English Online Poetry Competition

Poem House Competition Old Me-New Beginnings

I will explain about me,

I will write under a pseudonym,

My old self? Ha!

You will see what I will do to him.

My future is in acting,

The auditions? They won’t be retracting.

I will put it all down in writing,

They’ll say my life is exciting.

When I was one-I was born,

My life became torn between, writing and acting.

Now I’m re-enacting my past life-years 1-10,

I live in Penn-now and then.

Number two!

Now this is true-I broke (in two places) my leg,

At play-train. I’ve always been insane.

I ain’t got nothing in my brain worth saying again.

When I was three-I got real snotty you see,

I was a ‘lil toddler toddlin’ around, at home, at the park, also in the

playground.

Once the age of four began daunting me,

I had several different foods brought to me,

Mushrooms arrived, and veggie surprise.

There were no longer any foods brought to me.

I became five-I grew up fast,

My life? Like a sky-dive.

I went to Lapland at the age of six,

I got in the mix;

I started trying some stupid little tricks;

Flicking little bricks at my neighbours cat,

(Obviously I didn’t do that...)

After seven years in the life,

My acting career got stabbed with a knife,

I had a trashy role in a trashy show,

Well, it was okay though... I suppose-maybe no, though?

You know, I just don’t know.

I mean, it was the Wizard of Oz so it did give quite a blow, though?

The ammo though, well-I say so,

It was a laser gun fight with the ammo-whoah!

It was like so: it was at my eighth b-day party,

I got some real bestowed cargo then too though,

Hang on though, I am getting quite off-subject, not much of a pro

then tho...

New beginnings: It came suddenly

It came crashing down on me,

I started at secondary school-JHGS was an obvious choice for me,

It was an easy choice really,

But a massive idea-it took me a while to grasp it,

Confused. Like someone asking me to jump into a shark pit.

Ah! Of course, I see, let me say now, I have learnt some advice,

From being said with such force to me,

Like to see a number from a rolling dice,

You know, four single times it was said in a song,

Talk less, smile more-don’t let them know what you’re against or

what you’re for!

You know, having seen this-what it was in-you know there wasn’t a

chance,

I actually wanted to sound as if I was from France.

Well, then there was quite a haze,

Like being lost inside a maze,

At least it was just a faze,

But I am always being lazy...

I got bored of writing so decided to type whenever I could instead,

Instead of wasting lots of lead,

Well that being said,

Now I am going red,

Oh god, this is growing deadly,

This isn’t friendly,

Please tell me to stop rhyming,

I am always timing the length of time to do nothing,

Now I’m writhing...

Stop.

All I wanted to do was write about New Beginnings.

The Immortal Jellyfish

The turritopsis dohrnii lives life.

It is born.

It grows.

It mates.

And its life is done.

No purpose.

Nothing.

So it begins life again.

It is born again.

It grows again.

It mates again.

And it begins again.

New purpose.

New life.

A fresh start.

A new beginning.

Another life.

How cleansing is the snow

Blood may rain, tears may fall,

But oh how cleansing is the snow

Wars are won and lost.

Away life's roads go

How cleansing is the snow

What hath happened on the battlefield

we do not know,

After the cleansing of the snow.

We burn away the things we see

the things we see behind our eyelids.

I run from the things I will be,

the things I become behind my eyelids.

Whichever ways our dreams go

and whatever way the winds blow

and wherever our sorrows sow.

We must try to learn to grow.

We can flee from these sorrowful seeds

run and hide from the growing sorrow trees.

With our brain. The sorrow kneads.

There is no way, this sorrow to please.

The way we turn in life we do not know

no control of the ebbing nor of the flow,

only to pray we leave our sorrows.

Behind. In the snow.

Where fear is rooted beneath you

though you know not why or how.

As shame drains you

I pray for you, some snow.

Fresh white powder lay soft,

innocuously calm and loving

new love and memories held aloft.

But heat rises and blood is hot.

Cleansing snow of love and care

laying beautifully, peaceful as well.

But laying beautifully on years of despair.

Loving snow slowly melting.

Drip after drip seeped away

flowing away sadly

exposing the years of decay.

Let us pray for this snow to fall again on another day.

A fresh start is not fresh without healing,

you cannot live numbed by the snow,

what is love without feeling?

So now I don’t pray for snow

I pray for learning

to love and to blossom.

This money of no value I wish to be earning.

Currency more important than mans.

I kneel and rest without my years of decay.

I have learnt and have healed.

There is no other way.

Now I welcome the snow.

Beginning at the End of Time

The grass is gone and trees stripped bare,

The flowers, too, they bloom no more,

It's been but days and all is lost.

He's what remains: He is the core

Of civilisation, and yet he's a single man,

A single man alone in dark,

And as the radiation poisons deep,

He lifts his knife and makes a mark

Into the rotting walls of his abode

And carves out a petty figure of the day,

For no-one cares to tell him time:

They're gone and dust, and far away.

In time before now, he thinks again

Of normal people who'd walk the streets,

And now they're reduced to rubble

And simply crushed beneath the sheets

Of wrought iron and concrete blocks

That held this very place aground,

And all has been torn apart

In fire, and fury and thunderous sound

That signalled what seemed to be the end of time.

But, as the sun creeps further up

The parched horizon of a scorched earth,

Some fleeting hope begins to build:

"Is this some sort of meek rebirth?"

He starts to wonder furthermore:

"Is all at end? is all now gone?

Or, must I search to find a start,

And attempt to find a sign of spawn

That heralds dawn again upon the earth"

and still he waits for yet more sun,

For clouds of gas and swarms of dust

Shield his eyes from the day begun.

Sunlight through and through appears

A golden reminder of time before;

He feels a rousing frisson of the soul

For he stands now on Styx's shore.

And this is his yet final move:

And dawn appears, brings hope and dew!

"Oh Sky above; You are what remains"

"Is there time left to start anew?"