Poetry Contest 5!

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New Helper (I got over 2000 posts)
Alright this is my submission, this one is not being changed.


The sweet grounds of grass
Vanished in the fog of life.
As a light, or destination
In a dark cave of misery.

Grounds of grass, covering fields
For us to feast upon. Alas they are gone.
The happy screams, the hot sun
All gone under dust.

A bit of that is left though,
Not only in one, but in us.
Every man, woman, child and beast.
As toy breaking, years later, pieces could be found.

I remember those happy grassy grounds
I remember their happiness, and their misery.
I remember a stranger, a foe, and a friend.
But that is the past, alas.


DM Cross

You want to see a magic trick?
Staff member

  • Uareanoob, Demonwrath, Hortononon, and Monsterous still have to submit their poems.
  • You guys have 16 days [2 and a half weeks] to sign up and/or submit your poems.
  • We have our full set of judges in myself, Halo and Miz.
  • Don't forget to read the new rules and judging system.
  • This is the first Poetry Contest to have Awards for the winner. If we get THREE more contestants, we'll have 1rst, 2nd and 3rd place winners.


"I give em the hip then I take it away"-Jim Thorpe

A heavenly dove fluttering into my path,
A light day shattered by an unmerciful wrath

A dark tragedy makes all seem lost,
A light in my life has now been turned off


A stone is thrown, and two more doves fall,
A hearts beat away from jumping the wall

A flower once blooming, is now withered with gloom,
A sun once shining now slithers with doom


A miserable fiend takes away all,
A still waiting death strengthens its call

A hearts beat away from jumping the wall…

Now here I am, happy as ever,
As birds in a flock, we fly forever
The light has returned, and I’ve put out the ember

But even so, we all still remember


Анна Ахматова
I wrote this relating to a past relationship. Remembrance, no?

You take my hand; I’m going mad.
I wanna be your witness, but I don’t want to take a stand.
Buddy-oh-good-friend, don’t you be mine.
I can’t understand sometimes.
You take my hand; I’m going mad.
You can be my dreamer, the keeper of my thoughts.
God knows that we’ve been driven apart
By that storm; oh, the snow never ends.
Take my hand; we’re mad.
Because I’m not in love with a sinner
But I’m lustful for a beginner who doesn't believe me...


Welcome my goddess, take a bow.
Do you enjoy this pagan ground?
Blood is on the window now.
Take my hand, man, take my hand.
They’re about to die, and I’m going mad.


Certified Badfish
I'll join :)

Dawn Maker

I remember

Daylight romping through green seas
Surrounded by humming petal fish
Your brittle grip pulling me through the chorus

And yes
I remember that sad song on your face
The way your eyes cried out to God

The way you moved in unison with the tides
And slow danced between the heavenly gates

I recall when you twirled up to the clouds
When you erupted through the atmosphere
Becoming only color and sound and memory

When your tears became the stars
And your goodbye echoed into beautiful rhythm

I know editing is forbidden under the the rules, but I just added spoiler tags.


In the Shadows, Lurking.

Her eyes of shining, emerald green
Her love, a flawless ruby.
Her hair, a wondered glimmered sheen
Her skin of such fair beauty.

Remember her smile? Dazzled it were
Shining like a star.
These memories, shall never blur
When my journey goes afar.

Her journey here, a golden light
A thing of such creation
A dreaded curse, a merciless plight
A creature of such damnation

Destructive it was, it would not go
Tampering with her life,
It hurt, it cut, although slow
Killed my only wife.

Her journey gone, tattered, dead,
No more shall she smile
These memories, have always said
Her love was worth the while.



To die will be an awfully big adventure.
Every poem I've read in this contest is pretty darn good. congratulations everybody


Occasionally Around
Rosy Cheeks

A very many years ago, when I was newly born,
they say that I had laughing eyes, and hair like golden corn.
I’m told I had the rosiest cheeks that ever had been seen,
and the cutest button nose (whatever that might mean).

Someone produced a mirror, then, and held it to my eyes,
that I might view my countenance and think, with some surprise,
“That fellow staring back this way looks as odd as one could be,”
and never for a moment would I think that he was me.

If I think back, through all those years, to that initial day,
I remember how I saw myself and could not look away,
because, it seemed, my cheeks of rose and golden silken hair
kept me entranced with their strange look – too perilously fair.

But when I look in mirrors now, I cannot yet recall
how it is even possible that I once looked that way at all.
And when I pick a blossomed rose and hold it to my cheek,
I cannot make comparisons my mind begs me to seek.

I know that no one could have cheeks the color of a rose
(unless through much cosmetic application, I suppose),
so why, when I remember back to that initial day,
can I recall my deep red hues exactly how they say?

To this conundrum, there is but one solution I can find,
that the memory I claim to hold is an illusion in my mind,
and every detail I recall, from eyes to cheeks to hair,
were conjured from accounts of all the others who were there.

That explains the details, then, for most folks exaggerate
when describing what they once had seen on some forgotten date.
Yet this brings up the question of, as memories accrue,
how can one tell if any of those memories are true?

The further off in time you are, the more they seem to fade,
and, with pieces lost, does one produce new made-up ones in trade?
What purpose then does memory serve, if, as seasons slip away,
one’s mind replaces one’s own cheeks with a garish red bouquet?

If you can never trust your thoughts or veracity of mind,
what good is memory at all? How does it help mankind?
I’ve pondered thus, this dark and snowy winter’s eve,
yet, glancing in the mirror here, what can I now perceive?

Though naught is yet within my sight, I seem to see a rose,
appearing from my deepest thoughts to drift before my nose.
I think, then, that this is memory’s goal, merely that we might
even have our rose of brightest red in the darkest winter’s night.


To die will be an awfully big adventure.
now there's a good poem. No offense, but did you copy that? lol you could also take that as a compliment

DM Cross

You want to see a magic trick?
Staff member
Provided we get a poem from the other 3 competitors to the contest, we can have 1rst, 2nd and 3rd place winners instead of just a winner.


New Member

Sources say there's flooding in downtown side streets.
Could be bad.
Should I ride the crest of a falling wave,
Or sail the dull grey ocean, so smooth...
My compass points out that I am due forward.

We wonder why each wave does disperse
But another always comes,
no matter the continent of salt and sand created
nor piece of earth washed away
no matter what salted splash might fall

Rising, the new wave clears the old one.
No one remembers quite what it was like.
A growing pulse to a fading ripple, we forget
How it rolled, and turned, and foamed, and crashed.
The current erases each memory that it creates
and leaves us the duty of its description.

Maybe, when the tide goes out a bit more,
and the sun shimmers red over the horizon
I'll see a reflection in the water
The light glancing off a tiny ripple
long gone from shore's steadfast standpoint.


Occasionally Around
now there's a good poem. No offense, but did you copy that? lol you could also take that as a compliment
No, of course I didn't copy it. I hope nobody here is stupid enough to attempt something like that. :p

The inspiration for this poem came from a quote by J. M. Barrie (British playwright, most famous for Peter Pan): "God gave us our memories so that we might have roses in December." The poem, by the way, isn't really about me - my hair is black, and I have no idea what I looked like when I was born.

I guess I will take it as a compliment, thanks. :D


New Member
I'd like the above entry to be my submission, if it's not too late. Below are my reviews of the poems, something I like to do almost as much as writing itself. Two rules: One, no judges until after you've scored every poem guys, and two I can play hardball sometimes but I'm otherwise peaceful :D Feel free to argue or whatever with me in PMs

Short and rough with many weighty words. I liked it but I think it could use more meat.
-dry dirt mix with the ashes of pride--
t-o fall and salt the earth.
Good stuff

Also short and pretty good, a good moonlight texture throughout the first stanza.
-Silent sorrow comes alive
-When the noose lays tight
I'm not sure I catch your meaning on silent sorrow. Some cliches, if you get to know me you'll know that I hate them, but this poem definatly isn't cliche so it's fine by me.

Overall very nice, good structure, and I do mean that, but I think there are some word choices that are a little out of place and you used a few cliches as well that are taking me out of the poem. "Scream" on line seven, and line 4 as well in particular.

A big thing here is asymetrical line length, some lines are too long/short for their partners giving the poem a weird sound. Very emotionally back and forth, easy to get into but also easy to fall off of while reading.

Good piece :D I really liked it, it reminded me of my older friend Joan who died of cancer. Very accurate and to the point, but there are many lines that could use some scissors; not all of your words are necessary and if you feel that they are, try to make us feel them instead of telling us them.

wins the contest :) I really liked it, very pleasant and fun to read, witty, with few bumps or stalls.

DM Cross

You want to see a magic trick?
Staff member
You're in, Techno.

2 more ENTRIES, not sign ups, but actual ENTRIES and we have our 10 needed for 1rst, 2nd and 3rd places.

Please do not accuse anyone of copying their work unless you have PROOF, even in jest o_O It's very impolite.

DM Cross

You want to see a magic trick?
Staff member
Yes, the 25th. You and the other 2 non-entry-given sign-ups should have gotten a PM from me about it.


To die will be an awfully big adventure.
Sorry Tharius. I think it just might have reminded me of a poem I've read before.
Besides, if you had you would never have admitted it :p so the question was pointless.
But I don't think you copied it.

Anyone have a problem with putting any poems I like in a word doc. and what user wrote them? I'ma not sell them or claim them as my own. Just if anyone has a problem with that tell me, thats fine I just won't include yours.

U are a noob

Mega Super Ultra Cool Member
Anyone have a problem with putting any poems I like in a word doc. and what user wrote them? I'ma not sell them or claim them as my own. Just if anyone has a problem with that tell me, thats fine I just won't include yours.
If you don't publish it or post it anywhere no one can stop you. But you have a 'Ok' from me.

Krys A Night said:
  • Be polite. Poetry is typically very personal and a lot of people are sensitive to having their work criticized. Try to be nice to a poet's fragile ego, and consider a person's feelings when you post. And keep in mind that most stories are still in progress, and still in the first draft. They can be edited and changed, but maybe not reposted.
  • Be constructive. Don't just say "Hey, I like this" or "I hate this, foo'! You suck!" Don't get me wrong. Say if you like it or not, but say WHY you like it or don't like it. Give pointers that you think might improve the poem. This forum is to HELP people with their poetry. Remember a poet's fragile ego, though. Be nice!
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