April Contest Winners

Apr 3, 201321 min read

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Published: Apr 3, 2013

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And if you have a splendiferous contest going on, go note me about that too. I'll feature it. Then provide a feature for the winnars.

ProjectComment's Comment Contest Winners!

First Place: DorianHarper

The Ravens by DorianHarper

PoetryChained to this present,
The powerless poet dreams-
Of a future without identical lines,
No two people falling together in rhyme.
Gambling with death,
Each love drifting away by the hour.
Urgently then...
Time is forged on shadowy grounds.
His brush teaching all that is true,
Reach to the precious verse written,
Her life and love will be poetry.
^{Feel free to browse the comments they made!}
comments.deviantart.com/1/3520… comments.deviantart.com/1/3556… comments.deviantart.com/1/3622…

Second Place: Madame-Rien

^{Feel free to browse the comment they made!}
comments.deviantart.com/1/3594…

Third Place: sheorun

Coming to Life by sheorun

Row House by sheorun

Phoenix by sheorun

^{Feel free to browse the comment they made!}
comments.deviantart.com/1/1052…

Honourable Mentions
Agdorn and their constructive comment!

f1utterby3 and their constructive comment!

Two Forms, One Theme Contest: PE.

First Place

Poetree by =MirachRavaia

Kodama - forest spirits by MirachRavaia

The Singing River by MirachRavaia

Of Names and DecisionsFair child without sorrow
Is your life hollow,
Noldorin prince?
Dreams are just small seeds
Adventures, great deeds
Ripen long since…
A burning fire
That’s your desire:
Onwards without wince

In the light of Two Trees
Noon of Valinor's bliss
Golden-haired child
Over the wide sea, though
Lie the lands you don't know
Distant and wild
Oh, eager child...

***
Faithful and steady
Is you oath ready,
Nargothrond’s king?
Reaping the visions
Of your decisions
Darkness will sink
For the oath spoken
Echoes unbroken
Loyalty true
A new hope is born
Grief of those who mourn
Up to sky flew
New day is coming
Dawning in blue

Hobbit door by MirachRavaia

DefenceLast
fence:
your
hands

2nd Place

Sravana Varsa by =Sammur-amat

Rosebud InnocenceThat little bit of magick
you always seem to
unknowingly dust off of
the ends of
your daisy dresses and
your sun-dried,
mud-ruddy boots;
the ones that tell us all about
where you've been and
for how long gone just about
says it all to them,
methinks
Those tiny droplets of
love potions made from
the deepest, darkest secrets
we found one autumn's eve
while trespassing
that gramma by the forest river's home;
we should be incriminated
for all our vile,
boy-crazy spells that
we've stuffed in a
pair of sock each,
mind you
These little paper-cut
hearts you dragged me into
making from various art papers,
glitter, and glue-gunned
scrapbook pieces galore and
how for days to come
my fingers would ache from
sticky burns;
i imagine your insides to
look just as colorful and
sharp-edged as these beautiful
almost pumping, brimming with
rosebud innocence,
paper hearts.
Memories of kindred spirits
and such childhood keepsakes
will
always be ours,
my happy-toed, completing,
other pair

My words are flightless birds Hey, is it okay now?
Is it alright to tell you how
I cannot eat,
I cannot sleep, I always,
Always want to weep
I look for you in lonely corners
Of bus-bus-busy streets;
Turn around
You are nowhere to be found
Can you keep my secret?
I don't want to keep
Regretting
Let me spill, shout it out
I long to know all you're about
I want to feel
Your steady gaze
Stuck on my skin
As I graze
Your lips with mine; I cannot find
My head, lost in a maze
Of you
I am unscrewed, feigning
Shrewdness
My words are flightless
Birds whose
Heartbeats cause erratic echoes
In my rib-cage
Since God knows
When; I hum along
This broken song
Make me, break me
Overtake me
Love me till I cannot
Stand
Till all I taste
Sans you is bland
Love me while holding my hand
Tell me all I long to hear
Force me to see
How you fear
Losing me; Certainly,
Prove me wrong
Show me how men can love
So strongly
Magnetized,

I am mesmeri As I inaudibly crumbleThe first thing that I can assure you of is the fortitude of my soul: I am a pact so strong that even the hurricane which caused my house to tear apart couldn't budge me. So strong, that even the earthquake that cracked the face of my school building couldn't chip me. So strong, that no amount of tidal waves could crash and break into my walls, my being. I am a pact made of several precious trinkets, letters and colors bound fervently. My frame has become a watchtower and my spirit, its sentry; I fulfill set duty. I am a pact so strong that I crave for certain commotion over what it is that I am, I wear and bare my vanity. I am a thrill seeker, a bungee jumper. I thrive off adrenaline rushes brought about by the feeling of close calls, the always present possibility of a snapping of the cord, a real potential to, not just fall, but truly crash and burn from grace. I am of a life wanting to be fully fueled, felt and fulfilled. I am a draconian as an experienced freedom fighter.
The last

Third Place

Expectation of an Avalanche by ~SedahLiah

What Bismuth Taught Meinvalid, delete, radius of raven's feet leave inchmarks,
the street is pallid swale yellow, tooth and nail blues
that bismuth taught me, return path for the devil feed
from blind dwelling and family, this means of filial coding,
ineffectual fragment distinct enough to recall by rote,
cellophane cello plays its first notes,
my favorite part of the movie
invasive, entreat, making incense a choreogaphy,
dead to detestable meat, belief is an infirmary,
no calculable approach to revise the unknown,
where mortal imagination frames every statement,
maudlin misappropriation, head over senses,
picket fences jail the scenery's simplicity,
my favorite part of the movie

And Chains Will Not Release MeA certain pride and certain awe I see,
At times, your ardor all but has you gripped,
Yet not with love for your own child, or me,
But only for his newest manuscript.
Your verses are a gift from God himself,
Yet you dwell on those sentences amiss,
'Tis your novels that should be on the shelf,
But you treat each word as a crude, lewd kiss.
I'm writing this in hopes that you may know,
Finally understand what you ignore,
My veiled voice has long been pleading "Go..",
But 'tis I who must choose to stay no more.
Your words have chains and meaning thick as lead,
And chains will not release me once they're said. A Conversation"What does unadorned beauty look like?" Or something like that.
An abrupt stillness came upon the snowstorm, as if the weather itself had posed the question. Not being able to see five feet in front of me, it didn't seem entirely unlikely. The voice didn't seem to exist in one direction, strewn into the whispery space all around in but a second. The bright and biting snow had left me disoriented, and I was sure I had been walking in entirely the wrong direction since breaking down on the highway a half-mile back. Just keep North, I told myself, because being lost is for people who take too many turns, like that even matters when each slow step is into the exact same nothingness. Suppressing thoughts of the various scenarios of my death out in the cold I turned to where I thought the voice came from and shouted above the again-angry storm, "Hello? Is that you, God? I can't talk now but if you've got any mechanic experience I could use your help!"
The blizzard snarled.
I nodded my head a

Honourable Mentions

A Farewell to the Mosquito that East at My Heart by =AzizrianDaoXrak

G is for Gay by *ShadowedAcolyte
Sticky Situations by ~SCFrankles

A Farewell to the Mosquito that Eats at My Heart1. Do svidanya
Underbrush sprouts only in spring but I have felt in my heart
familiar new-bud prickles, and feared your hemlock heart.
It is still winter, dear who will only ever be a fleeting deer.
In hunting-season, you were a fleet and antler-crowned hart.
Winter is another kind of desert, white like feathers, not for
weddings—tree-boned fingers make only cages for hearts.
I try to imagine snow as dandelion tufts, try to picture you
like linden blooms upon my eyelashes, upon my muddy heart.
But neither of us is so gentle, deer, and it is the deadly winter
that will poison us, that white-washes our fleet-footed hearts.
Pretty is no freckled face like marshes, no browned body.
It is a winter, a desert, the smoothness of your iced heart.
Deer, you are tail-turned, pale and too beautiful for summer,
for my brown and bumpy marshlands, and my over-full heart.
The old queen anne’s lace of my summers is brittle and brown,
fit neither for a bouquet nor for your crown

Mature Content

Sticky SituationsA young man at swim in the Cam
Found strawberries forming a dam.
The soft fruit and gel
Caused the poor boy to yell:
“I’m in the most terrible jam!”
In the sea,
by the sand,
it’s just me
but on land
there’s a crowd
getting tanned.
My head bowed,
swimming slow.
Something loud
seems to grow –
a sneak-wave
grabs below.
And it’s grave:
though I try
I can’t save
or catch my
swimming-trunks.
Kiss ‘em bye.
A fish thunks
in my rear
and bites chunks
very near
to some parts
I hold dear.
Though it smarts
I just pray
that he… darts
far away.
In this state
I must stay.
I will wait
till the throng
think it late
and so long
to be where
they belong.
And then bare
I will speed;
maybe wear
some seaweed.
If I find
what I need.
My behind,
once a peach,
is now brined.
I beseech:
My towel!
(On the beach.
Out of reach.)

Nicely done!

FIRST PLACE

Jobs-EMTC by mintyy

last rain drop by mintyy

Honorable Mention

:thumb362866792:

Close Contenders

which job to choose? by sackofsquan

Mario's job by Sylvaur

My job never ends... by SpencerMel

Skin by Dan Leveille

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Congratulations winners!