Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Congrats to Spotlight Award Winner of the Month #1

Let's all congratulate this months Spotlight winner of January 2011 on All Poetry.
FallenWingz for the poem, Poetry. And runner-up gerrynan2 for her poem The Climb.

Now on to the winning poems beginning with:


Is poetry the flow of love?
That trembles of the tongue
Into a desire of greatness
Enchanting fantasies
My take on writing poetry
It leaks from emotions
That was once bruised
Healing in a way that can't hide
What the eye can’t see.
Words have ways of saying
More then an actual gesture.
I am a poetess.
I am a whore in love with words
I make love to it when ever it
Enchants the desires
That bestows me.
That burning desire that it
Tempts you daily.
It’s my crack that keeps me up
At night,
Burning the midnight oil
As the love making
Of two individuals
Explore each other’s bodies.
Trembling of passion.
My words speak of desire,
Of feeling that high
That neither human can fill.
Poetry is a temptation
I crave in the hours of
Desperation and desire.
I snuggle up to it
While I sit endless hours
As the words tumbles out of me.
What human desires cant I feel?
That I give it over to the lovemaking
Of words that jumble and touch each other.
All these might just be words pouring
Out of my mind as I touch the
Keypads on my keyboard
Lingering word after word.
What desires doesn’t poetry fills
In my life.
When I spread my power through.

Now our runner- up entry by gerrynan2:       

        The Climb

Looms huge, grey, the crags
Half in cloud hid.
Mountain! of heights, of lights;
Cold and the spires of Heaven.

Trudging up to first base,
Gathering the hills which are preludes.
Sky and stones and streams,
Grey in the wintry day.

This climber too small.
Flesh weak, and cold, all shaky.
Doesn't know how; doesn't know why.
Heart still unbowed yet bows,
To their splendours these mountains of Perfect.

Silence like heavy weights.
Pressing the head,
Like the exhausted quiet of the dead.

Cliffs loom. grey and sere.
Neither rope nor helper nor axe;
Yet it is ''Thou shalt climb!
Climb thou, or die''!
Inching up, inching up,
One handhold here, there another,
A place for the foot, another...
Inch up, inch it easy?

Gained! Lie full length, gasp  your thanks!
More cliffs, more curtains of grey rock.
The same fateful struggle.
Fail! Gain! Gain! Fail! Gain! Gain again...
The lone battle in the air.
The battle of the mountains.

This narrow cleft of rock is called a chimney.
Use your back as a brace, carry yourself like a cross,
Walk your legs up the chimney.
Slowly, inch by inch. Swing out at the top.
If you dare; safety is dangerous.

Muscles like lead.
Heart labours, bursting.
Its high and cold, but I sweat with toil.
Great eagles sail below,
Glaring up at the climber.
Above their proud flight.
And it is night.

The winds howl, battering the thin fabrics.
Within my tiny shelter I cower.
Hearing the ghosts in the shrieking blasts.
Hearing the echoes of all that is past.

At midnight it ceases.
In silence extreme look out O climber!
It is Jehovah-Jirah....
Wonders rising to the universe of lights,
The stars glitter in their distant dreams 
Calling, calling the souls of those who must climb.
Hail to the universe, older than mountains!

Pray, to whatever sketch of God they taught you.
Try to sleep now,
Caught in the wonder and the pain.
Can you?

Its dawn, the sun rises with a silent shout of joy!
Rejoice in the floods of golden light!
We dance together!
Dancing in the mists golden bright!

Again to the climb.
The rocks are iced in light.
Snow in great banks of white
Glistens its beautiful diamond sparks
Into the listening quiet.
On  a ridge of high snow
Majestically sailing on...
Only another
Look around, look around...
None other found.
Its the peak. The peak of Perfect!

The mountains called Perfect.
Climb now. What choice hast thou?
There is no way but down, back to evil.
Or lonely annihilation.
For who can live here?

Jagged, sharp, the last peak like a black fang.
No saviour save my own hands.
Try to see the depths of the fall.
Its too huge. See nothing at all.
Below in their warm mirks,
The people remembered
Fade as worms in their dirt.
But look straight and all about,
The blue distances spread
Like omniscience, like toys the world waits quiet;
Waiting for the touch of a master.
So rise, begin!

Vicious this last battle.
We fight to conquer, kill, survive.
This black fanged death.
Swing loose, hanged on one screaming hand,
This fool who would be free!
The fool called by thee.
In defiance of all gravity,
That pull back, that pull down.
Don't. Won't. Can't. Shan't...give in!

Suddenly reached. The peak.
The wind quietly flies snowdust
Like a flag in salute.
I have won.
Death is done.
I stand, a little tree.
The sun. The mountain. And me.

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