I wrote most of this poem at an ungodly time to be on the computer (though not an ungodly time in general)- 8:00 pm and 6:00 am- and i don't think i like it that much but i really wanted to enter something, so here it is XD

-- 

sometimes i dream about crying.

you crying in my arms, and me crying with you.

(i'm not even entirely sure it's you, but anyways.)

sometimes i dream about crying, tears streaming down my face into your hair as you soak my shoulder with salt and water,

but it's never a nightmare, even if 

sometimes you're crying because everything fell apart, fractured into so many microscopic pieces, and

sometimes we're crying because someone died and i'm crying with you, 

but i'm always there, and you're always so fragile in my arms, and we're always the only thing in the world because nothing else ever seems to matter.

usually, i tell you

i will always love you, no matter what happens.

maybe it's just that i wish i could. i wish that tears didn't paralyze me, and i wish i wasn't so scared of crying.

i wish i could be strong enough and weak enough to let myself cry

to tell you that i love you when you need to hear it most. 

i wish that i wasn't so helpless and i wish i knew what to do, when your world is crashing down around you and all that's real is the tears sliding down your face.

i wish i could do more than just stand there and watch.

but that's what i do, isn't it, so maybe my fantasies are all ones in which i make a difference for once.

perhaps in my dreams i'm all that i could be

and maybe i just dream of crying so i can dream of being the person i want to be.

I PROMISE I will judge as soon as I can tomorrow!!!! I'm so sorry, my dog got an operation yesterday so it's all been pretty hectic!

Ok this is late I'm so so sorryyy!! There were so many wonderful entries in this round, and it was extremely hard to judge! I'm kind of pressed for time so the judging will be a little brief, apologies.

Third Place: Tie ~ Jaybells and Periwinkle! ~ Jay, I thought your poem did such a good job of reflecting on the process of growing up and how it changes someone and how the fantasy of our lives fade over time. I thought the message was very well delivered :) Peri, I thought your idea of a fractured fantasy was very unique and unconventional in a fun way! I got Flynn Rider vibes at the beginning when I read the part about the wanted poster.

Second Place: Luminescence! ~ Lumi, I thought this was such a mysterious and kind of sad piece (how is everything you write so amazing???) and the whole thing had a wonderful effect. My favorite line was the last one, because it really makes the reader think about the intent of the author and why they want to be their dream self <333

First Place: Feline Fantasy! ~ Feli, this was such a fun poem to read! I thought this was the poem that fit the theme the best and the descriptions were stunning to imagine :) I also loved the idea that it looped back around to the beginning in the last line. The rhyming was genius tbh <3

Feli, you are the next judge! Thank you EVERYONE for submitting poems and being amazing!!!!!! 

This is my poem:

Put one piece here

And second one there

If you're patient

this is the art for you. 

One shape crooked

another straight

Piece it all together 

And make something new. 

Arrange it one way to make something like this

Then you could remake it

for something different. 

It's almost like words

You can rearrange

Put them one way

or another. 

Mix them and match them

If you're creative 

This is the art for you. 

Extending the deadline to the 26th due to lack of entries. If the theme isn't "inspiring" enough, I can change it.

All I see

Is a little

blue

square.

I stare at the square.

What does this mean?

Is this another one

Of the "new art" pieces?

I turn my back on the blue square

Sitting on the middle of a white wall.

In my head it's almost gone already,

Not worth my time.

But of course, I don't see

A young woman come back,

Water bottle in hand, 

Tears in her eyes.

How could I tell she'd have

A box overflowing with tiles;

For her art be willing to pour in

All her days and nights?

I don't. I can't. I never could.

But she works away as suns and moons

Pass overhead, seasons shifting like hours

On a clock, people changing as the art grows;

And before long that little blue square

Is the centre of a huge mosaic.

What one had once considered insignificant

Is now a revered piece of art. 

That is the magic of a mosaic. 

Life in Shapes

I decided to make 

A mosaic of my life.

Surely, laying everything out,

Breaking it down into simple, basic shapes

Would finally help me understand 

This strange world the way 

Everyone else could.

So I used blue rectangles

And green squares 

And orange triangles

And more, and more,

Because life forces you

To give more,

And more,

And maybe even more.

Carefully, I arranged it all.

It probably wasn’t perfect,

But everything has its flaws,

So I did my best not to think about it. 

Finally finished,

I stood back to look at my work.

There were squares and triangles everywhere,

But somehow, there wasn’t much to see.

Maybe, I thought, there is something wrong

With the mosaic. 

So I went back to the rectangles,

The squares,

The triangles,

And everything else, 

Inspecting every nook and cranny

Still nothing, though,

And as I looked at the big picture 

(If you could really call it that)

I wondered:

Is there something wrong with the mosaic,

Or is there something wrong with...

Me?

ahh so sorry i'm late. Feli, your theme is absolutely inspiring enough, i'm just really good at procrastinating and really bad at remembering to do things. but here is my entry, finally, not proofread and not edited as usual :,)

--

they say that eyes are windows to souls.

yours are brown but they're also more than that, they're sunlight mixed with earth & dancing under the sun through a rain-soaked field of soft mud & fireflies that seem to leap further & further away from you the closer you get because they could never be contained in a jar.
your eyes dance, pulling me in & in & in until i can't quite help but sing along to the music & smile because the world can wait & maybe it's okay if i float away on clouds in an imaginary kaleidoscope sky sometimes. they remind me what it is to be a child & that i am still one, that innocence is still something we can still grab onto like a rapidly disappating fog seeping through our fisted hands 'cause we don't wanna have to let it go (but maybe we don't).

i keep memories of the eyes that mean the most in my head, to call upon when i need them to get through these days and nights. 

yours are amber. that's rare, did you know? i call them lion-eyes though i don't know if i ever told you that. lion-eyes, because they're gold, melted honey & almost-invisible flecks of pollen floating on breezes that blow with no shortage of enthusiasm despite their repititions, because the winds don't get vacation days & they're constantly working overtime.
your eyes ground me. the world is terrifyingly real but we couldn't (wouldn't) trade it for another, because there's all those beautiful moments & people & things i wouldn't trade my memories of for all the gold in the universe. they tell me about the little things, the ones we smile about, the ones we love. they remind me how to love & that i am loved.

i think our eyes say the things our hearts want them to.

yours are slated grey but filled with blue, sometimes stone sometimes ocean. they're bright & hard & they stand out in your face tinged with pink from the blood rushing to your head when you get worked up (because i know you, you could never not stand up for someone). sometimes they soften, melting from rock into water & insecurities
your eyes remind me that everything's changing constantly but all we gotta do (all we can do) is be strong like stone & even if we come crashing down into oceans of pain we can pull ourselves back up. that maybe if we could hold onto our ideals long enough & we could be brave enough to say something into the silences that seem to swallow up our voices until our world is maybe just a little bit closer to some semblace of perfection.

they say that eyes are windows to souls, but maybe they're more than that.

Here's my entry! I decided to try rhyming poetry for this one, and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out! (and the repetition of the first lines is purposeful, if you were wondering :))

I sit on the edge of a sidewalk

staring into an empty street

as the rain washes away some chalk 

that’s been smeared by careless feet

there isn’t another soul out here

who would be in this type of weather?

my heart pumps out a song of fear

as I try to pull myself together

but I can feel my hope slipping away

I reach for it, desperate

but it falls and shatters at my feet into an array

of broken pieces, all sizes and shapes that are separate

yet still the same

all broken pieces that show just how broken I am

I want to reclaim

that hope and that spirit and that passion that I used to slam

into anyone who doubted me

but I just can’t seem to grab onto them

I want to run and flee

but my hurt is a root holding me down, and, you know, I used to be a gem

a gem, people would say, something special and bright

someone who made a room light up and put a smile on everyone’s face

I tried hard to fight

against injustice and everything I thought was unfair and wrong, but now that’s not the case

I sit on the edge of a sidewalk

staring into an empty street 

as the rain washes away some chalk

that’s been smeared by careless feet

and I don’t leave the shattered remains of hope on the ground

but gather them with care

glad that they could still be found

in the cool morning air

I piece the remains together

creating a mosaic of my hope

it isn’t perfect (nothing is, after all), but I’ll love it forever

because I took something broken and made it beautiful, climbed my steep slope

I may be broken, you know, but I still have hope. 

Well, I wasn't exactly sure how to interpret this theme. It really had me thinking, and after a couple tries I think I'm happy with this:

Broken tiles~

I never know how to 

see 

the whole

picture.

All I can see is

broken tiles

like the ones from 

gorgeous mosaic art.

Maybe

it's difficult for you to understand

but

I can't

not be broken.

I can't 

not see broken.

My whole life,

It's all just

mosaic art.

It's all just

broken.