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Contest (Poetry) Subterranean

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Old 07-12-2010, 05:00 AM
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As the summer is here, it is time fore a new contest. Our theme this time is Subterranean, so tell us what is going on under the ground. Good luck.

* * *


Members are allowed one entry in the poetry contest. (You are welcome to enter our prose contest as well.) Poetry entries should be submitted as posts to this thread. The competition is open to all members of Writer’s Beat, including staff.

Members are requested to refrain from commenting on entries in this posting thread. Please use the Subterranean Comment thread instead. That thread will remain open throughout the posting period and afterwards, and members are encouraged to let entrants know what they thought of their entries.

Word Limits:

Poetry: No limit


Once an entry has been submitted, it cannot be altered. Any work that is edited after it has been entered will be disqualified. If you feel you need to make a small alteration (a misplaced comma, a spelling error), contact a member of staff. If we feel your request is reasonable, we will make the correction on your behalf.

Close Date:

13th October 2010, 12 midnight GMT


Winners will be selected by means of a public poll, so you, the members of Writer’s Beat, will choose the winners.

After the closing date, a voting thread will be posted. Voting will commence on the 14th of October and close on the 20th of October 2010, 12 midnight GMT.

* * *


The winning entries will be considered for publication in Writer's Beat Quarterly, subject to the approval of the editors. To increase your chances of getting published (whether you win or not), make sure your document is as error-free as possible!

Also, the member (or tying members) with the most votes will get to suggest the next contest theme!

* * *

If you have any questions about the contest, contact a staff member and we will happily answer them for you. Now sharpen your pencils, fill up your inkwells and get writing. Good Luck!

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?

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Last edited by HoiLei; 10-01-2010 at 12:56 PM.. Reason: Change closing date. Sorry for the confusion!
Old 07-25-2010, 09:23 AM
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Default The Legend of the Dreamweaver

They say in the
space of time that
runs, is a glorious pond
that floats beautifully in
the sky

On top of the
reflected sky lays
a castle ever so
slightly sinking deeper and
deeper into the lake

Within the walls is
one cursed to always
weave our dreams his
mind cursed to Morpheus

They call him the
the dreamweaver cursed by
fate to guide those
dead towards the lands
of dreams

His coffin lay underground
in the flooded caverns
as he sleeps for all

Carved from fine steel
marble with golden embroidery
and a smooth surface that
bounces the water's movement
onto the stone walls

There he lays looking
like a demure and well
fashioned doll
a perfection
a youth
almost an immortality
all those before him had been searching

Maybe if you drink the waters
that bless him
the wrinkles on your face shall
smooth over and you'll become younger
or maybe you'll be trapped in a dream
of his own

As the castle sinks the
coffin lays perfectly still
underground, strangely staying
afloat more than the castle
and he strangely doesn't move from his
position even though
he is dreaming
Old 07-26-2010, 04:47 PM
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The Mole and Me!

Under the ground we find the Mole!
That Mole the Mole, he dug the hole!
A hole that was dug, dug by the Mole!
Oh why oh why that you dug that hole?

Comfy is the hole dug by the Mole!
Bed and breakfast he has, within said hole!
May I join you inside this hole Sir Mole?
Join I with you Sir, inside your hole?

Worms for breakfast? Suits you Mole!
Suits you just fine within your hole!
But I eat food much differant to a Mole!
May I bring lasagne inside your hole?

I am allergic to lasagne! Replies the Mole!
So I say back, What about Spag Bol?
Spag Bol, not hole? quips the Mole!
Him and I laugh together within his hole...
"When all hope seems lost and the world is shrouded in fear, fight against the darkness and show that amidst all the despair there is a glow of hope. Show them that freedom is a right, not a privilege."- Elwind Cruxis
Old 07-27-2010, 01:23 AM
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Icon7 Natures Cry

Earth and War hold no cure,
As life goes by the Earth may cry,
Destruction and digress, The Earth is a mess,

For underground we lie,
And no one utters a cry,
Above the ground you may care,
But no impact down there,

You fill our lives with holes and bombs,
You curse us,
Hate us,
And utterly disgrace us,

Your kindness is a lack,
For we have no laugh,
Uncaring, unaware,
You have no reason to share,

You pillaged this land,
With dints in the sand,
We may rebel,
You're own personal hell,

And yet you kill this land,
All so well.
Old 07-29-2010, 01:45 PM
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Dear Mother
Dear mother when you read this i am gone
Gone to a better place so you dont have to mourn
I cannot live, among evil and lust
Life should be much more, so i have done what i must
Ill travel beyond, the soil in our sky
In such a cruel place i am not afraid to die
The war among us, hatred within
How can I prevent having a tear on my chin

I believe in what, the preacherman say
That we shall meet God on Earth, as long as we pray
I have prayed Mother, prayed for a paradise
Cant wait to leave this underground world of demise
On Earth he said, there is peace among men
And you will never have to live in fear again
People are loving and pure of intend
Perhaps Mother, I can even have me a friend

I will wait for you, alongside with dad
Well be togehter soon Mother, so dont be so sad
I hope they wont hurt you ,like they hurt me
They only know darkness and cruelty you see
On shiny bright wings I have escaped this
This underground world Jesus once called his
In the paradise of Earth I will shine
Untill you come here, and we will combine
The opposite of light is not darkness, as darkness is just the absense of light.
Old 08-03-2010, 10:29 AM
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Default Subterranean Poetry Entry

Hold still, woman

Hues of twilight

dripped across the canvas sky
until all you could see were stars like bleach stains,
that harsh streetlight,

that woman,

huddled into herself,
teeth grating harsh on the flesh of her knees.
Fingers buried,
digging them into the earth
reaching them down
rooting through the years
past the soil
the ice
the smooth slab of wood
like to cradle the head of her child.

And her eyes sewn shut

so she could rest on his negative; the joke
of his black toothed-smile--
the gaping flash of bone
she'd known so well.

In that fractured night

she lit a candle
for no one to see shining
like the silver
on his bridle that morning he
said: it's okay, Ma,
It's okay. 'Cause
you can be forever
dying when you're doing what you love.

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insanabile cacoethes scribendi
Old 08-31-2010, 08:20 AM
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The Old Wound

The new pain unstitches the old wound,
and I enter the bloody darkness
which stands as a doorway to the soul.

Within the wound rot deeper wounds—
hollows in the cave walls, festering
for centuries, deep and arid
as a desert, where the wind blows
amid the red rock towers— otherworldly
shapes against a silent sky full
of Saturn's distant light.

There squats
the soul, huddled under the ashes it wears.
Face hidden, it points to the strange
signs painted in the darkness, speaking
of escape in enigmas. The soul, the enigmas,
they are one, and they point into the depths.
These are oceanic shadows in which I swim.

Hungry, burning my clothes for light, strip
by strip along the tunnels, until, naked, I slip
through the shadows like a thought,
passing under the rugged hills,
my mind filling with the sound of water
dripping endlessly, dissolving the rock
through which I crawl, opening the way,

out to the place where I'll awaken,
one morning— morning, by God!— surrounded
by sunlight and ferns, and trees,
maples and oaks, the forest of home long ago,
where the old stone walls still stretch and stand
and open, sometimes, on fields of gold.

'I saw no God, nor heard any, in a finite organical perception; but my senses discover'd the infinite in every thing, ... I cared not for consequences but wrote.' -Blake
Old 09-21-2010, 06:11 PM
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Alone in my Pit

Slowly, dimness creeping all over me, eating me… killing me
Now I’m falling down into immensity and darkest well of melancholy
The sharpest pain coming from within... numbing me… killing me
It is as dark and harrowing as night not a speck of light is in sight
I’m lost and undone, wondering where everything has gone
I’m stripped down to my soul almost bouncing aimlessly like a ball
There’s neither sun nor moon to ease my pain each time extreme terror reigns

All alone in my pit, I’m exhausted almost losing my grip
No one seems to care, is it because I’m no more than a mediocre?
I’m aching with hunger to love, willingly, I’d give anything I have
But then again, I’m all alone in this solitary room

… crying in vain nothing is left but flooding rain.

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Old 09-27-2010, 01:42 PM
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Of The Night Sky

“He hoped and prayed that there wasn't an afterlife. Then he realized there was a contradiction involved here and merely hoped that there wasn't an afterlife.” Douglas Adams

And now with all its splendour night reflects
his face with luminous dots. And some, they glow,
while some are nearly dim and some descend
so low upon the flaking winter of
the soughing space while some observe from high
the stranger lying down below the sky.
Dark seconds pass and he transfigures then,
another log immobile on the ground
unable to move alike, he idly waits.
In a moment like this where it’s fleeting time and the cold
and the glistening dew that could have been tears if he cried.
Not in happiness, carelessness, youth. Now, he’s aware
now is the time and lust to be truly alive.

To watch the silver chains leak from the sky
To change through painful knowledge of this place.

The creature crawls through dampened fields of grass.
Its paws grasp. Its eyes dark, and looking
into him, they swallow a grown man.
Its voice rasp. The stars – God, the stars.
Bright. Jaded. I don’t wish to leave.
I fear... I don’t want to leave right now.

Come. Hold my hand. Walk with me
for the very last and passing time.

To this day, remaining where he loved,
where he has never been more animated
or more alive. Where some, they glow,
while some are nearly dim and some descend
so low upon the flaking winter of
the soughing space while some observe from high
the stranger lying down below the sky.

It’s said our spent beloved cool the ground.

I say our spent beloved light the sky.

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