Finally finished this!  I wanted to write a sort of rhyme scheme, something I don't usually do.

Shadows linger here,

Drawn from a cruel frontier

Beyond the reach of light and warmth.

The living raise cold towers

That stand stalwart through the hours

And falling sands of time.

Castles crumble but headstones remain,

Monuments to love and pain.

Here lies a spirit, unforgotten.

Strangers hidden beneath the stone,

Their loneliness through eons grown, 

Rise in murk to weep and sing.

Here the dead find a home,

Although they are still cursed to roam

The misty plain between finite and infinite.

There is comfort in the gloom,

The forsaken tomb where withered flowers bloom.

Life lingers here.

Resulsts!:

Number 1.....:Artemis!

This poem was very sad, and very descriptive. I love you poetry, this feels heavy at parts and light at others. Take your turn at the judging wheel!

Second place goes tooooo....!: Sterling

I love the darkness of this poem, it's something I would hang on my wall. The last line really brings it all together. Just like you art, this has a fantasy and otherworldly vibe. It's amazing!

I'm sure you can all guess who 3rd place is...IT'S AYLES!

It's short, but sweet...or should I say spooky. The first and second lines are my favorite. Your rhyming is great! 

It took me quite a while to figure out where I wanted to go with this prompt, but I'm pretty happy with how it turned out.

there is a point, when you are halfway to sleep

and the sunset has just been forgotten by the birds

when time is the only thing that is important.

the ticking of a grandfather clock

steals away your time

second by second, and you are very aware in this moment

that when the clock strikes twelve 

you will have wasted another twenty four hours of your life.

in the stillness of shining streetlamps & stars

life is only a countdown until it ends.

Topping!

I watch as the hands go by and by

And I wonder, silently, why?

What makes those silver fingers tick

Every minute, every hour, they click, click

Then, every 60 ticks

of the longest hand

It rings, a solemn song

Speaking of right and wrong

Ding and dong

It claws to the top hour 

Then it chimes

Speaking of greater times

Twelve times

Inside, it opens a mechanical door 

Then the cycle begins once more

it's strange the way time can shift and change, 

the way the

tick, 

tick, 

ticking, 

of seconds can warp into

the deep thuds of my heart pounding as I walk into my high school for the first time, 

then twist back into the light pit-patter of rain on the roof of my preschool,

and slide into the light taps of my feet skipping into third grade. 

it's strange how elementary school felt like 

a ballet slipper sliding across the wood of my first studio,

smooth and soft and simple, 

but middle school was like marching through molasses, 

my pink sneakers swamped by the sticky syrup, 

each

step

an

agonizingly

slow

speed,

and then there was a flicker and now I'm fifteen with curls cut to my shoulders and ragged converse on my feet and a mind that won't stop moving. 

it's strange, 

you know, 

the way time twirls and traps and tricks you. 

strange, 

but also beautiful, 

in a way.