Poetry Writing Contests discussion

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So this next theme will be...

DESERT

Anything related to a desert - whether a metaphorical desert or a poem about being stranded in the desert. Or maybe a poem about an animal of the desert. It really could be anything!

Starts: Now
Ends: March 29, 2017

2 Poem Limit

No Tears Left to Cry

Crusted and dry
Shriveled up to die
No tears left to cry


Oasis gone
Survival span not so long
No tears left to cry

Water supply low
Gone is all hope
No tears left to cry

Hot. Sweltering heat
I cant breathe
Suffocating from the sun swiping away my life
No tears left to cry

Vultures over head
Waiting for me dead
No tears left to cry


So


I stand



I wipe the sand out my eyes
The brittle burning, churning on my skin
I sigh

sigh

My knees buckle I twist and fall
Im on the ground left to crawl
No tears left to cry

I pound the desert. I say suck it up
Leave my heart and follow my gut
No tears left to cry


I shift and move
Get back my rhythmn and groove
No tears left to cry

Determination takes over logic
I have no reason to give in
No tears left to cry

I....I did it
There I found a haven to stumble in
A safe place to rest my head
I'm....alive

I want to scream with relief
I can almost feel the water in my eyes leak
But I dont

Because I have no tears left to cry

NerdyJediGymnast wrote: "No Tears Left to Cry

Crusted and dry
Shriveled up to die
No tears left to cry


Oasis gone
Survival span not so long
No tears left to cry

Water supply low
Gone is all hope
No tears left to cry

H..."

*claps* That's an amazing poem!

Why thank you!

109 Degree

One step out and I hit a wall of heat
It didn't even have to crawl up my feet.
I pull on my hat for shade
but it was too late.
I was already light headed
I was already deaf.
Water poured down my throat
but my skin was already toast.
I run past the Hoover Dam
Right next to a fan.
I pull out my phone
It was 109 degrees on.

My Desert

Out there, in the world
You will find a desert.
It's a big city, bustling around
But I own that place,
My home town.

At night you see amazing things,
The performers sing,
Doing their dances and little tricks.
People from all over come to see

In the day you see crowded streets,
Appointments and business as usual
Then the children come from school
Running ramped through the city

At night we've settled down,
City lights shimmer on the horizon
As families get together and enjoy the evening.
Maybe one of our coyotes will howl

This is my desert,
My childhood,
My heart,
My city.

Ahh thats not good but welcome to living in my not so little desert. Actually I do kinda like it because Im talking about my home and even though I hate it here, Im still very fond of it.

Wadi

You were my oasis in the desert,
Yet somehow the water which streamed from you has
Run dry
And the patch from which I used to drink
Is nothing but smoldering sand.
The traders pass by, salt weighing heavy on
The camel's humped backs.
They turn their dark gaze for a moment
And move on,
Camel hooves leaving sharp imprints in the fine sand.
Yet I cannot leave,
Though the dunes reek of death
And the date palm withers in the smoking wind.
I dig my fingers into the hard packed dirt that
Used to reflect the sun in a vibrant blue
And I search for the wetter sand underneath.
Nothing comes.
The ants scramble for their burrows and
Beetles dry out in the heat of the day before they can
Make it home.
I close my eyes, lying back against the shaded side of the sloping dune
And sand runs into my eyes
But I still can't picture you inside my cracked gaze.
You have fallen beyond repair, and the trail of the nomads veers far from this place now,
Yet still I wait,
A gaunt shadow waving in the breeze,
Crouched like a giant insect,
Bringing the sand to my mouth in cupfuls, letting the tiny grains run against my tongue.
Drinking the sand like water,
Rather than leaving you behind.

Push Me Around Like A Sandstorm

Help me,
Oh, help me.
The blaring
and winding
wind.
And the closer I get
to God
and my chance of being brought back to happiness,
the wind,
it blows me right back to the starting line.

And the sand-
the dust
covering everything in its path
with a thick layer
of grit.

The high pitched wind:
like a blood-curdling scream.
I seem to shout,
"Don't do this!"
but the wind doesn't listen.
It pushes on.
It keeps roaring
and forming dust tornadoes,
pressing me down to the ground,
lower
and lower,
until I can't bear to move anymore.

And even if I wanted to move,
I couldn't.
I'm paralyzed.
The wind
blows in my face,
where I can taste the salt in my sweat
and the sand burning up my face.
Fear.
The sand covering my face hides my tears,
and the howling wind drounds out my screams,
but it doesn't matter
because no one will notice anyway.
The storm will eventually end,
but it will also end me.

~Grace Mathieu

I think everyone's perception of a desert is so different than what I've grown up with my desert. Its a big city, but if you go out into the actual desert its not like the sand dunes you see in the movies.

Mapledream {Rose Gold} wrote: "I think everyone's perception of a desert is so different than what I've grown up with my desert. Its a big city, but if you go out into the actual desert its not like the sand dunes you see in the..."

Yeah, I used to live in the middle of the desert in California, but my inspiration for this poem was the Sahara.

Mapledream {Rose Gold} wrote: "I think everyone's perception of a desert is so different than what I've grown up with my desert. Its a big city, but if you go out into the actual desert its not like the sand dunes you see in the..."

Same as Grace, actually. The Sahara has these amazing sand dunes that are as tall as buildings. It's just hauntingly beautiful.

I like that a lot, Dodger! It's like a song.

contest now closed, I'll have the poll up tomorrow