As a change of pace and a bit of fun, a few of the POTM judges are going to compete against each other and let you decide the winning poem.
The theme was freestyle, and I think we've got a great variety here in terms of subject and structure.
Read over the entries and cast your vote; it's not required that you comment but it would certainly be appreciated, just a quick sentence or two on the entries in general or why a certain poem got your vote. The poll will close in two weeks, and the winner will be announced then.
And without further ado, the poems...
Writer’s Block - Chiefblackhammer Quote:
Writer's Block
Wincing from my fall
I stand before this mighty wall
Appearing so contrite and small
I look both ways down the hall
Unsure of which way to flee
As no end can I see
And its heights I cannot scale
For in comparison I do pale
So I look for a door
But no such luck is in store
With my pen in hand I begin to write
Hoping to escape this horrid blight
But I am in this writer’s hell
As my words continue to fail
No emotion expressing
Evermore digressing
Yet I continue in this plight
Praying my words will take flight
But with each that takes sail
They are dashed by heaven’s gale
Still I will not loose this fight
More fervently I begin to write
Hoping this wall will soon crack
And I can find my way back
From in front of this wall that does so mock
This wall, known as my writer’s block.
~BCM~
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Crows - gren Quote:
Crows
Whore on concrete
wrist ankle neck to the ground
cheeks red of naturally hot red rouge
black shoe
stilletto pump slungback
hanging bravely on a brave little soldier
of chipped cherry polish.
Hair as dark as loud as proud
as crows
fanning over sidewalk cracks
inching creeping slithering strands
over feet overpassing her broken head.
Now gold now cold now gray
her skin stretched tight
across the bones
blue black purple here scabbed and scarred there.
Ruby satin lovely lace spaghetti straps
falling down
over a soft shoulder a scratched arm
cover her cover her cover
a breast offends, blood is just a shrug.
Overflowing tongue fingers fat sausages
under greasy swollen pressure
fit to burst and spill and feed
eager maggots dancing on her stomach.
Dilated pupils dulled irises
caught stuck lost in that moment
of falling dying breaking losing
nothing which was
everything she had.
The crows eat her eyes. |
Angel - Mechazawa Quote:
Angel
A fading light; failing, flickering, fading into the abyss.Almost turned out by the weight of its own misery.
Empty despair shaped in a grim morbid form, a death-seeker Nothingness is what he sought, to fade, to vanish, and to never have existed.His soul and heart wounded, thought by him to be a dead burden.
His only course to numb the pain, isolation from the world, so his light could be forgotten. Ghosts, the past haunts him, its weight only adds to his burden and he falls.So close to the end, his eyes tear up thinking about what he planned, still to this day.
As his fall continues toward the end, he hopes to no longer hurt, to burn bright like before. Escape, a way out from his self imposed sentence in the form of a paranoid girl.Kindness and understanding is what she gave, things he thought he lost the rights to receive.
She saw him falling and reached out her arms to catch, this one small act gave him hope. Love, a strange complicated love was born that day, something his dead heart has never known.A timid crush that at the time could never be, but since has bore sweet gentle fruit,
For this she is known as my Angel, the one I love, the reason I burn bright and strong again. |