Poetry Contest πŸš€

in Poets β€’ last year (edited)

It seemed a brilliant idea to create this community at the time. Somehow, like every other thing I get involved in, I've abandoned it. How do people get things done?


poetry-688368_641.jpg
Pixabayβ€” edited


It is obvious that i cannot pay attention to a thing for long. My mind flicks from this to the next. I'm not even supposed to be writing this post. I came online for a different purpose entirely. Now that I am here and writing, I might as well do something.

I have been slowly building my wallet back up again after the damage it went through last year. I hope to get it back and over what I had before. It is hard. Using hive staked rewards only, I have made some movement. Also my writing has been kind to me, bringing cool rewards that has made building up the account possible. I'm always grateful to the communities who curate my work and find them valuable. They are the real ones. Their support is mind-blowing.

Now that we are here, what do I do about this community of one? Do I shut it down? Can I do that? Do I use it as a vehicle for curating poetry? I could do that. I could do a lot of things but I'm scared of starting and stopping halfway. Yet I love poetry. I love to read beautiful writing. I love to see poets reach for the inner depths of their vision, pull out language that will make my body burn. I want that beauty.


Thus, I offer you a contest. I offer an exercise in poetry writing. Are you interested?


If you are, here are the rules:πŸ–‹οΈ

1. Write a poem of no more than fourteen lines, end rhymed or unrhymed. Post it in the comment section of this post. You can post it on your page if you want but the poem must be in this post's comment section.
2. Your poem will be judged for its use of metaphors, its lyrical quality, diction. I want to be wowed by language. Experiment.
3. Plagiarism is unacceptable. Do not steal.
4. All poems should be written in the English language. But I will not mind seeing a word or two of your mother tongue, your creole, your pidgin. I would love that.
5. Deadline for submission is Friday, 18th November, 2022.


πŸŽ‰πŸŽ‰Rewards πŸŽ‰πŸŽ‰

All submissions will be upvoted with my little hive weight. I will select one winner and the account will receive 3 hive and 1 hbd. Two runner ups will receive 1 hive each. Special thanks to @agmoore for the support.


If you are reading this and are interested in participating, I wish you all the best and all the poems. I will enjoy reading your pieces.

Happy Writing!!!

Sort: Β 

Hi! Mine is a part of the last poem I published in Hive, circle. The original is in Spanish, but I leave the English version:

it was strange
to think, my love,
that there were
two jaguars:
one, made of words
and the other,
a longing
hidden
in the thicket
of the forest:
I could not know
which of the two
was tearing apart
your body

@tipu curate 2

a longing
hidden
in the thicket
of the forest:

I love love poems. I can never seem to write one without adding some darkness in it. πŸ˜” This is a good one.

Thanks for participating @agreste

Many thanks to you for the initiative!

Raven, black
Ripping on the hollow wind
Portent’s fear blows, pale white
Whimpering, cold.

Shadows, dark
Before the turbulent chaos dawns
Measured metronome, ticks
Draining, long.

Careless touch
Flanks, unwittingly exposed
To flee before the storm
Bones, aching.

A dark poem. Captures the spirit of the times. Although, doesn't it always seem dark from some perspectives? Well done!

Some days are darker than others. πŸ€—

I like the lines:

Portent’s fear blows, pale white
Whimpering, cold.

I also see what you're doing with commas, nice.

πŸ™ƒπŸ€—πŸ˜Š

What does the glow of a distant star tell you?
That in the blue and icy water of a lagoon
lurks the same fire that kindles it?
She, electric, magnetic, has seen you
sprouting in the distance.
Again and again, after each death.
You, in the humble and gravid origin
That is the earth.
Competes for you, centripetal and centrifugal,
Hungry for your quanta, for the perfect union.
What does the radiance of a distant star tell you?
That you are its mirror.
That eternity is yours
to bring you closer to it.

Is there a bit of eternity in all of us?

A beautiful poem, with a soaring intention.

Thank you, dear @agmoore! Yes I do! there is a lot of eternity in all of us. Unfortunately consciousness is temporary.

Perfectly chosen words, sparse and spare. Lovely πŸ€—β€οΈπŸ’•πŸ˜˜πŸ₯°

Thank you so much, dear @itsostylish 😐.

You have interesting lines here.

She, electric, magnetic, has seen you
sprouting in the distance.

Good work.

Thank you for the inspirational motif @warpedpoetic.

I have learnt a new word today; centripetal.

That is the earth.
Competes for you, centripetal and centrifugal,
Hungry for your quanta, for the perfect union.

Now I have to wonder what is a perfect union of earth and body? πŸ˜” Thank you Gracie.

Greetings @warpedpoetic, this is my participation, it is an unpublished poem, written for this contest, which I published in #hive in both languages, here I leave you the English version:

Necessary decision

The gaze hollows out the horizon
thoughts spread their wings
the smile is an inaudible voice
a distance without measure,
hands are unnecessary barriers
you know that history is a bird without wings,
flying handles of one more night,
where a window shows a sleepless face.
She lifts the coffee cup, her bag,
a path opens before the door
no noise, only footsteps
maybe there's a goodbye left in the half-light.

Hey @silher good to see you drop in.

maybe there's a goodbye left in the half-light.

I like it. Sweet sorrrow.

It is a sweet farewell, perhaps a product of tiredness, thank you @ for the opportunity.

Β last yearΒ (edited)Β 

The dust cloud the sky
It leaves terrible signs on the way
Some refused to get along
Only few want to see for themselves

If the dust could capture nor hold
I was among the men
what surprised me was the spheres
Because it was nothing at the end

Only the dust look like a man on the chain
We breathe to see nothing again
But only the cloud
Which seems neither captured nor hold

Na so we kom de raised our hands, for our country men to pass
We were men on guards

I see what you did with pidgin there. Nice. I think you can work on your editing though. I appreciate you @johnbenn

Thank you for saying this @warpedpoetic, I am happy for your reply.

Β last yearΒ (edited)Β 

No poem here. I'm not that foolish. I've read your poetry and prose. The idea of running one of my poor efforts past you makes me blush. However, I will donate 2 Hive to this worthy cause. That should cover the prize pool or allow you to pump up the reward.

Good luck. We need poets. We need to think like poets. We need to read poetry.

Edit:
Here's a poem (not for the contest!!), the best I can doπŸ˜„
I tried, @warpedpoetic
Some of us can walk,
And some of us can fly.
Not I.

Thank you so much @agmoore. I appreciate this gift and support.

I don't think your writing efforts are or will be poor. We are all learning.

We need poets. We need to think like poets. We need to read poetry.

Amin.

I tried, @warpedpoetic
Some of us can walk,
And some of us can fly.
Not I.

πŸ˜‚ but do you move;
Crawl, limp, leap?
Then you're alright.

Sometimes I think you know me. The way you describe yourself allows me to see myself through your relatable experience and in this case, it is my inability to pay attention to something for long.

I'm glad you are rebuilding, I have been trying to for months now but there is so much that goes into that that our human eyes overlook.

14 lines? Let me recollect my words.

I'm expectant.

Β last yearΒ (edited)Β 

I would...

I would
grab you
by the corners
of your eyes.

I would
swallow you
with grace
and repulsion.

I would
make myself
some brodery
from your neck.

But I don't.

I would
swallow you
with grace
and repulsion

This is an interesting line. Though grace seem like an opposite to repulsion, it is not. I like the image this creates.

Β last yearΒ (edited)Β 

Esta es mi participaciΓ³n:

Cosmic representation

I open my eyes again like a miracle.
I contemplate in ecstasy my cosmic elevation.
I hear the concert of my demons singing Hallelujah
and my heart dances with the harmony of angels.

I sharpen my instincts to catch every ray of light
I chase through the land on the sun's journey.
I admire the cinereal stars that disappear
without leaving a single memory in the spheres.

I pause for a moment on the earth to examine
where the wind blows, where life whistles,
or Pan's sweet flute gives the note of death.

With the arrows that the zodiac has given me,
I go out with my compass and my astrolabe to hunt
the astral memory of the wingless birds.

In the third line of the third stanza, do you intend to say pain flute or is pan flute correct?

I meant to say Pan's flute: in reference to the instrument used by Pan, god of shepherds in Greek mythology.
I should have written Pan with a capital letter, because in this case it is a proper name.

Oh I get it now. It needs an apostrophe as well I think. Thank you for clarifying.

Β last yearΒ (edited)Β 

**Visions **

Those men rock their death
in hammocks of salt
scattered like marbles
they are caked with sand
and with deafness they throw their groans
to the sun
the sun sings to them
everything is roasted on a slow fire
doubt
disillusion
and their deaths wobbling on top of this furious sea...
I've gone out early to collect snails
I don't want to see them anymore.

No one wants to see death all the time. Snails are a better object of attention, I think. Thank you.

That 's the point... My native language is Spanish maybe in translation the idea suffered

Oh it's fine. I'm intrigued by translated pieces and what is lost and found between the movement from one language to the other.


The rewards earned on this comment will go directly to the people( @agmoore ) sharing the post on Twitter as long as they are registered with @poshtoken. Sign up at https://hiveposh.com.

A love so deep
A heart so warm
A seed to reap
A field of thorns

Indeed I weep
My love is gone
I try to think
my mind is worn

I look again
At the smile she wore
The look of pain
When called a whore.


Words hurt πŸ€•

Wow, That last line really hits!!!

Well poetry is meant to let you think...
He limited it to 14 lines so I couldn't complete the poemπŸ˜‚
Best for me to stick to my stories πŸ˜‚

Hahaha. I know how you feel.

To love a love that is deemed unacceptable is a painful thing to go through but is it worth it? Can love overcome everything? I like the questions you poem is making me ask. Thank you.

It asked me a lot of questions when I wrote it tooπŸ˜‚

Although I've forgotten themπŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚

πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚ all is well.

πŸ˜‚πŸ˜‚

The contest has ended, further submissions after this comment will not be considered for rewards but I will enjoy reading them. 😊