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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 (197) - Broken Love

    Discussion in 'Monthly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Banzai, Jun 18, 2012.

    Poetry Contest
    One Hundred and Ninety Seven

    Weeks come and go, and the poetry contest comes and goes with them.

    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 25th June 2012.

    The voting stage will begin immediately, and will be open for three days, ending on Thursday 28th June 2012.

    And this week's theme is: (courtesy of E.Thomas) Broken Love

    The next (198th) contest's theme will be (courtesy of Britannica): Whispers, and it will be opened on Monday 25th June 2012.

    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. Agatha Christie

    Agatha Christie New Member

    Jan 19, 2012
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    Broken Love (online!!)


    What's happened to my laptop?
    the components are all wrong
    There used to be 'Pete Rockford'
    but now that programme's gone!

    I see his image on the screen
    but it's always coloured blue
    what is wrong with my machine
    I wish I had a clue

    I've looked at 'edit', looked at 'view'
    looked at 'help' and 'options' too,
    looked at 'tools' to change the hue,
    Not sure what else there is to do

    I've clicked on 'save' and looked at 'games'
    I think its very weird
    I'll have to send this laptop back
    'Pete Rockford's' disappeared!
  3. Darkkin

    Darkkin Reflection of a nobody Contributor

    Jun 21, 2012
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    Following the footprints in the sand...
    The Puppet’s Rage

    I know you worry.
    I know you interfere,
    Because you care or think you do.
    But open your ears.
    Listen to a word,
    A voice besides your own.

    For years I’ve gone on.
    Holding out, pressing forward.
    These actions you take.
    The presumptions you make.
    This is my life.
    To make of it what I will.
    I am no child.
    I am no puppet.
    I am no toy,
    Loved one moment, cast aside the next.

    I know you worry.
    But you interfere,
    When help was not sought.
    No words spoken,
    In pain or fear.
    Had you listened,
    My mind wouldn’t be reeling,
    My heart in a blind rage.
    I am no puppet.
    I severe the strings.
    Here and now.
    I stand my ground.

    This is my life.
    Such as it is.
    I go on a day at a time.
    A dream in my head.
    A goal in my heart.
    A delicate balance you seek to pull apart.
    You never understood.
    You never talked to me,
    You take action.
    Steamrolling over one and all.
    Never, ever just letting things be.
    A puppet in a rage.

    Now I stand.
    Alone in the face of this.
    Cutting the strings.
    Breaking free.
    I found a balance.
    Tenuous, but mine.
    A world built on a thread.
    Woven with hard work.
    A dream that would not die.
    A hope, I alone, know.
    That carried me through the dark.
    A hope that knows my words.
    Knows my tears.

    The puppet’s rage.
    I feel it, a stone upon my heart,
    But where others have tumbled.
    I find the strength to say,
    None will point a finger,
    Saying go.
    There to this spot now.
    Do as I say.
    Your voice is not one to heed.
    Foul. I cry. Foul.
    Heed these words for once.
    Know I have a choice.
    I have a voice.
    I have strength in a hope you have never known.

    It was there for all to see.
    The words shining in the lines,
    Had you taken the time to read.
    Now. Now.
    My words scream.
    Leave it be.
    Let it alone.
    A puppet, free of its strings.
    I step away.
    Gently close the door.
    A child gone.
    A favored toy, lost.
    Never to be reclaimed.
    A puppet, free of its strings.
    Like the little wooden boy,
    By a faery blessed,
    I step away.
    My heart twisting in my chest.

    I stand on my feet.
    I listen to my heart.
    With these words I speak.
    The lament…
    The pain coiled in my chest.
    I know you interfere,
    Thinking it is for the best.
    Step away. Step away.
    Listen to me now.
    As I speak,
    A bald and brutal truth.

    My damned, stubborn pride,
    I inherited from you.
    By it alone, I have held on.
    Through thick and thin.
    It has brought a dream,
    Within a pixie’s breathe of reality.
    Pulling from nothing,
    Going on blind,
    These things I have done.
    I leave your edict behind.
    I go my own way.
    Even if it means goodbye.
    Listen before you act.
    Before you make,
    Even the puppet cry.
  4. kyelena2

    kyelena2 New Member

    Jun 2, 2012
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    North Carolina
    A Poem: The Treasure

    The pain is swallowed,

    While the shadows are followed.

    Deep in the distance,

    A path of resistance.

    Repeating every question,

    Struggling with depression.

    Memories are blinding,

    As the intimacy is binding.

    Shame, anger and despair,

    Parallel a happiness, so rare.

    Challenging the morals,

    Not yearning for the quarrels.

    Life becomes defined,

    By an inability to rewind.

    Finding the buried treasure,

    Releases every pleasure.
    1 person likes this.
  5. nomadpenguin

    nomadpenguin Member

    Jun 24, 2012
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    One Less

    When Love broke up,
    some people cried.
    They had been quarreling for years
    and now Lo and Ve were going their separate ways.
    Lo made a life for herself,
    announcing the presence of angels and kings.
    Ve spent his days
    trying to catch the tail end of a laugh
    so that he might have once again.

    When Love broke up,
    there was one less word in the Oxford English Dictionary,
    one less word to describe
    what I felt when I looked
    into your eyes for the first time,
    one less word for when
    you told me you had missed me,
    one less word
    on the list of words
    that you said had disappeared
    from between us
    like smoke leaking through
    a cupped hand.
  6. Tantrika

    Tantrika New Member

    Jun 24, 2012
    Likes Received:
    Chilliwack, B.C., Canada

    I woke up in the reign today,
    And I watched it all fall down,
    And I wondered at what Christ might say,
    If He came to our little town.

    Would He smile with glee,
    At all that we,
    Have wrought with our dominion?

    Heartily applaude,
    Say: "Yay! Good job!"
    Would this be His opinion?


    Would He look about,
    And in OUTRAGE shout:
    "What evils doth thou embrace?"

    "Was it all for naught?
    "Those things I taught?
    "You've forgot your father's face."
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