poetrypulse poetry competitions uk

free monthly competition - April 2019 
(18 entries)
Quiet, green willows hang silent after the stormy night.
The leafy fringe curtains the river edge and the morning begins.
The water has lately been so low, ground water is unavailable
And the flood plain widens on either side.
Next season the buzz saw cuts..thalidomidic arms reach out
The grotesque limbs sprout thick pollards but the willows
Soon cover their nudity in the familiar cloaks of gay greenery!
Fine hair-do for trees recently hacked to the heart!!
White willow, your boughs are pale and dry.. your trunk and roots
Rot in the banks and turn to peat.
Years go by time forgets, the leafy curtain cloaks the borders.
Storms rage again and bring down the aged willows.
The water rises now in Winter and the fallen ones dam the flow
While the banksides drop chunk by chunk and the grassy meadows dwindle.

© brendan bacon 2019  England

I am banished from my homeland,
Castaway from all I have ever known,
I live in a land where I do not belong,
Where its people stare at my strange appearance.

I am in perpetual torment, this my punishment,
Everything here is unknown to me,
One day, maybe I can return to my homeland,
Far away from these people, away from their hate.

I walk these streets and see but greyness,
How do these people survive without light?
A woman passes, smiles, maybe she understands,
The first kindness, I hope not the last.

Years now pass and still this land is strange to me,
Yet, I have learnt to live amongst its people,
Many acts of kindness have been bestowed upon me,
Not all are kind, but, maybe one day I can call this home.

© JULIE ACHILLES 2019  England

Beneath a Silver Moon
I tread water and watch you on the edge
of the shore as you stand still,
eyes shut, face upturned, arms
reaching out as though to pull
the stars down from the sky.

By the light of the moon, I see your smile
as you breathe in that familiar salty air
and dig your toes into the wet sand,
letting the surf gently lap your ankles,
like we used to do when young.

I see you as you were then, before
the dark cloud came, before the chemo
took away your golden hair
and turned your arms to twigs,
before we lost our future.

You open your eyes, and the pain
that has showed in them for months, has gone.
You wade, then swim, out to join me,
I take you in my arms
and let the sea carry us away.

© Tracy Davidson 2019  England

Walk In Space (Zero Gravity)
From walk on
water, to walk on air,
to walk in space ...

Sun, centered.
crystallized dust;
Earth, home;
Saturn's ring;
breath, held.

I'm traversing
freely, amazed
and wide-eyed;

through the
atmosphere, wintry;
along the stars, stunned;
zero gravity, light.

© Franchesca Tatel 2019  Philippines

My Bitter Life
I got bitter
because I was fooled
through sweet words by fake people.
Because I trusted the wrong person.
Because I let my so-called friends to hurt me
by showing them my true feelings.
Because they only came to me
when THEY needed ME,
not when I needed THEM.
Because they never realized
how broken I was,
behind my fake-smiling mask.
Because they judged me
without even knowing my story.
Because I couldn't hear anything.
Because I didn't exist.
Because I couldn't see.

I tried to be GOOD,
But I realized...
There is no point to be good
to those who behaves
so shit with me.

Then I perceived that
life is like a puzzle to me,
because I wasted my precious time
trying to place people
where they don't fit...

I wish I was a kid again,
because only then
I wouldn't suffer from heartbreak
but just toothache.

© Lamiya Khokon 2019  England

Tilted lamp
Tilted lamp not meant to be that way,
Propped up on a chair,
Shouldn't really be there,
Doing the job,
But with no finesse,
Make do and mend,
Decay and mess,
Wire knotted,
Shade askew,
Once things were right,
Now chaos anew,
Tilted lamp,
It's just a tilted lamp.

© Paul Christian 2019  England

I am human, not a punchbag.
Hold back your anger, look deeper.
Throw out the weapon, get closer.
Touch and tell me, Ain't I a human?

I'm human, a wombedman.
A dual terrestrial being,
the secondary creator on earth.
Birthed through man, birthing men,
culled from man, called for man.

I am human, not a business.
I'm no sex toy, no baby's doll.
I wasn't manufactured, not a good, not a service, I'm no drug!
I am a living breathing being just like you,
So, quit trafficking me!

I'm human, a 'Fe'-male.
The chemistry of biology,
Man, made of iron,
heart made of wool.
The most compassionate,
yet the strongest.

I am human, a MOREther.
The secret behind succesful men,
architect of every happy family.
A father in woman's clothing,
I am she, he, we, us, I am all.
I am human, you are human,
We are H U M A N,
together we can balance the world.

© Ambassador Amakor 2019  Nigeria

Journey To Paradise
Fountain of youth was about to fall
I wasted it and lost it all
River of peace was about to flow
I drank from it and let it go
Spring of hope was about to run
It went dry with rising sun
Stream of love was about to cool
Seas of azure deserted soon
Brook of faith was about to shine
Its spell was lost with morning light
Pond of colors was about to glow
Its flame was gone with falling snow
Dew of zeal was about to laugh
It froze up with the fading stars
Weather of life was about to chant
It sank into the waterfall

Song of truth was set to go
Fate turned it off or kept it low
Hymn of monk was good to run
Pride got rid of him with beating drums
Ney of hills was fit to live
Its heart panted with moaning breezze
Music of way was made to roll
Its tune fainted in depths of soul
Hums of course were personified
fortune blew them all in dawning skies
Chime of will was sound to reign
Luck ruined itself in nasty flames
Poem of path was meant to born
Echoes were lost in blazing storm
As Ballad of track longed to bloom
Verse collapsed and met its doom

Earth began to cool with your smile
I ran with you million miles
Trees began to talk as you laughed
words looked to shine with glazing stars
Ground began to walk with your feet
Nature sang with my heart beat
flowers began to bloom as you rolled
All my Fears clung to frozen poles
As my ill Fate fell from the hill top
worries flew away with rain drops
joy began to swing in light air
sorrows ended with morning prayers
Thousand suns began to glow
And my face dazzled with rainbow
Bad omens drowned into the Nile
My life climbed up to paradise

© Mohammad Asif 2019  India

The insomnia nights
I feel hollow...

I don't know why but tonight is the night, most of me feels hollow from inside. I don't know what it is, maybe a friend thing or maybe an old memory continuously scratching me from inside.

It's like I keep drowning and still not reach the surface. Standing sober and still feel unstable.

It's like I feel the sky and see no clouds, I see the rain but feel no wet. Maybe, it's an old friend's Goodbye thing which I still need to overcome yet.

Sun goes up and world feels bright but I don't know why I still feel dark inside. I'm starving but I still don't feel hungry inside.

I don't feel any emotion inside,
I just feel hollow...

© DIPESH SACHDEV 2019  India

Tory Boy
Corpulent man of means,
privately educated.
Substantial, golf-playing,
Scotch-drinking, wine connoisseur.

Second wife, younger,
children, gone.
New York and Berlin,
if you please.

Truculent, imperious,
fat, ugly, mean.
Tight-fisted, narrow-minded,
God help us all.

© Richard Lavenham 2019  England

Caught Up
Blebs enclose an ambivalent terra firma
Unaware of its own embellished olive green
A terminating twig rests close by, devoid of solicitude
In the twinkling of an eye will withdraw due to Sun flickered storms
Parched skulls sutured by concordant dooms
Won’t rouse to see the eclipsed sky

Why an exhibition of despotism by unremembered blue yonder?
May be the clouds imprison a comeback
For the beads are caught up
Anticipating a miracle downpour
Dispatching the spherical drops onto the barren lands

Then on ardency may caress the caught up spirits
May be in some alternative narrative
Cladded with better hues, unchained distinct
Liberation is a portrayal of untold maple leaves
Caught up with thousand flurries of air.

© Sonali Sharma 2019  India

Old, now
and tired.
Always tired.

Slow, too.
But feisty
on the inside.

Sprightly, perhaps?
Of the mind.

Not sad.
if detached.

© Rosie Carnley 2019  Australia

Subscription Downgrade
Episodes of life now viewed Black and White,
TBA listings lacking Technicolor delight.
Sky, Virgin, Netflix show once what to see,
Complete TV packages a distant memory.
Movie Blockbusters, Sports biggest games,
Billboard displays remember those names.
Blank channels many, choice seems through,
Watching old faves now shop windows view.
Digital reception requires constant re tune,
Premium telly viewing seems over too soon.
Nostalgic reruns bringing a tear to the eye,
Inclined switch off leave on red light stand by.
Don’t throw remote keep close by your side,
Channel hop FreeView find much does reside.
Mind not eyes see programs in colours glow,
Something worth watching, find that new show.

© John Garry 2019  England

The Pearlman
Oh! I miss the pearl again
In my marrow, the coldness I bear
In my sorrow the bluntness I feel
Fair inside, a layer crumbles to adjoin
Reunite a regret, lure a forbidden wish
The dream I’ve seen when I cut out the snail
A void ocean growling soundless
The white’s itching me like a evergreen truth
Flawless shinning is pouring with its magnanimity
“Cultivate the sorrow fisherman
Cultivate the sorrow
You’re in the ocean of melancholy
Find the pearl
She’s out there somewhere
Wet yourself, drown again in sad current
Find until you die
Search the bliss by cutting a snails heart
Take the pain and flow it to dear creature
Again it’s empty like your luck...(Ha! Ha! Ha!)”
Oh! Again I miss the pearl.

© shuvendu sarkar 2019  Bangladesh

The starving millions
That world has gone.
Like Dixon of Dock Green, Spot
the ball, Green Shield Stamps.

Imagine was part of its game
what was not intended to happen
but could have. You never know.

He had to think of the starving millions in China
when the greens were lowered down. Learn
that they never knew where the next meal

would come from. In bed with flu
whatever, at least he should try eating
the meat. And use Imperial Leather.

Aunts sent handkerchiefs through the post.
But others’ gifts reappeared on the sideboard
if ever they came to visit. You never know.

There were no actuaries or Professors of Logic
at the University of Life. No straight lines.
No streetwise Artful Dodgers either.

Some things she did for him until
he had to do it himself. With just the right
protective film from shame.

That change of (baggy) underwear each day …
Why? Imagine you have an accident.
Imagine you have to go to the hospital.

© Christopher M James 2019  France

What if I my intention is misunderstood
What if I took a different path
What if it wasn’t a short cut and disaster came sooner
What if I don’t go out at all
What if I lie on my belly and pray
What if I sacrifice my arm
What if I summon a demon

Could I change
Could I be the determining factor
Could I be a mediator
Could I stop exposing lies
Could I silence the devil in my ear
Could I make you like me again, if you ever did

Should I have pretended I wasn’t bored
Should I have squatted in front of you with a fruit basket on my head
Should I have decorated your bed with petals every night
Should I move to another country make a fresh start
Should I

© Liz Atzori 2019  Isle of Man

अभी तो पूरा आसमाँ ब�
ना रोको मेरी उड़ान को,
ये ज़मी मेरी मंज़िल नहीं है। हौसले अभी बोहोत बाकी हैं इन पंखो में,
अभी तो पूरा आसमाँ बाकि है ।

क्या भाप सकोगे तुम मुझे, हिमशैल जैसी अनकही हूँ मै।शांत पानी सा मत समझना मुझे, अंदर एक उबलता तूफान बाकि है ।

ये ज़मी मेरी मंज़िल नहीं है,
अभी तो पूरा आसमाँ बाकि है।

इन जंजीरों को तोड़ बढ़ूगी मै आगे ,
मेरे खाब जो सच करने है।
रुकूंगी नहीं मै नहीं चाहे लाख कोशिश कर लो,
अभी तो हर्र नामुमकिन मुमकिन करना करना बाकि है ।

ये ज़मी मेरी मंज़िल नहीं,
अभी तो पूरा आसमाँ बाकि है।

दुनिया बदलने का खाब लिए, कुछ सपने मैमाइने सजाये है ।
घर की चार दीवारी से,
आज पैर मैंने बढ़ाये है।
अभी तो एक इतिहास लिखना बाकि है ,

ये ज़मी मेरी मंज़िल नहीं है ,
अभी तो पूरा आसमाँ बाकि है।

© Komal Mehta 2019  India

In a school of the world of a hard life
It wasn’t one thing specifically that made her decide to hurt others to end hers.
From an outside view, any sane person would ponder the option of a way to feel good seeing the contrast in the two extremes. Better. Or even nothing at all. Anything other than today. Yesterday. And as well as it not being promised, tomorrow will not be better. The second you think about stale pain, the kind that just sits there.. your memories haunting your every waking moment. It comes right back. But it’s worse now. Because time has gone on where we were supposed to be improving ourselves, contributing something.. anything. But instead we’re seemingly going backwards with a lack of productivity, causing a vicious cycle. Today and every potential day forward, we’re forced to remember our inactions of .. our whole lives. And our actions? Could they have been enough if today we feel this way? The whole day?

© Jamie Martens 2019  Canada

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