poetrypulse poetry competitions uk

free monthly competition - December 2018 
(12 entries)
The Power of Speech
You sit as always, earphones in and eyes glued to a screen,
soon you will stand and leave, sometimes you say goodbye,
I watch you in your other world to which I do not belong,
You stand and leave and I am alone.

I go to the freezer and take out our tea, awaiting your return,
soon I will make your bed and pick-up your dirty laundry,
I wait until it is dark and you are home again,
You sit and eat and I am alone.

Tomorrow we will repeat this process I think as you sit-
earphones on as you fight aliens on the screen,
I will go to bed and you will sometimes say goodnight,
You sit and play and I am alone.

I lay in the bed and the machines bleep and you sit and wait,
soon I may leave and you will be alone.

You are speaking to me and I fade in and out of sleep,
I hear those words, Nan, I need you, don't leave me alone.

I am home now and you look-up from your screen and smile,
soon you will leave for work and say goodbye,
I will go to the freezer and take out our tea,
You stand and leave and I am alone.

© JULIE ACHILLES 2018  England

We slough off one skin
and inhabit another.

Like snakes we slither
our way through our lives,
undulating this way and that.

Swaying and dancing
to the call of another's tune.

Trapped in the baskets
our lives have become,
hissing and spitting our distress.

Speaking in forked tongues,
we don't understand each other.

With words filled with venom
we strike out, fangs bared
in anger, pain, regret.

We leave behind husks
of who and what we once were.

Never quite the same again,
we sidle onwards, searching
for our place in this world.

© Tracy Davidson 2018  England

Her Appearance In Life
My whole world was filled with gloom
Before I met that special, divine soul;
To my surprise, she came out like a bloom
From a blissful place to protect me like a stole.

That time when I had no one to buttress
Feeling of solitude, annoyance and melancholy-
Hedged my poor, sorry life - but once,
And now it is enduring like an American holly.

Changed are those exhausted eyes of mine
Into a silver lined pulchritudinous thing;
Those obnoxious sounds of my own whine-
Replaced by the chirping notes of the spring.

Even felt that her entry in my life was a gaffe-
But now I fathomed that she is my best half.

© Safrin P 2018  India

The screeching avians soar overhead,
Looking for a mouse that'll soon be dead,
Eyeing a rustle under leaf,
Though no rodent yet has come to grief,
They swoop and cavort above the ground,
Belching forth their eerie sound,
The sword of Damocles hanging high,
A victim soon is sure to die,
The dread mirrored by the bare trees,
As nature's life is slowly released,
Wintry climes around the bend,
When seemingly all hope will end,
Spring's dreams and sprites so far away,
As I sit and watch the world today.

© Paul Christian 2018  England

The Waller
I pass the waller from time to time
on the high, remote faces of the fells.
I hear him before I see him, the ‘plink plink’ of his tools
on the lichened stones, like the call of a bird.
He’s mute to most but over the years
has spoken solitary weather words to me,
‘damp’ or ‘fair’, nothing more.

No-one knows who’s paid him
for the long threads of wall he’s re-stitched,
embroidering the bitter landscape
with his hard, grey lines.
I’ve never seen him eat or rest
or wear anything to keep out the cold
other than an encrusted tweed jacket

Even when the wind has cut my face
like a blade. Today the fells are fleeced
with a crinkling of snow.
I bid him a good day and observe
his cragged hands knead a rock
as a baker would mould his dough.
The waller nods to the thin blue sky

and says it’s ‘crisp’.
He taps the sculpted rock into its place
as if reforming the granite rind.
As I walk the ‘plink plink’ fades to silence
When I turn he’s disappeared,
absorbed into the stone
and bones of the country.

© Steven John 2018  England

True beauty
True beauty lies in the soul
It's my virtues that make me whole.
Lips that sing God's praise
Are the most beautiful in this age.
Eyes that seek the goodness in each
Their beauty is unique.
Hands that arise in servitude and prayer
Aren't they the most precious, my dear ?
Feet that tread the honest path
What greater beauty is there to ask ?

No matter how fat or small
No matter how thin or tall
No matter my height
No matter if my hair is white
No matter how many crooked teeth
Physical beauty is only skin deep.

True beauty lies in the soul
It's my virtues that make me whole.
Don't waste your tears on mean things that some may say,
Remember that they are just astray.
Forgive them and give them a smile,
To change the world it will take time.

© Tahera Jadhav 2018  India

Can I? Can I? They think I can't.
Will I? Shall I? Now how can I?
My mind is bridged, my heart is sick,
my life is stilled, I'm like a dead stick.

kakam kakam faulty engines cry,
karaammm karaammm then they die.
why let it die, why let it lie?
A pull, a push, brings it back to life.

I can, I can, I know I can
I will, I shall, but when I can.
My mind thinks so, my heart says wow,
my life knows such!, yet my hand stays low.

When I lay to sleep, I see I can.
Yea! in sick, in health: I think I can.
What they say or do can't weigh me down,
While I live and breath: I can, I can.

© Ambassador Amakor 2018  Nigeria

All the same
What else to write,
In this lonely night ?
What else to say,
To the God when I pray.
I loved too long,
Never thinking I was wrong.
My rhymes are all the same,
With sadness that burns like flame.
Too much tears I cried,
And I never tried to hide,
That my soul is in pain,
Mostly when it starts to rain..

© Milica Tesanovic 2018  Serbia

Queen of the night
Wonderful London at Christmas time,
Queen of the night
with your gorgeous lights.
It’s a shame you have a dark side!

Homeless lying on your streets
so drunk to beg your pity,
so smelly for you to get close,
so weak and frozen.

They don’t twinkle like stars,
they don’t shine like your lights.
It’s easy to avert your gaze
and look at the other side.

Their dignity has been trampled
their sorrow is deep and heavy to carry.
But you don’t care, you are busy:
it’s Christmas time and you walk on.

© Dina Palermo 2018  England

Talent Alone Never Enough
A puddle mother a river
many broad rivers a trickle
and I have seen an eagle
that wishes the mere glide of a sparrow.
Possessing it a thing, awakening it another
and if you merely wing it too
others will soon fly past...
It'll give you a stage
but how long you stay
will be your choices of life.
Passion its soul, character its twin
the telling great we see
the very great within
and obviously
talent alone is never enough
if it flows not
in the right stream of life.

© Joshua Obajobi 2018  Nigeria

Dusk laps at my portal
I let the darkness in
Like a sponge I soak it up
Grateful how it melts my senses
I sink into it as it numbs
Flowing over me like a warm shower
Healing, soothing washing away the worries of the day.
I float away on its scent
As it disrobes me
Like a mother undressing her child at bedtime.
I am ready
Waiting for it to seduce me
Like a lover
Binding the past and the present in the heat of passion
Without a care for the future
Consumed by its power, I yield.

No body now, I live in another realm
As the edges of my mind begin to fray.
I crave the lightlessness
As it absolves me from the guilt of day
From worries and wishes unfulfilled
I let it seep through my veins
And succumb to the journey of night
As it flicks the switch.

I take the first step…
Strange personas awake
One, like a comic book hero with super powers
Who flies on the wind to battle dragons and demons
Who chase and charge and terrorise,
To save the world.

Another, like beautiful Helen
Casts her magical spell on multitudes
And spurns unrequited lovers
To seek revenge on those who served a Judas kiss.

A third besotted by power
From unexpected wealth
Or inner strength somehow acquired
Is able to wag a steely finger
At an overwhelming tyrant
To gloat and win.

Now this one rises up with supernatural powers
To cross the threshold of a farther realm
And speak with loved ones long since gone.
Sometimes conjuring up a look, a hug, a warm embrace
From ones I miss the most…
And in the lingering gloom brings sweet joy!

A tiny ghostly waif appears
And this the most disturbing one
Afraid to show itself outside the shadows
Fragile, alone in a foreign place devoid of human warmth or care.
We are strangely connected this fragile wispy thing and I
Jumping at each shadow
Flinching at each sound
Bathing me in sweat and fear…

But then I feel tired night-time lose its hold
As all are called back to their drowsy base
And gently tapping at the corner of my mind
A golden sunbeam begs to be let in.

Maggie Persson
Tavira 2018

© Maggie Persson 2018  Portugal

A Toast of Glass
Under the same sky,
on the same planet,
in the same axis
and thread of orbit ...

We're on the
same page
as much as on
the same line,
something to
celebrate about—
a toast of glass,
an off of hats.

© Franchesca Tatel 2018  Philippines

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