Best Entry Poems


Last Journal Entry- My Gay Friend, Paul

Slowly drifting, drifting away, and it feel likes I’m drowning.
I'm drowning, my eyes are drowning every time they surf into the world of pleasure, 
Seas and seas of bodies creating electricity  yet God hasn’t struck me for such sin,
Come closer, Come closer, I freeze as I lose my soul to the enemy, the screen, the bodies I’ve never touched, 
This encounter leaves me feeling so ashamed and afraid. 
What if they know?
Would they think I’ve changed my nationality?
Would they now think I live in a country of red ,orange, yellow, green, blue, violet.
Heal me, but every time I receive the baptism, I progress into a another stage of sickness,
I envision myself, my body, that I see in such high regard, hanging highly from the ropes of betrayal,
They made me thought that it was okay
Is that you last words? God looked at me as he was ready to pass his judgement. 
Yes father,
And my body transformed into the place I belong,
A sea of fire,
And this time I wasn’t sure how to swim, and as I take my last breath and reminisce, I realized I've been here all along, it didn’t burn this bad, maybe because the world leaves you to believe that you have a thick skin and no heart. 
I was born sick, I don’t love it, command me to be well.

Premium Member No Entry Wound

No entry wound; I know inside
What should be whole is broken
Between the cracks my feelings slide
Where words cannot be spoken

Strange silence speaks within the gloom
Where memories keep taunting
A ghost sits in a lonely room
With no desire for haunting

Where once before I used to go
When I was whole and stronger
I cannot meet there with my woe
So I shall go no longer

I have no need to venture out
No wish to do so fills me
For I am empty and the doubt
Of any fullness stills me.
© Lee Leon  Create an image from this poem.

Diary Entry

Daddy was… I don’t even remember but he wasn’t there
I don’t even remember why you were so angry
I got back home that night and my dog was lying in front of the garage
AT NIGHT in front of the garage!
I dial the keypad to get in the house but the door was locked and you took the key from its place so I couldn’t get in
I rang the doorbell
Knocked on the door
Rang the doorbell
Knocked on the door
But I didn’t make a scene
I carried my dog to the door on the fence, climbed over the fence, let my dog in and looked through the sliding glass door
You were asleep
I’m very happy for everybody that the sliding glass door wasn’t locked
I get inside and noticed you were passed out drunk!
The Grey Goose revealed it all
I kissed my dog goodnight, gave him a treat and BOUNCED 
With YOUR keys and YOUR car 
I’m so fed up I’m just SO fed up
The Bible says honor thy mother and father it doesn’t mention son and daughter
BOLOGNA if you ask me 
NO child begged to be a part of this planet!
What does honor mean anyway?
Webster says merited respect… okay so maybe it’s not bologna!
I canNOT stop replaying my past
You are still here!
You are from the past!
I have let go but when you dig it up and throw it in my face 
I pick it back up!
I try to be strong 
I really do and EVERYONE notices I’ve made great improvements
You’re one of the people who’s praised me!
I’ve been having these occasional fluttering sensations in my heart for the past few years that I’ve mentioned to you recently
I still haven’t gone to the doctor
Neither of us will forget that time I was crying on the phone to Linnel about the two guys raping my semiconscious body and you busted in my room and said, “I hope your p____ fall’s off”
I can’t forget that time I confided in you about an unusual discharge and you said, “I’m just gonna let you suffer…”
Thanks for eventually taking me to go get tested but why did you have to say that?
I felt bad enough

Very true, Mom, I don’t have any friends…
I’m not even sure if I’m in excellent health and that I’ll make it many more years  
Still, while I’m here
I just want to be able to help my people… somehow


Fibrolicious - Fib Contest Entry

It was birds Yes Ducks !, Mallards no less
Flown down from Alberta that made this great mess !
I tried to stop them though I shivered in fear
They flew right on past me and landed right here.

They surrounded your cupcakes like an army brigade
and attacked them they did not a one could be saved !
Frosting was flying from the mauls of their beaks
cupcake crumbs scattered all around their webbed feet !

And when they were done and finally flew out
the leader duck threw the last cupcake in my mouth !
I tried not to eat it but it was stuck to my lips
I guess they were just hungry after their long trip ?
© RC Arts  Create an image from this poem.

Please Me Comp Entry

There once was a poet called Steve 
Who was so every easily pleased 
Just a thanks from pd
Always does it for me
She's the poet we all want to please. 



comp entry skat always say for pd so pd it is :-)

Premium Member Tanka Contest Entry

he used to steal 

all the blankets -

TV remote in hand

I sprawl across

the empty spot on the bed


What Future Holds Comp Entry

The Colour of the bird -means nothing if your going to be eaten

Premium Member Journal Entry - May 31

I have been doing a lot of thinking
      'cause to the past I am clinging
and pondering who exactly I am
   am I warrior or a lamb . . . 
one thing quite positive is my inking
      yet, I must get with the program

have a tranquility some do not get
      but past sorrows hard to forget
I push sadness away to stay present
   accepting that my soul is bent . . .
I believe that I can change my mindset
      yes, will work to end the torment

___________________________
May 31, 2020


Poetry/Rhyme/journal entry - may 31
Copyright Protected, ID 20- 1257-150-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France

Submitted to Contest No 780
sponsor, Brian Strand

Honorable Mention

Homophone Entry

He saw with sore eyes, a belle by a bell
With a smile he couldn’t resist.
He wondered should they wander and they rested a while
Ensuring they missed the mist.

Good genes in good jeans, he told himself
As he ushered her into his home.
The maid made food and they ate at eight
And finally they were alone.

He wanted her more as they gazed at the moor
Then he saw he was terribly wrong.
Who’d have guessed that his guest , that he met out side
Of the Nave was a knave all along…

Happy New Year (Acrostic Contest Entry)

H ope and faith
A re in my heart,
P erhaps this year,
P erhaps a new start...
Y esterday is gone.

N ow I look to 2010,
E ying the dates,
W ondering when.

Y earning for health,
E veryone's worried.
A nother day gone:
R ainy and blurried.

©2009 Danielle White

A Quiet Palm Sunday

On a humble donkey he once rode
Thunderous crowds by the road
Liberation they craved or
A salvation he gave forth

He rides into Jerusalem once more
With no glare from two thousand years ago
Fear has pulled back praisers out of his path
There was no red carpet but marks of an invisible wrath

On this Sunday, palms of praise are not seen
The stones could not sing along to any hymn
Only sounds of the clopping are heard
The King rode on to the fate ahead

A lone conqueror of sin and damnation
He rides to war without a shield or ammunition
With praise subdued by fear, he still rides to his crucifixion
To die and rise again to save the world from a contagion

Suicide Note , Comp Entry

Colour of the  rose that I left with the note.
reddened eyes reading what I wrote.
Instructions for funeral readings I want spoke.
my motives and reasons I quote.
suicides my option the knife to my throat.
one single crimson drop lands on my coat.
nothing can stop me now,  my depression had no antedote.


Very dark comp entry Its what came with Crimson 26072016

Entry of a Honduran-American

Entry of a Honduran-American


My heart beats to the rhythm of my mother’s homeland.

My eyes search for the similarities of the lands of the ones I am in & the land that I cherish.

My lips taste the fruits and don’t quite reach the length of the smile from the ones I have tried.

They tell me, ‘but you are American,’ I tell them ‘no, I am what I choose to be.’

They tell me, ‘you don’t look Hispanic.’ I tell them, ‘neither can you see my blue blood.’

They tell me, ‘it is much better here.’ I tell them, ‘it is much different there.’

I hold dear the memories of the scattered homes on the mountains, brightly lit beacons of hope.

You know you love a land when you even love the rooster that crows every morning.

My heart beats to the rhythm of Honduras.

Contest Entry: Edgar Allan Poe.

His
damn heart!
Still it beats!!!

Modern Senryu / Not An Entry

In homeless shelter
Men watching Star Trek
Beam us up

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