Step by Step- Round 2 Voting

Round 2 Voting begins today!!

All poems include, their title and their ten words.

Please note that you CAN CAST THE SAME VOTE as you did before. Since these poems are revised or completely redone, it's like voting for a different poem really :)

For the rest of the rounds, including this one, you may now only vote for ONE poem, which you like the best.

You have until Tuesday, April 17 to PM me your one vote.

Id like to give 5 days dues do to the fact that these are long poems and you need time...That's what this challenge was all about anyways right? Creating a story in a poetic fashion :)

All poems have the same number as they did before. You may notice a few missing due to drop outs or not making the deadline.

AGAIN CLUB MANAGERS or ANYONE in a club, pass along the message that still ANYONE CAN VOTE. If you did not participate in this challenge, your vote still counts !

Here are the poems:

#1 Dream Weaver
Prompt: Finding your soulmate
First half: acceptable, believe, calendar, harass, notice
Second half: precede, bottle, humor, intelligent, delight

I etched my hopes into your
skin

deeming illusion as
acceptable
yet forgetting to notice
your apathy's harass
upon the calendar of our love
I fought to believe

enchanted by a whirlwind
I faltered

trembling for the hand
not yet masked with
hope

I reach once more

humor me in emotions
trapped in a bottle
aching to precede
in melancholy
masked by an intelligent
allure leading with delight

for you have always been my
dream weaver

the breath on my lips
pulsating with
anticipation

gone
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#2 Alive and Kicking
Prompt: Being 14 and pregnant
First half: denounce, frame, accommodate, embarrass, blanket
Second half: exceed, immediate, candle, miniature, caress

Denounced by strangers and family alike
Desperately trying to accommodate their every wish
Often left desolate and empty - nothing more to hide - nothing left to give
Only heart ache left wrenching deep within the broken walls of this chest

"You should be embarrassed" they often shout aloud
Never once considering how the events played out
Just a few short months ago I was once your wife
Until that dreadful New Years Eve night.

Do they even consider how I hide under your blanket every night
Tightly clinging to the small wooden barn frame
With your photograph still tucked neatly inside
Longing to feel your hands caress me once more-as I cry myself to sleep

No more candle light dinners for two - you and me
Our lives together came to an immediate halt - a brutal end
No longer seen as a loving and loyal wife standing by your side
Instead I am just a fourteen year old pregnant slut, in the public eye.

Our time together exceeded quickly by - leaving me behind
But now my love; a miniature version of you
Continues to grow abundantly within my belly and heart
As I am pleased to announce we are both alive and kicking.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

# 3 Practical Magic
Prompt: A preachers secret struggle
First half: accident, height, receipt, weather, grateful
Second half: reason, loss, goal, needle, cover

It could of been by accident,
Like a tailor forgetting a receipt,
To his God he feels grateful,
Yet his spiritual height dose retreat.

The weather is nice this day,
Time to take a walk,
The needle of his fear succumbs him,
All the things he was ever taught,

He stands within his reason,
To turn from the pew,
To dance with the faeries,
Under skies ever blue,

It his goal to go to heaven,
And sing praises to God
And cover his eyes from magic,
But now his church feels odd,

His old faith found again,
This new one might be a loss,
But the Preacher still struggles,
The Pentacle or the Cross.........
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#4 Despicable Me
Prompt: An obesity struggle
First half: amateur, rug, equipment, disheveled, paper
Second half: understand, above, skill, hang, deny

I was an amateur when it came to romance
I just could not sweep that detail under a rug
Something inside told me I might have a chance
In spite of my equipment and disheveled mug

Maybe my love could see past the despicable me
If I put my feelings on paper so she could see
How passionate and romantic that I could be
I let my heart, soul and mind go completely free

Feelings I could neither understand nor deny
Would hang strongly in the balance as I sought love
I knew the despicable me would have to die
The only way to rise was with help from above

I had waited long enough to receive my fill
Of what I had only felt every now and then
Desiring with the wish to record with great skill
The beauty of my experience armed with a pen
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
#5 Beneath these Broken Wings
Prompt: A divorced man/woman finding love again
First half: certificate, acquire, exhilarate, ignorance, spoon
Second half: hungry, judgment, neighbor, mirror, possession

I never did learn to acquire
a taste for rainbows and all their
pangs of death.

And today our vows
became nothing more than
a certificate sinking
in the depths of ignorance,
for we knew nothing of love
and its exhilarate touch
of sunshine.

-How foolish I was to believe
a fork could become a spoon-

And between sun and moon
we part and August came
with hungry winds
and moonless air that dripped
with judgement and sneered
in mirrors and wept for the flesh
of a kiss after death

yet the pale remembrance
lay within my eyes like
unspoken words lost somewhere
between the stars

as midnight tears tangled
within my thoughts
and your pillow arched closer
to the hollow of my ache
I breathed in the silence-
of solitude

and it was only in the silence
did I hear the beat-
of my own heart
and beneath these broken
wings lay the strength
to fly again

for I had found
the one I must love first
-a neighbor to my shadow-
a possession worthy to hold
within my hand
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

# 6 History repeats
Prompt: Finding a message in a bottle
First half: conscience, support, fan, inches, worry
Second half: delude, rock, exist, independent,

A piece from the sky fell
into the embracement
of the oceanic waves
located inches far away
from a shore of a non windy land
to later be found
by a fan with a conscience
to support his worry mind
and at the same time
be capable of understanding
the message embottled
deep within the fallen piece.

Until history repeats
the message from the fallen sky
will remain hidden to the rest
of the unfamiliar beings
who later will receive a flying rock
with an independent note
to delude each of them to believe
that a supernatural occasion
of extraterrestrial beings
have finally exist
with the fallen of the note
coming from a non ordinary rock
with a foreigner style of outer-space.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#7 Forever and a Day
Prompt: The birth of your first child
First half: move, private, speaker, research, complicate
Second half: closure, ring, jovial, present, definite

Love introduced itself in my twenty third year,
on the fourth day of the first month,
during the coldest time of the season.

It didn't come strolling in smiling,
wearing a three piece suit,
with blonde hair and blue eyes,
carrying purple roses either.

That kind always went away...

And it came not to the speaker of this poem,
in the old complicated manner,
where once we,
in magic private moments,
swam beneath neon stars,
deep in research attempting to move the moon-
and ourselves.

Instead,
It arrived in a less jovial way,
bearing no ring nor present-
but toothless, naked and screaming,
weighing in at seven pounds, thirteen ounces,
at one o nine in the afternoon.

The moment she was born,
the mother in me was born as well.
I knew those two tiny, brand new hands would be
the same ones holding my tired, old ones,
when my time on earth was almost through.

Yes,
love defined itself that January morning,
through only the echoes of a newborn heartbeat,
I met the greatest love of my entire life.

A love that could not disapear with the rising sun,
or run off into the night, hiding,
getting lost then fading away.
This love had no definite beginning
and certainly no end,
this one would last forever and a day,
bringing closure to my search for true love.

Instinctively,
it came the very moment
I stared into my sweet daughters eyes
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#8 Buried Alive
Prompt: Living with a cheating, abusive husband
First half: wedge, soar, depict, remarkable, shirt
Second half: forth, whisper, congested, nail, flash

She got up at about 6 in the morning
and heated some leftover pizza for breakfast,
looking at the wedge under the door, thinking
about abstract things like how high an eagle
could soar or the reason why Jane Austen's books
depict remarkable women. She herself would like
to be like Elizabeth Bennet.
"Mr Darcy, I love you" Her thoughts exploded on her.
She imagined him without his shirt on.
A thunder rolled in the distance.
"Why couldn't Mr Darcy save me too?"

She went back and forth nervously for some minutes,
saying words that reached inside her:
"If he died, it would be a blessing".
She saw him in a coffin, flowers all around,
La Llorona weeping.
She secretly wished God could hear her at least once
and hated herself for her weakness.
A whisper crossed her overcrowded, congested mind.
She tried to build a wall of resistance against the intrusion
of that dark thought as she polished her broken nail,
deviating her not disciplined mind to something
trivial.
There mustn't be a space there for anger. No, she couldn't
permit it.
What happened next was not great.
A flash of emotion swept over her
and she realized that Mr Darcy would never save her
for there was no salvation for those who are dead.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#9 In a Land Far Away
Prompt: Creating your own country
First half: pattern, brush, demand, complete, health
Second half: purpose, wheel, color, defined, ignite
In a land faraway, where the brush
of the morning is a demigod
pattern...

Right there, at the top of a moon
miniatured lightly in pink
and orange.
Orange; quested in warm rain-
rain leaning over the shoulders
of fate-
fate like a molten tattoo upon
a morning hip.

I'd build my kingdom.
With complete heed and love,
slab it with stars; tap dancing and tipsy
and the light of their blonde hairs would be
barely seen, as if handcuffed.
I would strip a song off all its tunes, unfold its wrinkles
and paint the walls of my corridors
only with the sadness it holds. I'd heap
music altogether, sip it all at once
then split it on my bed.

I'd build my kingdom.
No, not with the eagerness of a
concrete block, or with
tough marble backing me. Nor even
with gold, parading in
my bathroom. I wouldn't either
demand an army with ferrous helmets; the
silver slivers of my land could
embrace my health with total pleasure.

There would be no purpose
of death, anyway.

I'd rather borrow the peerless color
of a sky; tortured and labored by
Winter; and pour it onto
my throne. Adorn the palisades
with larvas learning how
to weave a wreath upon a Lotus,
with worms wobbling along
a widowed wold. I'd wheedle the
wheel of whiskey and whet it with
woolgathering winds then whips it against the
dwellings; it'd be the eighth wonder.

My kingdom would be found
right there, at the top of a moon
cuddling sparrows in its plume.
Cuddling sparrows.
Never sprawled away,
never warmed enough to soar
outside its skin.

I'd loan my arrogance to the color of
space. I'd loan
my frozen homeland to a century
coming from destiny, not time.
I'd loan my froth and marble to
another hoopoe of words and
ignite worn-out wine
at night.

My kingdom would be fairytaled
and roughly defined
like no sultanate, although
nobody would repeat like a
parrot

'Long live the Queen'
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#11 Beyond the Rainbow
Prompt: Two babies being switched at birth
First half: principle, temperature, balloon, irrelevant, compromise
Second half: finance, descend, belligerent, couch, bargain

To Cornac's sidhe ancient takers brought me
and in my stead left one of their own.
Surely, you would think, no good
would come of this abduction -
human infant assuming cuckoo's station.

Carried beyond the rainbow:
no pot of gold, just weary old folk
whose time had been compromised
long before my grandparents' kin
came to ancient shore they called Fal.

Reared there in cradle of another Fergus,
he who walked in my sun, while
they fostered me as son of the principle king.
Uncle Blaine taught me to race in the bog,
to drink mead from Cornac's cups.

He revealed roaring stone now irrelevant
on the mound of abandoned Tara;
we drank Dagda's measure full,
learned to respect Lugh's spear and
warned me not to draw the shining sword.

Yet during it all I wandered through
darkened memories of a mother:
her bedside crib and cooing songs
that lulled me to dreamless sleep
questioning: is all this real or that?

Fey needs exceed those of humans
longer lives but at higher temperature;
more food and drink is consumed,
with foraging raids through sunlit groves
then hearty mead and roast bullock.

As my exploits ballooned in scope
Uncle Blaine betook us a journey
on which he showed me human folk
where an old and sickly sallow crone
sat by a hearth with a white-haired man.

"Its your ma, in mortal life,
and your twin of separate birth."
This wizened codger, my age?
This ancient hag suckled me?
"We age different," said Blaine.

I stared at her, she looked past me,
for we carry not a worldly form.
I remembered again her sweet songs,
mourned the years lost hearing them
then turned to her adopted son.

Great tenderness had he for her -
it was evident as he was man;
then I understood the trip to this plane:
it was her time to go; my only meeting
would be to see her off to the next world.

At the end she lay still on the couch,
so that changeling Fergus gently
closed the lady's vacant eyes and
placed a gold coin in her right hand;
glad I was he'd been her strong lad.

Blaine placed hand on elvish man's hair
calling on Lugh and Bride to carry him;
when done, he straightened up and turned,
then beckoned to me; 'twas time to leave
his nephew to the life as had become his own.

Haunted by questions I am belligerent
now that to Cornac's sidhe we returned.
Why had I been granted a fairy life
while Fergus-Fey made to descend
to human torment of age and ailment?

Resolved I am to learn the truth even
if unmade in the bargain, for what was gained
does not finance the unsung love long missed
in leaving maternal devotion to a shade.
I did not even know my mother's name.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#12 False Identity
Prompt: a muslims life after 9/11
First half: handkerchief, experiment, fallacy, body, misplace
Second half: length, maintenance, hair, erode, ordinary

Handkerchiefs were out to wipe
some of the tears of the 9/11
As many innocent bodies were buried,
kids were orphaned,
families were dispersed
A tragedy that broke many hearts

This fallacy was misplaced
in the hand of Muslims
"Terrorist" was the false
identity taken on by us

But why was that Muslim man,
laying in blood, on a sunny afternoon
Was he an experiment in their hands?

An ordinary Arabic man,
just seeking medication?
He was murdered and
accused for being a terrorist

Eroded by their aggressiveness,
but we didn't generalize that they're all bad

The length of a hair
is between them and the truth
so why don't some
maintenance take place?
To clean up this false identity
Humans are not the same,
there's the good and bad everywhere
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#14Sleeping With the Enemy
Prompt: A soldiers experience after returning home
First half: touch, identity, exuberance, pot, truth
Second half: gauge, influence, bed, latter, conquer

There's a canary on the sill.
A coal-miner's yellow warning light
sings mournfully its own murder, so
my fingers clench and
for a moment I look for bodies around me.

Arms broken, necks broken,
hearts...

A moment of splintered identity, then
I blink and am back to myself.

I see only pots on the stove.
I lay a hand on the burner -
cool to the touch.

But the truth is that
death follows yellow songs.
It rallies in the harsh, bright exuberance
of poisons and flares,
burns and bombs and the
dark corners of doomed
eyes

and here I've forgotten again
the torpid influence of reality.
I've mistaken myself for another,
the latter for the former,
gauged my mind, for a moment,
as whole.

I forgot that while I'm dead
tired from another restless night
in a madman's bed,

I'm frozen in
a suburb of Chicago,
conquered by nightmares
and choking with guilt for
a bird on my window.

I face down the truth. In the dark of every night I'm
sleeping with the enemy -
keeping another silent wake with the quiet
murderer in my own heart.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#15 Invisible Touch
Prompt: Living in a haunted house
First half: Sun, knowledge, source, encounter, block
Second half: Three, forfeit, plague, resolute, bury

Gazing out of my attic window,
The sun tries to warm these frozen lips.

An evil source has held me captive, alone,
Faded knowledge of such a tragic encounter
Leaves me confused, a memory I try to block out.

I wish to forfeit my soul, and live within empty space,
The pain of haunting and being haunted is more than I can bare.

Being a ghost with an invisible touch has left me scarred for eternity,
and My murderer has left a plague of deceit, questions.

I resolute to bury his toxic existence amongst the chains he rattles, daily,
But for now, the clock strikes three am. and it's time for my spirit
To haunt this house that haunts me, every single day.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#16 Brilliant Disguise
Prompt: Faking your own death
First half: omit, parallel, curtain, disbelief, ignore
Second half: street, possible, value, accumulate, drive

Sitting upon this grief ridden pew
hidden in disbelief
behind a veil of torment

Having fallen into
a parallel of omission
that I can no longer ignore

All these people, drifters
mere ripples upon
the curtain of my life

Weeping...reminiscing...laughing

Finding the love I longed for
only streets away
instead of worlds

An accumulation of my own madness
has driven me
beneath this brilliant disguise

Struggling with a lifetime of values
placed within me
possibilities shattering

as I look at my draped casket in wonder

What was I thinking?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#17 After the Sunset
Prompt: Surviving the Titanic
First half: beginning, counselor, socks, interference, baffle
Second half: challenge, punch, hole, vengeance, smile

When the sienna sun
bids its love to the quarter moon,
I'll be awakening
in that subtle distance.]
April drives silently by
with twisted umbrellas
and over-sized tears-
yet I know my socks,
my legs, will stay dry, soundless
while searching you.
I try to hold on,
for it's all I can do when
my breaths become strained
and my heart further
ties itself to your memory.
I watch dawn's new blushes open up
before creation like a
soft beginning of angels,
and I invite their interference
because never, will I forget-
that time cannot change
how we once lived,
on that unsinkable ship.
Your warm russet eyes
are the counselor I respire for,
I cannot be baffled
when I'm surrounded by the passion
of your intimate irises-
they keep me from stumbling back
and forcing myself to drown,
after you,

After the sunset..........

It feels like only yesterday
since water as abundant as the sky,
froze our words, challenging our fingers
to be the only attachment
the only sense of touch allowed.
And it still feels like we are
perched on the rail of that ship,
watching stars settle and midnight wink-
into a sapphire hole of utter
vulnerability,
though it's been a hundred years.
[As if nothing could make us fall
through horizons, as if waters
of vengeance would keep peace....]
I gave all of who I knew to be
for you.
But just as I remember
you dropping from my frigid arms,
the punch of summers' enemy,
your last breath fading like smoke,
I remember your smile-
how I followed you, running
into the vast blue ocean
that would become your home.
I will die by this ocean,
a survivor of our love
and of tragedy's place for me.
I will not jump
without you, my love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

#18 Poisoned Youth
Prompt: An alcoholic in rehab
First half: appearance, camouflage, walk, construct, branch
Second half: force, altitude, blind, intrude, basket
Through the open doors she walked...
steadily creeping forward with fear,
but with a relinquished hope
that she'd camouflage into the paintwork,
cast into the shadows on the exit
from her room...

Her appearance ghostly white with vodka's tiredness,
Sadness would walk along the branch of her drooping eyes...

The bottles were filled with medication
to cure many a soul,
yet it was the ruined whiskey she still craved,
playing helpless mind games
that the routes of evil would construct
in the hours before dawn or the
minutes before dusk...

She'd wander corridors amidst the likeness
of herself...
blind to what she never believed,
forming bonds with many young ones lost over time.

Her poisoned youth fed her kidneys...
with the force of depression,
as the basket of life hung from her soul
sheltering her breasts from the touch
of unburdened warmth...
that may change in the altitude of faith...

her heart
was heavy yet dusted,
distant and free...
for
maybe
just maybe,

Tomorrow will intrude and bring her back
to a simple state of living...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
#19 Who will you run to?
Prompt: A rape victim escaping her rapist

The river is my blanket,
warm and torpid.

I'll bank it with bodiless shrubs,
barbed and blackened, for my
bed will never be warm
again.

Barbs will interrupt
the trespassing of the dog,
so he won't have the fortune
of fueling my bones
like dispensable oxygen.

And I'll breathe
beneath its frosty skin
as the waters will kill my
numbness and drain the sins.

And my eyes, they'll grow wider
against the waters' canvas,
wider and whiter
than they'd ever been.

I heard the river calling
from a distance, while ebony
shadows were chasing me.

And I was running...
I was tripping, tiptoeing
and slipping among naked woods
as blood was seeping, dripping
and mushing against
my sultry hips.

Who will you run to?

I will run to you, river.
I'll hand you my breath.

You're the only who'd lull me
to sleep. And I swear, I will
prepare myself to dream, river.

I'll utilize the sunlight
in shipping hope to the dawn,
beneath your starry waters
as daybreak impresses my
bones and pulls me
away...

I'll run with you, river.

Keep the votes coming :) we have some ties!

LAST DAY TO VOTE!!