    knowing not of what I've done.
    Cast away this affliction, this curse it is to feel
    love as much my downfall as hatred, spite and fear
    Become at once cold; now collected
    and from this instant I'll never be the same
    slipped away beyond being vulnerable
    Skeletal; ever will I remain.
     
  9. Banzai
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    The Lover Left Behind
    By Ourosboros


    1.
    “didn’t happen”

    hiding in a self-constructed cave of hay, she knows that
    people sometimes shadow the clouds looking for delusions
    or trips to hope. surely it’s all mental, and she’s alive
    her purple lips and eyelids a result of just not enough sleep
    tells herself she should sleep more, that when she awakens
    she’ll kiss her again, and her brain will give up its ideas
    of ran-over lights, red liquid streets, and damaged cars
    she smiles, she resolves that tonight she’ll tell the stars
    not to mourn, that after all, they are immortal, “she and I”

    2.
    “the world hates you”

    sinking her teeth into the old dirt
    the flesh of the grass grasps her tongue
    and holds her still. tranquilize, child, tranquilize
    she sends a letter in her mind to the world:
    where do the colors of her eyes lay? are they now
    left to be projecting memories into her closed eyelids?
    where have you left her? she waits, waits, guesses
    everywhere and nowhere, is that what you’re going to say?!
    the world stops spinning, but doesn’t answer.

    3.
    “blame the others”

    running from the red gravel streets, she stops to look
    at the cars, the people, the people. she knows that
    they’ve killed her, turning her body into broken porcelain
    that in their malice, they painted her with splotches of red
    here and there, trying to degrade her green-eyed Clara
    she tries to scream away their metal looks, to make them
    look away from the remains laying on the street
    she kicks, flips over the world, then enters their minds
    surprised to find no conspiracies, yet no mourning.

    4.
    “introduction to the aftertime”

    crying, she flips over the page of the album of pictures
    that is now more water than colours. looks at the photograph
    and smiles, she recognizes the white sand, and remembers that day
    from the picnic, to the wine, to the small, but beautiful drunk kisses
    she touches with her fingertips a smile, two hands, a ring
    then the cliché sunrise background. a tear falls and merges
    with the waves of the ocean, adding more salt to the water
    reads the caption “to the happily ever after”, and smiles,
    closes the book, whispers “nevermind, my lover”.
     
  10. Banzai
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    Shape Shifters
    By Radrook


    No one would have suspected
    Not by the angelic smile and cherubic countenance
    Not by the sweet demeanor

    Perfect chameleon par excellence
    The insidious malevolent shape-shifter
    The fifth column that brings an army to its knees

    You humble them all by your efficiency
    By your well-hidden claws
    and your retracted fangs

    By your loving gaze that hides hatred
    By your familial posturings to lower the guard
    By you hipocracy


    "It's the Humpty Dumptiness of it all!"

    You once jested! and I misunderstood.

    Granted you sainthood
    Elevated you to royalty
    The epitome of benevolence

    You, the destroyer who takes no prisoners
    and damages the hearts of living glass



    II

    No one would have dreamed it
    Not by your twisted smile and warped countenance
    Not by your bitter demeanor

    Perfect chameleon par excellence
    insidious benevolent shape shifter
    Faithful fifth column that raises an army to victory

    You humble them all by your honesty
    by revealing your claws
    and exposing your fangs

    By your disinterested gaze that hides compassion
    By your unassuming posturings which require no guard
    by your sincerity

    "It's the Humpty Dumptiness of it all!"

    You once joked and I understood

    But refused you sainthood
    Denied you royalty
    Or epitome of benevolence

    You, the one who liberates prisoners
    and repairs the hearts of living glass.
     
  11. Banzai
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    Strawberry Fields
    By Muir


    We took more days than we could count,
    like children up to no good
    in the ripe strawberry fields,
    we'd pluck fat memories
    and stolen moments with glee;
    you tried to stuff them into pockets
    to save, but they wouldn't hold.
    We laughed, juice stained hands
    still sticky from affection
    nobody else would know.

    I am unrooted by the jarring reminder
    of your absence as my mind
    aligns to the light;
    it licks my face clean of night thoughts
    like a patient dog whose job
    it is to announce reality.

    I won't hear your laughter again,
    it says, all I have left of you is
    as much recollection as I can
    grip in my white knuckled hands.
    Yet the edges fray, a formless ghost
    wearing itself thin to please me.

    Each hour erodes my sand castle
    of memory further, an inevitable
    tide creeping forwards inch by inch
    to swallow you, and I can't tell if
    it's wicked or kind, but I know
    damn well who wins in the competition
    of anything vs. time.

    The scales had to shift eventually,
    too many times we forgave each other
    for bumping around in the dark,
    bruising places more tender
    than others with whispers of kisses.

    All I remember is to breathe,
    falling into a million grains of sand
    on the exhalation.
    In my mind I try to turn my face
    from you, pretend I can't feel
    your hot form shuddering beside me.

    I break into base elements
    that will rise again on the inhalation;
    this is what I am made of.
    This is what I am without you,
    a puddle minus the spark
    that causes life.

    In the strawberry field, the sun
    lags under its own weight,
    and if I close my eyes you are
    just the shade of a man
    propped against this colourful
    backdrop I've created.

    The ache is expected, and nurturing itself
    in the hollow of my chest like a
    misplaced hunger, a bout of indigestion.
    There's a ruddy tint to my fingernails
    still that won't surrender to
    hot water and soap, though I wish it would.

    I breathe in, the struggle of each
    attempt to reform myself like clay
    without a master's touch.
    Essentially the same yet,
    my god, how you've changed me.
     
  12. Banzai
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    Stuck on One
    By Kontrast


    I despise your twisted hands
    the way they tell me things
    to a point-
    when discretion is preferred

    especially when they dictate:
    eat alone, sleep alone...
    wake up...yes that's right...
    alone!
    Thanks for the reminder

    I could crack your face open,
    rip out your livelihood,
    and glare at the parallel
    pathetic reflection

    but with my luck-
    we'd be stuck on one
     
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