For Voting - Open Category
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This thread will be opened on 26/9/05 - 16/10/2005
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Dear friends,
It is time to vote.
In the Open Category you will get to vote for your favourite poems. The poem with the most votes will be the winner for this category.
Just a few simple rules
1. Viewers and participants are allowed 2 votes each. However, you are only allowed to give 1 vote per poem, i.e. your 2 votes must be given to two different poems.
2. Participants can vote for fellow participantsÂ’ entries but not their own.
3. Although not encouraged, you can also choose to pm me your votes.
There will only be one winner in this category, and this thread will be closed on 17 Oct 2005, Monday.
Votes shown here include those received from PM & my blog
#001: 7
#002: 5
#003: 8
#004: 5
#005: 5
#006: 8
#007: 7
#008: 5
#009: 7
Total: 57 votes
(Authors of participating poems maintain ownership and copyright of the material)
Updated on 16 Oct 2005, 14:52 -
Poem #01: Not His National Day
Not His National Day
he was foraging for tins
in green litter bins.
--------another day of discards
--------and shattered dreams.
overhead in the
--------blue sky
--------five fighter jets roared by
--------------trailing exhaust
-------------------to part
---------------------in
----------------------a
------------s t a r b u r s t
as thousands below
--------in red and white
rippled in applause.
and
just
a few streets away
--------he stoops and gathers
--------old newspapers. -
Poem #02: Ghost
Ghost
This is the food
That I eat
Nourishing my body
Giving me strength
To continue
On this relentless journey
This is the road
That I take
To reach my destination
Wherever it may be
Encountering
Crossroads of every kind
This is the mind
That I use
Figuring out an escape
From this wreck
My greatest asset
My only true asset
This is the man
I hardly know
Whom I have yet to comprehend
All that is known
Is that he is there
He is here.
This is the ghost
Haunting me with its omnipresence
The ever-present shadow
Of an unforgiving past
A darkness prescience
A wound unhealing -
Poem #03: Somnambulism
Somnambulism
Into the unknown,
I sauntered till the road of endless steps.
But I have shown,
I uttered in my own breath of regrets.
Death denies me,
As the blade danced across my jugular.
The morning revives me,
Across the floor with ladles and spatulas.
Showered with sweat,
I awoken with eyes bleeding from fear.
Her absence i dread,
The silence from someone i hold so dear.
Amplified screams,
It echoed across the void of my mind.
Sombre dreams,
I entered across the journey i may find.
Will it end,
I wonder as my vein, i slit.
Death began,
I prayed,for this asylum i may sit. -
Poem #04: First Encounter – Room Of A Patient With Cancer
First Encounter – Room Of A Patient With Cancer
I never saw the patient,
only the room where she was kept.
I was there on routine orders to collect
the morningÂ’s samples for the lab.
The room itself was white and neat,
one window, plain curtains,
waxed floors and dettol clean.
Her lunch was abandoned, half eaten
on a tray; a cup of water stagnates
but sheÂ’s drunk her milo all the way.
A difficult maze on a well-worn page
lay open, unfinished, on her bed.
Many lines had been rubbed out before,
and the promising new line
had come to an abrupt stop.
On the walls, a mosaic of photos
and cards with “Get well quick!”
or “Come home soon” in silver ink.
And accompanying these were
crayon-drawn portraits of blue
shaded skies and yellow sunshine,
of grass green meadows sprinkled
with purple flowers of five or six petals,
of see-saws and swings,
and children playing. She
is the artist: a box of crayons
was placed on the side table
within reach from her bed.
I picked up the blood tubes,
checked for her number and name
and then walked –
ran –
walked back down to the lab.
“This has to be processed right away”,
I requested to my white coat colleagues
running the blood work machines,
“it belongs to a child.”
The supervisor picked up
a case sheet from a stack,
“This one is too”, she said,
“Just put hers in
like the rest.” -
Poem #05: His Song
His Song
Softly he whispers in my ear,
Gentle yet wistful, delicately clear,
Lightly it danced on the mild spring breeze,
Lifting the spirit with apparent ease.
Tenderly he sings to my heart,
Kind and loving, deeply passionate,
Subtly it grew, like a rose it blossomed
Glowing like ambers in the bosom.
Ardently he croons to my being,
Intense and devoted, zealously wooing,
Fervently it burned with white heat on its flames
Ablaze, it sets the soul on fire.
Madly he tears through my mind,
Quick and violent, vehemently blind,
Suddenly it rents with the keenness of steel
Slicing the heart like tender veal
Coldly he left my empty shell,
Aloof and distant, eerily hell,
Silently it faded with the body grown weary
Leaving naught but a scar in memory. -
Poem #06: Our Story
Our Story
I turn away from the sunset to see,
the last moments of his shadow leaving me
His smile that once so gently engulfed my soul,
With each of his unnerving frown;
telling me its time to let go...
the whole world seems convinced we were just not meant to be,
But in spite of all our troubles...
I truly believe only with him do my wings fly free....
My wings have long turned stagnant;
since that day he chose to go...
I have traded them in return for a scar,
etched and knifed into my broken soul
My heart still beats and the sunset is still wistfully brilliant,
But somehow the world has lost its shine....
Just as my hollowed heart echoes for his return
I have changed since then,
with an outer crust of hardened expressions
Its not that I no longer cared...
but I do have to shield myself from the poisons of passion...
My will has gone weak from the tears that I've cried,
No more tears I promised myself;
as I left my heart and humanity behind
I still pray for him every now and then;
for his safety and health in a foreign land
And may him and his children grow to see the days,
when a sunset shows a sorrowed glow.....
Perhaps he will then see the wings I've lost...
in the shape of the clouds with thunder as my hollowed echoes.... -
Poem #07: Home Visit
Home Visit
The soup tastes terrible. Not
the first time she adds too much salt
in her life. She pours another,
“I know you miss my cooking.”
You force a smile, your fourth bowl.
There is no rush. The kitchen
is a mini stage; frenzy fruit flies dance
around rotten bananas hanging
on naked wall. Below, bold cockroaches
play hide-and-seek among
unwashed clothes. At least they know
they are not alone. She asks
about her grandson, and scolds you
for not bringing him here. You blame
the long distance, and try to cheer
her up with stories about junior,
how he made a card for your wife
on MotherÂ’s Day. Before you leave
she passes you a packet of instant-noodles
wrapped in crumpled newspapers – a gift
you return unwrapped, together
with rice, sugar, salt, and lies
once a month
when you volunteer
to be her
forgotten son. -
Poem #08: When Daylight Comes
When Daylight Comes
When daylight comes,
I long for you.
You leave me at dawn,
When I still want you around.
At night in my dream,
We are together.
My arms around you,
Your arms around me.
Ah, what ecstasy!
When we are together.
A preview of life,
When we are in holy union.
I beg you to stay,
but night grows old.
You are Cinderella.
One who leaves at dawn!
The glass slipper she leaves,
Is an awful mess.
A mixture of spilt seed and spilt angst.
When daylight comes,
I long for you.
Waiting for night,
Waiting for another dream. -
Poem #09: Broken Wings
Broken Wings
Hidden in a corner street
where she moved about discreet
along with the strays of cats and dogs
they were the forgotten child of god
In litter bins she rummaged through
will she find food she had not a clue
and on knees she begged a passing girl
food for the kitten next to her
Then in winter where the harshest winds blow
she sang herself to sleep in the cold
a kitten small and curled in her hold
we all have a guardian angel, so she was told
and this winter was long
the winds were strong
she sang again to forget a hunger
sounds she can barely whisper
but a voice in her heart
kept saying she must not falter
Then one long night
she stopped shivering
In a light she saw a dove
descended from heaven,
with another pair of wings
are wings for what she's worth
Up to the stars she had wanted to soar
but part of her wings she decidedly tore
and covered the kitten lying there still
A guardian angel ..she revealed -
Hello guys it is time to vote.
Remember each of is allowed 2 votes. However, you are only allowed 1 vote per poem, i.e. your 2 votes must be given to two different poems.
Please vote before 17 October 2005.
Please support! Thanks! -
I will cast the first two votes, i.e. 1 & 4.
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2 and 4!!! Wanted to submit my poems but couldn't complete it at last min
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i've read but have not decided yet....
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Thanks for voting death.Originally posted by The man who was death:2 and 4!!! Wanted to submit my poems but couldn't complete it at last min
No worry, we do this twice a year remember? -
I've completed mine in time... But decided not to in the end...?Originally posted by The man who was death:2 and 4!!! Wanted to submit my poems but couldn't complete it at last min
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8 & 9.
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Take your time but don't take too long hor.Originally posted by tare:i've read but have not decided yet.... -
Next year must participate hor.Originally posted by Devil1976:I've completed mine in time... But decided not to in the end...? 
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Thanks for voting!Originally posted by Devil1976:8 & 9. -
ALWAYS in the SPIRIT OF IT!Originally posted by DeadPoet:Next year must participate hor.
But FINAL DETERMINATING FACTORS are often still 'INSPIRATION' and 'MOOD'? -
Originally posted by Devil1976:ALWAYS in the SPIRIT OF IT!
But FINAL DETERMINATING FACTORS are often still 'INSPIRATION' and 'MOOD'? 
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hehee ... i try lahOriginally posted by DeadPoet:Take your time but don't take too long hor. 
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#9
im using 1 out of 2 votes bcos i relli only like 1 -
wow wew.. my vote goes to #3.