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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 (175) - On the Street

    Discussion in 'Bi-Weekly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Dec 12, 2011.

    Poetry Contest
    One Hundred and Seventy Five

    Pens at the ready!

    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
    • 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 seven days, closing on Monday 19th December 2011.

    The voting stage will begin immediately, and will be open for three days, ending on Thursday 22nd December 2011.

    And this week's theme is: (courtesy of chatterbox) On the Street

    The next (176th) contest's theme will be (courtesy of MrMormon): Pure Wonder, and it will be opened on Monday 19th December 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. Novemberfire11

    Novemberfire11 New Member

    Sep 17, 2010
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    Old Lines

    Quiet lights pour their contradiction onto concrete better left black.
    Slivery specks of florescent moonshine
    Flood onto the cold sea of tar.
    While weeping strangers take comfort in the anonymity of a warm embrace.
    Fingers coil for the first and last time,
    While lips touch as they have done one hundred times before.
    Old lines and new faces intermingle,
    And fantasies are exactly what they mean.
    Sweet dreams are made and shattered
    in the desolate corners of humanity’s shame.
  3. Cacian

    Cacian Banned

    Oct 25, 2011
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    Mod Con Architecture

    about the walls outside the
    balances out a scafolding
    I lift my head to see what more
    and there it was
    drastically coined
    shinning a shape,
    iconic vigour in disguise
    of glass and metal grafted to hold back,
    a scrapper,
    a sizeable dismay,
    synthetic of a plastic age,
    modern defiance gazing at the skies
    amidst the fracas of a past,
    it stands 'solete
    looking austere
    artifical, surreal on the streets ,
    awaiting time for its release,
    for night time it is all but peace
    lit from the outside as a siege
    and sparked from the inside whilst it sleeps.
  4. One1Winged1Angel

    One1Winged1Angel Member

    Nov 9, 2011
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    Street orphans I
    Street lights hovering
    like the bowed heads
    of sad eyed giraffes
    the swaying palm trees
    of Northern Africa
    shimmering whiskers
    from furious police cars
    brushing against our reality
    leaving us confused
    about the upsides of the situation
    buildings and crying windows
    trying to keep the intimacy compact
    but fail
    in the presence of greater surfaces
    and meanwhile children are awakening
    hanging from our conscience
    like concrete caterpillars
    waiting to blossom
    into blindfolded pedestrians
    waking up in great cities
    walking in great cities
    with their heads under their arms
    and their souls in small glass containers
    which they left on imaginary shelves
    in imaginary homes
    with much simpler lives
    than those of sepia butterflies
    and abstract cuttlefish
    not responding to traffic lights
    or other big city rules
    only laughing
    at the proposed choice of colors
    and words and words and words
    used as heavy artillery
    thrown from fuming human lips
    in all possible directions
    the never ending ammunition
    with casualty vortexes
    participating in war
    that no one even cares about
    or has heard about
  5. seelifein69

    seelifein69 Active Member

    Jun 20, 2011
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    SW Florida
    Stereotypical Statistic

    There's constant repeat in the street.
    Down where the tough kids go to meet.

    Been there over a hundred times.
    Must a heard a thousand rhymes.

    Toting, packing, hustling, f***ing s**t up.
    Can't see they're just another chump.

    Get an education, the teachers saying.
    "With who's money, lady? You payin?"

    Countless faces, all one in the same,
    leave this earth with violence to blame.

    So beat by beat, and shot by shot,
    The hoodlums meet outside the shop.
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