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 Post subject: Poetry from the Bench
PostPosted: Tue Jul 08, 2014 5:00 pm
  

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Arlo Fanatic

Joined: Mar 08, 2003
Posts: 1039
Location: Manchester/England
Well among everything else I remembered something today. A few months ago I entered a couple of poems in a poetry competition, a well know one, only today out of no where I remembered a book of poems that had published one of mine a few years ago, and when I went to look it was the poem I had entered a month or so ago, so not only have I lost my entrance fee I've lost a chance at a £1000 prize, one of the rules was that they shouldn't have been published before.

Well if I've lost out with it I though I would share it with you all now...

In The Beginning

There lay buried by a four letter prayer,
the memories that having stripped the day bare,
then stole it away.

And when the last word fell silent
upon the naked earth did anyone hear
what the others heard.

How the last word was sold by the
first idea, so to pay its debt for the
second thought.

And from every moving tongue
nothing was said, for the stone clearly read,
Honesty on a blank page.


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PostPosted: Wed Jul 09, 2014 8:26 am
  

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it is a pretty neat poem….i found myself reading it a few times over


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PostPosted: Fri Jul 11, 2014 5:26 pm
  

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Thanks agnes, read as often as you wish.

And thanks Janice ( from another thread), but I don't think it's talent, it doesn't feel like what talent looks like to me?!?

These things just float by on the breeze.


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PostPosted: Tue Jul 15, 2014 11:45 am
  

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Anybody else catch anything on the breeze?

( Just me being nosey again )


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PostPosted: Tue Jul 15, 2014 2:22 pm
  

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i have spouted off some nonsense now and again….i am not sure what it is that gets into me


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PostPosted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 5:17 pm
  

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agnes wrote:
i have spouted off some nonsense now and again….i am not sure what it is that gets into me


I hope it's a good vintage :)


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PostPosted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 5:45 pm
  

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hi beverley! i was afraid we was gonna have to wait 'til the next full moon to hear from you again!?


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PostPosted: Sun Aug 03, 2014 7:28 pm
  

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not quite, she's too inpatient.


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PostPosted: Sat Oct 18, 2014 6:53 pm
  

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Hi All,

Well the results for Comp I entered came through today, :(

If there is anything in the saying man can not live by bread alone, the words are all I need!

So as the Southern Sun is sinking low I thought I would share the other poem I sent into the competition.


The Artisan Addition

Impressed?
Asked the blue beer.
As original Art, he smeared himself on a
deep white death that he'd captured
by a drunk rhythm above an empty metaphor.
"I know it's here, maybe, probably in painted colored wood."
He thought looking down at it.
But he was too bored with it to be bothered finding it now.

He turned and watched the daddy-long-leg
trapped in a column of dusty light.
Almost balanced, ridged,
his lips mounted the glass.
A Neon light was shuddering somewhere at his side,
it felt like an old psychedelic headache.
He nussled his brain against it and thought about colour free paint.

There was a song somewhere in the room,
it bothered him being there.
His lips mounted the glass once more,
but the whisky lay empty at the bottom.
His feet, tired, stroked the floor as he went to sit down.
But he headed for the door.
Leaving his masterpiece screaming through
the canvas in the floor behind him.

:)


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PostPosted: Sat Nov 28, 2015 7:40 pm
  

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This Dream Of You

As a veiled reposed scholar, almost form or mind,
I delve into thought before it ebbs to its secret space.
Then someone said, someone just said, dream.
The voice fluttered, sounded familiar,
and wanted to be heard, so I sat in silence, waiting.

I'm sick of dream, there're all the same to me.
I would tell myself a lie, but I've long since stopped believing.

As before, I turned, ears bleeding, so sick from dreaming,
too tired to sleep, no place to turn away from the open door.
So lay there dying, so sick from dreaming.

With every breath dying as every lie before,
knowing its all the same in the land of living.
You almost understand your mind,
but shadows like to play in the day,
and you don't need light to see what walks in shadow.

Light bleeds from the moon through dream,
but she has lost her beauty to me now.
With the only thing of my own left to give that wasn't stolen away,
she wrapped it in thoughts of you.
But I'm sick from dream, and it's killing me.

I don't remember it raining, but there's water all around.
Well if that's the game for the moment,
I'll float here a while.
But the game knows I'm not playing and I'm standing here dry,
not even feeling clean.

The same old games are played, though they never last long.
I sold the rules long ago, and no one knows how to win or lose anymore.
I go round and round the board, too tired to sleep.
I wouldn't dare win anyway.
Even if I knew where the prize was at.

Has this been long enough?
can I raise to look day in the eyes for a while?
Pretending.
Or has time forgot me, left me standing far behind?
Or fetched me here, out of sight?
Time has too much to carry, and pays no mind to help with my load.

I am sick of dream, it's all the same to me.

I am only given flight because my heart is too heavy to fly free.
I am made to sing, but made to chose between voice and meaning.
I can look to the sun, just as its turning to leave.
I can embrace night only if you fade from my arms.

I am so sick of dreaming, its all the same to me.

If I turn my back from the open door, my eyes are closed.
Held shut as dream rages against the night, twisting the knife in my back.
Too week to fight, what kindness would it do anyway?
My hand, nailed to the open door, never waving free.

The voice said again, I'm sick of dream, as it took dream's hand.
So sick of dream and it's killing me.
I would tell myself a lie, but I've long since stopped believing.
Too tired to sleep, too tired wake,
I'm so very sick from dreaming, and it's killing me.

Me


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PostPosted: Thu Dec 31, 2015 2:45 pm
  

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Joined: Sep 13, 2000
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Location: Pixley-- Actually An Hr South of Richmond, VA
Great job there. :)


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PostPosted: Thu Jan 21, 2016 4:50 pm
  

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Thank you Cheryl X


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PostPosted: Sun Jan 31, 2016 1:50 am
  

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Joined: Sep 13, 2000
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Location: Pixley-- Actually An Hr South of Richmond, VA
You're welcome. :)


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PostPosted: Sat Mar 12, 2016 3:38 pm
  

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Joined: Mar 08, 2003
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Location: Manchester/England
Doing Up The Laces On My Boots


Born beneath a shooting star
in the corner of your mind,
before I stole my first breath
my hand was nailed to the open door.

The first song jingled jangled
and the star went on,
the sky grew dark to give
the light room to shine.

With one hand waving free
reaching for the infinite sky,
I watched the birds fly high
as the rain falls to wash
the stones at my feet.

The first song jingled jangled
the star was long gone,
the sky grew dark to give
the light room to shine.

Take a breath and make a fist,
you never feel the same breeze twice.
The flowers by the door have grown,
and the only blood on my hand's my own.


xx Me xx


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PostPosted: Mon Mar 21, 2016 5:05 pm
  

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Joined: Sep 13, 2000
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Location: Pixley-- Actually An Hr South of Richmond, VA
Great job there. :)


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