Poetry and Creative Writing for All

The Top 5 Poems of the Month

November 2003

Our winning poet for November is Adrian Salamon.
Read Adrian Salamon's biography and more of his poems

Television Tedium

Televisual lies puked into redundant square eyes
Lounge alter, Pray the images never falter
The world outside does not exist for you
Another documentary? That will fill the void for 30
minutes
The kids seem happy, watch them drool; substitute
parent
Hypnotism in Japanese hardware
Mouth ajar, open mind - empty mind?
Leave your intelligence at the door, it's not needed
here
We can fill your head with cheap propaganda, useless
advertisements
A sense of belonging
A sense you really matter,
"It could be you!", "Are you sitting tight"
Another action packed saturday night
Channel 1 to Channel never ending
It grabs you and turns you and burns you and breaks
you so you can't escape
"JUST ANOTHER HALF AN HOUR!" as it leads you through
its maze
Twisting your soul, Retina burns
You are as one "I'm yours" it cries
in subtitles
in surround sound, in digital
cinema screen
24/7 snare, daily dose of sedatives in family
entertainment
"DONT MISS OUT!"
Another cheesy smile, plastic programme
Quiz show blues to while away the time
Black and white to colour to in your face to in your
head
The fake reality takes you away
Better than life
This window to your perfect world
Nightmare in pixels
 

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Here are the other four poems chosen by our imprint editors as winning poems for November. All other poems submitted for the Top 5 Poems of the Month for November are being considered for various anthologies.

February

I stare at the walls, still freshly painted in that certain shade of white

Linen, I think it’s called

No picture or tapestry hangs

Ambition fades in this room now

Where once the promise of victory emerged

The fireplace cries for warmth

As I make my way to its hearth

Even as embers burn, the chill remains

Finding it’s way to my bones like a February blizzard

The silence penetrates these solitary walls

You can almost smell the rejection

And I try to remember when life was more

Generous

I look at the pen as if it were alive

It almost cuts my flesh

My fingers are ashen from the grip

Yet somehow, I sign

I hardly recognize the signature

I have no more use for the title placed before my name

And I think, how odd, that I be allowed to keep this part of him

I place the papers in the envelope and seal it with my tongue

Its bitterness brings tears to my eyes

The destruction of 15 years, over in the swish of a ballpoint

Assuring the nullification of my marriage, and accolades for our lawyers

I wrap myself in the unpredictable future, and head outside

It’s snowing and from nowhere comes the memory of a Christmas past

Making love underneath the tree, with promises of forever

I’m trembling

And I remember my Mother telling me never to cry in the freezing cold

Because your tears will turn to ice

And I don’t cry; I don’t feel

I'm just numb

Marianne L Vincent

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Pillows

Plumped and creamy,
they absorb me gratefully,
Suck me into a padded cube,
light and white.
I am happy to sink down,
as stuffed arms fold round me,
my feet pushing me
further and further
back.
Yet I try and go too far,
feel the solid board of wood
of that armchair,
that barrier to the past.
I can settle,
steeped in these feathers
but sooner or later,
I have to get up.
And move on.

Jillian Shields

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The sky at night

When the day is at an end
and daylight passes by
sunset falls upon the land
as bright colours fill the sky.

The sun begins to fade,
disappearing out of sight,
the colours change to midnight blue
as the day turns into night.

The only sounds that can be heard
are the animals as they cry,
the only light up high above
are the diamonds in the sky.

Still waters lye below the sky
and daylight will come soon,
but all that can be seen at sea
are the shadows of the moon.

Rachael Ford

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Homeless

I walk the streets that are now my home
As moonlight keeps me company 
Cruel gusts prickle my skin.
I am alone, walking into darkness,
Consumed by darkness.
Terrified by darkness, Shadows cascade 
Into light and the path seems a light
With the silver lining of the moon.
My fingertips crease the ground 
So cold and uninviting. I create the 
Ripples in the puddles that sit beside me.
And write my name with my finger tips 
on the concrete floor. Street lamps like bars
Of gold look down on me like haunting eyes,
Burning into my flesh. So I am alone and upon
Darkness with only Mr Moon to keep my company.
I am homeless.

Camille Palmer

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To submit a poem to the online competition email
inbox@forwardpress.co.uk
Please include Top 5 Poems in the subject line of your email.