Post by Master of Tacos on Feb 14, 2023 18:27:34 GMT -5
Welcome to the February Poet Laureate Contest, with poems centered on perfection. Below are the poems I received. Anyone may vote in this contest, and the poem with the most votes earns its author the title of Poet Laureate! Remember, you still should NOT share the authorship of any entry with anyone but Wille-Harlia until the contest is over. Voting will be open until 12 A.M. GMT on February 21.
Please give the poets their due courtesy and read over all the poems before voting.
Good luck to everyone, and may the best poem win!
Entry #1
Tick
The average human rushes through life,
Never seeming to slow down.
Balancing everything on the edge of a knife,
Never seeming to look around.
*Tick.*
Time marches ever on,
Always seeming so endless.
Testing our will and brawn,
For the inevitable forward press.
*Tick.*
Even as humans seem to progress,
Time is always a race.
As time continues its process,
We try to pick up the pace.
*Tick.*
As hard as we try,
The wear of time is there.
As we aim to fly,
There is always that weight to bare.
*Tick.*
Everyone can sense it,
almost as though it was an object.
We just don't admit,
we hope to hide from its affect.
*Tick.*
For those rushing humans,
time lashes at their bodies like waves.
As time creates ruins,
it also creates graves.
*Tock.*
The average human rushes through life,
Never seeming to slow down.
Balancing everything on the edge of a knife,
Never seeming to look around.
*Tick.*
Time marches ever on,
Always seeming so endless.
Testing our will and brawn,
For the inevitable forward press.
*Tick.*
Even as humans seem to progress,
Time is always a race.
As time continues its process,
We try to pick up the pace.
*Tick.*
As hard as we try,
The wear of time is there.
As we aim to fly,
There is always that weight to bare.
*Tick.*
Everyone can sense it,
almost as though it was an object.
We just don't admit,
we hope to hide from its affect.
*Tick.*
For those rushing humans,
time lashes at their bodies like waves.
As time creates ruins,
it also creates graves.
*Tock.*
Entry #2
Untitled
Time is a mystery
No one shall it see
But one thing is for sure
It shall be handled with cure
Time is a mystery
No one shall it see
But one thing is for sure
It shall be handled with cure
Entry #3
The Sands of Time
In masses they travel along
And following the crowd they then fall
Drawn by an invisible force
Their safety means nothing at all
Unseeing, unknowing they come
Their paths etched in stone by the fates
Throughout time itself they will plunge
They have no desire to escape
For thousands of years they’ve been used
By man as a means to an end
Stolen away from their homes
And caged in transparent pens
Put on display for the whole world to see
They fall in the pit marking time
Like lambs to the slaughter they come in great numbers
And wait for their turn in the line
Such thoughts as these have crossed my mind
From time to time in the past
And now unwilling to break with tradition
I reach out and turn the hourglass
In masses they travel along
And following the crowd they then fall
Drawn by an invisible force
Their safety means nothing at all
Unseeing, unknowing they come
Their paths etched in stone by the fates
Throughout time itself they will plunge
They have no desire to escape
For thousands of years they’ve been used
By man as a means to an end
Stolen away from their homes
And caged in transparent pens
Put on display for the whole world to see
They fall in the pit marking time
Like lambs to the slaughter they come in great numbers
And wait for their turn in the line
Such thoughts as these have crossed my mind
From time to time in the past
And now unwilling to break with tradition
I reach out and turn the hourglass