I, the hindsight
have come a long way
(globe-trotting with my Siamese, the second-guesser
who might have gone a bit too far)
we are travel-worn
are there any vacancies?
The janitor
(how peculiar, his name was Janus)
spoke with a forked tongue
“there’s only room for one
but you could double up”
as soon as we plunged
into our truckle bed
with a sinking feeling
we overheard
The National Poetry Competition has been one of Britain's top single poem competitions since 1978. It is judged by a new set of judges each year, and all poems are made anonymous before they are judged. The National Poetry Competition is organised by the Poetry Society, one of Britain's most dynamic arts organisations, representing poetry both nationally and internationally.
you remember the corridor?
the corridor which carried our footsteps
like a golden chariot King Ahab
it took forever to understand
the white piano’s tune
our heart beats put it to shame
with every passing moment
we reached the room
turned the knob
the walls had pearled silky paper
carefully designed for dream catching
and we knew
there was no exit for love
no stairway, no door
no way out through the narrow balcony
but in each other’s arms
your mouth stilled
by mine
a wet gift from
the sea
forgotten words
I woke up chewing the pillow
lips and teeth running like some lame dogs through
archives of freedom
I stripped from myself the mantle of befuddled leaves
and clothed me in studs of mountains
my half conscience was in love with nefarious worlds
thirsty of miocen odysseys
and now
like an emperor whitout clothing
looking thru the stiff neck of an empty
chivas regal bottle
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