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Summer Contest (Poetry) - Erosion

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Old 07-18-2009, 09:46 AM
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Default Summer Contest (Poetry) - Erosion

Thanks to feedback from the last contest, our prose and poetry contests will share a theme this time. Our Summer theme is Erosion!

* * *


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 Poetry Contest: Erosion - Comments 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:

15th September 2009, 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 16th of September and close on the 27th of September 2009, 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 and your wits and get writing. Good Luck!

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Last edited by HoiLei; 07-18-2009 at 09:54 AM.. Reason: Add link
Old 07-19-2009, 09:58 AM
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Default Soul Erosion

The stream carves
a meandering path
down her thigh,
a solution
of blood and tears.

Scapegoat clutched in
her trembling hand.
This act is purely symbolic.

She carves a line
for each hit she takes.
Each part of her soul
carelessly chipped
Away sink the fears
down the drain
with her catharsis.

- Patient Zer0
Only in his hometown, among his relatives, and in his own house, is a prophet without honor. ~ Jesus of Nazareth
Old 07-27-2009, 10:35 PM
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The stream behind the house has dried up this season—
remember the lull of its water after a summer rain;
the rutilant sparkle of the copper bed,
mud clay that seemed to give birth to tadpoles;
the dance of insects, nature’s waltz,
on our reflections as we stood looking above.
We dared ourselves to sink our feet into the lifeblood
of the stream, but always settled on the simple gazing.
Now, the water has gone, the clay has turned
into a darker sand, reflections once glimmering
replaced now by awkward shadows. Remember laying in bed,
drifting to sleep against the frogs’ mythical croaking?
"The basis of shame is not some personal mistake of ours, but the ignominy, the humiliation we feel that we must be what we are without any choice in the matter, and that this humiliation is seen by everyone."
Old 07-29-2009, 07:16 PM
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The tears come more easily,
when something else is missing.
Your head is saying let it go,
but your heart just keeps on wishing.
And as the tears flow from your eyes,
through your soul a path is worn.
To wash away what you once were,
and make room for the new you born.
The cries that tear at your soft throat
do not intend to harm,
just to rework the way you speak,
and replace bitterness with charm.
The tears come more easily,
when something else is wrong.
Your sobs grind down the old for new,
to keep your heart where it belongs.
So do not fear the saddened river,
that erodes your strongest thoughts.
It’s just to keep your life in shape,
so isn’t crying a small cost?
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Last edited by Firefly; 07-29-2009 at 07:46 PM.. Reason: Formatting text
Old 08-03-2009, 11:28 PM
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Default Darling, 'Til Death Do Us Part.

Did you know I can read minds, Darling?
It is a difficult task, to be sure,
wearing away the surfaces from intelligent river rocks
until they become smooth and easy to handle.

Darling, are you aware your heart gossips?
She can be a loud, selfish girl,
but she is often worth listening to
despite how worn my patience may become.

My nose is not blind, Darling.
That familiar perfume you wear certainly
reminds me of our first honeymoon;
the heady aroma ravaged our inhibitions.

Darling, look in my eyes.
You've corroded my sound mind
and murdered our rocky relationship
with your river of lies.

It's your fault, Darling.
My ring lovingly caressed
your hypocrisy and teased
you with love bites.

Darling, for you.
A lovely satin
noose to compliment
your blemished skin.

Phone, Darling.
Say hello
to your
gentleman lover.

The soul-searing mirror magnifies the
primal pulsing of my blooded beastheart.
Old 08-04-2009, 08:52 AM
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Things Fall Apart
Things fall apart,
is a book, that
I read, and

Its about time, and
its expanses, and
how slowly,
ever so,
slowly ….
things change.

Like me:

When I was young I would dream.
Dream of knights entombed in armor,
shining armor, so bright as to dispel the darkness.

For there was much darkness,
and many a monster lurked, within
the folds of that all-encumbering veil of gloom.

The Knights and I would fight these monsters.
Me and the Knights trio,
Sir Chivalry, Sir Honor, and Sir Valor.

But soon,
The monsters began to change.

They hid amongst our midst,
pimps, and drug dealers,
rapist, and murderers,
Cloaked in an illusion of humanity.

And as I grew older and older
I watched, as the Knights,
Fell one, by one

I saw chivalry converted to disregard,
saw honor stagnate and slip into derision,
viewed valor transmuted into diffidence.

As the Knights fell,
so did the spirit of humanity.
Decayed and broken, and then sealed,
in ignorance.

In fear, I murdered the child within me,
sacrificed on the alter of reality,
where many young soul splinter.

And now many years later,
there is something inside me.
Screaming out through the all encumbering silence,
that there is still hope,
for sunshine and better days.

And I sometimes believe it.

I want to be the fourth knight,
Carrying neither shield not sword.

Only ink and quill
And with my instruments eradicate,
the fledglings of ignorance,
which promulgate through the world
to shine light,
upon the all encompassing darkness.

If only I could believe,
But I’m not so sure.

Dead man tell no lies,
Do dead children?

Last edited by HoiLei; 08-12-2009 at 07:55 AM.. Reason: typos
Old 08-06-2009, 09:04 PM
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They spoke of a split near the end of a road
With two distinct paths to where no men dare go:
There’s one bathed in shadows while the other drinks light
One cursed by the sun while the other by night.

They say one holds nothing while the other holds all
One road to the void and one road to the sprawl.
They say one is blinding, but the other one blinds -
These roads I desired and swore I must find.

I encountered a stone when my quest first began
Worn smooth by the ages in an unchanging land –
Where the sun scorched the earth with its infinite faces,
And the moon stood alone over those cold desert places.

With the sand long behind me I came to a dale
Cut deep from an ancient and mountainous veil
By men I first thought, but I soon saw the truth:
‘Twas carved by the rivers of the Fountain of Youth.

And I found that these rivers led to a shore
Where once there was life but now lives no more
For the land had long fallen away to the sea
And the sea was left barren by unforgiving debris.

I thought of the stone that was once jagged now smoothed,
And I thought of the valley whose life had been soothed
By the rivers that fed into a dead sea
And thought how complex the simple could be.

But at long last I came to stand at the path
That diverged and became the first and the last.
They’re said to be opposites but differed in none -
The division: eroded, and two roads became one.
There is no such thing as writer's block for writers whose standards are low enough.

-William Stafford
Old 08-14-2009, 12:29 PM
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The Monument

The monument I erected of myself in youth
is weathered with worldly exposure
to elements – in haste or naivety – I’d not foreseen.

Its silver tongue has been pilfered, smuggled
in stumbling cloak, auctioned off to the highest bidder,
her soul the sole beneficiary of its genial luster.

The heart of gold remains, concealed in cavity,
though time has revealed flaws in manufacture,
cracks where corrosion settled. It needs professional

cleaning. What once was a feat of internal clockwork
now falters, the escapements have been captured
by dust, and gears of joints are locked shut, trapping

the ice-water I’d melted into veins, leaving them
apt to boil over from desert stagnation or grow, in darkness,
molds, moss, fungi out of deep tar deposits.

Even the bronze finish which once shined
with the summer sun, glowed beneath winter
moons, has paled to old milk, gathered moles of rust.

So with thick skin I gird, tuck gleams deep
in its eyes, a countenance mysterious, mischievous
or foolhardy, nonetheless, aware of sand

in the hourglass slipping to sand at its feet, swirling
with the eternal wind, and scraping, slowly, at bones with pebbles
small as the strokes which befall even the mightiest of oaks.
Old 08-24-2009, 07:16 AM
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What is stonger;
A mountain or a stream;
From what I have seen of might;
The mountain could put up a fight;
But one day;
That mountain will be gone away;
So to finish this rhyme;
Just know water wins every time.

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Old 09-03-2009, 08:59 AM
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Unseen Erosion

Fear will sculpt me as I age,
And pain cut like a chisel at the rage.
Erosion inside where people can’t see,
Yet I feel its external effects on me.

Still I feel emotional confusion,
Nothing more than an imaginative illusion.
For I am but a heartless erosion
That is forever internally frozen.

Hidden meanings in my smile;
I am emotionally liable.
Old 09-09-2009, 06:53 PM
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a place to go where there is no sun
hear the birds sing but can't see them
believe in yourself, if you can, only one will cry
wait for the time when its time
not the watch on a young man's hand
but the silent scream from the heart

dirt, loose and falling
vast black emptiness full
hate waiting, colors changing

never be like days gone by
never killed, never mind
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