DWT Poetry Competition: Eighth Round

1. In the spirit of Updike by Marc Steiner

High-piled pack of potential precipitation.
Majestic mountain of millions of molecules of moisture.
Castle of uncradled cotton candy.

Bringer of life to the fields of human sustenance.
Shadower of the shoulders of the earth.
Strainer of the sun’s shining scintillations.

Oh, you ominous creature warning of a storm.
Surely, you are non more than a fleck of fluff breathed-in through some open window.

2. Poem of my Heart by Charmee Savellano

Before i met you,
I used to write poems about love,
as if i knew how it feels like to be in love.
I used to write poems about a broken heart,
as if i knew how it feels like to be broken hearted.

When i met you,
i couldn’t write poems about love, the feeling is so strong,
I couldn’t find words to describe how it feels like to be with you.
I could not write poems about a broken a heart, because,
i couldn’t imagine how it would be like if you break my heart.

And when you said goodbye,
I realized that love can not be put into words,
And words are not enough to describe a broken heart
But eventhough, you brought me undescribable love and pain,
I’m so glad i met you,
because you are the best poem i have ever written
and forever in my heart you will not be forgotten.

3. Nostalgic Bird by Vikas Kapil

Still are the trees, whispering a song of valour,
Overcast is the sky, clouds merged into its colour,
Temple bell rings, soaked in the moistness, it is heard,z
Flying really high, with wings so careless, it’s a nostalgic bird,

In no hurry it seems, with calmness it flees,
From a wanton past, to a wanton future,
Thankless to the mighty, for making it such a beautiful creature,
Unabated it flung, from cloud to cloud and lake to lake,

It hast seen the sky changing colours,
It hast seen the time changing shapes,
Sometimes it wanted to stop, some other times to move fast,
But, thou are the mover, thou are the halter, thy will is the last,

Singing the sweet melodies of hills it flies,
Watching this contrasting world it sighs,
Some days were filled with happy rhymes and some with requiems,
Either call it good or call them bad times, but that’s all what is,

It made its nest in so many hearts,
Using the selected fibres of love,
No heart was bad, it realizes, looking back on the times,
Wishing to visit each of its nests, singing all those unsung hymns,

Duel of this past and future, plays not forever,
Happiness, Perfection are all but an endeavour,
In the end, this bird, will sing only to thee, nothing more nothing less,
Its only thee, who’s pastless, its only thee, who’s futureless.

4. Advized by Someone I Despized by D Dhebar

‘Why not a zee?’ said he to me.
To which I said, ‘Tis zed not zee.’
Now listen well to every word,
Which sounds like zed,
But ‘always’ uses ess instead.

I was once advised to televise,
By someone I despised,
My product which I wished to advertise.

Now to my surprise,
Good manners did he exercise,
But then I thought,
Surely a disguise.

I was right!
He devised a way to make me pay
Some invented excise,
I was vexed and threatened to chastise.

‘No!’ he said,
Why not let us compromise,
I urge you to revise,
As I do not wish to apprise.

‘For what?’ I said,
‘You are not an honest man,
Not a truthful word can you comprise
And to your forehead I should incise
Words which are not so very nice.’

So without his help I duly improvised,
And with a clipper be he circumcised
For all those brazen, cunning lies.

Well, I have not proof of this,
But do we not all surmise?

5. Peace Be With You by Bounstin

This time anxiety struck in the form of a shrewd, lazy, but important client –
In the form of a vague brief
It stood glaring in front of my eyes
In the middle of the night
It stood glaring in front of my eyes
When I was talking to God
It stood glaring in front of my eyes
When I was playing with my five year old
It stood glaring in front of my eyes
When I was teaching my seven year old
It kept on glaring
Like telling me ‘your peace is not in your hands’
Until I took my pen
And my blessing flowed out
I looked…
This time I saw my five year old

6. Untitled by Davinder Sidhu

‘Emptiness within
Casts a shadow of doubt
Accepting your true-self
Is really what it’s all about

Sadness, anger, hatred
Emotions you control
None of which are sacred
You can’t deceive a soul

Affirm your existence
Through firm persistence
Change your perceptions
No more exceptions

Only then you’ll see
It’s easy just to be
Accepting your true-self
Is really what it’s all about’

7. A Stalk of Wheat by Robert McKay

Solitary though in
a field of its kin
It leans gently
Its head growing heavy
as harvest nears
Against the red-orange
of the setting sun
It stands forth
A representative perhaps
of all those other
Stalks of wheat in the field
Or perhaps seeking for itself
the greater glory
Or maybe after all
It’s just a stalk of wheat
And its seeming prominence
is the work of the photographer

8. Bygone Breaths by Raymond Neely

The moment reverberates in diminishing waves,
as a kiss churns in the blood
after the parting of lips, and
fountains in swells of tears,
a stirring of sentiments
over the span of years.
As an emerging sunrise
leaves its marked kiss on forever,
waves of that instant laser outward
into lost time at the speed of light.
As dark fall threatens,
I sprint backwards toward the
eastern horizon.
Cast a spotlight on the river Lethe,
on its demon shadowed channels,
its phantom haunted bends,
inclinations resurfacing like
long detained bubbles.
Seven year solved mysteries,
again shiny new dimes,
long ago traced contours
which you were as weary of as daily life,
a renewed alertness
shuttled across the synapses
of dim unconsciousness,
hooks for retrieval,
lifelines into the past,
gasping for bygone breaths,
resmelted crystal
two minutes before death.
A gong trembles into a raucous clamor unprovoked,
trembles out treble.
An elephant trumpets from and aboriginal jungle.
From the pristine spark of conception
life is nothing but a tremor.

9. What Is Broken by Joe Dibuduo

Not grandpa’s heart as he sees
her little face wrinkling in mirth.

Jane’s a baby anybody will adore.

Every tiny move she makes is
happiness, bouncing on springs.
She’ll steal your heart when you’re not looking,

and you’ll be pleased she took it.

Jane’s flawless baby skin is smoother than a polished sapphire,
sparkling eyes brighter than any unblemished star,
her laughing voice brings glee to any who’ll listen

A carefree baby girl, so far untouched by evil.

But there’s a new man in her mother’s life.
A man Jane will try to love as she does all others.
One day she visits her grandpa and shows him,

her black and blue face.

His face turns a crimson hue. Anyone abusing
this little cherub creates lethal thoughts.
She slipped and fell, his son’s ex wife says.

You know I’d never hurt little Janey.

Homicidal thoughts subside on doubts.
Forgotten, the bruise fades from sight and memory.
Jane runs and plays like any three-year-old,

until one day, she can’t run anymore.

Both her legs are broken.
She smiles and crawls instead,
always dreaming of her dad,

who is fighting for her in Iraq.

Grandpa files a motion to get Jane out of there,
to have the court let her stay with him.
Only until her dad returns, but the judge says no.

Jane is sent home with her mom and stepdad.

Grandpa goes home to load his shotgun.

Jane cries for her dad, but her stepdad shuts her up
With a powerful kick to the stomach,
killing Jane at age three.

Grandpa comes through the door, his angel is laying face down on the floor.

Grandpa pulls the trigger, and stepdad loses his head.
Jane’s mom rushes into the room with a scream
that suddenly ends.

Grandpa had a round for her too.

10. Will You Come Tonight? by Nazrul Haque

Will you come tonight
and watch the moon with me?
I promise I’ll say nothing.
Nothing to stir the gentle deep night.

Even when the slight breeze
will lightly touch your hair
and the ancient scent of the evening
will entice me
to speak ,
and , even when I know
that the moonlight,
framing your beautiful face
has stories to tell –
even then ,
I promise I’ll say nothing .

Come tonight
and watch the moon with me.
For once,
the silence will do the talking.
For once,
you will understand .