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Poetry Contest
Chatterbox: Pudding's Place
Poetry Contest
Poetry Contest
Well, we haven't had one of these in a while, have we? Time for a new one, I say! Welcome, resident poets!
The rules are pretty simple. I am the first judge. I will give you a theme, and you must write a poem relating to the theme. Be creative with your interpretations! I will then judge the entries by a set date, and the winner will then be the next judge, and set the next theme. And so on, and so forth.
The first theme will be... *dramatic drumroll*
Stars! Whether you chose to write about the kind of stars you wish on, or the kind that take the stage, I will be eagerly awaiting your sparkly, shiny, beautiful poems. Have them in by... Saturday, March 18. Two weeks. Sound fair?
I hope to see your poems soon!
~Booksy <3
submitted by Booksy Owly
(March 4, 2017 - 8:58 pm)
(March 4, 2017 - 8:58 pm)
@Admins, here's my poem. . . if it's not appropriate for the Chatterbox, would you mind deleting it so I can re-format? Thanks!!
Yes, this theme of this poem is not appropriate for Chatterbox.
Admin
(June 25, 2017 - 8:01 pm)
This is sort of based on a barn I visit all the time in real life, except the stuff it mentions is stuff I still do, so this is based 10-15 years in the future.
Beauty in the Brokenness
An old barn,
Big and grey.
The ground is
dirty,
Mud and scat.
Some boards
hang loose
And the nails are rusty.
But it's beautiful.
They said it was ugly.
They couldn't see the beauty
When it was right
in front
of their faces.
All they see is
An old barn,
Big and grey.
The ground is dirty,
squishy and gross.
The boards
hang loose.
The fences are crooked.
It's a torn-down makeshift mess.
“It shouldn't be here.”
“Why don't they tear
this place down?”
That's what they said.
They can't see why,
But I say
it's beautiful.
I can see through
its disguise.
After all, it's
right in front
of me.
I see
An old barn,
Large and dear.
Its tattered walls
speak of younger days.
Its gates ring
with memories.
Oh, the old loft.
Too dangerous to
climb up to
now,
But I did climb there
When I was
young and
reckless
And I sat up on the
rickety planks
Feeling the thrill.
The fences
Though old
Are sturdy.
I used to climb up
and jump over them
Like a squirrel
on a tree
It was nothing.
I used to
Sit on them,
Watching the sun
set.
It has no doors,
It's always
changing.
But I know this barn
inside and out.
All the best hiding places,
All the gates and latches.
And how to
Get into places
No one thought
possible.
Yes, it's a mess
But it's a beautiful mess.
(June 28, 2017 - 9:19 am)
That was really good Leeli. I like how it speaks not of present beauty, but of the beauty of memories and that of knowing something long enough that you can see the beauty in it, even if no one else can.
(June 28, 2017 - 11:26 am)
Thank you! That barn is a really special place to me, and I've made a lot of memories there, so I can very well imagine how it might look in 10 years or so. Personally, I think it's beautiful also just because it's a rustic old barn, and looks cool. This poem was inspired by an argument I had with my brother about whose photo was better for the category beautiful. His was a flower and mine was a landscape scene with that barn in it. He said the barn wasn't beautiful, just an old junky place. But a disagreed, putting my thoughts to paper.
(June 28, 2017 - 1:11 pm)
Here's mine for Beauty!
Watching the World go Round...
A drop of water
Floods of grass
Isn’t it all perfectly pristine?
We watch as the world goes round
Oblivious to secrets
Hidden beauty within the world
As we hide away - Oh, the shame!
The smallest things are calling you
Awake! See the world for what it truly is
Fields and meadows, ancient time
Oceans wrapped in never ending stories
It is all for you! A gift from the Father
Wrapped in a sphere of love for you
Do you not sometimes wonder why?
A small peck of a flower from barren land
The call of the birds in cities
Or the tallest of trees scraping the skies
It was all for you.
Cans’t you not sleep tonight?
Look out, look out!
The skies are painted for you.
Golden in an array of colors
They are painted for you!
The rose that peakest out so gently
Beauty of the earth, the finest red
Miaka, it whispers, Miaka
Beautiful red, all for you!
He called it His treasure
Buried deep within the universe
For you, for you!
Vitae, the earth calls, Vitae
Life, painted with wind and dust
On display for all to see
Life, so young and fresh
It was all for you.
(June 28, 2017 - 11:59 am)
I love this, Ashlee! It perfectly represents how God created the world for us.
(June 28, 2017 - 5:46 pm)
Yay, thank you, Leeli!! I am so glad you agreed with that.
(June 29, 2017 - 8:23 pm)
Hi Admins, is this ok?
Here's my submission:
make-over
i. beauty is in the eye of the beholder
ii. she tells herself this
but can’t seem to drown out the words
iii. it’s easier to look away
layers of water-proof mascara hide the tears
iv. she skips lunch, joking
about ‘keeping her figure’ even
though she knows she’s average weight
but feels fat anyways
v. she reapplies her lipstick in the girls’ bathroom
vi. hours wasted scrolling through social
media, looking, looking at girls skinnier
and prettier and happier than she is
vii. cherry lip-gloss hides fake smiles
viii. she wishes she was happier
it’s not as easy as it looks
viv. small steps first
x. she stops wearing eyeliner
she eats lunch, she stops
comparing herself to pretty girls
with photo editing skills
xi. self-confidence is the best kind of foundation
xii. she does yoga, she stops caring
what other people think of her
xiii. the road to recovery is oh so scenic
xiv. she walks with a purpose
in both stilettos and flip-flops
xv. because if you don’t take care
of yourself, who will?
Yes, thank you.
Admin
(June 28, 2017 - 6:33 pm)
Yay, thanks!
(June 28, 2017 - 6:38 pm)
Aww, September, this made my heart melt. I really love the ending.
(June 29, 2017 - 10:40 pm)
Aww, thanks Bluebird!
(June 29, 2017 - 11:54 pm)
Oh wow! Everyone's poems are so good!
(June 28, 2017 - 8:26 pm)
Dont worry, I didn't forget about this.
(June 29, 2017 - 7:52 am)
8 days until I judge!
(June 29, 2017 - 3:24 pm)
Gosh, I need to post on this. I don't have a poem prepared even though I keep on meaning to, I guess I'm just busy planning for July NaNo. SO I'll do a spur of a moment poem, those seem to work out for me. Here goes.
The pretty, popular girls
I watch as
the pretty, popular girls
chat and gossip
with each other.
I will never be
like them. No matter
how hard
I try.
My mother tells me
not to worry,
that I shouldn't want
to be like them
anyway. They are fakes.
She says, I am
an original, and they
they are just clones.
They aren't original.
They may be pretty
and popular. But
they are not
real people.
Real people have
flaws. These girls
have no flaws, they are not
truly human. They are fake.
But that doesn't stop me,
that doesn't stop me from wanting
to be like them.
wanting to be pretty,
and popular. But no,
I am alone. I have
myself, and my mother.
But even my mother doesn't
really understand
how I feel.
So I just have me,
myself,
and I.
I am alone. But
I feel like
I am better off
alone. Like
Alone is my protection.
Protection from the world,
from those pretty, popular girls
I tried to hide,
to mask my real self.
To shove all my feelings
away in a corner, and leave
them there. Forever.
But I am done.
Done hiding,
done keeping my feelings
in that box. I start to let
them show, I start to let myself show.
I've never felt beautiful
before. But a few days after
I stop wanting
stop trying
to be
like those pretty, popular girls,
that's when,
That's when somone
tells me that
I'm beautiful.
And I feel like it.
I won't ever be like
those pretty,
popular girls.
And now I realise,
that I don't want to be.
I am beautiful.
In my own way.
Beautiful.
(June 30, 2017 - 12:42 am)