MAG Poetry Competition 2010 - search for new poems
About 80% of the participants in the 2010 poetry competition wished their poems to remain viewable on the website. Check these out here:
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Quifi Marshall strolls back
and forth, up and down the line
Of the street, by the ticking of the courthouse clock
She makes rounds by the dozens, finding the slightest adventure
In the rows of bushes and broken, dead limbs that reach out to her
Life Through Seasons
The spring dawns with its scent, The stream glows and dances all along. The birds wake up to the sweet sunshine, And sing a new song in the most pleasant pitch. As the leaves sprout from their slumber, And refresh themselves for the day. As the breeze pats over the blossom, The child peeps into the gifted earth. Crying and sleeping for the rest of the day, He gasps and gazes all through. Like the new born leaves of a tree, He enlivens the world around. The ravishing summer arrives, With its gorgeous sunshine. The leaves turn to vivid green, And fruits show up in clusters. The child grows to youthful years, With an unsettled and reflective mind. The world is all joy for him, For he has his own path to go. Then comes the mighty monsoon, To fulfill the dreams of all. The splashing sound of water everywhere, Enthralls the hearts of living things. The youth steps into the mantle of a man, Wise and sagacious than exuberant. Looks for others, cares the near, Plays a pre-destined role on this stage Now comes the chilling autumn, With full of withered trees. The leaves yellow and wilting, Doomed for a complete rest. The man in his crippling old age, His thoughts and actions greying. With remorse and sorrows, He slugs the rest of life peacefully. Last of all comes the tranquil winter, The trees shed their leaves in cold. Dreariness and decay everywhere, Nature sleeps in full peace. The impending time to exit from the world, Haunts the man in wake and sleep. His travails end all on sudden, And slithers into eternal peace.
Are you longing for something more?
Been trapped behind this closed door too long-
Broken, raw, damaged to the core but still holding on.
If you done stuff wrong and long to get away;
I Made This For You
Have you tasted this?
Cracking peppercorns under a flat-bladed knife
With a meat-mallet;
Santa Monica, 6am
There he sits on the bus like an atom too fast
Spinning round spinning round
and too fast and then smashed
And the splinters are stuck and they stick in his head
Wine and Separation
there's a pigeon in the tower
there's a pigeon singing up there
songs of grit and grimy sidewalks
Intersection Shore and Shore
cabbie clik clik boom time
Ice-cream cravin' time
The Soul’s first ascent untamed
And Love’s first dance by the flame.
I will never have that again.
My mother keeps