Winner's Showcase - Page 6


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Thread: Winner's Showcase

  1. #51
    August 2017 - "Secret Treasure" Challenge Winner

    The Butcher's Wife (Mature Content) by Pete_C

    Frosty mornings she'd pull me
    into that bed still warm
    from her husband's flesh;
    his heat and scent slumbering
    in those sheets,
    lingering long after his mortal meat
    had hauled him off to market.

    We romped, but with an ear cocked
    listening out for the vicious slash
    of his cold blade
    against the sharpening steel;
    the consequence of his early return
    never voiced between us.

    She'd twitch and writhe,
    grind herself into my greedy mouth,
    and as she closed in on that moment
    I’d wrestle her around
    with all my strength,
    throw myself into the toil
    until her body sucked me dry
    and spat me, like a husk,
    into the morning air

    Then just one kiss and we would part.
    I’d leave her in that bed,
    womb filled with secret seed,
    nipples aching for another touch,
    her womanhood restored.

    And me? I had it all.
    A warm spot between her ample thighs
    and every day
    fresh liver for breakfast.


  2. #52
    September 2017 - "Deceit" Challenge Winner

    Phantom Pain
    by Firemajic

    Spinning make believe chores into epic endeavors
    makes them last for many mundane hours
    takes my mind off unused rooms
    and lips un-kissed
    and a bed where passion has passed away
    if I shake the sheets, memories like dust motes
    swirl and dance in a vicious vortex
    pulling me into a black hole
    so I pretend everything is the same
    religiously scrub, sweep and polish
    while dark matter collects
    like phantom dust bunnies, in the closets of my mind
    I wash your chipped coffee cup every day
    even though you have not used it for months

    It has been a good day
    no mail was delivered to the deceased
    and no one called
    asking to speak to a dead man...


  3. #53
    October 2017 - "Find Meat on Bones" Challenge Winners:

    Kindly click to view:

    the numbers that kill you
    by ned

    Peep Show by Pete_C

    Southern Fried Chicken by sas


  4. #54
    November 2017 - "Magic Jesus Finger" Challenge Winners

    Kindly click to view:

    [conversion] by Phil Istine


    Run Away by sas


  5. #55
    December 2017 - "Christmas Reservation(s)" Challenge Winners

    Nativity by ned

    And did we cross
    that eternal rift with his gift
    of presence

    for what was lost
    in all our innocence?

    Lain amongst the fodder
    the harbinger of love

    reaches above
    to grasp his mother's
    ringless finger.


    Give Me This Wish, I Wish Tonight by Firemajic

    Cheap cardboard angel
    blind eyes and dirty wings
    impaled on top of the Christmas tree
    oblivious to ravished wrapping paper
    spangled bows and ribbons
    crushed boxes and cheap toys

    Under my red blanket
    I am invisible
    hidden from lascivious eyes
    protected from predatory stares
    that stab me in the back
    exposing the knobs of my spine
    like a broken string of pearls


    Curled under my blanket
    I pretend I am a Christmas angel
    made of cardboard that does not bruise
    safe in the sanctuary of the tree
    hidden in the dark boughs

    Blind me to the eyes
    that rape me
    protect me from dirty fingers
    that probe my innocent vulnerability
    leaving filthy prints on my thighs

    Cowering under my red blanket
    with shattered spine
    and eyes that weep dirty pearls
    I wish I was that angel


  6. #56
    January 2018 - "No Rhyme Nor Reason" Challenge Winner

    The Sight (Language) by Chester's Daughter

    In their state of blindness
    they could discern no rhyme nor reason
    while I dug a hole in its proper plot.
    Whispers of my madness
    became my shadow
    even when the earth turned its back
    on the sun.

    There wasn’t a shovel in sight
    as I clawed an ever-deepening crater
    in unforgiving earth that utilized
    twigs and pebbles to flay my fingers
    to the bone.
    My presence there was premature
    for the ground is aware when to ready
    so it found my intrusion abhorrent
    and kept its efforts to thwart me steady,
    but like most souls, dirt is denied
    glimpses of the future.


    The sun rose and set
    and downpours erased my progress
    until my third week in
    when I finally met the required depth
    and was a spectacle no more,
    just a poor witless woman
    incapable of rhyme nor reason.

    I retired to my rocker,
    ragged digits wrapped in bloodied gauze
    gripping its arms as I swayed.
    It was six days until that toil of love
    stolen from difficult soil
    embraced what was left of my son,
    and I dug it wide enough
    so that on the seventh day,
    I finally rested
    next to my child.

    On my bodice was pinned a note:

    That shadow of insanity
    bestowed upon me was unearned
    As to no rhyme nor reason
    I believe you’ve all now learned
    Not only had I reason
    unlike you I was not blind
    And just to negate the former
    I’ve left these words behind
    You whores have just been treated
    to my final fucking rhyme.


  7. #57
    February 2018 - "False Fronts" Challenge Winners

    There ARE Monsters in Fairytales... by Firemajic

    Once upon a time
    we could have saved each other
    Now our disease can only be erased
    by innocent hands
    entwined in our sickness
    I can't find any way to rewrite us

    We share the same genetics
    indelibly inked on the same page
    self destruction spelled out in short lines
    a script that cannot be changed
    and that scares the shit out of me

    I look the other way
    not wanting your disease
    inscribed on my eyelids
    I already see it in my fingerprints
    and your pain is tattooed on my ribs

    Pretending nothing has changed
    you share your tattered
    battered umbrella
    scant shelter for two sick siblings
    huddled under illusions

    Look into my sorrow!
    Scavenge my memory dumpster
    maybe you can decipher
    my discarded mind scribbles
    then cover them with your graffiti
    and illustrate our Fairytale

    Blind to my decline
    effortless I tripped
    fell down that rabbit hole
    into your make believe world
    tell me what you read
    in my storybook eyes

    Cover your mouth when you SCREAM.....



    Respect
    by ned

    if I believed the moon was cheese
    quite probably
    you'd laugh at me

    but if instead, I also said
    that ball of brie
    is my deity

    should I then expect
    your utter respect?



    and though a fool
    I'd take my kids
    from school

    to teach as I please
    on matters of cheese

    lay down the law
    in metaphor

    with others of my ilk
    regarding mother
    nature's milk

    and how it churns
    as it slowly turns

    so always faces
    our world in phases

    forever marking time
    surely, a sign
    of the divine



    yes, we would grow in number
    from dumb
    to dumber

    build a temple
    of stone and bricks
    call ourselves 'lunatics'

    inventing prophets
    from history
    with revelations of the mystery

    it's all there
    just take a look
    faithfully transcribed in our sacred book



    and should the astronauts
    drill for oil
    they'd find cheese beneath the soil

    and if not, we know what to say
    god is displeased
    in some large way

    we'd stand as brothers
    blame the others

    til holy war
    is begun
    with worshippers of the sun

    but even that
    would not end it
    for within our church there'd be a split

    between camembert and mozzarella
    with the british of course
    favouring cheddar

    in a conflict that rumbles
    on for years
    through centuries of blood and tears

    taking up the sword
    in his name
    and instruct our young to do the same

    til all that's left
    is death
    and shame...



    and so it came to pass
    that once again
    I ask

    to those of you disaffected

    should blind faith
    be respected?


  8. #58
    March 2018 - "A Touch of Grace" Challenge Winner

    The red wheelbarrow...
    by sas

    is not really red, in the tall grass.

    He left it kicked over, in the short grass
    when no one was left to care about carrots
    or what he grew, or that he forgot
    to memorize faces before winds
    found only corn-silk to tousle beside him

    like someone
    not forgotten—like someone not there.

    It took a long time for blue to rust red.
    It took but a moment for blue to rust him
    into someone he wasn’t with infidel hands
    slammed
    never folding in grace at the emptied table.
    God was a weed, his centerpiece.


  9. #59
    April 2018 - "Duplicitous" Challenge Winner

    Kindly click to view:

    Waiting by Cugoano


  10. #60
    May 2018 - "Entombment" Challenge Winner

    Just a Minor Renovation by Chester's Daughter

    He'd set himself up for disaster
    leaving mottled marks of plum
    on skin once alabaster.
    Such is the right
    of a sadistic lord and master.
    Or so he thought.

    Years wrapped
    in syllabic barbed wire
    unrolled from the reel
    aka the tyrannical tongue.
    Pinching then pricking
    every word a tiny scar
    until no fresh flesh was left.
    Payback is a bitch
    and his breath
    now but a hitch
    is proof positive.

    Once, I had a model's nose,
    now it wobbles
    like a Saturday night drunkard
    with a dislocated knee.
    I am so pleased
    even a pristine patrician nose
    is useless
    when no oxygen can be found.

    Hark, I hear a scratching sound.

    Lungs that need to feed
    claw desperately
    forcing former weapons to follow.
    Bet those fingers
    are numb nubs by now
    no longer
    prone to pummeling
    your domesticated "cow".
    Think this lowbrow
    has earned your bow.

    Insufficient space, you say?
    Nay, surely a man
    of your caliber
    can find a way.
    That framing serving as a womb
    will soon become your tomb
    so despite your girth
    embrace rebirth
    and stop

    begging.

    I’ll have your mum to lunch
    to use her shoulder as a crutch
    while you moulder
    behind the kitchen hutch
    as I clutch Kleenex
    and bemoan your disappearance.

    Yep, you set yourself up for disaster,
    I pipe up happily
    as I spread fresh plaster
    elated and secure
    for these walls can't talk
    and you can't endure
    much longer

    I'm sure.


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