# May-June challenge



## Olly Buckle

I have heard back from our winner, LadyS., and the subject for our next challenge is to be
*
A Mysterious Place*

There will be two weeks to post entries in the thread below. Entry is open to everyone, of course, so flex the brain cells and see what you can do. Good luck everyone.

Closing date - June 1st.


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## Trides

Ooooooo. How mysterious. Okay, here's mine... based off of a story I was too lazy to finish. Oh, and it's my 100th post! Yay!

*The Faded Plaza*

  Sent to these ruins for God knows what reason--
  I think it was some sort of diplomatic mission
  To rejuvenate a nation from deadly stagnation--
  We’re adrift in this plaza for a brief duration.

  Elegant old buildings play leapfrog
  In our indistinct vision obscured by white fog.
  Like a heart, the square is empty and aches,
  With the phantom of crowds, songs, vendors selling cakes.

  Parades filed through these streets long ago
  When the vapor wasn’t here and the sun would glow
  Kings fell; princes fell; now they’re all gone
  But we’ll crown ourselves, my darling, anon…

  You, my princess with your smile so pretty
  Dance with me in this abandoned city.
  Let it be known that we shared our first kiss
  In this faded plaza, surrounded in mist…


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## obi_have

Woohoo...100th post also!

*A Remarkable Occurrence in an Unknown Location Witnessed by a Handful of Beings Who Most People Say Don't Exist*

There's a place that no human has seen
In the depths of a forest, pristine.
In a range called "Cascades,"
A great shyness pervades
In the lair of the Sasquatches' queen.

An event will be soon taking place
Of import to the whole Sasquatch race.
In a dimly lit cave,
Mrs. Squatch, being brave,
Has a look of concern on her face.

All six Sasquatches came here to meet,
And behold the new face they will greet.
Finally, it begins.
The queen gives birth to twins.
In existance are now eight Bigfeet!


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## A Saucerful of Secrets

*What goes on in that head of yours?*

_5, 4, 3…_
_Ground control to the placenta wall_
_Hold blast off on the Ovum IV!!_
_There’s still more cells that need to board_
_Then we’ll count again for the final call._

_Roger that!_

A division of the Brain Cell 
Heavy Artillery section
Lumped together jumped
Onboard, their numbers swelled;

_Protein pills and helmets on, _
_5, 4, 3, 2, 1..._
_Into the blastocystic dawn,_
_set the controls for the heart of mum!_

_Affirmative!_

After nine months they returned 
from their deep space probe 
and they had gained
a miracle never to be reproduced again.

Hippocampus, cerebral cortex, two fat lobes

of one newborn, David Bowie’s brain.


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## Lady S

*The Raggedy Man*

Beside the broken down stone wall 
of the old ruined fort
sat the tired old raggedy man,
staring out at the sea.
Waves rolled in over the cold rocks
at his feet, while he sang,
as the wind blew his long matted hair.
With an occasional groan, he crooned
a lament of a life,
where lost loves had left him to grieve.
Shrill screeches from the gulls
and the whisper of the chill wind 
accompanied the song,
as the twilight shadows grew long
and began to embrace
the old man, to make him as one
with their growing darkness.

As I saw the moon rise, 
the man turned to look straight at me;
the light in his dark eyes,
as his song stopped, will haunt me;
I blinked and looked again
but there was nothing left to see,
just shadows, the cold rocks
and the moon’s light reflected
in the waves of  the whispering sea.


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## Nick

removed at authors request.


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## Baron

*Moses of the Mojave*


Icy embrace of night,
no cloud conceals the stars,
neither neon glow nor halogen spark
intrudes against high desert dark.

Colours lost in black and grey
with hours until the dawning day,
the slightest sound can rend the still;
distant diamond-back rattle carries...

A voice is heard
to speak within,
Spirit calls,
awakening

something that was quite unknown,
solitary, not alone,
tells of peace and talks of home.

Far off howl of a coyote;
Moses of the Mojave
stands beside a Joshua tree
and sees God face to face.


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## NeoCaesar

In a leafy cathedral
Behind a crumbling façade 
In a void of blackness
Four walls hide what light never betrays
Nature creeps beyond all that man surveys
But here

In this dark confessional
A century is no time
For the secrets it keeps
They stay within but it is not their home
There is not one, they are not alone
Not here

I visit this chapel although I have no god
It matters not here
This is not a church for men
Not many listen when they pray
What would these walls say?
I fear


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## Olly Buckle

Please remember that it is against the rules to edit poems after they have been posted, for this reason I shall not be including poems by Saucerful of secrets or NeoCaesar in the poll. I am minded to leave obi_have's entry in as the edit did not affect the poem.

Posts other than entries should not be made in this thread until after the poll is closed, I have made this exception under the exceptional circumstance of three poets editing their posts.


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## Nellie

*Life's Forest*

Once again I'll speak out loud
divulging truth as I had vowed,
continuing my moral path
in this ungodly aftermath.

I will allow others to view
the life I so shrewdly pursue
when passing through life's shady groves
like a sturdy vessel from a tranquil cove.

No more mindless, needless, cruel shame, 
who knows from where this cataclysm came?
As vicious thieves, one by one, 
their hostile stint has just begun.

 Being blinded by life's thick briers 
 I could lose all of life's desire,
 beset with mysterious discord, 
 life may be filled with tiny rewards.

I'll enjoy the days the sun shines through, 
dismissing the tales that are taboo, 
what is here and now is at best, 
 finding my path in life's deep forest.


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## Andy Fuhrman

*Key*

Stream of conscious after an intense brain-melt.
_________________________________________

You are center stage for a completely unfathomable being.
Yet, you can comprehend this being…how is that possible?
It is because the unfathomable being is you.
You are a character, imagined in the head of a human.
We pull what we imagine from what we know.
The most outlandish creatures conjured up still stay within the realms of what we know.
It’s not possible to know what we don’t know.
So, is it so hard to imagine that you are in the imagination?
That you are part of the cycle?
The cycle that is said to exist in the universe.
The cycle that says the universe is infinite. 
That forms a loop.
That borrows.
Like a brain.
Your brain.
You are inside of a brain.
Your brain.
The universe is you imagining yourself imagining.
Picture within a picture.
The planets are a consensus of knowledge.
It is agreed that 2+2 is always four.
The mysteries of the universe, the varying arguments on its purpose and origins.
Common discrepancies between people.  
Your brain cell is a universe.
What creatures live there?
How do you function as a god?
What tortures do you put your citizens through?
They are real and they need you.  
They are there to ask you questions.
And if you think that makes you insane, just imagine what you are doing to your god.
Is he locked up in a padded cell?  
Too many voices flowing in?
There truly is purpose.


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## Jinxi

*A Beautiful Mysterious Place*

I took a deep breath
Collapsed backwards off the boat
Consumed by the cool of the water
Bubbles all around me
Oxygen warming my lungs
Head first I dive
Deeper into this world
Reaching the bottom
I adjust my gear
Floating above a world unknown
Colours engulf me
Movement from every angle
Tides carrying me along
Warm currents sweep past me
Along with the beautiful life
Eels, rays and Moorish Idols
Leave a vibrant sketch in my mind
This mysterious place
Holds so many wonders
That many will never know or see.


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## bearycool

Title: When Night Had Come Around


Oh how I had went to the rolling hills and
made my way above heaven 

I saw a sea of darkness 
with boats of lights
swimming in its depth.

The wind then howled, 
oh yes how it howled,
and see now that I was not afraid
for these signs
were good tidings from the Lord himself. 

I inhaled this wind and let it fill 
my lungs
that were hidden in my fragile frame. 
The grass moved
in a direction of its 
own accord and language,
and I look down upon the Earth once more and saw

It was all a peaceful night.

This was the beginning of time, 
when nothing at all was complicated
when all was happy and simple

I laughed to the heavens 
and felt euphoria in my heart
for I was now seeing creation 
as it was tended to be
in Times of Old

Nothing was supposed to be complicated.
Nothing was supposed to be intertwined 
with hatred.

I heard music echoing from the darkness 
and a chorus joining in

a snap of time, 
and I danced in the cold wind. 
the clouds swished
back and forth with their dark appearance 
and the grass followed suite 
and the sound had grown 
so much louder
even when no light of new were there.

Oh yes, they were reuniting with their Creator.

Oh yes, come; I shall wait 
and be happy and sad When the times return back, 
but for now the music, 
grass,
clouds, 
people,
everything, 
would celebrate for a time…


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## Chesters Daughter

Divinely Destined to Dig


In the hearts of humans
hides a place of peace
hard to access
as it's buried so deep

most don't know
that it exists
and those who do
often resist

agreeing to dig
preferring to live

or rather to die
by gun or by sword
each one tethered to ruin  
by putrid umbilical cord

the poison of which
seeps inside pulsing veins
creating septic souls
seeking havoc and pain

whom all agree 
things would never be good
sans defiling 
all that they could

each of their days
by battles consumed
busy hands too bruised
to begin to exhume

tranquility

misled mankind shirks
responsibility

if only we were born
with shovels in hand
and maps in our minds
to the hidden heartland 

of peace

then skirmishes 
would cease

all of our differences
could be cast aside
if we dug deep enough
unearthing gifts inside

that God has provided 
to all 
worldwide
for of each human born
none have been denied


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## Chiefspider

*What am I?

* I'm not violent I'm not deadly
 I'm just unpredictable,
 I tear through your fields
 and eat up all your cattle

 You do not see me coming
 only because you are warned to late,
 I sound a lot like your average train
 running wildly off the tracks

 If you catch my eye then you'll know
 to stand clear of all around
 best you hold on to something
 for my temper isn't the best

 The skies do not hold me
 the ground cannot keep me
 the sea cannot sink me

 My stomach is an empty void
 I'll eat all your lands
 and still be hungry for more

 Before I arrive you will here
 my rumbling roar and if you are lucky
 you wont feel my static touch

 What am I?


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## Isaiah Lake

*An Absence of Light*

Where silence rings boldly into the vivid dark,
and folly is the name of the wise men yet to come.
Time is but a guise for fates twisted enterprise,
and in this place,
she does reside.

Next to the black man, she sits
high underground,
and they dwell together in numb, unfelt  sensations.
Their intimate professions of hate
grow fits of confused ambitions
for on this empty slate
inconspicuous dances rage.

Entertaining the essence of nothing
found only in this place,
the black man plays a tune
in silence’ cold embrace.

And as darkness is only an absence of light,
in truth, nothing is an absence of being,
but even darkness does exist,
and only here, the empty soul shall find
the true essence of nothingness,
in the absence of existence and meaning,
here in horrid bliss,

nowhere’s chilling kiss


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## SilverMoon

*The Hurried Host 
* 
Squeeze the sun 
till it’s a droplet
for Night cannot wait 
to take me in his 
half moon palm,
showing me secrets
a day could not.

In the cup of his hand
I finally nestle, waiting
for the tourist guiding.

Nighttime is the bus ride.
Stars, the stop and go lights.
But he speeds, so ever eager, 
to reveal what day has blinded.


I see the Pickerel frog
who burrows in the
moist ground making
a slippery bed or divan.

The Loons of Lake Placid
whose calls sound like the
the running of bath water.


I watch the solitary Badger
with white badge on forehead
marching in the dank forest.

I hear the Lemurs on the 
Island of Madagascar, 
singing like whales, 
the Ghosts of Spirits.
　　
The moon is now a pale saucer.
The stars are off duty.
Mystery is holding fast.
You tired, still keen on providing.

Dear Night, 
take your forty winks
while the sun swells.


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## Flapjack

*what is hidden in the back*

The wandering wake does woe 
the loss of a once pure soul
for all do know she's domed 
to see the furnace fires soon

they claim her heart was vain
others say her life impure
a woman full of blame
harsh and often cruel

her children should mourn as well
yet they don't, 
their reasons they won't tell
but they can't doubt Her soul
after clearing out the mold

soft light did gently glow
upon the inconceivable sight
as one by one they did go
through her culinary life

cartons of milk had spilled
into door racks now filled
with creeping mossy growths
and ancient half-gone loafs

beside black bread, in the center
stacked dozens of grotesque bowls
some held turkey from past winters
others soups of griseous gold

behind these towers did lie
a sight, it forced one to cry
mountains of rotted greens
and opened year-old sardines

Yet, in the back, behind the filth
of food curdled, sour, vile and lumpy
a bottle, wrapped with red ribbons of silk
filled with pure, precious, wonderful honey


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## Squalid Glass

*If There is a Place*


If there is a place where rain always falls,
where sleeping under stoplights 
is acceptable, 
and if there’s a house that isn’t made of cards
that would be alright.

If there is a place where rain is free from squalls,
where a hill is secluded at some great height,
and if there’s skin that is not scarred
that would be alright.

If there is a place where walls aren’t banal,
where days are no longer trite,
and if there’s a place where you’re heart is my guard
that would be alright.


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## TheFuhrer02

*Prodigal*

The dark 
creeps in once again,
bringing sands into the 
windows of my weeping soul.

The sands take me back
to that place I once belonged,
that which I once left.
It may look much different
but to me it hasn’t changed.

It still is the same as before,
the place I once called home.

I walk toward its gray gate
and find it wide open.
In its place, my father awaits
with tears on his face.
I can see that he has forgiven
my grave mistakes.

My slow tread 
becomes a swift dash
as I longed for my father’s embrace.
But even to the best of my might,
my father just seems
so far away,
so far out of reach.

And then the dark disappears,
replaced by the bright daylight.
I then hear 
my mother’s wails
in the other room.

My return had been too late -
Today’s the last day of the wake.


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## Olly Buckle

Okay folks, that's it. No more entries please, I shall set up a voting thread with a poll.


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## MJ Preston

*The Outsider*

I set out upon a challenge
though a poet I am not
My Limericks are often pointless
always rhyming, or about incidents involving snot

I come to this place of mystery
just to watch the others in their craft
Looking at my history 
I only know one Kraft [dinner that is]

I know not love, nor wonder, or even sadness in poem
but those around me do
And yet they make me feel at home
As I know they will you.......too.

This place of poems and limericks and such
is a mysterious place indeed
And though my poetic talent don't amount to much
I'm surrounded by the finest creed


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