RESULTS -- Opposites Contest

2 : Rhyme, Thyme and Wildebeest -- Youth_from_the_Shrub

Sir, you claim that’s all we need:
Rhyme, thyme and wildebeest
Objects and words
And you know I was quite poor and unlucky
If I could speak to anyone, it would be you
If I could toss the knife to anyone, it would be you
I could be chopped in sea-rhymes
[You may have seen my boat upturned on the sand]
And then I’d float in the sky like a tiny star
I don’t know how to begin
I am a youth from the shrub
I don’t know your town habits
My feet are naked

I am quite a child in what I see
I think the world is flat
You may shake your grey locks
But I think the world is flat
Just like the soles of my feet
All land masses are revealed
All men grow old
But you still know the earth is sort of round
Dancing across the sun and all
Man is pleased with what has been achieved

Rhyme, thyme and wildebeest are a lion’s dreams
The unruly ruler of the Serengeti
I seek something truer
I seek God
I am a youth from the shrub
I know your inventions and methods
I’ve seen your skyscrapers and bombs
I was on a walk, sir
I was on a walk to retrieve my humanity
I was searching for the One
The adhan flowed, shook me, and cast me into the sea
I sat on a boat till I saw you
You were gazing at the horizon
As if life had no purpose
This is our Book, sir
I unravel it twice from my breast to recite

Click to expand...

: Hot Mama -- sanssouci

She is Malibu rum, blowing a kiss.
She is long cigarette, static hairdo.
She is open-toe shoe, hands on her hips.
She is white leather pants, flower tattoo,

strutting her stuff,
flashing her wares,
she is sixties shag carpet,

putting on airs.

She is white poodle napping,
fern patterned drapes, laxative
taking, geriatric blind date.

Click to expand...

4 : Challenge -- PrettySpecialGal

Towering mountain
One sees hope—other, despair
Polar positions

Click to expand...

5 : A Collision of Physics -- DeadElectric

your lips are warm : your fingers are cold
-a ratio
of sea green irises and the road map
you find on the bottom of my feet.
The anxiety
is sweeter than the waiting
sweeter than the cake-
go ahead,
smudge my makeup.
Wrap me in
barbed wire and feathers.
We're a ratio of incorrect
proportion
to the world in your head.
You say I think
in color. You think
in force like oceans and the cold
of October grass on my bare feet.
A ratio-
lighter than midnight
and darker than our days.
your lips are warm : your fingers are cold,

I don't mind at all.

Click to expand...

6 : Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Too -- poetprncess

Winnie the Pooh View ...

The years had passed so fast. I wonder could
it be you truly have forgotten me?
They sold off every acre of the wood
from where the woozles weren't, to my tree
and eeyore's gloomy place. Where might he be?
You left me sitting on the windowsill
and promised to return by count of three.
Although you didn't look behind, I still
continue to believe ... one day you will.

Chrisopher Robin's point of view ...

I miss you silly old pooh. If I could
go back in time, I would take you with me.
Yet father flew me away from the wood
to tend to school, far from the Sanderz tree,
so quick I couldn't say goodbye. A bee
had buzzed and teased outside my window sill
beckoning me; stay. I'm all grown up with three
kids of my own. They may not know you; still
don't worry - I've left them you in my will!

Click to expand...

7 : LOVE -- rhymegirl

LOVE: Her View

Why do I love him?
Maybe it’s because he’s blessed with
all those math skills and auto smarts,
and that bottle opening, Mr. Fix-it know-how
I’m sorely lacking.

Why do I love him?
Even when his blunt words
smack me down
like a lead pipe
All because he’s angry
all because of traffic
Or all because his heroes
are losing
on that little square box
that matters more than I do
sometimes.

Why do I love him?
Despite his faults,
his so opposing tastes,
his disinterest in poetry
and the way words
can splash across a page
like colors on a canvas,
touching my heart and soul
but leaving him untouched,
yawning, and scrambling
for some fast cars,
bloody fights,
and vampires on the screen.

Why do I love him?
Maybe it’s his smile
or his uncanny knack for saying
the very thing I’m thinking
at the very same time.
Or maybe it’s that fiendish way
he looks at me and touches me
when he wants me
Making me feel
desirable and loved.

Why do I love him
even when I don’t want to?
Maybe it’s because
of all these things
or despite these things...
Because maybe love
really can’t be defined,
explained,
or fathomed
by anybody.


LOVE: His View

You ask me why I love her?
She's the perfect one for me,
And gives me everything I need
Unconditionally.

Click to expand...

8 : Imperfect Perfection -- D.J.

I brought all life
You brought true death.
I offered those hope
You offered them doubt.
I created the cross
You created the need.

Click to expand...

9 : Sublime Surrender -- kdnxdr

this way
or that
is such a spat
couples often engage in:
on a whim
"just to win"
it's her or him;
every word
an enemy's sword,
every look
mistakenly took;
if peace is the price
to have it nice,
he'll have to agree,
the winner is she.

Click to expand...

10 : Listen -- dobiwon

In the quiet of youthful togetherness

"I love you"
screamed his genitals.


"I love you"
whispered her heart

In the quiet of youthful togetherness.

Click to expand...

11 : A Conversation with the Preacher -- Norman D Gutter

The preacher said, “Miss Hannah Hight
taught me in Sunday School.
And Herbert Hood, that godly man,
maintained our city pool.
Old Mayor Green gave leadership
in an upstanding way.
And Mrs. Jones, in second grade,
made each a special day.
Then there was Joe, the business man,
who gave me my first work.
He showed the worth of industry
even to a soda jerk.
I watched Bill Roy, through character,
turn trials into a song.
And Sammy Smith, a blind black man,
he taught me right from wrong.
My pastor, Joseph Wood, proclaimed
God’s message bold and clear.
His words helped me to hear the call
late in my freshman year.”

Then afterwards at the church door
we shook each other’s hand.
I said, “I need a minute of
your time, good Reverend.
Please, sir, I really need to know,
why in this hallowed place,
you found it necessary to
tell us of Sammy’s race?”
“Well, he was black. I mean no ill.
He was a man quite rare
He reached me as a wayward boy
and showed me love and care.
I stole some items from his shop,
aware he couldn’t see.
Somehow he knew what I had done
and called the cops on me.
But then he had me work for him;
no damage did he claim.
He spoke of honesty to me,
and helped me feel deep shame.”
“All that is well and good, and yet
I must point out this lack:
The only time you mentioned race
was when the man was black.”
“Surely you aren’t claiming I
committed some great sin
to accurately state to you
the color of his skin.”
“Of course not so, but tell me this:
the dear Miss Hannah Hight,
what color did her flesh reflect?”
“Well, she, of course, was white.”
“Then as you sang the praise of those
who showed you God’s great grace,
I think you should describe for us
the color of each face.”
“But why should I? The others were
in the majority.”
“Oh how I wish to make you see
your clear hypocrisy!
The fact that he was black has no
importance, so you state.
So if you tell the race of one
then each race please relate.
If race means much or naught to you,
just speak consistently.
If you feel otherwise we must
agree to disagree.”

At that we parted for the day
each to his residence,
assured that we had made our case
with brimming confidence.
So who is right? Preacher or me?
I hope someday we’ll find
if as regards to race we should
be seeing or be blind.

Click to expand...

12 : Choices -- JRH

Noone knew what Someone felt,
When Someone's life was changed,
For Noone was a Someone too,
Before that dark cruel day,
When fate had struck a terrible blow
And taken his legs away.

No hope had he to walk again,
And so, Noone despaired,
For he foresaw a bitter end,
Where no one knew or cared.

But Someone was of stronger stuff,
Refusing to give in,
And swore he'd find another way
To claim his life again.

He found new means to get around,
And rearranged his life,
Depending more and more on friends,
Who helped him in his plight.

And he survived....indeed, he thrived,
And focused on his dreams,
For his trials had strangely strengthened him,
And his will had forged the means.

Not all can face the trials they're set,
Not all will pay the cost.
Someone found another way.

Alas....Noone was lost.

Click to expand...

13 : Posterity - his and hers -- Dylan

After the softly whispered oaths,
an embarrassment of toasts
in static air, warm with ghosts

you almost smiled into
the placid porcelain blue
of October. And I knew

that this day would always stalk
my days. Stone-set, white and black
I watched it close
with a tiny
click.

The
sound of
a life ending.
With smiles of syrup and candy
flavoured kisses, the wedding

drops around me like a shawl
no longer needed. The fall
of leaves becomes a symbol

of my constant disbelief
at the reality beneath
this unreal day. As we leave,
exactly who have I deceived?

Click to expand...

14 : Gone Separate Ways -- nerdsRus

For years
He rode his horse
Like an aristocrat
This farmer boy
Tails of his plaid, flannel shirts
Flying

Then they fell
Far from the farmhouse
He should be home by now
Shut off the burners
Leave supper on the stove
Find him

His parents found the two
Aristocrats
Dying.
Horse and rider
While corn turned to gold
And sun turned to ash.

I would like him
Buried
Here on the farm
His mother announced.

I would not
His father said.

Then you didn't love him
As well as I.

I loved him so much
That I can't have him that close.

She became a harridan
Her grief a profession
He withdrew.
He thought over all their years
Of colliding points of view.

They circle each other
As strangers
Unable to leave.

Click to expand...

17 : More than a Room Apart -- NeuroFizz


“All he wants to do on weekends is watch football.”
“She’s trying to limit me to one ball game per day.”
“He’s so tight, I have to fill out an application to buy a new dress.”
“She’d limit all our credit cards, if I’d let her.”
“He eats like a pig; I can’t stand to watch.”
“Her cooking’s so bad I have to stuff it down for fear of tasting it.”
“He leaves his stinky shoes in the living room.”
“She has a wall-full of shoes, but not the elusive periwinkle pumps.”
“I can tell when he falls asleep—he finally stops belching.”
“She can’t just rip one; she slips out silent stealth stank, without warning.”
“He hopes for it every night, and expects it at least twice each week.”
“She likes it when she gets into it, but that happens about once a month.”
“His idea of romance is to put his tongue in my ear and then grab my breasts.”
“She wants so much cuddling beforehand, my hand starts looking good.”
“He’s starting to get a gut.”
“Her butt’s starting to spread.”
“That little island of hair in front is about to declare its independence.”
“I have to take a second mortgage for the hair dye, conditioners and mousse.”
“He never looks in my eyes with ‘that look’ anymore.”
“She won’t take a shower with me anymore.”
“Divorce? No. He’s a great provider, and he’ll make a fantastic father.”
“Divorce? No way. When I get a few drinks in her, she swallows.”

Click to expand...

18 : Mind Eternal, Body Frail -- dclary

It is a strange thing
his mind eternal, immortal says,
this sensation,
this thing they call pain.

It does not stagger him;
how could it?
A mind eternal, immortal is beyond such things
and yet,
and yet how much of this could any body,
mortal and frail
endure?

It does not dissuade him;
how could it?
A mind eternal, immortal can put aside these things
and yet,
and yet it remains:
this all-consuming anguish that tears away even
an immortal mind’s best defenses.

“Father!” he cries, the mortal and frail body’s last gasp.
“Why have you forsaken me?”
The peace that comes is a reassurance.
He is mortal and frail
but also immortal, eternal
and the victory will come soon.

Click to expand...