Best Distant Past Poems
Dreams from the distant past calling me
how can I stop in the middle of this race?
In this crowd I am just another face
of losing dreams which I once loved to see,
no looking back we're now on a racing spree,
changing lanes,breaking rules to increase pace
Dreams from the distant past,
sleeping in them my never grown wish tree,
faded dreams of making the world a better place
life is now just plastic smile and cold embrace,
at the end we're not,what we wanted to be
Dreams from the distant past.
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Placement:4th (August 2012)
Contest:Rondine the Traffic of Life
Sponsor:Nette Onclaud
By:kash poet
29th July 2012
RONDINE: it is poetry form consisting of two stanzas, a septet (7 lines), and a quintet (5 lines), making the poem a total of 12 lines.
Like the Rondeau there is a refrain which repeats the first phrase of the first line.(R),
The RONDINE has a rhyme scheme of, a.b.b.a.a.b.R. a.b.b.a.R.
Somewhere in the distant past,
Pushed tightly back
From the corners of your soul
The sting of fury rages and grows
Full breath into the doom
Waiting in wretched solitude
Where no one knows...
The silence that hung heavily in the mist
Will disappear
Those fake smiles twisted in your lips
Would fade into the dawn
Rattled to the bones by Death and the great unknown
You will discover the despair
Of the forgotten and scorned...
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3rd Place
Whatever, Next Contest by Brian Strand
6/18/2011
New discoveries today!
Tools belonging to ancient man have been found!
Our ancestors left traces
for us to ponder
Stone implements
which they used to survive
Today we have advanced
but there is a kinship
between us and those ancients
Their blood flows in us
and we feel pain, sorrow and joy
much as they did
Today we live longer
and have conquered
the seas and are headed
towards the stars
The debt we owe them
is tremendous
So let us see what
there remnants tell us
about their lives
and the meaning they have
for our destiny
" I open the door and cross the threshold of imagination...".
Too hesitant to enter,
I pause and ponder:
is this a place of wonder?
What tempts me to open it?
Is it curiosity or desire,
and what lies beyond it?
The aged brown door decorated with brass painted in black,
has a distinctive Gothic style of a house of prayer standing yards from the bay;
will I find in the rear an altar made of marble
with an angel on each side guarding off evil?
Once inside that mysterious chapel, where monks venerated God, I must
follow it to where it leads me, neither fear nor superstition can frighten me!
If it has no bell-tower, where are the bells? Were they stolen to make swords?
Was it destroyed by fire or by the enemy who was a heartless infidel?
It could be rebuilt and brought to the lost splendor of those amazing ages,
and to rebuild it from the ashes, only faith can induce such an ambitious will...
could I envision, perhaps a little too early, what a glorious sight it would be?
And if peace is found here, I will dwell in it as they did praising God indefinitely.
Written By Andrew Crisci for Constance La France's Contest,
" Three Gems "
Form: Rhyme
Written on 7/31/ 2011
Deadline: Sunday August 20, 2011
Roused by a rude jolt
I start up from my half-slumber.
Utterly clueless I move about
clinging to my pet delusions
in complete darkness of my past
coming after me swinging a truncheon…
I vaguely hear screams and yells
hurled at me some time before
echoing in my memory’s vault
as from a distant past.
But yesterday seemed like a bowl of cheesecake
the food of love served on a gold plate;
but today my startled eyes flit over
milestones giving way to milestones…
Life is a squeezed rubber ball
that retrieves its shape before rolling on.