Best Contest Creative Poems
Going out of his way, the obliging taxi driver drives to the top of the hill.
A young man gets out, walks a short distance to a vantage point
where his gaze falls upon the village down below,
the old cottages and farmhouses, sprawling fields,
winding lanes, and the clustered trees
where the stream skips by.
an overcast sky
scent of rain is in the air
a lone robin chirps
His eyes roam slowly, taking in little details,
keen to save them in his mind, fresh,
like the morning dew clinging to the swaying grass.
the cool autumn breeze
ruffles hair and memories
stirring emotions
Time is pressing. One last look.
Then he reluctantly goes back to the car.
Soon, it’s speeding along the asphalted country road
heading to the station where a steam train awaits.
A new chapter in life...The city beckons.
sudden drops of rain
spatter on the hazy glass
sad eyes turn misty
---------------------------------------
Written: 15th November, 2015
Contest: Any Poem Written in 2015
Sponsor: Laura Loo (2016)
Placed 1st
Contest: Creative Haibuns (2015)
Sponsor: Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Placed 4th
W
i
t
h
c
r
e
a
t
v
i
t
y
I champion the poet
as. »
I drink my morning tea )
and read your poetry. *
Enchanted verse by *
verse fills me with*
inspirational joy
as I compose
a tiny poem.
__________________________________________
A BRIAN STRAND VISUAL Poetry Contest~First Place~
Sponsor Brian Strand
October 16, 2015
For the contest, Creative Layouts, ~First Place~
sponsor, Broken Wings
s
m
o
k
e
s
e
s
i
r
l * a * z * i * l * y
from the dying embers
of a b-u-r-n-t-out romance
outdated emotions
wrapped in
l
e
th-
ar
-gy
Will a b~r~ee~z~e come
to fan it
back to life?
--------------------------------
Paul Callus ~ 24th Oct 2015
Contest: Creative Layouts
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Placed 1st
….. I
. am
. free
. to go
. where
. breezes
. take me,
. free to be
. at liberty, . my spirit
. loosed
. on the waters
. to be borne of
. the power neath
. my strong timber,
. take me where’er
. you will, until the
. air of the mistral
. is spent and the
. clouds bid me
. cease …
.
your unfailing love has borne me aloft
but without you by my side, I am
…………. at the mercy of the depths …………………
by Bill Lindsay
October 14th 2015
For the contest, Creative Layouts, sponsor, Broken Wings
~
~
~
[ ||||| ]
[ ||||| ]
My Quaint Cottage
The quaintness of my cottage
Is idyllic in my sweet resting thoughts.
My miniature garden rarely noticed by one
Is garlanded with fenced shrubs and flowery visions.
My orange clustered tree
Showers } { its love
onto my } { cascade
of verses } { as I rest
against } { its sturdy
bark on } {a silent day
My green walled cottage is sewn intricately with ivy
Leaving an
Arched door
Open Fringed
With fresh roses
Attracting the
Honey suckles
Hanging in air
Fluttering
Their wings
For ## but # one ## sip
In ## my ##### garden
Of # b# l #o # o # m # s
FIRST
Balveen Cheema
October 24, 2015
Judged
Contest: Creative Layouts
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Round and round on the merry-go-round,
Round and round I go.
See me on my stallion high,
See now, I dip down low.
The music plays, it never stops,
It goes on all day and night.
At times, there’s sadness in its tune;
At times, it sounds so bright.
Round and round and round and round
With all those ups and downs.
The stallions marching in a line
With silly painted frowns.
I see the others riding too—
Content enough they seem.
Perhaps beneath the frozen smiles
Each like me could scream…
“Let me off! Please let me off!
I’m getting nowhere fast;
There's so much I must see and do
Before my time has passed!”
But round and round and round it goes,
And round and round again.
Might as well enjoy the ride,
For when it stops, what then?
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: Creative Layouts
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Judged: 10/25/2015
Creative Conformity, an oxymoron.
No other explanation for I cannot fathom this term in any other way
What has already been, cannot be construed as creative.
And conformity has been done
And done
And done
And done
And done.
Overdone, to the point of ridiculousness.
Nothing creative about it.
If you ask me.
But what do I know?
I am only a poet,
An artist,
A painter,
A designer,
And a dreamer.
So please
Do not ask me.
Go inside your heart
And get the answer.
Written 10-09-2018 Contest: Creative Conformity
Sponsor: John Lawless
It’s an autumn night
You're beautiful in this light
Moonlight silhouette
Edward J. Ebbs - 09/22/2014
Written for a Contest, Creative Haiku
Acid in the rain
Chances it won't heal again
Leaves our earth in pain
09.17.2014
Contest: Creative Haiku
Charlotte Puddifoot
Through tinted glass, I see cars have lined up outside, like a java-thirsty snake who waits to strike at the employee working the drive-through window.
I take a last dreg of coffee, then vacate the table for another caffeine addict to indulge in some dark-roast creation, while reaching into my purse for keys. Someone touches my shoulder and I turn.
Out of aromatic filled haze, her soft voice speaks into my ear, using my maiden name, which seems foreign to my own ears. It comes as a riddle, with question mark at the end, as if it were floating inside a bubble.
dust motes mingle with
the steam of French roast coffee....
someone drops a spoon
She slips into the empty place across from me, and I see familiar, but strikingly older, hazelnut eyes. They hold something unsettling, sad and seem peppered with weight. But she shows me a wan smile buried in a sea of nerves. She was an old friend, a good chum. How long has it been?
Just as I am about suggest a plan, a date to meet for lunch, she's running late, and must hurry, and has started closing the gate again.
espresso ripples
with element of surprise ....
an old acquaintance
We walk out together, ... I open the door for her, while she carries two capped coffees, and starts to head across the lot. We say a quick goodbye, I take care not to spill her load, as I gently hug her goodbye. She walks away in a rush, climbing into faded red truck. An unsmiling tight-lipped man , reaches over to the inside latch to open the door, that seems to be missing a handle on the outside. I hear a harsh, husky voice ask "What took so long?",.. loud enough that a few people glance their way. She smiles weakly, and doesn't look back to say goodbye.
under old tires
leaves are crushed into small bits...
a whirlwind of dust
my cell phone vibrates
someone misses me from home ....
sun breaks through the clouds
_________________
11/2/15 For Contest: Creative Haibuns
Sponsor Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
The moment winter softens into spring and all is melting, the first flower is the
white snowdrop poking through the snow, quickly followed by johnny-jump ups.
They are so cute and delicate in my patch of garden, they just pop up everywhere.
Here and there are bright patches of loveliness.
snowdrops touch my heart
jump ups where you least expect-
they say hello spring
And then come the drifts of bulbs planted in hopes last year. The flocks of crocuses,
daffodils, and tulips all a pleasant mingling of color. Some even grow on my lawn,
I blame the squirrels for that. The whole garden is wild and dripping with flowers,
but just for awhile. Those bulb beauties fade away as quickly as they came.
so fat and healthy
growing like musical notes-
so soon withering
Oh, the harmonious hues of summer, the painted daisies in their pretty dresses,
and the purple irises all fancy. And near the back fence, the sweet yellow meadow
rue amongst the lace white lady's mantle. Soon come the day lilies and the blue
phlox, and just beyond the fence a lilac tree brings lovely scents on the breeze.
such a pretty view
from my big kitchen window-
I look thoughtfully
Fall has come and the garden is beginning to fade. It is a rough passage, cruel to
see the menacing weather confuse the flowers. Oh, how they struggle to survive
the cold rain and frosty nights. But the strong still bloom till the very end.
A single delicate rose is a gift to behold. And then the garden sleeps.
pushing the limits
each flower must fade in time-
garden memories
And under the snow the garden dreams. Beneath the earth it sleeps, as the winds
howl and drifts of snow cover everything white. They sleep. And I also have dreams
for my garden. I make plans for next year, for new flowers to plant among the old.
Winter is a time for dreaming, planning and wishing.
perhaps bell flowers
or maybe blue corn flowers-
oh shasta daisy
___________________________
October 29, 2015
Poetry/Haibun/Garden Diary
Copyright Protected, ID 15-721-996-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
For the contest, Creative Haibuns, sponsor,
Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Third Place
Dear Anna,
I
Left you in order to save you from me.
Didn’t
I warn you that I was poisonous?
Want
Doesn’t overpower your need for a better life.
To
Be with you would only hurt you more.
Leave
You a chance to heal your own scars.
You
Deserve better than the broken parts of me.
Behind
Leave me in the dust and move on.
Anna.
I buy a train fare.
Leave it all behind,
Love, pain, fears, smiles
This heartbreak.
It hurts, but I do it.
City after city…
But at the same time…
I feel euphoric….
Why does leaving you and San Francisco…
Give me a renewed sense of…
Freedom….
Anna.
I’m
This
So
Is
Sorry.
Goodbye.
Paige Posadziejewski
10/24/2015
Contest: Creative Layouts
Sponsor: Broken Wings
We have never met across the oceans blue
I know that I am the one you write about
Your romantic words are sheer perfection
I drink in every syllable
My heart s k p s a beat
i
How can I tell you
I’m
F
A
L
L
I
N
G
In love with you
I can no longer control my emotions;
If you could look at my heart you would see it is
B
R
E
A
K
I
N
G
Just word from you and I will be by your side….
WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU ARE HAPPILY MARRIED AND THEY ARE WRITTEN ABOUT YOUR WIFE!
I simply don’t understand …
Jan Allison
10~24~15
For the contest Creative Layouts
Sponsor Broken Wings
Are You Skew-Whiff?
Are you feeling rather skew-whiff?
Awkwardly placed and standing?
upside-down
back to front
inside out
topsy - turvy
Are your senses damp and unresponsive,
Beckoning confusion and despair?
Does your heart pound even when there’s nothing exciting there?
Forlorn, sorrowful, despondent,
You patronise your grief,
Focus on your problem,
To attain some relief;
You keep flitting to your pleasures,
Lack, for contemplation, a quiet place,
Force your troubles into the backroom,
You’re not to dignify your face.
Tomorrow is for thinking,
Will exist to accommodate,
The glumness and the wretchedness,
That seems to obliqueness and gloom proliferate.
Rhoda Monihan
13th October 2015
For the contest Creative Layouts, sponsor Broken Wings
As adults we walk around the streets and parks
with a face saying “I know where I’m going,”
“I know what I’m doing”.
Timetables, manuals, diaries, and journals somehow
find themselves in our pockets,
as form of reassurance for “I know what I’m doing” slogan.
Other times we show a blank expression on our faces,
when the weather forecasters go all wrong;
when life savings end up in a pyramid scheme;
when heroine dosage goes out of control;
when we blame the stars for a breakup…….
Uncertainty breaks apart our certainty……
Poet name: Teddy Kimathi
Date of entry: 12/10/2015
For the contest: Creative Layouts
Sponsor: Broken Wings