The Poetry Contest
Virgin
- Joined
- Feb 4, 2005
- Posts
- 23
February Literotica Poetry Contest Finals
The final voting stage will be closed exclusively to the 24 participating poets, and done via PM to The Poetry Contest.
Please select only one of these six poems as your favourite. No self-votes will be admited, of course, and all the PMs will have to come in before midnight GMT (7 PM Eastern) on Tuesday, March 1.
After the three semi-final polls were closed, the following 6 poems top-voted poems were selected to the final (one tie-break was necessary. the two poems were judged by The Poetry Contest - That particular vote was 2-0, making the third vote unnecessary):
~~~
poem # 4
The Glow Of Fates
Even in the midst
of an August illusion,
aurora borealis out of sight,
zenith far away,
it is easy to forget
that each particle
I blow from between fingers
contains a promise.
We might live another day,
another hour here,
another year.
Can you see what I see,
my love? The micro spectacle
ahead, possibilities piled
in my palm. The glow
of fates intersected,
right there.
We must carry with each step,
humbly this gift.
Sow what we can,
and reap no other reward
than to witness the marvel
of growth.
~~~
poem # 6
Silent Sophie
She was the round head
in a uneven world.
Grotesgue
sculpture....
minx a fantasy field,
dyed in a summer heat.
Crying out in silence,
I left her that way.
~~~
poem # 10
Empty Hands
For empty hands once flowers grew
To paint small fingers in pastels
As chalk dust prints appeared on veils
And watercolor stained a robe
It washes out, yet still remains
A hint of sun that fades at night.
As petals tumble to hillsides
Small artist on their palettes nod
And dream of blossom’s fleeting hues
As they trickle though empty hands.
~~~
poem # 11
Restoration
Pale pieces of me faded
into an empty landscape
until I closed my eyes.
Over black his voice painted
fresh vision from a palette
of shared memories. Blue eyes
blended with green to see
the sunberry smear juicy
kisses across the sky, sticking
the clouds to the horizon.
Our fingers filtered dripping
rays that dyed my dress
a deeper red. And in the mossy
damp we bathed our feet
in blossom bubbles that floated
on the breeze. The wind is blue
today he whispered and placed
a flower in my hand.
Open your eyes and see.
~~~
poem # 18
Blue Dream Daisy
Gaze upon the coloured
landscape which nature
has blossomed
right in front
of your monochromatic eyes.
Fall back amidst
the gentle-scented loveliness
that spring
has graciously brushed
warmly against
your pink pastel cheeks.
A flower can never rise
above the lofty height
of a tender stem
but innocent imagination
lifts them, fluttering
free, like butterflies
intent on petalled beds.
Sleep on this breeze
softened evening
and sigh upon the shoulder
of this daisy
scented dream.
~~~
poem # 24
Red Sky at Morning
Here is sunlight,
red sky at morning, and I
take no warning but bend
my head intoxicated
by fields of flowers
dipped blue as sapphire seeds.
Here the canary sunlight
is God who made me
beautiful and ugly, God
who gave me an intaglio
of red sky gleaming past
the wake of dawn, fallen
as prisms to my hair, why
is my heart misshapen?
My monstrous limbs
which should blossom among
the heliotrope and lupine,
are swollen with the half-life
of memory. I limp insufficiency
and God when I fall,
the strongest arms to catch me,
the warmest hands to hold me
aren’t Yours, but a man’s
whose name the flowers whisper.
The final voting stage will be closed exclusively to the 24 participating poets, and done via PM to The Poetry Contest.
Please select only one of these six poems as your favourite. No self-votes will be admited, of course, and all the PMs will have to come in before midnight GMT (7 PM Eastern) on Tuesday, March 1.
After the three semi-final polls were closed, the following 6 poems top-voted poems were selected to the final (one tie-break was necessary. the two poems were judged by The Poetry Contest - That particular vote was 2-0, making the third vote unnecessary):
~~~
poem # 4
The Glow Of Fates
Even in the midst
of an August illusion,
aurora borealis out of sight,
zenith far away,
it is easy to forget
that each particle
I blow from between fingers
contains a promise.
We might live another day,
another hour here,
another year.
Can you see what I see,
my love? The micro spectacle
ahead, possibilities piled
in my palm. The glow
of fates intersected,
right there.
We must carry with each step,
humbly this gift.
Sow what we can,
and reap no other reward
than to witness the marvel
of growth.
~~~
poem # 6
Silent Sophie
She was the round head
in a uneven world.
Grotesgue
sculpture....
minx a fantasy field,
dyed in a summer heat.
Crying out in silence,
I left her that way.
~~~
poem # 10
Empty Hands
For empty hands once flowers grew
To paint small fingers in pastels
As chalk dust prints appeared on veils
And watercolor stained a robe
It washes out, yet still remains
A hint of sun that fades at night.
As petals tumble to hillsides
Small artist on their palettes nod
And dream of blossom’s fleeting hues
As they trickle though empty hands.
~~~
poem # 11
Restoration
Pale pieces of me faded
into an empty landscape
until I closed my eyes.
Over black his voice painted
fresh vision from a palette
of shared memories. Blue eyes
blended with green to see
the sunberry smear juicy
kisses across the sky, sticking
the clouds to the horizon.
Our fingers filtered dripping
rays that dyed my dress
a deeper red. And in the mossy
damp we bathed our feet
in blossom bubbles that floated
on the breeze. The wind is blue
today he whispered and placed
a flower in my hand.
Open your eyes and see.
~~~
poem # 18
Blue Dream Daisy
Gaze upon the coloured
landscape which nature
has blossomed
right in front
of your monochromatic eyes.
Fall back amidst
the gentle-scented loveliness
that spring
has graciously brushed
warmly against
your pink pastel cheeks.
A flower can never rise
above the lofty height
of a tender stem
but innocent imagination
lifts them, fluttering
free, like butterflies
intent on petalled beds.
Sleep on this breeze
softened evening
and sigh upon the shoulder
of this daisy
scented dream.
~~~
poem # 24
Red Sky at Morning
Here is sunlight,
red sky at morning, and I
take no warning but bend
my head intoxicated
by fields of flowers
dipped blue as sapphire seeds.
Here the canary sunlight
is God who made me
beautiful and ugly, God
who gave me an intaglio
of red sky gleaming past
the wake of dawn, fallen
as prisms to my hair, why
is my heart misshapen?
My monstrous limbs
which should blossom among
the heliotrope and lupine,
are swollen with the half-life
of memory. I limp insufficiency
and God when I fall,
the strongest arms to catch me,
the warmest hands to hold me
aren’t Yours, but a man’s
whose name the flowers whisper.
