Sooo this was an interesting round for me. I thought about maybe going with something similar to what I've written in the past, (i think it was for the theme porcelain) about, you know, breaking, fragile, empty, that vibe. And I'm not trying to say that poems which use comparisons and words along those lines are bad, no they're quite good, in fact, and super relateable for me if you compare something broken to a person. (which i did in my previously mentioned poem) But, even though I love writing moody, relateable,long poems, I thought I might try to branch for this one. Sooo, Yeah! Here's my poem!:

Blowing glass bubbles/Your own~

glass is a wonderous thing,

blown and colored into existence 

beautiful and

fragile

and everything you could want. 

it's precious and 

cute

and personal.

it's melded, molded, created with love and

care and 

dedication

hard work to make it your own.

you take it and you blow bubbles with it,

sticky, oozing bubbles,

rainbow, clear bubbles,

floating, popping bubbles,

and you admire it.

you watch it

fly

fly 

fly

soar, even,

but even your very own glass

will pop,

break,

crack.

so take your time,

create with care,

and when you're ready

you should 

gently breathe it to life

and then you've made it

for you

about you

because of you. 

your own beautifully blown glass.

keep it safe,

be gentle,

admire with care

for you don't wish to watch it pop,

now do you? 

Sorry I'm late I totally forgot! This round is a tough one. As I read over the poems I would think, "well I know what place I'd put that one in! This is easy!" And then I'd read another one and be like, "wait..." But yeah I did my best!

Honorable Mentions (in no particular order) 

Pancake! 

Oh, I like this! The wording is quite clever, and the way the words seem to float around on their own but also like they go together makes me feel like this poem truly is glass in words. My favorite is definitely the last stanza, especially the final line, "forever glass." It is a harsh yet beautiful reminder that the past will always be there, fragile as it was when it was the present. Amazing poem, keep writing <3

Hex!

This was a very good use of rhyme! It sounded friendly and whimsical yet smart, taking me around the world and forcing me to look a little closer at everyday things. I love the line "Cinderella's legendary slipper-clad feet" the best. The ending was quite good too. Great job, I hope to see more of your work! 

Phantasmagoria!

This. This was beautiful. Just plain beautiful. Some of your best work, I'd say. The last two lines hit me hardest: As unstable as aged dynamite/Yet just as delicate as a feather fallen to earth." It feels like a metaphor that could be applied to so many things: heartbreak, fear, childhood, nostalgia, the list goes on and on. Exceptional job!

Spellbound!

This was very pretty and whimsical. The light, airy vibes made me feel like a small child (in a good way, not a condescending one, of course), young and happy and just sort of looking at the world through this merry, colorful lense, if you catch my drift. I liked the lines "sticky, oozing bubbles,/rainbow, clear bubbles,/floating, popping bubbles..." best. Very sweet and colorful! I hope to see more of your work soon!

Winners!

4th Place...

WordSong!

I know there's usually not a fourth place but there were many to choose from and I decided this one needed to get a place in the spotlight.  The beginning lines are very strong: "my heart is surrounded by a/stained glass wall -/it is distorted by pictures and colors of who i used to be,/and you can never see clearly through the glass/no matter how hard you try." Simply beautiful, and very well done! I could visualize the poem very well, it gave me this confused, trapped feeling that was truly amazing. Thank you for this <3

Third place....

Jaybells!

Oh, wow. Just WOW. This is mind blowing. The metaphors work quite well. I like the beginning lines, "The world is made of glass--/Fragile balance, delicate scales,/Hearts that'll break at a breath's touch--/Snowflakes that splinter, shattering into a million pieces;" a lot. I like the way the poem acknowledges that we are fragile but also says that that is what is beautiful about us and the world. It's a very interesting perspective, and I loved it! 

Second place...

Luminescence!

Well this is a mood. More than that, really. I feel like it is sort of... Not understanding exactly how you are feeling and being afraid of it and wanting to spend more time being happy, so you just shove it away. "Bottle it up," as you said. I'm quite fond of the lines, "(but it's fine, I’ll just bottle it up, until the blue-stained-glass bottle explodes to fragments/and we are all blown to bits.) What a great way to end that poem! Overall, I felt it was a rollercoaster of emotions, and I loved it!

First place (drumroll pleeeaaaaseeeee.....)

ANONYMOUS POET!

Wowo Wowo Wowo! This is sort of relatable. It's judging yourself and wanting to know what others think of you. And that's really powerful throughout the whole poem--this hopeless, confused, worried feeling. I like the lines, but if i shatter my reflections,/the glass will cut me,/won't it?/because if i stop reflecting on/other people's mirrors,/i'll stop being scared of what they think,/so i'll be myself,/and if i'm myself,/won't they hate me? That part is interesting to me because it is like not knowing what you want and feeling that all your options are bad. Amazing job! Congrats <3 

Thanks so much, Periwinkle & WordSong! :) The new theme is of two minds, and I'll judge on February 1st.

the pencil left behind 

a day’s passed.

you left so fast and i

didn’t even get to say goodbye.

and now i’m of two minds because

on the one hand, you

left your pencil here and

i want to see you again.

but on the other-

do you want to see me?

or did you leave because i

was getting irritating?

i always wonder if you find me annoying.

a week’s passed.

i still haven’t made up my mind.

sometimes i’ll take the

pencil you left behind from its

new, hopefully temporary home

in my own pencil tin and

stare at it and wish

that you were here so i didn’t have to

make this decision.

i remember the shallow cardboard box you

stored your pencils in that was decorated

with washi tape and Sharpie, and

I wonder if you miss this one.

was it your favorite?

are you wishing right now that you had it?
are you missing it?

are you missing me?

a month’s passed.

i made my choice, or at least, 

i tried to.

before i got halfway down the street,

i turned back.

your pencil was sweaty,

clenched in my palm,

and when i wiped it off

a tear fell onto it.

i think i finally realized

that you’re not coming back.

your house was empty.

there wasn’t anything in your mailbox and

your lawn was unkempt.

you left without telling me why.

a year’s passed.

i’ve moved one with my life.

i smile and i’ve made new friends.

but your pencil, now worn

and short from sharpening,

still sits in my pencil tin.

when i see it i smile,

because even though you’re gone,

and even though i miss you,

there’s good memories on that pencil,

embedded in its soft graphite

and smudged on its gray eraser.

i miss you, and i don’t think that’ll ever leave.

but when i doodle with that pencil,

i can see your face in my mind, 

and i know i'll be alright.

~~

this is kinda random and I'm not sure where the prompt took me but eh i think it's okay. sorry if the formatting gets all weird. 

I was planning to write something creepy, and I had tons of ideas, but a few minutes ago it clicked and I wrote about . . . reality. Something that's been frustrating me for a long time. I know I don't actually have two minds but sometimes it really feels like it.

there are two minds that find a home in

my body. 

first there is the

mind that makes up who i

am, what i 

like, what i 

want to be.

second is the mind that

controls my body.

this mind runs on 

brief moment of joy - seeing

her face, writing a

poem, a reply to my 

comment, wholesome 

videos, sad music.

this mind detests

other people and never likes

to move. it refuses to do

homework and

protests when being told to do something.

the first mind sympathizes with

my mother. she is stressed. she works

hard. she only wants us to help

a little bit.

the second mind does not. leave 

me alone. i want to 

have fun & forget

you even exist.

and so i stay on my computer

all day & never get anything done until

my mom comes home. the only thing

the second mind can’t stand is

eyes. watching me. so i 

finally

regain control &

tears form in my eyes as i 

realize 

just how lazy 

i’ve been today, and

every day before. but i

push the tears down &

unload the dishwasher. it’s all

i can do

before my second mind

gains control again.

Sometimes

I think

We're two minds

In one body.

One has blue eyes 

Fair as the sky to which her thoughts flee;

The other troubled, with salt they burn

With seawater, thrash and churn.

One has golden curls,

Loves flowyness and twirls; 

While the other looks like muddy straw,

Clumsy as a chicken in a tornado on a a see-saw.

Imperfectly perfect light skin for one

While for the other it looks raw, an uncooked bun

One's voice slips out, a soft trilling tinkle,

The other's brittle, prone to tear and crinkle.

How can we be (of) the same mind?

I ask,

Afraid the answer is not mine to find

Until after I've breathed my last.