Rising up again out of
the dead of winter
and night it comes so
ferociously wisping
darting past your eyes and
settling in the soul
Reaching for it I brush
hair from your face
and innocence from your eyes
and hold your gaze for
so long and often
that we forget space
Space that holds our forms
to brave our fools'
intentions
Space that gives us precious
freedom anonymity
and hope
Space that forces my hand
into yours
A/N: Probably should put this one in the next contest...
Meta-Graveyard
look at me now
so cool
with my lowercase bow
a rule
gonna underhand smack
a fool
got my vibe in a jibe
and who'll
be right,
for me,
you can see,
that it's not all it's cracked up to be
what's it,
it's me,
I've got holes poking out of my fantasies
feel good,
complain,
let the rules fall apart to explain
I've got lighters in my pockets and gas running from my heart to my brain
there's a wind blown
cars overthrown
in the sewer landed down in the ☺☺☺☺
there's some feet found
stalks pointing up
like the remnants of some trees we hit
and the rest of the moves putter out on the sly
I'm stuck observing all the graveyards of what passed me by
and I feel fine,
I feel fine ...
we used to be leet,
and we used to be bitter,
the net was vast,
the words "infiniter",
everything self-made,
not polished with shine
like the things we have now,
all modern and fine,
a frontier still large but closing up fast,
the new frontiers redux, online wild west
but our dreams are dead
so fast
and the boomtime's been put
to rest
try a construct or two
fall down
do what you want to do
but now
it's all so restrictive,
the designs proscriptive,
there's still places to look,
but you'll never come up with more
we feigned cool at first,
but now that we are it's a bore
I've got holes poking out of my fantasies
and I used to be cool
but now I'm a poseur with no brain
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
After eighteen years of sifting through
Secondhand sources, rumors, internet searches,
I finally found a scent, and followed it,
Like a bloodhound to a criminal,
That led me straight to you.
It has always felt strange,
Like looking in a mirror that doesn’t
Show your own reflection, as I wake up
To each day’s dawn, not knowing
Who pushed me into this world,
What you would think of me,
Or what you would want me to do.
Each fall, on rainy days before the start of school,
I would sit in my room for hours,
Eyes shut, my mind an empty easel,
Listening to nothing but the pitter-patter of raindrops
Crashing into the cement outside,
And trying to imagine the face that wouldn’t –
That couldn’t – wish me a happy first day.
First, I’d conjure up my own face,
Sullen cheeks with a rosy sheen,
And up-tilted nose that sat alongside plump, thin lips.
Then, I’d try and find hints to your features among them,
But I could never really know for sure.
I hope you can show me.
She stands before him,
this man whom she has loved.
Without question,
she has given freely of herself.
They are connected deeply.
She reaches out,
but he does not feel her touch.
She is as tangible as the wind,
Fleeting, barely there.
He is as numb as death.
She whispers his name,
yet he does not hear her.
Her voice is soft,
like a feather floating gently.
He is as deaf as ignorance.
She touches his lips,
still he does not taste the salt.
Her skin is hot as fire,
but his saliva will not cool her.
He has no taste for this.
Her perfume is enchanting,
why can he not smell it?
She radiates musk and lilacs,
his favorites, so she thought.
He breathes deep with no reaction.
He looks through her
as though gazing at a window.
She stands before him,
yet he does not see.
He is as blind as justice.
Confusing, she will not accept it.
Though it has been... forever,
since she stood before him last.
Why does he not sense her?
She is as gone as yesterday.
A/N: Well ... I'm looking at my poem for the last round, and egh. It's ... I remember thinking it was odd, before. Maybe it's OK.
But here!
backwards unwritten
cupid stuck me with a sickness
in the end
all that comes to mind is
toast my obsolescence
sorrows falling into glass tears
She is?
like a million thousand miles away
immature
overwrought tension
like the end of a dream
reason
this is the story of a man who lost
like that,
a snap
gotta get down with that
and the rhyme's no reason to get down on that
she's a psycho,
she's crazy?
Really?
They say.
I gotta risk it,
deny it,
pull to the side and watch it,
it's like a train wreck,
closing fast,
two trains chugging steady and neither lasts,
were we in love or were we just fronting
was I in love or was it a dream
listen
Listen.
Listen!
LISTEN!
HEY!
HEY! LISTEN!
...
Great, now you're dying. If only you'd just
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
We go from day to day
on our hopes
and on our dreams
hoping tomorrow will be better,
and all will be our way,
no more wars,
no more death,
to be with the one we love
and never be taken away,
forever in each other's arms;
this is the hope for another day,
a better day.
What is life
without hope,
without dreams
without tomorrow?
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
"The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant what we should voyage far."
Thundering sunrise
Moonlit tread
Road seemed to rise
Feeling dread
Sensing death
Emotions hidden
Life’s last breath
Is a treasure forbidden
Eternity beckoning
Lives unimportant
Immortalities reckoning
Sensed, like a portent
Divinity dissipating
Deities relating
My pulse quickening
Footsteps faltering
My eyes squinting
Stairs ascending
Non-relenting
I look into the sky
It simply stares back
Why am I here
Feelings begin to rise
Dissolving into black
Nothing left to fear
Heart palpitates
Knowing no pain
Events solely berate
Courage thought of as vain
I take another step
Nearing my goal
Appearance unkept
Except in my soul
Ascent complete
I turn and look
What a feat
Remembering life like a book
I look down the steps
Realizing my journey
All my worries and frets
All a mere memory
For here all is pleasure
A life of happiness
Many have sought this treasure
Held back by a bodily harness
Finally I am home
It is incomprehensible, at least
starting, but we are familiar now:
I have taken all the mirth
from your hands in the air, and
joy is a crooked smile and
--------------------wink.
Familiarity is the best feeling of all, though,
I tell myself as I brush past your sleeve
again, and proffer a grin. I am sincere as can be
and so are you, but it is nothing once
again, so instead of pocketing a backward glance
I’ll pretend to have all the dutiful
predilections of a postmaster, looking back
only when I’m ahead of schedule,
clinging to the view of your swaying hair
with all the tenacity of a handwritten letter.
And there she stands again,
Waiting.
A silhouette against the tapestry,
The unfolding thoughts
Of yet another dream.
Her touch,
A lingering presence;
Illuminating,
Bringing to conscious
My lust,
My anxiety,
My fear.
To think,
To hope,
To believe that such an angel,
A being so perfect,
So beautiful in body and mind,
Could enter my mortal world.
To what lengths would I go?
What inner demons shall I fight?
I know not my charge;
But for one so pure,
I must strive,
Give all that I have to give,
To make myself known.
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
And you, too, are one of us, and yet you are not. In your words I hear anger, hatred. I see a darkness that is not cold and lifeless, but is alive and moving, like a living entity. I feel caged, trapped, a yearning for escape. --Death Gate Cycle Volume 3: Fire Sea
there is a reason why great poets know
you see the power comes from the message
from the identification
who is there to identify with if you do not identify with yourself
or, at the very least,
fake it?
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Stifle has offered the post of PRC Host to me; I accepted.
Though, he has mysteriously disappeared from MSN / forums these days. I wanted to ask him if I could start already. He haven't posted about it here, but I'm sure he will.
Breaking news.
There will be no Tibalt, Tamiyo, Tezzeret, Garruk, Chandra, Liliana, mini-Jace, big-Jace, Garruk again, or Sarkhan in Theros either.
There will also be no Black Lotus.
Are we gazing out an open window?
Does the hollow wind spread out its arms?
Are our ancestors searching for a lit candle
to guide our way from harm?
I long to scale the coyote canyon
Profess my love to lady moon
From my eyes flows a river of remorse
For the loved ones I leave behind too soon
A rowboat tethered to the abyss
I stand here all alone
Forlorn souls shall not drown
save for the bones
Elevate my thoughts.
Ingratiate the pearly gates:
wipe the mind with gloss
Private Mod Note
():
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
my mouth is full of winsome lies -
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
within his words I search for secrets, that with each passing age erode, and he has wrought inside every measured syllable a careful symbol leading to the supernal road.
these wisdom dense verses mimic perfectly the labyrinthine passages of mystic text which had served to inspire his countless introspections and keen observations of this world and the next.
i used to want to be a heron,
drowning down winter showers.
i used to be a natural nothing,
writing dada in god's shadows.
but now and here our nonsense knows
the boundaries of the sea keep pushing,
and if the stars blink, and everything snows,
aggressive playground hearts will keep us breathing.
once more into the bleach
composing forthwith neverminds,
in our tastes lurks a tiny luna moth,
with dyed hair and coked out eyes.
i'd say you spin me right round,
if we weren't too post-ironic to care,
but the running shoes of apollo
are on my drunken feet falling down the stairs.
if you think about money
and you think about leaves
consider burning both
considering the circumstances we're in
if you hold a cup too tightly,
leaving fingerprints on the glass,
you don't know your own strength.
i've become energy without mass,
tying twine around time,
moving lakes and oceans down a line,
directing current, courting Poseidon,
and blowing myself up with glass
what makes me feel smarter
makes me act dumb
leaving your body is a bad idea,
as a general rule of thumb.
passion, discord, fury and sound,
i am the televised idiot,
who, today, died outloud.
Rising up again out of
the dead of winter
and night it comes so
ferociously wisping
darting past your eyes and
settling in the soul
Reaching for it I brush
hair from your face
and innocence from your eyes
and hold your gaze for
so long and often
that we forget space
Space that holds our forms
to brave our fools'
intentions
Space that gives us precious
freedom anonymity
and hope
Space that forces my hand
into yours
A/N: Probably should put this one in the next contest...
------------------------------------------------------------------
ROUND 74
Round ends on December 14 or after 5 poems. (The first entry being sentimentGX4's)
look at me now
so cool
with my lowercase bow
a rule
gonna underhand smack
a fool
got my vibe in a jibe
and who'll
be right,
for me,
you can see,
that it's not all it's cracked up to be
what's it,
it's me,
I've got holes poking out of my fantasies
feel good,
complain,
let the rules fall apart to explain
I've got lighters in my pockets and gas running from my heart to my brain
there's a wind blown
cars overthrown
in the sewer landed down in the ☺☺☺☺
there's some feet found
stalks pointing up
like the remnants of some trees we hit
and the rest of the moves putter out on the sly
I'm stuck observing all the graveyards of what passed me by
and I feel fine,
I feel fine ...
we used to be leet,
and we used to be bitter,
the net was vast,
the words "infiniter",
everything self-made,
not polished with shine
like the things we have now,
all modern and fine,
a frontier still large but closing up fast,
the new frontiers redux, online wild west
but our dreams are dead
so fast
and the boomtime's been put
to rest
try a construct or two
fall down
do what you want to do
but now
it's all so restrictive,
the designs proscriptive,
there's still places to look,
but you'll never come up with more
we feigned cool at first,
but now that we are it's a bore
I've got holes poking out of my fantasies
and I used to be cool
but now I'm a poseur with no brain
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Look out the window, little girl,
And tell me what you see,
Can't you see her playing
Under the willow tree?
Tell me how the melody
Meets with the lovely breeze,
How she looks so beautiful
In the midst of raining leaves?
Look out the window, little girl,
And tell me what you see.
Is it not a silhouette of
A person you could be?
I know that you are dreaming.
But here you are with me,
Sitting on the window sill,
Longing to be free.
You'll never be as lovely
As the girl by the willow tree
If you choose to stay here
And gaze so emptily.
Look out the window, little girl,
And tell me what you see.
Will you find your destiny,
Or just sit next to me?
Because I spent my life in dreams
Longing to be free
I will nevermore grow
To be more than what I could've been.
Do not share the fate I have!
Little girl, do this for me.
Please become the lovely girl
Underneath that willow tree.
Took the back way out the door
The autumn breeze kissed my face
An inviting smile from the moon
Stars like a million city lights
Felt the change in my pocket
Keys in the ignition
The old engine coughing blood
Backing out the driveway
The old swimming hole
The old barnyard
The old house
My parents
It just escaped me
I’ve never felt so free
Tears of anguish
Tears of joy
A begrudging smile of acceptance
I know I’m happy.
Three vacant chairs, one occupied
thought alone - he's accompanied by
the dining table and it's utensil kin.
Along with them are:
The stench of powdered MSG,
a waste basket brimming with disposable plastic
and the essence of time in it's three minute pause.
During the wait,
The lone man and his crust-filled eyes
meander upon an open cupboard.
When realization dawns,
his tear ducts crank a stream of rain.
His face is moist,
due to what he's seen.
A stack of Tupperware
neatly arranged by color, by shape
embodying the role of collection and completeness.
A quality his own family now fails to express.
------------------------------------------------------------------
ROUND 75
Round ends on December 21 or after 10 poems.
After eighteen years of sifting through
Secondhand sources, rumors, internet searches,
I finally found a scent, and followed it,
Like a bloodhound to a criminal,
That led me straight to you.
It has always felt strange,
Like looking in a mirror that doesn’t
Show your own reflection, as I wake up
To each day’s dawn, not knowing
Who pushed me into this world,
What you would think of me,
Or what you would want me to do.
Each fall, on rainy days before the start of school,
I would sit in my room for hours,
Eyes shut, my mind an empty easel,
Listening to nothing but the pitter-patter of raindrops
Crashing into the cement outside,
And trying to imagine the face that wouldn’t –
That couldn’t – wish me a happy first day.
First, I’d conjure up my own face,
Sullen cheeks with a rosy sheen,
And up-tilted nose that sat alongside plump, thin lips.
Then, I’d try and find hints to your features among them,
But I could never really know for sure.
I hope you can show me.
this man whom she has loved.
Without question,
she has given freely of herself.
They are connected deeply.
She reaches out,
but he does not feel her touch.
She is as tangible as the wind,
Fleeting, barely there.
He is as numb as death.
She whispers his name,
yet he does not hear her.
Her voice is soft,
like a feather floating gently.
He is as deaf as ignorance.
She touches his lips,
still he does not taste the salt.
Her skin is hot as fire,
but his saliva will not cool her.
He has no taste for this.
Her perfume is enchanting,
why can he not smell it?
She radiates musk and lilacs,
his favorites, so she thought.
He breathes deep with no reaction.
He looks through her
as though gazing at a window.
She stands before him,
yet he does not see.
He is as blind as justice.
Confusing, she will not accept it.
Though it has been... forever,
since she stood before him last.
Why does he not sense her?
She is as gone as yesterday.
But here!
backwards unwritten
cupid stuck me with a sickness
in the end
all that comes to mind is
toast my obsolescence
sorrows falling into glass tears
She is?
like a million thousand miles away
immature
overwrought tension
like the end of a dream
reason
this is the story of a man who lost
like that,
a snap
gotta get down with that
and the rhyme's no reason to get down on that
she's a psycho,
she's crazy?
Really?
They say.
I gotta risk it,
deny it,
pull to the side and watch it,
it's like a train wreck,
closing fast,
two trains chugging steady and neither lasts,
were we in love or were we just fronting
was I in love or was it a dream
listen
Listen.
Listen!
LISTEN!
HEY!
HEY! LISTEN!
...
Great, now you're dying. If only you'd just
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
on our hopes
and on our dreams
hoping tomorrow will be better,
and all will be our way,
no more wars,
no more death,
to be with the one we love
and never be taken away,
forever in each other's arms;
this is the hope for another day,
a better day.
What is life
without hope,
without dreams
without tomorrow?
H.P. Lovecraft
Thundering sunrise
Moonlit tread
Road seemed to rise
Feeling dread
Sensing death
Emotions hidden
Life’s last breath
Is a treasure forbidden
Eternity beckoning
Lives unimportant
Immortalities reckoning
Sensed, like a portent
Divinity dissipating
Deities relating
My pulse quickening
Footsteps faltering
My eyes squinting
Stairs ascending
Non-relenting
I look into the sky
It simply stares back
Why am I here
Feelings begin to rise
Dissolving into black
Nothing left to fear
Heart palpitates
Knowing no pain
Events solely berate
Courage thought of as vain
I take another step
Nearing my goal
Appearance unkept
Except in my soul
Ascent complete
I turn and look
What a feat
Remembering life like a book
I look down the steps
Realizing my journey
All my worries and frets
All a mere memory
For here all is pleasure
A life of happiness
Many have sought this treasure
Held back by a bodily harness
Finally I am home
Thanks for reading
Soft mouth did itch
whilst holding my breath
As naughty as a cat
Off the flock I slid
To strip off the cloth
and get rid of this stench
it's not an easy task
almost a myth to accomplish
hold it back
(With a grit on the teeth that phagocyte all belief
it was not by accident I survived)
I've got a sweet accent
So let me spot
some butt to prick,
ear to vex, like a moth
Let me quench all the flash
Before cathartic lights stop
You see, I'm not resilient
in this symmetric grammar
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
It is incomprehensible, at least
starting, but we are familiar now:
I have taken all the mirth
from your hands in the air, and
joy is a crooked smile and
--------------------wink.
Familiarity is the best feeling of all, though,
I tell myself as I brush past your sleeve
again, and proffer a grin. I am sincere as can be
and so are you, but it is nothing once
again, so instead of pocketing a backward glance
I’ll pretend to have all the dutiful
predilections of a postmaster, looking back
only when I’m ahead of schedule,
clinging to the view of your swaying hair
with all the tenacity of a handwritten letter.
And there she stands again,
Waiting.
A silhouette against the tapestry,
The unfolding thoughts
Of yet another dream.
Her touch,
A lingering presence;
Illuminating,
Bringing to conscious
My lust,
My anxiety,
My fear.
To think,
To hope,
To believe that such an angel,
A being so perfect,
So beautiful in body and mind,
Could enter my mortal world.
To what lengths would I go?
What inner demons shall I fight?
I know not my charge;
But for one so pure,
I must strive,
Give all that I have to give,
To make myself known.
there is a reason why great poets know
you see the power comes from the message
from the identification
who is there to identify with if you do not identify with yourself
or, at the very least,
fake it?
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
Stifle has offered the post of PRC Host to me; I accepted.
Though, he has mysteriously disappeared from MSN / forums these days. I wanted to ask him if I could start already. He haven't posted about it here, but I'm sure he will.
Round 75 is now closed.
------------------------------------------------------------------
ROUND 76
Round ends on January 10th or after 10 poems.
I'll post in a few hours the poll regarding round 74.
special thanks to sentimentgx4 for the sig
Pourquoi?
-----------------------------
Lay me down
Under a tree
Let roots take
and plant inside of me
This is an ending
You all should follow
Maybe not today,
but at least tomorrow
There's no place like
A hole in the ground
Underneath the tree you climbed in your youth
There's no place like
Heaven
And it's about time we go there, back home
Mama's calling
and supper's ready
and Dad's right beside her
so leave this barren city
Head to the field
A tree, trophy tall
and you can rest in peace
so you can see them all
When it's time to look back
At what we've done
Just know the best thing
Is this song we sung
₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪₪
(W/B) Teysa, Orzhov Scion (W/B)
G Devoted G
(U/R) Scramblefun (U/R)
(W/U) Heh, Birbs (W/U)
locked away in the midst of
winding staircases and corridors
continually haunting an honest consciousness.
The voiceless laments of withering souls
a heavy burden of endless curses
slowly eating away sanity's control
turning a heart into useless ashes.
Until when shall this doom uphold
seeking to corrupt without mercy
disregarding any plea for cease
constantly reflecting life's cruelty.
Insanity will soon take over
rendering any light of hope worthless
tearing everything away into oblivion
lest shall I breathe no more.
A lone option arises
guised as a cloaked shadow
with putrid breath and inviting eyes
offering to end the torture forever.
Are we gazing out an open window?
Does the hollow wind spread out its arms?
Are our ancestors searching for a lit candle
to guide our way from harm?
I long to scale the coyote canyon
Profess my love to lady moon
From my eyes flows a river of remorse
For the loved ones I leave behind too soon
A rowboat tethered to the abyss
I stand here all alone
Forlorn souls shall not drown
save for the bones
Please hold my hand,
As I wait by an open window.
Deep in the forest,
you'd find my cottage by the
lake. Come here, my love!
Its walls are crumbling
down; its windows, already
shattered in pieces
Its roofs, tattered; doors,
broken, but thoughts of you still
linger in this place
We used to live here
—a home we call childhood; we'll
rebuild it someday
Elevate my thoughts.
Ingratiate the pearly gates:
wipe the mind with gloss
and eyes are full of death besides
but luckily the soul is wise -
it sees beyond my blindness and
forced failure makes a better guise,
so as i come again alive,
it feels like life's a decent plan
within his words I search for secrets,
that with each passing age erode,
and he has wrought inside every measured syllable
a careful symbol leading to the supernal road.
these wisdom dense verses mimic perfectly
the labyrinthine passages of mystic text
which had served to inspire his countless introspections
and keen observations of this world and the next.
[Clan Flamingo]
A smile across her face
My heart warmed by a single glance.
My heart has cooled since then
I've seen no smiles like hers
In these long four years.
A card game about Presidents. Stabbing each other. With knives.
i used to want to be a heron,
drowning down winter showers.
i used to be a natural nothing,
writing dada in god's shadows.
but now and here our nonsense knows
the boundaries of the sea keep pushing,
and if the stars blink, and everything snows,
aggressive playground hearts will keep us breathing.
once more into the bleach
composing forthwith neverminds,
in our tastes lurks a tiny luna moth,
with dyed hair and coked out eyes.
i'd say you spin me right round,
if we weren't too post-ironic to care,
but the running shoes of apollo
are on my drunken feet falling down the stairs.
if you think about money
and you think about leaves
consider burning both
considering the circumstances we're in
if you hold a cup too tightly,
leaving fingerprints on the glass,
you don't know your own strength.
i've become energy without mass,
tying twine around time,
moving lakes and oceans down a line,
directing current, courting Poseidon,
and blowing myself up with glass
what makes me feel smarter
makes me act dumb
leaving your body is a bad idea,
as a general rule of thumb.
passion, discord, fury and sound,
i am the televised idiot,
who, today, died outloud.
GWU Bant Manifest - The Future Is Here. Or it will be at the end of turn. GWU