Baby Rainbow Challenge - Round 2 voting!!

Here are the 12 poems for this round. Please PM me with your vote. ONLY ONE VOTE THIS TIME. There will only be 6 winners, so please just PM me with the number of the poem you want to win. Thank you, good luck all. Will close voting on Monday night and post results on Tuesday :)

ANYONE IS WELCOME TO VOTE ON THIS :)
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#1 Deprivation

[they slither, and they hiss
like talking serpents , as they pass
through those discarded streets.]

his head's a sanctuary of sounds,
where he would hear his father
sing him to sleep.

[they drift, and they hover
like cigarette smoke would
inside that shady space.]

his heart's an ocean, and
women are like waves; reflecting,
and refracting along the shoreline of his life.

[if only I could stop the sky
from raining,

the sky,
from raining]

then, no night would be too long,
but, well, he's drunk and stoned
and he's traveling solo.

[will someone sadder,
please, tell him,
please, tell him.]

his skin's a collage of
despondency; a patchwork of
a midday muse, and

of hysteria.

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#2

Moving, I stumbled across the mug you
always insisted on having your tea from.
Dusty, with the familiar v-shaped chip. The times
you flustered with it before work (you never were
a morning person) seemed like yesterday, and
the faint crescents embroidered on the furniture
(where coasters should have been) masqueraded as moons.

I don't think you ever knew that you were
the world to me. I must have seemed like
Icarus to you.

The key sat heavy as expected on the kitchen counter
as if listening to the swansong of shower singing
four years old.

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#3 Tender Days

Like a child, she cried herself to sleep,
discontinued, tired, missing what she has never had
as the night entered her bruised ego
and another day witnesses her almost extinguished fire.

(Che Guevara, Gandhi, Malcolm X, don't let her lose her tenderness)

Resistance: here we stay, here we claim, here we shout.
Tomorrow again and again:
It never ends and they are trying,
they have been trying to wake up dignity.
She won't bow, they won't bow.
(Susana leads me, Marta leads me, Marcelo leads me.
I am walking with my eyes closed)

Come Che and watch the natural course of things.
Gandhi: there is no solution, there is no answer:
the parameters dissolved with the last confront.
Malcolm - we are here. Here where nobody can see us,
nobody can hear us, nobody can understand us.

And as emptiness extends more one day,
she surrenders herself to another prayer
in somebody else's mouth.

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#4

I can't find you anymore
and there's a landslide in there.
Our feet don't touch the runway and
I never thought I'd say this but I miss
the three-hour plane rides between you
and home. I was a coffee drinker back
then, addicted to caffeine and your
fingertips. An amateur artist on flights
drawing compasses with hearts and
poems. I was the first blind mouse from
three, and I knew your culture loved
threes, three graces, three gorgons,
three furies. Signs of unity and trinity
but we lost these. You've been
consuming my metaphors lately and
I'm not sure when it happened but I
can see the Greek alphabet hand-drawn
on my bones. You are a skeleton
without a resting place and
I can't find you anymore.

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#5

Through her binoculars,
she is able to breathe the Peruvian
Amazon and dismount into a world
where little is known of what haunts
those who try to live.
She is a spirit who warms herself in
the lowlands and stretches her voice
to fit the long, labyrinthine rivers.

Where are we really descended from?
Because as she shadows each brave life,
she realizes how much of a ghost she is
to North America and its routine ways.

What has she been doing?
For too long have those city streets
blocked her chances of waking up.

No, she will no more be still.

Like the water and spring green jungle
that sprout when her skin grows numb,
she will sustain life, all in the hopes
to fix an inanimate heart.

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#6

Of words...

For words were my friend
holding the lifeless breath of sorrow
etched within the crevices of my life.

And it chirped a cupid song
when butterflies played upon my belly
and life was red paper roses.

It was beside me like a shadow
to cast a rainbow of hope
above the silent tears of a broken heart.

It stroked a hue of love
over the untitled memories
to soothe my loneliness.

And words became my existence
when I saw them inscribed
on every wall of my heart
forming the only archive of my life.

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#7

Untouchable

You've shunned my skin
from your lips, and I can't help
but wonder why you don't call me
beautiful anymore. Our pleasantries
fill the day but our smiles never last,
and our accounts have become depleted.

Routines have become habit,
but we never included time for ourselves -
we're everything to everyone else
and becoming nothing to each other.
My heart aches for the times
we used to flirt with our mouths
and laugh with our eyes.

Tell me we'll become 'us' again.

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#8

Below average and Anxious

I fear fineliner on paper,
never began drawing because
ink doesn't crawl back into erasers.

I fear prose, the lack of eloquence,
never wrote a novel despite
the battlefield that's my brain.

As a child, I spent my days
in front of the television.
I wanted to be a television.

I wanted to be princess
and popstar and everything
that fit into that noisy rectangle.

Ten years later I still want to
fit myself into a rectangle.
A gold-scripted, leatherbound rectangle.

But I'm only moving in circles, never
bigger than my head, convincing myself
about second chances and circumstances.

Waiting for something to fall on my feet, so much,
that I can't even bother to finish this poe

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#9

Red paper roses

Red paper roses litter the floor
and condemn me with your undying essence.
Rumors of your deceit coat me
with an epiphany of chaotic thoughts.
Your soft smooth voice caresses me
in a cradle of adornment,
your restless blue eyes provide
a galaxy of my own to explore.
Our shadows chase each other
on the white washed walls,
begging to entwine in passionate child's play.
You build your alter on this sanctified bed,
presenting me as your atoning sacrifice.
Your sweet butterfly kisses of pleasure suffice
as a halo around your head.
Light dances around the room in christmas filled haze.
You lift me above this dying world and set me on a cloud.
The daunting wind knocks on your window
like a thief in the night requesting entrance.
But we shall remain on this bed of red paper roses.
Just you and I.

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#10

You and I.

I draw circles in puddles
with the tip of my finger
hoping to distort the image
that stares and bores.

Windows show me the briefest glimpse
of this mad man that follows me
in the shadows
translucent and uncaring.

Sunlight has him standing more proud
than I have ever been
tall enough to tower
yet darker than my deepest pondering.

He wins the argument in the mirror
his side reversed in such a way
his written word makes no sense
worryingly, he never takes his eyes off me.

He has grown with me
moaned with me
cried fake tears to mock me
pointed back at me
tried to slap me
laughed at me
In a disco ball a thousand staring eyes cast doubt over me.

I can never hide from you,
for when there is rain
and puddles
and rivers
and mirrors
and windows
and polished cars
and cutlery
and chrome
and tin foil
and polished floors
and toilets
and tiles...........................
..................you will always find 'I.'

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#11

How to hold a ghosts hand-

The shadow in my desolate heart,
inspires me to play our favorite piano melody.
It's called how to hold a ghosts hand
something you and I can dance to.

Your scents linger my sweetest temptation,
alluring me to fall in love with your memories.
Oh, how you smiled when our lips touched
as your eyes lit up like the majestic stars.

I can feel your hands lace mine,
the greatest feeling that gives my heart comfort.
Every dusk you give me me a goodnight kiss,
proving that love really is eternal.

(every time I feel sorrow
I know I can hold a ghosts hand).

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#12

"Who said?"

Who said, "Second chances
were supposed to be fun"?
Instead of a crying on a suitcase
she's brandishing a gun!

You better get on your knees
and say, "Oh lord", because your
hitting every step with your chin
as your diving out the door.

You'll have to be more desirable than
just a bouquet of flowers, when you
come back for what she has set up
for you with the showing of her gratitude,
all along the watch tower.

Instead of commenting on how
she looks pretty, you might want
to rethink that and plan on
leaving this city.

Second Chances, no thanks, no Mama.
I'm catching the next flight to Japan!

Before you say, I do and I am, please,
understand Miranda Lambert will be singing
your theme song in front of the bridesmaids,
holding a shotgun, while, keeping
chorus with the band!

The End.

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Great poems y'all this will be a tough vote.

Hardest. vote. ever.

Don't know how you expect us to do this lol!

That definitely was a hard vote. awesome job!

Seriously just one?

Lol, would you all like 2 votes then for this? 1st and 2nd place? There will only be 6 winners though unless there is a tie.

I am very lucky as I don't have to vote, but I do feel your pain as these are awesome poems.

If you would like 2 votes, please let me know and I will leave the voting running through tomorrow and close it tomorrow night.

What's your thoughts everyone???

ps, have only received 5 votes, so please vote if you haven't already voted. ANYONE can vote on this xx

I'd be happy to leave it as it is with 1 vote and get started on the next round for the people that go through :) Unless if when voting closes and there isnt six poems voted on, you could ask for a 2nd place vote then.

I agree. One vote is fine.

Oh I'm just givin' you grief, hahaha. One works fine! :)

Lol, well so far there are 5 poems being voted for, so if there is not a 6th poem then we will just have 5 winners going onto the next round.

Voting will close tomorrow night time and I will post the results then. (Tuesday night)

Still a chance to make it 6 winners, for those who have not voted. PLEASE VOTE :) I WILL GIVE YOU M&M's???? xxx

Thank you to everyone who has already voted.

Your welcome. Xx