The Unspoken Tales - Final Round POEMS

Thanks to the four poets of this round. Here are the poems, sending them off to the judges:
__________________________________________________

POEM #1: A message of Humanity

One Evening,
Canvas Ms. C called Paint Brush Mr. P
to share about a new painting
carved on her.

"Mr. P, today, I helped the artists portray Humanity." said Ms. C.
Mr. P asked, "What is humanity?"
"Humanity means a being acting for another.
I heard the Artists discussing this.
They also wanted to make
an awareness message for the Humans." Ms. C replied.

"Humanity? Is that what humans hail from?
And it symbolizes Love, Respect and compassion for one another?
I never knew humans had
the primary role of Universal peace.

But they have never portrayed
a sign of Humanity in their acts.
They make every being on this planet
a prey to their pleasure.

They seem to have mistaken
their intelligence as
the power of destruction
to victimize even the Environment
they thrive in.

They've replaced the meaning of life to Selfishness
By disrespecting Women, Poaching,
Hunting, germinating nuclear wars to name a few."
Mr. P replies on a sad note.

"But can this come to an end?
Can Humans realize the realm of existence?
Will they ever change for better?
And... stop taking things for granted?" Ms. C asks.

Mr. P replies, "There exists good Humans
whom I have helped to make their peers
realize the meaning of life
yet memories seem to be fragile for humans
as they bury those messages
under the soil of ignorance.

But do we really own anything
to change their perceptions?
or make them breath Humanity alive?
or pinch their minds to Life?"

Ms. C replies positively,
"We all possess the candle of perseverance
which reside in our hearts!
We just need to push
the tender wings of trying,
maybe, it would conquer the world."

Mr. P jumps in excitement saying,
"You're right Ms. Savior!
Let us make Humans know
what they were born from
and wash away the malaise
they write their fate with.

Let them invent their existence again
For they evolved
into a ferocious figure now
marching towards their own termination."

So Mr. P and Ms. C teamed
for their revolutionary thought
as they painted a message for Humans
depicting them the rulers of Humanity
and showcasing their Kingdom
stand firm on Humane pillars.

Their word for the Humans
they wanted the world to know,
which they tied to a Balloon
and it traveled
to every corner of the world.

They wished the Humans
would eye this divine thought
to awaken tot the Truth of Love
and paint the world with the hues of Selfishness
which was faded under the shades of Inhumanity.

AN: I have used Paint brush and Canvas as the main characters and Balloon, spilled ink as the mentions and not live objects(used for creative purpose)

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

POEM #2: In Search of Freedom

Tire memories:
I was his childhood, my donut torso
took him soaring toward his dreams
as we swung from the ancient pine
hanging by my rope-strong arm.

I loved him for his daring: at the top
I could feel him almost lift out of me,
felt his urge to discover flight;
once or more he did fly out - always
succumbing to the treachery of earth.

But then he rarely visited as if the hint
of release were more frustration
than he could bear anymore;
one day he left, never to return;
when it rains my tears collect inside
with no one to cry them out for me.

Balloon experiment:
I was his youth, I carried him through
the portal and into the clouds
where blasts of fiery gas lifted us
beyond the pale of earth's grip.

He loved my great bulbous body,
as I breathed deep in the morning sun,
just as he breathed deeply in sync
and we were one person aloft
wherever the winds chose to carry
our fortunes, adrift in the nimbus air.

Yet it was not enough for him to love me;
we tormented ourselves with fans
propellers and air rudders -
to no avail: we went where we went;
he seemed to lose interest in my taut
frame and brilliant colors;
eventually I became too unreliable,
was put to rest behind the barn
with my shriveled body stuffed
rudely in the wicker coffin.

Boat fortunata:
I am his life now and forever;
my white flesh skims the waves
as he caresses my mahogany
interior, spinning the wheel,
calling for the boom to swing;
I capture fickle wind in my cheeks
and blow it out to the side
without a fig of concern that
it blows the wrong way, for we
form a symbiotic team and take
the wind as an unwilling accessory
and still go where we will.

Going about is sheer nerve and wood:
cloth stretched so tight it whistles
as he pulls my chin into the force
of the blow, I lean to the side, shoulders
nearly to the vertical, my keel & rudder
slicing through the water like a hand
in the wind before he decides
whether to jibe or restore the tack.

Days we spend out to sea together
and I sing to him through the ropes
and we laugh at the dolphins
as they tumble through my wake;
we silently glide into some lagoon,
tie my sails and toss anchor
so that just he and I converse
with the tide and the shore.
Soon enough we will again
fly away on freedom's wind.

AN:
tire swing
hot air balloon
sailboat

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

POEM #3: Noted Needle

The wind took her hand and began to sew
the patterns of another time through the
pockets of a skirt, she began to bleed
her colours, being dragged in and out of blackness,
only glimpsing light for a second before being
entwined in a child's hands as she searched for the
moon and its smile.

And he lay himself down before being scratched and tickled
by the colours of a glitter pen
as it created its story on his skin.
He tried to speak but the force of ink driving itself
across his surface kept him from expressing what he
knew would not die.

Time, curled between the thin line that kept memories
from being hidden in the lining, and etched onto a sticky note
that would find itself buried between newspapers and
magazines...

And the wind caught itself in the morning,
leaving him, and her, to find their own way home.

AN:
Objects used: Thread, a sticky note

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

POEM #4: Reflection

In this warm spring evening
all I can remember
is that lone puddle that begged me
to touch it. It cried for my tiny feet to
gleefully crash into its secrets
like I was the only one
who could ever understand.

I was all about creating memories
in my childhood, my tire swing
becoming my best friend. He could hold
all my fears, my laughter and
the mean things the other girls
said at lunch that day.

I was often alone,
and that was okay, because I made
friends wherever I needed to go -
my imagination became
the best thing passed down to me,
and I lived as a child with no regrets.

AN:
- tire swing & puddle.

For all the poems only one duplication of objects. Very interesting submissions.

I'm surprised there werent more duplicates. This was hard!

I just noticed that too! Great job everyone for doing different objects, and for the few who did more than 2 :]

Reminding the judges.....will have results in before end of this week

Results will be posted either tomorrow or Mon. afternoon by the latest depending on the judge's schedule. Thanks for waiting!