December

What is the best part

of the twelfth month?

It could be the new chill

or the promise of the first icy soft flakes.

Maybe it's the strands of gold

blue, green, and red

lights glowing bold.

There's also the music,

chiming bells and singing spells.

It's too hard to decide

the best part of December. 

This was terrible, but hilarious and fun to write.

Dry
Eyes tearing up with the wind.
Christmas is coming, but the 
Era of preperation is long.
My patience is failing as my 
Brothers run rings around the tree. After
Eating all the candy, their suger high is 
Running wild

the year is darkening like a digital gradient

so slowly that you blink and you miss it;

waking up to murky gray mornings

walking along the cold puddled streets.

wondering where all of the sunshine went,

until you find yourself nearing the bottom;

it's cold and dark and suddenly--

it's the twelfth month like clockwork,

like old faithful, starting in the minutae, in small eruptions--

december 1 and a light in your neighbor's window

december 2 and pepppermints in a glass jar

december 3 and a fire in the hearth--

of course, it's never small for long.

it's still like the geyser, just as you start to be underwhelmed,

it explodes.

a fountain of lights,

piercing high, high up into the sky to come crashing down to the ground

to scatter across the earth. 

lights find candlewicks and evergreen trees

whole strings of them wrap the block, the city, the world.

everything is brighter--

the rows of trees outside the church,

the countdowns on school whiteboards

even the reflections of red and white headlights in the cold wet pavement

everything seems to glow in the dark.

and, unlike the geyser, this fountain only gets taller, bigger, brighter

flashing from houses and parks in awe-inspiring displays meerely for the passerbys to stop and stare.

lights find cups of cocoa, 

find songs first hummed under your breath and then sung and then belted in large groups,

it doesn't matter anymore that it's cold because we keep each other warm 

with music from so many mouths full of so many bright white smiles.

lights are everywhere, in colorful paper when you least expect it,

in lover's eyes, in dancer's feet.

they fall in an endless rain, as you turn your face up to the star-filled sky,

or up to the falling snowflakes

and you want to catch them on your tongue and spin around and around in the cold streets until you're dizzy

and you fall to the ground, still laughing, filled with giddy awe at the miracle of light-- 

the year is ending and every window twinkles. 

I'm loving all these entries! It's going to be really hard to judge.

Oh shoot, I'm sorry everyone, I'm actually kind of busy today--busier than I thought I'd be. If I don't get to judge today, I will judge tomorrow or Thursday. Sorry about this!!

Results!

This was hard to judge because I really loved everyone's poems--you all did a great job! (I wish I could put you all in first place.) Also, judging poetry is hard because everyone has such a different style and I don't know how to balance judging based on which I like best and judging based on technicalities and things. :P But anyways, here we are.

Honorable Mention: TIED: Winterblue and Nyx! Winterblue, I like your description of the different parts of December. Especially the "maybe it's the strands of gold/blue, green and red/lights glowing bold" lines. I think this could use a bit more of description though. If you're going to be describing December, it feels like some more content there would be good; it feels kind of short. Also, the way a couple parts of it rhyme, but not the rest of it, throws me off a bit. But otherwise, good job! And for Nyx, I like this. :D It works pretty well as a portrayal of December, and acrostics are always kind of impressive. It is kind of choppy, but I don't know what you can do about that because acrostics are  h a r d. So nice job. ^^

Third Place: Kitten! This poem is great XD I really like the story of it, how it's more of a narrative. It doesn't flow much, though; but I think that's okay for this poem. It's just not the most cohesive I guess. But the story of it is fantastic so it kind of balances that out. 

Second Place: TIED: Luna-Starr and Stardust. Luna-Starr, your poem flows very nicely! I like the enjambement of it. It sounds really pretty; you do a good job with the flow of your poetry. The only thing about this is that I feel as though there's not a lot of substance to it; it could use more material I guess? Just more...description or details or components. Other than that, great work! And Stardust, I love your poem so much; I like how it's so full of description and creates a great picture of December. I like the 8th-12th lines especially. But really just all of it. However, again with the flowiness, I think the flow of this poem is kinda uneven. In some parts, it's choppy, and in some parts, it's flowy. I think a lot of it has to do with how you are splitting up your lines, but also some of the wording does not flow well together. So I'd say try to find a way to make it more consistent. But I did really love this poem. 

First Place: Summer! I just loved this one. I love the metaphors and description, like "floating in on soft, white slippers" and "dusts grass with a blue blush/of frost" and "billowing clouds"; and I like the flow of this! The shorter lines make it a little bit choppy, and I feel like you could have split it up a bit differently in some places, but mostly it sort of works like that. It's a really good poem! Congratulations ^^

And congratulations everyone! Thank you for participating in this round. *applause* :D 

WOW!! I WON?!

I honestly thought the other poems were great, though, even more so than they usually are. Anyway...

The next prompt is stories. Due date January 11th, unless I need to postpone it due to lack of submissions. I'll judge on the 12th.

Congratulations to everyone!

Welp, this is a weird little sad poem!

The ones left behind-

the stories we leave behind

may get remembered

or may fade away

they may be laughed at forever

or may make tears spring into 

the eyes of the

innocent souls who listen

people may mourn at the sweet sound

of your beautiful name

for the stories you leave behind

will have an impact on all

you left me forever 

and the beautiful words you wrote 

are be cherished by me

like no other 

Stories.

They're made of words,

but finding words to describe them

is like looking for something

that isn't there. 

Where to begin? 

They're words

strung together

with golden thread.  

They're a way

of sending messages

sharing ideas

that can't be told

in a simpler way.

Everyone has one,

or maybe even more.

Stories can change the world.  

Kay, this is a weird poem, so brace yourselves. All the poems are so good so far. This poem is about writer's block and how it's hard to write stories

click, a marker, same color as its cap

click, jigsaw discipline

click, shadow box, reflecting your thowback

golden days fade out white

flip my canvas, what broken can fit

mind a chaotic structure, learning tower parallel

button your cuffs, pull out your collar

my ink won't spill

im boxed in imagination, my own electric fence zapping me into swirling mess of frustration

can't find fitting terms, block my thoughts, unwanted number

i can almost see the ultraviolet waves burning through this spark

im a candle flicker, flicker, out 

I'm not sure how well this fits with the theme but it's, uh, something? Lmk what y'all think.

——

my mother, in your white dress,

the flowers in your arms

you who i have aged

but never known

my adolescence a wiry car-frame

your voice the paint 

the impossibility of touch— the space between

and so we bake another casserole

and have another fight.

i’m fifteen and i am angry

i kiss girls mouth open like the o of my fingers 

around my wrist

i will never brace my hands to

splintery blue starboard 

i cannot know the apple tree on the balcony

cannot see beyond the peeling paint

the rows of mattresses

the screaming hogs

i know you only through osmosis—

through the stories told at dinner parties

thank the lord… says my atheist mother

for bringing me here… for making this right… 

i am your daughter, mẹ

despite all that i am doomed to misunderstand