The world is at war;
Destruction is not very far.
Every nation has its reason;
Therefore, war has no season.
We still feel many of its deep scars;
The progress we made sure it mars.
It’s time to prove how concerned we are;
This probable holocaust, united we have to bar.
A BRIAN STRAND FORMED Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Date:16-03-2022
Placed: 1st
Don't ever be caught off securing!
The world is in a state of writhing.
Human skin is used to induce maps usage.
And then hang it on the wall alike a rootage.
Who are those poems on my lips, please?
And the lexicon of people who love freeze?
The strands beg, "Whom will I stretch them to?"
Who do you pass to in my night to feel subdue?
Dispenser fragrance distilled in my blood
Thrust out past service from the devil's stud!
Tell me if you're a mountain hallucination.
So, who truly am I? And my appeal literation.
Written: March 15, 2022
1st place contest winner
A Brian Strand Formed Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
My heavy heart placed a stone on my eyes of sorrow
Unshed tears collected in the cauldron of deep sorrow.
Your demise had shattered my heart, it silently wept in woe
Words formed out of pain, remained unsaid in deep sorrow.
The deluge of grief drowned the memory shards sinking slow
The anchor disappeared within the shadow of deep sorrow.
In incised vale of agony as silent stream tears began to flow
It was lost in the searing sand of dismal desert of deep sorrow.
The touch of sympathy and words of calm kindness though
Soothed the splintered mind, lifted the shroud of deep sorrow.
Flood surge came, swept my composure away, why I didn't know
I couldn’t hold my heart melting in the eyes in deep sorrow.
______________
February 28, 2022
For A Brian Strand Formed Poetry Contest
For holding things, two arms have we -
two arms with hands with which we have been blessed.
Two only – we’ve no need of three.
Two arms to reach with or to cross beneath our chest,
and in two arms of someone special we can be caressed.
Although with our two arms we can reach out,
some things we cannot reach; they are too high!
Our arms perform their functions. But what if we could sprout
wings like angels have, permitting us to fly?
Perfection it would be to touch the sky.
With wings we could do so much more.
As with arms, with two wings we also could enfold
those special people we adore,
yet rudiments of wings (two arms) are to be extolled,
for with two arms, we FEEL the flesh of the ones we hold.
Feb. 25, 2022
Entered March 14, 2022 for A Brian Strand Formed Poetry Contest
From the gilded frame adorably kept on the bureau
Two benign faces look on us as we gaze in awe
My Grandpa who lived and died a true hero
My Grandma so ebullient, a chirping sparrow
They became man and wife so young in their teen
They built a small joyful empire, leading a life serene
Serving as prop to each other, lived as king and queen
Though gone out of reach, shed light with a rare sheen
Placed First
Brian Strand Formed Poetry Contest
Jan,26. 2022
Pride of Place Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Julia Ward
Blest delight reigns in God’s presence
assuring revival
driving spiritual quiescence
yon service survival…
To Christ’s heart I draw nigh*
settled from any why
now soars high for faith’s fly.
Gratitude gains
blest delight reigns.
*James 4:8 Draw nigh to God, and he will draw nigh to you. Cleanse your hands, ye sinners; and purify your hearts, ye double minded.
October 26, 2021
Edited on March 14, 2022
1st place, "A BRIAN STRAND FORMED" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand; judged on 3/16/2022.
I hide the palm-sized wrappers
Between half-formed poetry stanzas
And a note-to-self.
We used to be more careful,
Our breathless whispers
Masked by Edward Elric
And the slam of fantasy alchemy.
Now we crash into each other
With the ferocity of half-starved animals
And merely hope no one hears.
Or notices.
I leave my prints upon your shoulders,
Your back,
You leave your prints on my soul.
And sometimes, my throat.
I leave with your clothes on.
You leave with your hair mussed,
Eyes shining.
Every day I become a little closer
To replacing my body
With parts of yours.
12/6/17
My dear poet-
I am forever grateful to you
For allowing my body
To be your page
Letting your words
Ascend on my temple
And descend
On my feet
How long will I thank God
For giving me you
As our passionate and artistic sessions
Gracefully formed poetry in motion
Lord knows
My body yearned
And needed the eloquence
Your poetry provided
Our poetry combined
Gave birth to volcanic verses
And flood-like rushes
Of the most liberated conversation
My poet laureate
Thank you for allowing
Your art to transcend
Into poetic actions
Your ability to allow
Your love to flow
Like a pen on paper
Amazes me
When poets make love
Sacred books
Unlock their meanings
And the majestic powers of words
Fill the universe
With marvelous expressions
Our collaborated efforts
Awakened the most powerful of poets
Who long ago fell asleep
Happily summoned with the stars
To congratulate our poetic bliss
When we made love
Our poetry was forever
Imprinted in the hearts
of all poets
past, present, and yet to come
-Written and dedicated to a very dear poet (R.C.)
© Monique McDowell 2008 All rights Reserved
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.