Welcome to another round of the DWT Poetry Competition. As usual we have some talented writers in this round, so check it out.
Before we proceed with the poems, though, let me clarify some doubts that participants manifested. First of all did not send a confirmation to everyone who submitted their poems, so do not worry about not getting one.
Second, the poems are not appearing in the other they were submitted, but rather in random order to make it fair. Even if you submitted the same day we announced the competition, therefore, you might need to wait until the last round to see your poem live.
Any other questions just leave a comment below and I’ll answer it.
1. I Was Not Ready by Trine Grillo
I was not ready to let you go
You fluttered through the restless clouds of
your days
A colorful kite
Strings snapped and carried you away
Illness changed your body, but inside you were strong
Floating on the
breezes of your fate with a song
A drifting sail
I reached, I stretched,
I tried
I saw you turn and wave good-bye
I was not ready to let you go
2. Guilt by Dina Kupfer
There’s the present, past, future
And then there is guilt.
Stranding you
between the time zones
Leaving you bereft of yourself
Of your truths
Of your certainty in Being.
It unsettles your circadian
It upsets your
equanimity.
It makes the face in the mirror
Twisted.
Perhaps with
resignation on its lips
And self-contempt in its eyes.
Yet the face in
the mirror
Has been blessed
With the miracle of soft skin
The
miracle of human-ness
And the miracle of being able to Move On.
3. See This Tree? by Jenny Scott
See this tree?
Tall and proud it stands.
From a tiny seed, it
emerged.
From a tiny seed, it broke free.
Through the soil it stretched
and strained.
Through wind and rain, storm and gale,
Tall it stood. Tall
and proud.
See this tree?
See this tree?
Provider for many of earth’s little ones.
A home for the
songbird.
A home for the brown squirrel.
Shade for the small deer.
Shade for the moss and the fern.
Provider for so many.
See this tree?
See this tree?
Hear its leaves singing?
Watch as they dance in the
Northern wind.
Watch as they change as the seasons pass.
Emerald green
to brilliant gold,
Green to red, orange, and yellow hues.
Hear their
song?
See this tree?
Where is this tree?
It is no more.
Years to take root and thrive.
Years to flourish tall and proud.
Gone within minutes, they destroyed
it.
Gone without consideration, industry removed it.
Where will the
songbird make nest?
Where will the brown squirrel make home?
What will
dance in the wind, and paint the earth?
Buildings will always be grey.
It is no more.
See this tree?
4. Love and Envy by Jean Ten Cate
Love and pride is a potent combination.
It can be delightful and it can be
dreadful.
Love is a longing for something or someone.
Envy wants what
someone else has.
Love and jealousy is intertwined,
It hurts to love,
and it hurts to want.
The heart and mind mix and muddle until it is
perplexed and about to go wild.
The mind becomes suspicious of the heart.
The heart demands loyalty; the mind demands a sense of peace.
What a
struggle it is to keep it straight.
5. Don’t Open the Door, Mother by Abdul Hamid
Don’t open the door, Mother!
They may seek shelter during the night
They may ask for food for the night
for the number of them
These civilian soldiers carrying clots of blood in
their eyes.
Every sunset
The unnatural people of this land
Cannot even collect
together their compose
Since it has gone astray.
During the pervading nights
If the sharp spiked booted people knew
Of the
shelter inside the house
They will surely knock on the door
In search of
the youths
Engaged in a game of catching the dark,
They may charge you
too
Heaping upon you terrible acts.
So let a gesture of the eye be sufficient
To undestand the impression on
every face
The result of living the life of a commoner.
6. A Simple Kiss by Jamie Compton
At times, I know I should resist,
resist the urge of wanton bliss.
But
hail! Thy kissable, gentle lips,
they call me; beckon me for thy own sweet
kiss.
Nay, I try to comprehend,
the deceit and betrayal of my own
skin.
I try to mend and defend,
against my nature’s instinctive
trend.
I fail to fight thy spellbound lure;
the desire grows as we find
ourselves skewered.
I fear, to no avail,
that my nature will
prevail.
Inside I try to fight this curse,
now it has only gone to
worse!
Your hungry gaze and luscious smile,
makes me feel all worth
wild.
I tense, burn, and churn with fright,
will I ever win this
fight?
Those succulent lips, so full and soft,
they pull me into a
mind-sweep froth.
Temptation brews and lust transpires,
should we quench
our primal desires?
I pant, I slowly breathe in every breath,
this will
be most certain death.
Those lips entice and drug the senses,
when I
finally enclose our distance.
A taste of those devil-made pair,
would
surely ensnare me, as we stare,
into our longing glistening gems,
we
cease our fretting and begin.
Wild abandon engulfs us whole,
sparks fly
and take control.
Oh, how I longed for this one moment,
to find myself
lost and full of torment.
To trouble myself for one single kiss,
a kiss
of longing, burning need,
a kiss that lingers and pleads to be free.
I
wanted to evade this fiery passion,
yet, this kiss went beyond its
ration.
It churned and bubbled my carnal hunger,
to devour and to
surrender.
A simple kiss from your alluring lips,
cannot end in simple
bliss and simple fashion,
it brings forth new meaning to utter passion!
We surrender to our primal desires,
as we explore our inner fires.
No
longer lust, should I trust,
that I feel only love?
This kiss, this
breathtaking bliss,
has surely turned everything amiss.
I dread and fear
the unknown answer,
and hope those lips cease their banter.
Do you feel
the same sweet bliss,
the love that makes this more than a simple kiss?
Oh, how I wish your lips expel,
as I try to compel,
all the secrets you
withheld.
I beg your lips to repent,
to pacify and relent,
all the
anguish you induced,
the nerve-wrecking you infused.
Tell me lips; am I
yours,
to have, to relish forever more?
Oh lips, sweet, desirous lips,
you have me entwined,
bound tight and out of mind,
I am completely at my
own demise.
Pray, succulent lips, quell my fear,
you captured my heart,
my love, my soul,
will you not complete me and make me whole?
Dread
transpires as I sweat,
awaiting your answer with ill-regret.
My carnal
nature prevailed the fight,
Now, I pay with mere delight,
with my heart
and with my life,
as I wait in utter strife.
Your answer is blasé but
then you smile,
and tell me that you’d longed for me all the
while.
Pray, I ask, why the wait,
how could you leave me in such a
state?
But those beguiling lips of yours,
beckon me and implore for
more.
How can I decline such a pair?
That beckons me to declare,
the
love it entirely ensnared,
and my sanity it impaired.
Despite the better
judgment known,
I find myself overthrown,
by your devious,
tempter’s smile,
I’m compelled to stay awhile.
Those lips,
the call, tempt, beguile,
Oh, this was all so worth wild!
As, I give
into your smile,
your taste, your feel, even your guile!
I now know I
will never win,
against your lips, they are utter sin.
I am forever
under your spell,
compelled to do your bidding well.
I see the power you
possess,
you are magnificent in all your dress.
Your lips are prime in
my distress,
I pray, kiss me quickly to satisfy and repress,
all signs
of mounting stress!
7. Divorce by Katie Slavinik
It makes me uncomfortable
when you draw pictures
of your father and I
hugging
when the divorce
will be final
next month.
8. The Storm in My Black Belly by Bindu Saxena
When my lady held me – I quivered with dread; I knew of the ordeal that
stretched ahead…
She took me at the corner, she took me in the street; I
followed her swamped in a sense of defeat.
She took me to the market, the
pavement, the stall; I tested my patience – no bicker, no brawl.
Invariably, too she would run into, “a friend.” And launched into chatter that
signaled no end;
Her fingers fluttered, she waggled her head, secured in her
palm – “I wished I were dead!”
And though, to her, this was joy &
delight; it filled me with stark & unreasoning fright.
The minutes
& hours plodded painfully by; her endless chatters & my battery,
continued to dry!
Left, Right and Centre my face got pinched –until my
lady’s ‘DATE’ was clinched!
She flew me skies, where I rested for a while;
Network out, what a relief to my pout!
Here came Diwali. The fireworks, the
celebrations , the lightings & thunder ..
For a friend anew, and Lo!
Was I surrendered..
Back to Air Tel, from where had I come. Lay I
appeased.
Quietly told myself & ceased …
9. Morning After The B & S Ball by Christopher Harris
Light shone in shimmer like hazier heads had seen
And the spectrum proved
uncertain. For several hours
They courted cans in paddocks dank with stinky
dew
Such light cannot consume.
These city sons, scratched and squalid,
surveyed the scene
Each with one eye open and declared
Bathos in burps.
They staggered in too new boots and wrestled away their
Lack of success at
this hour that was for the wooing.
Happy was he with both legs of his
trouser and some
Semblance of shirt.
One turned over a leaf of charred
currency to find
A phone number scribbled. Hopes crescendo and crash in
Moments like these.
Somewhere a khaki cocoon wriggled but no angel flight
appeared,
Only she with plucked wings badly injured,
Wearing the night
like hay wears a cyclone.
Even her markings are smudged and smeared,
A
jersey too long is a dress too short.
Affecting a pout, she pairs a boy-man
on a pilgrimage to a
Fallow paddock.
There the squatter’s son was
speeding a plough
Not like the one his old man motored. The motion was in
circles
And not straight lines. Neither season nor symmetry mattered,
Only a show,
For the pilgrims gathered and watched; the always attendant
aloof
Spectator generation, looking at the world through
Their TV
eyes.
And when the entertainment had ploughed the paddock for long
enough
That the dust had settled,
All that remained was that audience of
one thousand
Bachelor grooms and five hundred spinster brides
Detached
around a drought cake,
Spitting their approval at the confetti flies,
City dreaming.
10. The Unconscious Mind by Viktoriya Zaevska
I step along a path untrodden
To revive a memory so long forgotten
Of
times, and history, and places
To recollect those oddly faces.
But a
step aside though I attempt
However strong may I exempt
From all those
memories inside
Could never truthfully decide.
A whim of circumstance
befalls
Then tonnes of whispers it recalls,
So many days and nights
appear
That they can make me disappear
Out of the subconscious mind
And into real life rewind,
For it is far too simple to partake,
Yet just
as hard to undertake
Of all the practices of whim
Indulgencies of the
unconscious
to the brim!
In my excitement, I submitted a poem without putting my name or any other such identifying markers in the email body. Will it still be considered for the contest?
#7, line 3 should say “your father and ME” – suggest you get your grammar straight before you look to write poetry.
@Sarah, yes.
#7 Divorce tugs at my heart strings. However uncomfortable the adults feel, I think it is the children who suffer most. Nice job, Katie.
this is really a worthy one. People around the globe can taste different feelings and thoughts in these global poems. I want to thanks all the members related to this website for giving a platform to the upcoming poets. Still a major part of the globe not aware of this website, so they may not able to participate in such poetry compitition or can read these poem as well. So you people should give stress on publicity.
@ Michael. Point taken about the grammatical error. Poetry is not my preferred genre. This is my first attempt.
@ AmaT. I agree with you about the effects of divorce, particularly on the children. Thank you for your kind comment.
The article above doesn’t give an entry window (as in “must be submitted by [date]). When will the competition close? Is there a maximum size limit? Are there any banned subjects?
“#7, line 3 should say “your father and ME” – suggest you get your grammar straight before you look to write poetry.”
First of all, how conceited do you have to be to say something like that? Be happy you were able to correct her, but you don’t have to be supercilious.
Second of all, if all you’re looking for in poetry is proper grammar, you must not know how to enjoy poetry, because some of the best poets have taken leisure with their grammar.
Yeah, it was a small error but honestly, who cares? She can correct it with a backspace and two letters.
If I seem angry or offended, I’m not, so don’t worry.
I DID enjoy the poem, though, Katie.
I didn’t get to vote, but I also liked Christopher Harris’ poem.
actually…I is correct in #7…i think you’re actually wrong. no offense.
@ Tom. Thank you for your kind words.
It is encouraging to know that people did enjoy my poem, flaws and all.
Don’t worry Katie, poetic expressions donot necessarily always go with grammar (it’s a fact)…..more imporatant is to get the expression/feeling through…in many of the modern abstract poems you’ll find expressions which are not correct — grammatically speaking! After all in history of language, the dialect/language comes first, grammar was framed later.
@ Tony. Thank you for weighing in on the use of “I” versus “me.” That is one grammar lesson with which I still struggle.
@ Arman. Well put! I was trying to get the feelings out quickly before they disappeared. I did very little formatting or editing before saving it. It is so true that the dialect and language come first.
Thank you for your kind words, Arman.
Dina Kupfer’s “Guilt” is masterful. Well done!
Hi Katie. I agree with Tony that “I” is actually correct. (first pronoun).”I” refers to the poet who is speaking to her child. Keep on writing poem, Katie.
@ Fuziana. Thank you for taking the time to weigh in on the “I” versus “we” issue. Thank you, too, for the encouraging words about continuing to write poetry.
@ Amy, thanks for the kind compliment!
I doubt there is a person alive who hasn’t experienced the all-too-human emotion of guilt.