Weekly Poetry Contest Voting (16)

Poll closed Aug 27, 2007.
  1. Grave Waltz ~ Gannon

    1 vote(s)
  2. In Memory of our Mistakes ~ Baywriter

    2 vote(s)
  3. The Price Of Addiction ~ LikeLightToTheFlies

    0 vote(s)
  4. White Lilies of Death ~ xXx heather xXx

    0 vote(s)
  5. The Dead of Night ~ Cogito

    1 vote(s)
  6. Memories ~ Hulls Raven

    3 vote(s)
  7. Evening Graveyard ~ Sayso

    1 vote(s)
  8. Theme And Variation on the Face of Vacation. ~ SnipSnap

    0 vote(s)
  9. Marble Wall ~ Torana

    1 vote(s)
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  1. Torana

    Torana Contributor Contributor

    Mar 13, 2007
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    Weekly Poetry Contest Voting (16)

    Discussion in 'Monthly Poetry Contest Archives' started by Torana, Aug 24, 2007.

    Weekly Poetry Contest (16)
    Voting Time

    The winner will remain stickied in Poetry for seven days.

    Voting will end 28/08/07. You can vote for yourselfs But i would hope in the name of good sportsman ship you'd vote for a poem you haven't written. But I'll leave that decission up to you.

    Good Luck and happy Voting
  2. Torana

    Torana Contributor Contributor

    Mar 13, 2007
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    Grave Waltz
    Tickle the grave ivories in fortissimo fashion,
    overlain with ebony hard and protrusions ashen.

    Hear them cry as fingers dance to the direction of a master;
    their majesty lingers as you stroke them faster.

    Sad to see them lie largamente, we’d thought it the end: no;
    now once more they charge, building to a crashing crescendo.

    Wild and free the ivory’s sound does fly and roam,
    …. forgotten at night, spectral, brittle and alone.
  3. Torana

    Torana Contributor Contributor

    Mar 13, 2007
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    ~In Memory of our Mistakes~

    Voices: a boy and his lover; she stepped into red.
    Forbidden, it was, touching his bottom drawer like she did.
    “Give it back!” the boy says hoarsely. How could she take his true love?
    Ha! She felt dim-witted indeed for believing his words last night.

    The syringes fell from her hands. (Smiles all around!)
    They met the edge of her heel; she tossed the powder in his eyes.
    The denial begins. He wasn’t using it, keeping it for a friend…
    Rain on her cheeks, she ran out to forget and told him to remember.

    We were best friends.
    You watched me fall and picked me up.
    Why are you making my mistakes?

    She was wet the night before; cold tastes sweet, and he was there to warm her.
    Her gaze and his, star-crossed, and she didn’t care.
    The track marks on his arms shone in her mind like mystic moonstones.
    But… “Kiss me,” she said. (Because it was easy.)

    Now, it’s not so easy, lying over him, dirt and wood in between.
    It’s not so simple, looking at pictures of his laughing face.
    The sound is absent now—now, in the graveyard.
    Her hand glides into her coat pocket. Here’s your true love back.

    Buried with him is her own syringe,
    Rusted now. (Like her.)
    “Kiss me,” she whispers, running her fingers across his headstone,
    Then she smiles softly, patting down tarnished dirt over his love.

    We were best friends.
    I watched you fall because I couldn’t pick you up.
    But I won’t make your mistakes.
  4. Torana

    Torana Contributor Contributor

    Mar 13, 2007
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    ~The Price Of Addiction~

    Before this white stone
    I fell to my knees
    Which no longer had the strength to support me
    As I read your name
    Engraved upon the stone

    But how easy it was to predict
    That you would leave us forever
    Every time you opened one
    And let your entire being succumb to it's bitter taste

    How easy it was to predict
    When you could barely stand
    On your trembling legs
    As you shouted out to those who tried to help
    Cussing them out
    Because you were no child
    Who needed his mother to hold his hand

    And then the nights came
    When you had one too many
    And all your emotions came rushing out
    In bitter screams against your wife
    And threats of violence against your children

    But when your children wouldn't allow it anymore
    And you raced for your car
    You drove away from us
    In more ways than one
    As you fell asleep at the wheel
    And crashed into Death's loving arms

    But now, the anger we felt before
    Has been replaced by sorrow
    For though you are a world away
    I want nothing more
    Than to dig through the ground beneath me
    Just to see my loving Father's face again
  5. Torana

    Torana Contributor Contributor

    Mar 13, 2007
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    xXx heather xXx

    White Lilies of Death

    Walking with flowers,
    (White lilies of death)
    I feel cold, and lonely.
    My heart died with you
    And it was replaced
    With a feeling I cannot begin to describe.

    For years I was with you,
    With your mind
    With your body
    And in that time I learnt to like,
    To almost enjoy your company.
    And at times of despair
    I would lean to you
    For comfort
    For guidance
    For love.

    Walking up the path of the graveyard,
    Stones and tomb lining my way,
    I hear voices,
    Whispering to me through the trees.
    And they sound sad
    And haunting,
    Their song filling my heart,
    Blackening my soul.

    And I stand face to face
    With your grave.
    I can see you.
    I can smell your body,
    Almost feel your touch.
    And I have just one thing to say to you,
    For I know now
    Your words can no longer burn.
    Your fist can no longer fight.
    And I am free from your claws.

    Standing with my scarf round my face
    And my coat fastened tight,
    I lay the flowers where you lie
    And say one thing:
    “Burn in hell you ****
    for I am no longer your slave.”

    Walking away from your grave,
    The bruises no longer hurt.
    The scars no longer show.
    And your voice is no longer heard.
    I am free,
    And I walk away with a smile.
  6. Torana

    Torana Contributor Contributor

    Mar 13, 2007
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    The Dead of Night

    Grey teeth rise jagged
    from black shriveled gums.
    White moon bleeds
    pale rivulets like milk
    between ebon shadows

    A breath whispers chill words
    as black branches creak
    a hiss through shivering dead leaves

    Tolerated, grudgingly, the living are,
    beneath the blazing sun;
    but welcome is withdrawn
    when sky is black.
    The Dead
  7. Torana

    Torana Contributor Contributor

    Mar 13, 2007
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    Hulls Raven


    Time stands still in this place
    Memories of friends and foes come
    Like the wind
    Brothers lost to the night
    Now at peace with the wind

    Once we stood together
    We would drink till dawn
    And sing to the moon
    But now memories
    Once we stood like Brothers

    White stone with nothing more
    Than dates and names
    Some hold a star others a cross
    These are the tombs of brothers
    And memories fading like wind

    The suns would blaze
    As the heat would rise
    We would walk the line
    And we would stand as one
    Like Brothers In the night

    A memory flickers
    A friend lost to the sun
    Quicker than light
    A young face painted red
    A wife in Mourning

    The years pass by and still we remain
    We the lucky few
    We watch over the grieving
    While we stand in the winds
    Looking on a hundred plus crosses

    A widow weeps on her knees
    This white cross all that remains of her lover
    What she fails to glimpse
    We remember the red vomit
    Before the reap

    We stood tall and we stood just
    We were complete but now we stand incomplete
    A son looks at the star but fails to see
    Its value to the honour done
    We remember

    Graves of dirt standing proud
    Men of honour fallen to the reaper
    We met as friends but left as Brothers
    We remember the look of fear
    We remember the loss of life
    I remember the memories forever​
  8. Torana

    Torana Contributor Contributor

    Mar 13, 2007
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    Evening Graveyard

    A line of yew trees guard the land
    from cruel, unforgiving winds.
    Keeping unfeeling residents
    tucked up warm in their final beds.

    The sun shines off the new; blinding.
    With neatly cut grass edging
    and fresh flowers in a vase
    that says 'To Daddy, with Love.'

    Pausing by white marble
    I read the name out loud
    to a face I will never see,
    bringing them briefly back to life.

    With worms from freshly turned earth,
    a startled blackbird races back
    to its family, hidden
    deep in the undergrowth.

    The old ones lean; plain; forgotten
    amongst blades that cover faces.
    The tall and majestic willow
    is the only thing to weep here now.

    Feeling marks not yet covered by ivy
    on the cold granite, does not reveal
    the words left by loved ones
    now lying deep beside them.

    The heavy iron gate
    complains at my passing
    as I make my way, slowly,
    to my own waiting bed.
  9. Torana

    Torana Contributor Contributor

    Mar 13, 2007
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    Theme And Variation on the Face of Vacation.


    Bystanders look upon a
    guilt-stricken face, one with
    a mark of ivory right above the nose
    [in that sensitive place, where
    your eyes seem to melt together
    with the lines that forgo tears.]

    The face is mangled,
    plagued with otherworldly incest.
    It moves north at dawn,
    down Highway 36,
    to a better Minnesota.


    The Morgue family have embarked on a
    splendiferous vacation,
    up Route 36, where they meet
    Flimsy, a Zamboni driver,
    who has "tea" with their children.

    Afterwards, they move in silence
    to a Plastic Place of Death.


    The face is waiting for them,
    behind George Washington.


    "This isn't a real graveyard."

    says the father, with nose not in air.

    "It's simply a figment of your
    imagination, and thus you are
    not real either. How 'bout them apples?"

    "Shup up, Darrel."


    It moves to strike,
    pounces, and
    [since they aren't really there]
  10. Torana

    Torana Contributor Contributor

    Mar 13, 2007
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    Marble wall

    White lettering adorns you
    Loved ones mourn around you
    Flowers wilt and die upon you
    Whilst a soul rest below you.

    We walk the line each day
    Our feet upon that path created a trench
    In which the tears from our eyes did fill
    River of desperation to carry your souls away.

    A place where memories lay dormant
    A place where loved ones hopes die
    A place where no future lies
    A place where innocence is lost
    And the reaper stalks all day.
  11. Heather Louise

    Heather Louise Contributor Contributor

    Dec 10, 2006
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    well, good luck everyone, may the best peice win. :)
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