poetrypulse poetry competitions uk

free monthly competition - February 2019 
(21 entries)
New Lens
A journey, unabridged.
Amidst the vast rock
formation, beside the
waterfalls, facing the giant
walls of velcroed stones...

rushing to meet
the spumes along
sparged crevices.

Capturing every
second with a
new lens, paradisal.

Always curious...
*breathes out*

growing, exploring—
pixelating an imagery
in my head, in my
nonchalant stance atop
this cuesta, unafraid.

© Franchesca Tatel 2019  Philippines

In Cyclical Undertones
Break down.
No sounds are heard,
As he completely breaks down.

He slams the keyboard,
Hoping for an answer.
Shuts it down,
The pixels light down
Colour by colour:
A diaspora of waves
Formed on his iris
He watches
As the fans stop whirring.

Removes the wires
Bit by bit
From circles and rectangles
And starts seeing the outline break down,
The screen
His keys
The rounded squares
His heart
But beats like the clock pulses of the CPU
Yet essential.

He sits on the sofa,
Turns another rectangle on,
And watches a jumble of words
Master master
Acknowledged shooed
Resting cold there’s
Camino lust
Over under

Over and around the cycle goes
Marco polo
Polo Marco
Finding me is
Imperative now

And he stops.
He stops to wonder
To break it all down.

His glasses,
His wires
Upon lines
Making many circles
What happens when you straighten all the rectangles?
The most essential shape?
Who’ll repeat it with him?
What is the world

From me to you
The money flows;
Messages are sent
In incomplete circles;
Roads go
In circles
With order in the centre
Look at the temples from the top
What do you see
But circles
And waving hands
And rushing eyes
Hoping for a blessing;
The most important invention in math
The zero
The infinity?
Only when you divide by the circle;
We even make our faces
We don’t prefer lines
But full blown circles
Of make-up;
Repeat your music
On repeat
In a circle
Your phone operating?
It’s a loop bunched together
In the digital bouquet this world gifts to you
Why don’t you see?

We are so keen to repeat
We are so keen to constantly accelerate,
But we come back unhinged
We say the circle of life,
But fear our own death
We take more wires
Cross them over
To save ourselves

But beware
The more you teach these wires
The more they’ll learn to beckon to you
You say coding is an art
A beauty
Like poetry
Watch out
It’s art fitting for creation
Creation of destruction?
That’s your own justification
But watch like he watches
Learn to break
And know that all this will come back to you

Why hasn’t anybody told you?
Because it runs in cyclical undertones
Way off your sight
Our world runs on two numbers
The line and the circle
In cyclical undertones

He blinks
And falls back to the chair
Open the screen again
Plugs all the wires
In the squares and rectangles
And watches every pixel turn on
A diaspora of waves
Hits his iris

As he sits alone
And looks at the world through this lens
And is inspired
To fix it,
To fix all the madness
The dirty waters
The fuel crisis
Those who can’t hold their pride
He types like a madman
Their lack inspires him
And falls in love with the creation:
Beautiful poetry
In the loops of code he so loathed only a minute ago
And so it comes full circle.

Who am I?
The observer,
Who had you so convinced humanity is on the clenches of
Destroying itself?
You are bad at observation,
Didn’t I say we are part of a circle?
Stop waving your hands and recognize your world
You may fall in love with creation
I am the order in the middle that doesn’t let you veer off course
I am nothing but
Gone wild,
In cyclical undertones.

© Eshita Shrawan 2019  India

देशभक्ति का काव्य �
खुशबू बिखर रही फुलो की
अब रंगो की बारी है
देख केसरिया आवाजो मे
शहीदो की बलिदानी है।

बुझे नही जो तुफानो से
श्वेत जहॉ बनाएंगे।
वतन की शांति के खातिर
हर गम को आज भुलाएंगे।

जोशीला हर दिल होगा
खुशहाली हर पल होगा
मिट्टी की खुशबु से
हरा भरा वतन होगा।

हम आज ही यह प्रण करे कि
अपने बलबुते पर जग मे नाम कमाएंगे
दुनीया यदि जमी होगी
तो गगन हम कहलाएंगे।

© RAMESH KUMAR 2019  India

The time people shiver;
When the food
Is in litter;
When wolfs are roaming
And snatching girls;
The time individuals are murdered;
When one can't opine;
Then *freedom*
Wants to open its eyes

And we call ourselves democratic!
We don't want a

© Kanishka Gupta 2019  India

A wish that can't come true.
I could break down and cry a thousand more times,
Yet that won't be the last time I do.

I can look through the past at the memories we had,
Yet I wish that I'd spent more time with you.

I will look to the future and wish that life could rewind,
So that we could've reached out more to you.

A life gone too soon,
Oh how I wish you could come home soon.

By Claire Etches in memory of my brother Andy Etches.

© Etches Claire 2019  England

End of approaching to Philomela’s breath
As her skin turn into white to blue
The preservation of new thought waiting
For a new one, whisper is heard from above
Yes, here she is, who was the merchant
Seller of the lies, dealer of hypocrisy
Admire her for her treasure, her affinity
Just stare at her glacier, can’t be melted
Love her laugh with your teeth, as she toothless
Smell her grace with your hand, as she palpable
Sew her body fabrics in your brain
Make her as you want her to be
Grip her with your papilla but don’t pierce
Enlighten her vacuous soul with the light of your heart
Again her smell’s coming to enchant
A hymn is recited from her ancient mouth
Dream me, love me, try me and........

© shuvendu sarkar 2019  Bangladesh

A start to eliminating desolation
A sentence heard by a listening ear, that hears..
and actually listens to the words spoken from a broken man,
can erase a novels worth of anguish.

© Jamie Martens 2019  Canada

You Shall Not
Do not feel sorrow at my demise,
As the winter sleeps and the willow cries,
Look instead to the brighter days,
Know that I loved you in so many ways.

Do not let your heart grow heavy,
Let summer's sunshine make you merry,
Look forward with hope to the coming years,
I loved you so, cry not those tears.

Do not sit and weep no longer,
Let summer's sunshine make you stronger,
Recall me as the blackbird sings,
Know that I loved you for so many things.

Do not sit by my lonely grave,
find it in your heart to move on, be brave,
Make haste in this life- no longer wait,
I loved you so, find new love before it is too late.

© JULIE ACHILLES 2019  England

Silence on a June Morning, 1944
Soldiers lined up in perfect formation
beside the egg, its skull cracked,
peeled back bit by bit,
white matter exposed and discarded.

The soldiers move in, drowning
themselves in gold treasure.
The metal tool enters the fray,
scraping up every last vestige of life.

Ejected shell casings lie scattered about
amid crumbs of debris
and puddles of dripped butter.

I sip my tea and pretend
the telegram on the corner
of the table never came.

© Tracy Davidson 2019  England

The tale of Dead
I am, “catalyst for disaster”
Also the havoc master.
This tears sender,

© Betrand Njungle-Akem 2019  Nigeria

So you're watching that filth called porn 
And you say it's fun
So seductive you know 
And too destructive I know

It burns the right side of your brain
Your mind, it'll stain
I agree, you're still sane, 
But, your life, you almost cannot maintain

Your brain will always go to the last point of pleasure 
With that filth in your mind, you don't even know what to treasure 
It's not crack nor dope that gives you some level of pressure 
Oh, please, don't get me wrong, I'm not telling you to go for such pressure

I won't judge you 
Because I do not know how it got you 
But, do know it's not helping you, 
Rather it's killing you

For you, it's an addiction 
I see it pretty much as an affliction 
You feel it's nothing but temporary satisfaction 
Not knowing it's an avenue for demon attraction 
And spiritual incarceration

Your mind it defiles 
Your memory, it corrodes 
Your spirit, it defiles 
Your prayers, it nullifies

© Elizabeth Ebebi 2019  Nigeria

Here I am sitting in a dark room 
The sight blinded and binded to years of anxiety 
I sit and stay 
Withering away from life as the happiness felt once 
Becomes a distant memory 
Freedom becomes less as the sight becomes a tunnel 
Seeing no escape from the self deprivation sinking of self esteem 
To seek a way out seems implausible as my darkness erases my sight 
For I exist 
But no one sees the truth 
Beyond the words I speak of false pleasing 
My true words lie within the grasp of a pen and paper
As people sit and stare while I hope their attention is elsewhere 
The pen pulled within sight 
Craving just to write my torturous life away 
Locked within a page 
I stare as words reverberate my life back into the sight
Of seeing the one I crave 
The happiness not so dissipated 
The only words this stubborn skull listens to 
Shining all to bright 
To ignore 
The possibility 
Of my own Self worth
Of how I “was strong” or beyond “empathetic”
As the words force me to march on 
“free from the words of my past”
And to my own 
beat of drum

© Raiven Everett 2019  United States

Quiet, the leafy trailers curtain the bank.
Along winding Lea, green willows hang heavy,
During a stormy night they were swayed to beak-point.
Next season the buzz-saw cuts- pollarded protrusions
Sprout ugly from thalidomidic limbs, but the
Hideous arms soon clothe themselves again in their
Cloaks of gay greenery-fine hair-do for trees
Recently hacked to the heart!
Years go by and time forgets, until stormy seasons
Fell the leafy giants. The fallen ones lie waterlogged,
Damming the stream where they grew up,
Now swelling the banks that contain them
To drop chunk, by chunk, by chunk
Until the grassy meadows dwindle.

© brendan bacon 2019  England

A Sonnet
Being not especially good at
Writing about that elusive subject
I am confined to metaphorical thinking,
Or perhaps a conceit?

Like, you are the moon to me;
There, even when you are gone,
Changing always, and constant too.
This is overly melancholy for you.

Or I may try to apply a blazon;
Your smile is a like a cloud
Moving from in front of the sun.
The inadequacy of words astounds.

I could write a thousand days, or more,
And never capture that which makes hearts soar.

© Abby Green 2019  England

At the crossing on Cullen, Nimbin
White signal of sun
flare from palm the youngest fruit.
Dropped lacework of light.

Nature's giddy diligence
spree and fleet as a trinket.

© Matthew Plumb 2019  Wales

Space Refugee
Ascending through waves of clouds.
As I reach new heights and break unknown bounds
My destination is guarded by the illuminating hounds
That will strike trespassers back to the grounds

I become lost somewhere in orbit
Passing the planets but my vision is starting to become distorted
An immigrant to outer space, I was deported
I look back at my home planet that has now become haunted

Reaching the end of the universe I excel my flight
Following the path across the moonlight
My body ended today but my soul will arrive tonight
For now, I dwell in paradise searching for my friends and family to reunite.

© Abdul-Ahad Patel 2019  England

The Fleeing Flock
Joyful lamb made a joyful sound – around her flock, this did resound
But what is this little lamb’s fate?
But born only for a human plate
Only for those beyond the gate
This could not be solved by standing still; flee they must,
without time to kill
So flee they did, with much hurry
Running together, to quell their worry
Bounding across the meadow away
Through a hole in the fence, found today;
by tomorrow, long gone they’ll be
No more of humans they’ll have to see – then, joyful once again,
she’ll be

© Andrew Coe 2019  England

Silent sobs of virgins:
raped, defiled, beaten,
The internal tears of their heart.

Wails of conceived babies never birthed,
conceived, dissolved, flushed out.
The future they came close to, but never saw.

Deep cries of expectant mothers who ended up having still birth.
making nine years of pain seem in vain.

Painful loss of Papa and premature demise of mama:
turning Harry and Ada into orphans.

Nightmares that haunts us in daylight,
The daydreams that still our cool night rest,
Anxiety and depression that pulls back the clock's hand,
Wrinkles of poverty,
Rift in marriage,
Holes in pockets,
Songs of war,
Worries that wet the beds,
Fragments of fragile hearts all in pieces,
The Slips,
The Falls,
The Cracks,
The Shatterings,
The Scattering.
The inability to end this all, plus more
B R O K E N.

© Ambassador Amakor 2019  Nigeria

Young Again
It seems so long ago
But it ain't that long ago
When we waved bye to the passing plane
Hoping to fly in it all along to Spain
When we acted like we were the King and Queen to our imaginary kingdom
We didn't have it all but we thought we had all the wisdom
Not changing ourselves to fit into the stories
We would rather change the stories to match our own bodies
Then why did we grow up
To never be young again
And back then why were we excited
To never be young again

The chuckles never seemed to stop
we always found some way to make each other laugh
Oh those memories of painting walls with our handprints on it
Hiding behind the door and peeping through the slit
Holding hands as we cycled together
I wanna go back to it and be young forever
Then why did we grow up
To never be young again
And back then why were we excited
To never be young again

© Devanshi Joshi 2019  India

Pop-up shop,
Pop-up bar,
Transient lives,
Nothing remains,
Here today,
Then gone again,
The pop-ups come,
The pop-ups go,
Confidence low,
Little risk,
Little reward,
It's the age of the pop-up,
All aboard,
But not for long,
As the pop-up's gone.

© Paul Christian 2019  England

Mother, You Can't Hold Me
I am water
I will flow
I am air
I will blow

I am sand
I will slip away
From your hand

I am no spirit
No flesh
No muscle mesh

I am a rock
with cracks
With blood oozing out
I am that blood

Mother, you can't hold me

© Sugandha Pallan 2019  India

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