Viewing Thread:
"Short Poem Competition Returns"

Hey all. Discodexy asked if someone would start a new one of these competitions, so here goes.

Rules:

-Maximum of, shall we say, 200 words?
-The word to base it around is "pain", you can easily get something out of that.

I'm going on holiday on Sunday but will judge soon after I get back. Shall we say, entries in by 2nd September, and I will judge them and name the top three poems on the 4th September. This gives people plenty of time to get their entries in.

Post your poems in this thread!

Enjoy

RESULTS!

3rd Place goes to Mav for this entry...

Pain.
Makes me feel insane,
It comes and goes
My mind is slain,
Withdrawn, retreated,
A wounded fawn,
Nothing is here for me,
Nothing will help.

It rises up - the pain in me,
Even alone, I feel its grip,
No pressure, no feeling,
Just the horror of it,
I fall, neglected,
A victim, rejected,
My mind is affected
In ways I accept it,
But I can't help but give in,
It overthrows me, commands,
I'm suffocating, holding out my arms,
Grasping for help, but I slip away,
Unnoticed, uncared for, there's no other way,
They don't know about me, neither do you,
I drift through crowds,
Invisible.

Yet my pain remains, I live in vain,
Because I can't.
There's no going forward,
No going back,
To these people I'm a pet,
They call me Jack.


2nd place goes to Grebo, for this entry...

"In mute mental anguish,
We are divided by allegiances,
Our stoppered emotions,
Precipitating smouldering conflagrations,
And explosions of patience,
Whether soul-less happiness,
Or soul-full despair,
Inciting reactions of ineffectuality,
Leading to solitude,
Always looking to reason,
But finding indefatigable naiveté,
Always leading, leading, leading,
Downwards spiralling,
To an ultimate climax,
Rushing, insisting,
and pressing the balance,
Losing our equilibrium,
Leading, leading,
Subconscious observations,
Of intellectual depravations,
And self imposed mental anarchy,
Giving stunning inspirations,
Revelations of reality,
Dawning from obscurity,
Losing, losing,
Humour engulfed,
Mind retreating,
Downwards spiralling,
Self absorbed,
Comatose,
Eventual emotional flat liner."


and the winner is... Azul! For his entry, I've got the Power...

My remorseful soul, a prism of unrest;
Summer rains replenishing and tender
And shadowy clouds ebb and flow with jest;
A ray of gold pierces them with splendour
As light hits my soul and splits into a rainbow.
The valley echoes with my brothers cries
And fields of faith bloom with hope as they grow.
I see my beacon shine through broken skies:

Sapphire birds dance through the eloquent air
And roses sway in the winds of grandeur.
The beauty overwhelms as petals wear,
and hated barbs play a hurtful overture.
The thorns puncture my heart with woeful pain -
I'm smiling; meaningfully going insane

Congratulations Azul, you've won the satisfaction of knowing I thought your poem was better than all the other entries.

Thanks to everyone who entered (especially Mattribute, who put in loads of short, often odd, poems), I just thought these were the best of the lot. Anyone that wants to start the next competition with their own word is free to do so.

Cheers

*HE*

i wanna have sex on THE beach

come on move yourt body

sex on the bach

I came home way too early.

The swinging fiddler girl

I wonder if
She actually swings

If so
I'd happily
Assist her
In her swinging ways

Although
She thinks traditional music
is cool and fun
so she's probably
nothing but a poser
or chav

The 13 year old fiddler

She looks at least 16
whiih makes it okay to fancy her, right?
...

Or does it;
I don't know.
But for now, I'll be content with sending Mark;
My Irish associate
to Gigg 'n The Bann
To seek out this girl
And,
Seduce her.

Edit

For me

Any perving antics relating to Nash in the previous poem are not true.

The Midnight Wanderer

As I sit here
Late at 1am
My typing skills deteriorate
For some reason
I'm going really slow.

Nash pervs
Over 13 year old swinging fiddlers
And I say
"Stop"
he says
"Ok"

Now some girl looks
Familiar
To who
I do not know

Also
This title is
MISLEADING
for midnight
was over an hour
AGO

(S)

YEAh
go eurythemics

technotechno technotecho

Sweet deams are made of this

Who am i too disagree?

technotechnotechnotecio

He certainly has a big John.

Big John The Whistler

There are people of great talent here within our Emerald Isle,
Musicians, singers, dancers too of elegance and style,
But when it comes to whistling one performer stands alone,
And his name is John O'Connell, the big man from Portglenone.


All over towns and villages across the fair north land,
His whistling has resounded with a rhythm pure and grand,
With reel and jig and hornpipe, his fame is widely known,
For he's Ulster's greatest whistler, big John from Portglenone.


'Tis many years he's whistled now, at session and Fleadh Cheoil,
From Belfast to Killarney and from Sligo to Listowel,
In many other places too both near and far from home,
The lively airs are much admired of big John from Portglenone.


In the year of nineteen ninety he won in Antrim too,
With a fine display of whistling, sure his equals they are few,
At the Ulster Fleadh in Warrenpoint his genius it was shown,
When he was declared the champion there, big John from Portglenone.


It was in the month of August to Sligo he came down,
To the great Fleadh Cheoil na h-Eireann that was held in that fine town,
His whistling it was judged the best for quality and tone,
And he won his first All-Ireland there, big John from Portglenone.


Then here's to this great whistler who has really stood the test,
And to his friends in Antrim too we wish them all the best,
When next he visits Limerick West we'll treat him like our own,
With a welcome that is fitting fo big John from Portglenone.


By Pat Brosnan

Cheers to you

Cheers gerrid, that made me all happy.