DWT Poetry Competition: Sixth Round


Welcome to another round of the DWT Poetry Competition.

In the last round we had a small problem in the voting session. More specifically it seems that one user found a bug and exploited it to vote over and over again. As a result the poll ended with over 15,000 votes!

I took a screenshot of the poll before that happened, however, and the winning poem remained the same, so the final result should not have been affected. Either way we’ll be using a new system to block repeat voters this time around.

1. A Rueful Host by Ben Winter

Commuting through rich humus soil with little sound,
An earthworm toils to aerate his fertile ground;
But up above, alert to Red Worm slight mistake,
Red Robin hops in search for tender prey to take.

Safe down below the Red Worm dines on loamy feast,
But soon must rise and brave the world of savage beast.
And Robin waits while Red Worm dines through earthy night,
More suited to dark solitude than world of light.

But instinct soon abides to render creature fate,
And each would venture forth to meet with tragic date.
For bird and worm must each pursue his normal fare,
While unfair gain holds forth for this unlikely pair.

Strait way the worm comes vis a vis to feral eyes,
Too late, undone, Red Worm becomes Red Robin prize.
For lowly worm must serve when come to banquet fest;
At once a rueful host and also favored guest.

2. My Mistress by Ray Hattingh

My Lady’s words reflect her charming guile,
She dangles them as would a bold seducer.
She allays men’s fears with words and comely smile
But to straight admissions you’ll never reduce her.
She easily lives dual lives with not much smart
And comfy lies roll easily off her tongue.
She keeps her different worlds quite miles apart
And simple males oblivious of being stung.
She’s a master of the art of full deception.
Straight faced she’ll tell a friend to spin a tale,
Then smile inside at this ornate conception,
Which is forced on some unsuspecting male?
Still she commands my lasting, real affection.
Love and deceit? There’s a strong connection.

3. July 2005 by Mariel Mercedes

He is carrying a shortcut in his otherwise perfect body.
He stumbles. My Beloved.
I pain.

Downtown people were blown up on the underground
And the red buses. A rush hour dripping blood.
I pain.

Betrayal came -surgical- from a blind brother and a blind sister.
They blink aimlessly in the sun.
I pain.

Yet, music breaks within the ivy,
The busy flights of a black bird, pinpoint.
The hungry chicks chirp: alive!
My pain pauses.

4. Damned Lies, Statistics and Questionnaires by Gary Stark

I was brought up not to tell falsehoods
That the truth should always be told,
When I opened my shop I swore to myself
That no-one would be undersold.

But last year I heard of a survey
And the results were a bit of a surprise,
Cause they’d ask loads of men for some info
When erect-what was their penis size?

Now a problem rose up in my mind then
Which I want to get off of my chest,
I can think of only two ways they’re able
For them to perform such a test.

Method one involves pretty young helpers
To handle the guys’ loving tools,
And then these brave experimenters
Would measure them up with their rules.

This seems a rather strange occupation
To go round checking men’s knobs,
And what would they put on their passport
In the bit where they fill in their jobs.

Method two involves self manipulation
Which seems much more likely to me,
But this can’t be scientific
For reasons below, if you’ll see.

For men are notorious liars
When it comes to the size of their dong,
And most men I know, me included
Would make theirs seem extra long.

And then again who are the subjects
Who want to be measured this way?
I suggest only large men apply there
While the tiddlers just stay away.

So I’m afraid that I don’t believe it
For statistics, we know, are damn lies,
So girls don’t trust facts in Cosmo
About the data concerning men’s size.

5. An Angel’s Findings by Erin Pearson

I look down from the sky,
Observe what can be seen,
I learn so much from this,
Yet it comes to me too late…

In this phase of consciousness,
We can know what can’t be seen,
We hear what is in the hearts and minds of others,
It’s where we can really understand…

It happened so suddenly,
No one expected it,
It is hard for some to process,
They simply don’t understand…

But I hear the thoughts of one,
And I feel what he is feeling,
It fills me with such bitterness,
Because I never really knew…

This man who was in my life,
He feels more horrible than can be imagined,
As if his soul has died with me,
Leaving him with a pain-filled life…

This man once said that he loved me,
I accepted that as true,
But when we parted ways,
I just assumed that it had faded…

It turns out that it never did,
That his love for me only grew,
But now that I am really gone,
There is nothing he can do…

I feel retched inside,
In a way no angels do,
I had never put much faith in love,
And now look at what it has cost…

This broken man feels love no longer,
And we both are left wondering “What if?”
If we’d had the courage to be together,
Would I even be flying among the clouds???

Sorrow and despair fill me,
As I fall to my knees wondering what I’ve done,
But I keep tumbling downward,
And then I wake with a start…

I am in my own bed
Safe within my room,
As I begin to relax again,
I think about my dream…

Was it a simple warning,
Of what has a chance to come?
Or was it something more than that,
Was it showing me the truth???

Does he truly love me,
In that mind-blowing degree and intensity?
Is that how he would react,
If death were to befall me???

And even if all that were true,
What can I do about it now?
I know they say “Love conquers all,”
But does it have the strength to overcome this???

Since we went our separate ways,
Changes have occurred,
In our lives and who we are,
What we do and how we act…

Certain things that he does,
I couldn’t turn a blind eye too,
And I don’t know what he thinks of me,
He may see faults too…

If I were to talk to him,
What could I actually say?
And would he even listen to me,
Or is this case beyond hope???

Dreams depict what the heart knows and thinks,
But what if it is wrong?
Love is known to be irrational,
What if it sets me up to be hurt again???

To be an angel would be nice,
To know the truth of feelings,
But what good would it be then,
Once your chance to risk it, and learn, and love is gone???

6 Bedazzled by Edward Alban

Who says a woman’s beauty isn’t hurtful?
From a distance he saw her approaching
The incarnation of a goddess descending
Irradiating her scorching beauty,
Mesmerizing, inebriating.
And while he stood agape
Enthralled by her proximity,
Intoxicated by her presence,
He wondered why he should be so lucky.
What could she possibly want of him?
Then by chance they rubbed together.
Her skin, soft as petals of magnolia!
An indescribable force then surged within him
Squeezing his heart, smothering his breath.
What would he have given for a smile?
Could he even imagine the ecstasy of a kiss?
Only if he could imagine
The fulgor of a thousand suns embracing him!

7. Running on Empty by Laura Lam

What are you doing? You can’t eat
that. How can you still let it slip
between your lips and teeth and down your throat? “I
can solve it with two fingers,” you say. Hide
the evidence in a porcelain bowl. What do you have to lose?
You’re only running on empty.

You’re full of contradictions. “When empty,
I feel full.” Horseshit. Eat
your words. Are they filling? Lose
your body, lose yourself and slip
into size two or zero. Maybe, just maybe, if you hide,
you won’t have to look anyone in the eye.

Look in the mirror. Hold one hand over your eye,
squint. Tap a rhythm against your clavicle. Hold one hand over an empty
stomach. Use the other to play the xylophone of ribs. Hunch and hide,
but glance behind you to see the scapula wings. Don’t eat
that. Have grapes or carrots instead. Don’t slip.
Where else do you have to lose?

Step on the scale. Try not to cry. You think you must lose
at least a couple more pounds. “If I only did, then I
would be thin enough. Just two more pounds.” Slip
down the slippery slope and empty
yourself again. Reasoning: in another 45 minutes you can eat
miso soup and turkey slices. Count calories to hide

what you don’t want to think about. Hide
memories. Hide fears. Hide worries. Just lose
a bit more. A tiny bit more. You can eat
after 45 minutes of cardio. Eyes
droop, muscles tremor. You’re still running on empty.
After awhile it’s only inevitable that you slip.

Standing there in the kitchen in only your slip,
you guzzle soda, shovel mac and cheese, inhale cookies and hide
from guilt, fear, anxiety, the empti-
ness. Perhaps, if you eat enough, you’ll lose
that feeling. Fill up the square hole with something round. “I
know, I know, ” you say. “I can’t have my cake and eat

it, too.” Eat, don’t eat. Slip further, slip
down, close eyes red from broken blood vessels and hide
deeper within as you lose a few more ounces just to stay empty.

8 My Poem by Gajendra Singh

We talked and disconnect the call
the last talk…
the last words…
disappears as time passed

The season was rain…
inside and outside…
Hapily broke-up…
remained with pain.

The rains passed
and sand dried
but still…
it’s raining inside.

Soon the autoumn came
leaves dried and start falling
I still remembers you
sitting on stairs and calling

Leaves drop from trees
fell on ground
weather inhales dry breezes
all gloom surround…

I can sense
this is not the end
but in this jinx
who needs to bend…

The dog barks at the end of road
and securing their territory
the same i am doing
securing my periphery…

The automn has expired
winter took throne
accompaning with cold bride
and here I am dry and prone…

People took out their wool
and cold got defeated
I need a wool to make myself fool
but it’s all inside, I can only bleet.

Atlast, winter completed it’s duration
Spring came
Dark gone and dawn showed it’s possesion
now I seek fame…

I seek fame to show all worldly things
things, I shouldn’t bother
But what satisfaction it brings
indeed, nothing excet teaser…

Alas… summer comes after a year
It’s being a year of broke-up
Nothing for melancholy …
But still suffered by sudden wake-up…

Love comes as different seasons
All passed by…
left only varied expressions
to hide and live by…

Just like one change channels
need a capability…
to change these expressions
and embrace adaptability…

It’s easy like a smoke
you enhale it and leave it…
Only thing is
It remained with your heart and unwillingly hit it…

Gone is gone
Done is done
Season passed
and image dazzed…!

The impression remained forever
no matters we are not in touch
Hope for your happiness
Mighty will give you atleast that pouch…

I am not asking peace for myself
the soul is already filled with wielderness..
the only wish for yourself
Is the eternal happiness…!!



9. Words, Words, Words by Linda Sierant

Words, words, you love words
They fly out of your mouth and fall
on your perfect line
You’re full of words,
they lather and bubble about you
You swim in them
You gloat and gleam
Steal and nod
And make them your own
They are your power
You are the words
You fling them out,
And they bound back to you refined
You have it all
You are so lucky
You were in the right place
at the right time
You leap for joy
and own it all
Your words, her words, his words
are your words
Even my words are your words
How charmed you are that the
words come to you
You pass them out freely
and they stand and wait for you
You mingle with the best words
Eat lunch and dine with them
they wait on you
you bury them
you free them
you clone them
They are your power
They are your words
Who am I?

10. Winter Barn by Panddt

The early morning snow is deep
Inside the red barn, yet they sleep

Their breath we see in puffs of steam
We waken them while others dream

The horses neigh to urge the day
Time for the sun to make its way

The mice above are busy now
The corn is stolen from the cow

The troughs are filled with piles of hay
The foals are off to run and play

The winter barn is wide awake
Oh, look! Here comes a new snowflake!

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12 thoughts on “DWT Poetry Competition: Sixth Round”

  1. I like “Winter Barn,” Panddt. You should submit it to a children’s magazine. I think it would sell!

  2. Just throwing it out there that my poem is a sestina, if people are unfamiliar with the form:

    Thanks for taking the time to read my poem, and the others up are wonderful as well. I’ve been enjoying reading and voting on all of the poems so far.

  3. Hi Daniel,

    I have written a poem. Would you please consider it for DWT poetry competition.


  4. Hi AmaT. Thank you for saying that 🙂 I wrote it as an ode to growing up in the heartland of Wisconsin. I’m not sure how to submit it to a children’s magazine, but that would be very cool! :-)) Thank you for your comment.

  5. Hi,

    I am very impressed with all of these poems. This is a fantastic site, thanks for everything you do. I was really hoping to vote for my favorite, however it tells me that you have already counted my vote. I don’t see how this is possible. There is a group of us who work together that usually vote on these competitions and so far only one of us has been able to place a vote.

  6. Laura,

    It took me halfway through your poem to realize it was a sestina, and in my opinion, that’s the best kind of sestina. You did a fabulous job using the form. I was very impressed– you have my vote.

  7. Gary Stark, If you don’t win, I think it’s because most people don’t read past the first poem. IMHO it is HANDS DOWN the funniest and most creative thing I have read in a long time. If you haven’t submitted it to an appropriate magazine, make sure you do!!

  8. @Rochelle – Thank you so much. I’ve written three or four sestinas so far and it’s my favourite form. Some people find them confining, but they’re a fun puzzle without having to rely on rhyme.

  9. I loved Winter Barn as well. We had snow this weekend (quite unusual for this time of year) so it was fun to read!

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