Short sad contest.

CLOSED CLOSED CLOSED CLOSED!

I wish to write a poem,
Of all the things I love,
About something truly heartfelt,
Like a lovers touch thereof.

I tried to think of all the things,
That a poet seems to write,
Friends and girls and trees and birds,
Yet nothing fits in right.

"Think back" I said inside my head,
"To friendships from your youth",
I saw bullies, fights. Mothers gone,
If I was to tell the truth.

It's getting hard to write now,
With tears stood in my eyes,
After 26 years I understand,
My life I do despise.

I struggle more and more with words,
Due to nothing nice within,
But there has to be that one small thing,
I will not just give in.

I searched and searched, then searched some more,
For days; or so it seems,
Inside my deepest darkest thoughts,
And still no light was seen.

So I cannot write a poem,
About anything I love,
Because not one thing can love me back,
Now that push has come to shove.

~Pete.

A Thousand To Go

Beautiful sadness finds me in peace
Crying the tears, I know will not cease.
Time has a way of moving me on
But doesn't erase all things done wrong

In every thought and action I make
I can see just how I bend and break
Oh, and you've taken everything
Is that going to be all you need?

Hope my sorrow tucks you into bed
Hope my face still rushes through your head.
Because that's all I have left of you
It's good enough to drag me down too.

Keep praying your memory dies
For now, it's strong and very much alive.
Another day down, a thousand to go
Pracitce makes perfect, so it won't show.

Charisma*

Deceiver of Fools

I cut myself open just so you can watch me bleed,
But with a look of disgust in your eyes, you tell me:
A selfish, over-dramatic girl is the last thing you need;
So you hold me up on this thread, a heart so free --

I guess love is what I wanted right from the very start,
But all that you gave me is a reason to tear myself down;
So I carve myself out -- starting with my broken heart,
Crying myself a pretty black river to jump in and drown.

They told me to let you go, move on to a new pretty boy;
But my gaze is set on you, with a look of fury in your eyes;
And I breathe in, I breathe out; waiting for you to destroy --
Tear down everything I once lived for, cover them in lies.

It`s so bittersweet now, sitting here staring into your eyes;
Because I know I`m just one of the many oblivious teens --
Who went and fell head over heels in love with your disguise,
Deceiver of fools, you`ve been a heartbreaker since sixteen.

Luring your victims into your touch, with a sense of passion;
Captivating the mood with every line you slur out from practice,
And you dress them in pretty poetry, killing them in fashion;
But I just died in your arms tonight, and I`d kill for one more kiss.

-Jenna Elphick
September 21, 2007

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

If this is confusing, the idea behind it is that many teen guys aren`t satisfied with just one girl, so they lure many oblivious teen girls into their traps with sweet words or whatever their tricks are. And, no matter what the one boy does, you just can`t seem to let him go. I, for one, am one of the many whom have fallen for it..sparked a muse for this piece, hope you enjoyed it. :]

If Tears Were Black

If tears were black,
Her face would be stained.
From all the nights she couldn't go to sleep
Because her pillow was too wet,
Or when she couldn't calm down
So she curled up in the corner and wept.

Her face would be stained
Just like her wrists
With half-hidden scars
That will forever exist.

If they were indeed black,
She wouldn't be able to hide
All the feelings
She holds deep inside.

But tears aren't black,
They're clear and don't stain
So she can hide her true feelings,
And hide all her pain.

******************
this has a reference to self harm but thts not what the poem is about...
just tell me if its not ok and i'll change it :]
but if sall good then sweet!

Time Stands Still {Glosa-Verse}

This is a poem based off the song "Seeman," by Rammstein. The quatrain is from that song. It's part of the style.
----------------------------------------------------------------

So merciless is only the night
In the end I'm left alone
The time stands still
And I am cold
````````````````````````
The autumn wind wipes tears off your face;
Elder women rush to beckon you home.
You are lost amongst the darkness;
Who will be there to hold you
When wind whisks you away?
Shiver in this comfort of fright;
Something finally holds you close!
Hold on to what your memory last saw;
You no longer need them for their light;
"So merciless is the only night."

"Come a little closer," the wind beckons you,
As you grasp onto what thoughts remains.
You're so frightened or quick to forget
They're waiting for you just down the river.
"Come a little closer, my little one," it still beckons,
It reaches your soul; you quiver at bone,
Invisible hands reach around your soul,
Caressing it with hopes of being remembered;
The winds stop; suddenly your wishes are known;
"In the end I'm left alone."

The autumn wind wipes tears off your face
As the elderly women beckon you for home.
There's no where left on these cold streets
Or anywhere else you can call your family.
The moon arises with the stars flanking;
It's God's army you see lighting darkness, and you stand still.
Scamper upon the railing, climbing high;
No one's going to bother coming by,
Wrap your coat closer to you and remember that chill;
"The time stands still..."

You wait for hope and hold your breath,
At the forgotten memories you left behind.
The chill sets in as you release your eyes from the Heavens;
Not even He could save you now.
The autumn wind wipes your tears from your face,
As the lantern light swings on your face as you were told;
"There's death in this place."
The women beckon you inside, but no one saves you;
As you rock off the ledge you sing loud and bold,
"...And I am cold."

-------------------------------------------------------------
Glosa-Verse
A Spanish form invented by court poets in the 14th and 15th centuries. An opening quatrain, called a 'cabeza' is chosen from another poet, or song. The glosa elaborates or 'glosses' on the quatrain with four ten line stanzas, their concluding lines taken consecutively from the quatrain and their sixth and ninth lines rhyming with the borrowed tenth.

xTheEcstasyofSuicidex

Sorry about the delay in closing and judging. i was going to do it last night, but i fell asleep. i will have this done within the next few hours. xxx

1st place, 7comments-Pete. 2nd place, 6 comments-Britt. 3rd place, 5comments- Poetic Genius. Pm me the titles you would like doing and i'll get to them asap.