Last year, I wrote one poem and sent it out into the community so that other people would read it and give me feedback. It was an amazing project that really helped me learn how to talk with new people, but I wanted to try something new and concentrate on my poetry writing skills. Therefore, I wrote an anthology that consists of 9 poems.
Just a quick heads up: For privacy purposes, the pictures of emails sent didn't include the personal information that was sent along with it. Only the 3/4 where personal information wasn't shown was captured.
7. Shadow of the Moon (Blank Verse)
8. The Circus of Dreams (Found Poem, The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern pages 3-369)
It was pretty difficult to come up with 9 poems. After the 4th poem, I had no idea what to write about anymore, and then other assignments began to squeeze their way into my life...sigh...It took forever to write the poems, and then it took eternity to find contests that I didn't have to pay to publish or submit my poem. Regardless, I'm truly pleased with the outcome of my 9 poems, and I actually had the opportunity to submit them into 5 contests (challenge #2). The poems I wrote are listed below so keep scrolling and stay tuned!
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Just a quick heads up: For privacy purposes, the pictures of emails sent didn't include the personal information that was sent along with it. Only the 3/4 where personal information wasn't shown was captured.
1.The Descent into Darkness (Haiku)
Light
of the world fades
Sinking
beneath the ocean
Emerging
elsewhere
2. Amidst the Smoke (Cinquain)
Trapped
Lack
of fresh air
Fear
of his rage blindly ablaze
Like
a fire
Untamed
3. A Tainted Dove (English Sonnet)
His
gaze enchanting, she was paralyzed
Eyes
promising pure bliss, eternal love
But
he was no angel she fantasized
His
crooked wings, their vows a tainted dove
One
day he loves her, caresses her skin
His
warmth embracing her, he murmurs “lovely”
The
next, alone, she wonders where he's been
Doors
shut, she's pushed arm’s length away, bloody
A
wall to whom she talks, his red hers blue
Like
two bulls butting heads, unable to think straight
The
vacant sheets, her pillowcase soaked through
Hell
broken loose, her cup fills short of hate
Despite
the madness drilled into her bones
She stays, for each other's
hearts they both own
4. Inconsistently the Same (Free Verse)
Pitter
patter Pitter patter
One
by one, she watches crystal droplets flatten against the cool, glass pane
gripping
onto the glass before losing the battle
Trickling
down the clear surface before piling up along the bottom ridge, mimicking the
ones falling down her face
Enveloped
within the clutches of Dark, a strange, familiar sense of serenity washes over
her
Knees
folded tightly against her chest, faintly feeling the slow throb of her heart
Its
hands hover over her eyelids, shadowing over any shimmer of light flickering,
taunting,
dancing
in front of her
As
a mother would to her child, its arms wrap around her frail body, urging her to
rock
herself
back and forth, the creak of the wooden floors joining the gathering
Choking
on her breath, she struggles to keep everything together
Chest
heaving, tongue tied, her shoulder shakes under the weight it's carried all day
Thunder
booms across the sky, howling waves of agony, shaking the house’s thin frame
Its
deep bellow laced with layers of sorrow, rage, of assurance that it'll be okay
It
shouted the words that nobody would nor did ever say
It's going to be alright, just find a way to survive and that
means you'll have won the game
Pitter
patter Pitter patter
Hearing
that meant she wasn't alone
People
go, their colours change
But
nature has a way
Of
being inconsistently the same
 |
| A slight editing error has made this poem posted subtly different from the one I submitted to the Blue Mountain Arts Poetry Contest (addition of a letter). |
5. What Makes Me Happy (Acrostic)
Home
sweet home
Aromatic
teas wafting through the air
Picnics
beneath the cool, sheltered shade
Promises
that the storm will soon be over
Yellow
daisies dotting lush, green fields
6. The Endless Blue Sky (Tanka)
Barren,
bone-dry realm
Where
the light heats dunes below,
baking
golden grains
Dull,
parched plants wither away
Beneath
the endless blue sky
7. Shadow of the Moon (Blank Verse)
It’s
here, its eerie presence I detect
When
light is faint Stress will creep my way
The
shadow of the moon, it visits each night
No
warning, slowly knocking at my door
Through
cracks it seeps and targets my frail state
It
warps and molds itself into all forms
Forcing
my weary mind to twist and dance
It
prowls, skittering across my page
The
wicked game it plays of cat and mouse
It
is the master, I the puppet stringed
The
vines of Stress, they slither ‘round my limbs
Until
I’m confined, can no longer win
 |
| Just to avoid confusion and suspicion, for this specific poem, the submitted version to the Young Writers Poetry Contest 2016/17 is slightly different than the one posted here (I chose to take out one word -the- before I posted it on my blog in line 2). Unfortunately, due to the potential risk of being disqualified, the same changes could not be made to the poem submitted to the contest. My apologies. |
8. The Circus of Dreams (Found Poem, The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern pages 3-369)
The circus arrives
without warning.
It is simply there, when
yesterday it was not.
Opens at Nightfall,
Closes at Dawn
a complex illusion of
illumination
it sounds rather like
magic, doesn’t it?
towering tents are
striped in white and black,
no gold and crimsons to
be seen
you can smell caramel
wafting through the evening breeze,
beneath the crisp scent
of autumn leaves
the star-speckled
Empress of the Night. The coal-dark Black Pirate.
The circus contains
several of these performers
standing stock-still
with elaborate costumes and painted skin.
girls in feathered
costumes who spin at various heights,
Marionettes that control
their own strings
first, there is a
popping sound
barely audible, a soft
noise like a kettle about to boil for tea
small lights begin to
flicker, sparkling against the night sky
accompanied by a shower
of glowing white sparks and a bit of smoke
it becomes clear that
they are aligned in scripted letters
legible, this elaborate
incandescent sign
Leaning to your left,
you can see that it reads:
Le Cirque des Rêves
The Circus of Dreams
Then iron gates shudder
and unlock
swing outward, inviting
the crowd inside.
Now the circus is open.
Now you may enter.
9. The Nightingale (Rondeau Poem)
When nightmares creep and taint your dreams
an illusion is what it seems
With unknown figures crawling walls
a distant creaking through the halls
blinding light from wicked moonbeams
A distant melody redeems
your soul from the dark, and it gleams
to protect you when the sun falls
When nightmares creep and taint your dreams
As they sing through the night it means
one can sleep in peace without screams
Even when the Evil One calls
the tune they chirp you will recall
The sound they make your mind it cleans
When nightmares creep and taint your dreams
9. The Nightingale (Rondeau Poem)
When nightmares creep and taint your dreams
an illusion is what it seems
With unknown figures crawling walls
a distant creaking through the halls
blinding light from wicked moonbeams
A distant melody redeems
your soul from the dark, and it gleams
to protect you when the sun falls
When nightmares creep and taint your dreams
As they sing through the night it means
one can sleep in peace without screams
Even when the Evil One calls
the tune they chirp you will recall
The sound they make your mind it cleans
When nightmares creep and taint your dreams
All in all, I enjoyed myself and had a lot of fun while writing these poems, aside from the 9 hour mental blockade of any creative portion of my brain as well as a couple mental breakdowns along the way. I think that during this year in particular, I've had plenty of opportunities to stimulate and use my inner creativity that I didn't use a lot last year (plus, I didn't know I had any creativity left in me....I'm astounded at how I wrote these poems......) After reading some poems from last year, I cringed at how they were written and structured. The lesson learned: practice really does make perfect (maybe not perfect, but something much better). I hope that you enjoyed reading my poems and maybe they gave you some inspiration to write your own!
