Hi guys, sorry for the delay was waiting on a couple of entries, and life got in the way. Here are the poems. Please read them, and vote on the poems! Send me a pm with your 1st place poem, 2nd place poem, and 3rd place poem. I'll tally up the votes and post the results. :)
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Title: “Releasing You”
Poets: “deeplydesturbed and mossgirl19”
Prompt: Wordset (phone, calendar, notes, rain, moon, flower)
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My phone sounded off full volume
And I had chills thinking of an emergency
In my haste, I broke the little bottle of perfume
The only remembrance of you with me.
As the glass shattered on the floor
Tears fell from my eyes
as heavy as rain on an open moor
yet when I looked at the phone I was met with surprise.
The screen said it was but a birthday alarm
Looking at the calendar, I remembered
Maybe to greet you will do me no harm
But my little proud, injured self-dissented.
As the scent of the perfume reached my nose
The heavenly scent of that one flower
My mind went where it always goes
Realising just how much I’d put you in a tower.
I thought I’d diligently erased all the notes
Of you and the sweet love we used to share
Seems I left some memories to stay in my boat
While all the while I pretended not to care.
Today is the night of the new moon
So maybe it’s time I finally release my mind
I’m glad I spilled the last of your perfume
As now all our strings no longer bind.
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Title: “The Sea Foams at Night”
Poets: “BlueJay and Aries Rising”
Prompt: Title + wordset
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I sit at my desk watching the flame of that tiny candle dance.
It flickers and leaps, caught in the draft as the ocean breeze forces its way
past the window frames of this old, rickety shack.
I know that same breeze causes the water to churn,
white horses surging towards the shore.
Although I cannot see it, I know it tumbles rocks and stones
as the stream will tumble autumn winds will drop apples
along its course to meet the sea - somewhere else
where the television doesn't stay on all night and
cinnamon is always wafting through the air.
Somewhere filled with tranquility, unlike this riot
that's raging day after day within this chest of mine.
The sea foams at night and sometimes that's all we need
to save ourselves from the apricot colored hues of
rustic mistakes that almost were,
but never made their way to the sea.
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Title: “Honesty isn’t something I know”
Poets: “Em and Micheal”
Prompt: Title + wordset
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Like being caught out in the rain
I was soaked; in pitiless shame
the day you knew my callous game
drenching your heart in pain
I brought you a bouquet of lies,
petals wept; from your wilted eyes.
The sweet; sensual scent of us; dies
leaving roots; rotten of demise
The Chardonnay nights that we fought,
my feelings; drowned in distraught.
The flowers; felt fake that you bought,
my love; not even in your thought.
The boat; we built with trust, set sail
our hearts; drifted; destined to fail.
A tenderness once; now became stale
the moon; blanched blessings, to no avail.
What a fool; I was, sd let you go
my true colours blossom; now all on show.
Back to a life of more lies; my status quo
Sadly. Honesty isn’t something I know!
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Title: “The Wind Whispers Only At Three AM”
Poets: “Brenda and Larry”
Prompt: Title
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The older I get,
the more sleep eludes me.
I often find myself
curled up in my chair,
gazing out on our moonlit garden,
while the wind whispers its secrets...
I think of you also-
it's been nigh forty years
since I last saw your face.
Another summer, another lifetime ago.
Always wondering,
do you ever think of me?
_
It's too early in the morning again;
lately my soul has drawn me back
to lusty college days loving that girl
on dusty roads in a topless Firebird:
rustic orchards, green alfalfa fields
trees shivering in red and yellow
like overgrown burning bushes,
with sweet apricot brandy on ice
sipped on a hidden gazebo with Her.
-
No-one could hold
a candle to you...
You were like a Sun God;
shimmering in the heat.
The last vestige of summer.
Late nights spent on the phone
when were apart.
Cryptic notes scribbled
on my calendar,
our own language of love...
-
Wonder what would happen
if she were to wander alone
into our library and walk over
to our carrel - would she smile
to find me sitting there - waiting?
But our paths have diverged
each gone to careers, though
my own has become a single file
trudging through the public jungle.
But, it'd not be fair to try to tear her
from the safety and comfort
that she has for her sanctuary.
Still...the dream whispers to me,
borne nightly on the wind at 3 AM.
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Title: “Nightingale”
Poets: “Darren and Maple Tree”
Prompt: Title
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Snow in Autumn falling,
yet hanging on to fresh air
gliding then tumbling, spinning
like the moon shedding a dusty layer
Rustic leaves land upon the earth
slowly dying, whispering
final moments of life
as winter's calling arrives.
I spy the nightingale
eye burning like a candle
beckoning me from my shattered daydream
snow crunching staggering, I approach tentatively.
Cautiously optimistic,
I seek conversation of melody
however I fall deaf to song
and other peaceful endevers.
I expected rain, not this biting cold
flowers hidden, their bloomage carpeted
that bird still watching me
a blot on a blank canvas landscape.
Wishing for color to explode
like confetti during a thunderstorm,
my mood shifts, cheeks blushing,
he heard my mind before I spoke.
I lay on my back, this ice blanket distorting
'Mr Nightingale, you have freedom'
'this whole world to explore.'
drifting away while making snow Angels, pretending to fly.
"You are but a fool to think that seasons bind you,
for within each precious moment, you are given
a light to guide your apricot eyes; you are a fruitfull spirit"
now fly my child, he whispers,
and flys away, under the dark, sultry moon.
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Title: “Untitled”
Poets: “Poetess and hiraeth”
Prompt: Yann Tiersen’s “Mother’s Journey
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we knead our laments into
something palpable into the
early hours of mourning,
growing conscious of the
fact that summer winds
don’t bring enough
warmth for cold homes.
there is no respite to be felt
after murmured prayers
before an altar cluttered
with burned out candles and
nostalgic memories.
the atmosphere blossoms
into something tangible,
something bittersweet
on the tip of our tongues;
we chew on your memories
eschewing momentarily
from the real reason
we've gathered here today.
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