Imaginative Skulls

all creative, talented and innovative mind artists and writers, are you imaginative skull?

Challenge# 4- (locked)

Ushna Sardar Ushna Sardar 597 posts

Hiya folks,
the time has come for the 4th Imaginative Skulls Writing Competition!

The Theme is:

Paper Cut by Bogac Erguvenc

Look at the image has given above. and write anything random comes on mind.

Word limit: shouldn’t be more than 200.

Deadline: Sep 8, 2011
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Judging / Voting Criteria:
idea, concept, imagination, diction & the quality of work.

Rewards & Prizes: Feature Artist + the homepage features
=

Time: that challenge will be running for two weeks, voting will be opened for 7 days and then finally we will announce the results.
Challenge opened for entries now, therefore competition will end at 3:00AM (Sep 16, 2011)

raymondoantonio raymondoantonio 27 posts

I’LL DO MY BEST USHNA! XO

raymondoantonio raymondoantonio 27 posts
PAPER CUT

WRITE OUT ALL YOUR FEARS

ONE ONE LARGE PAGE OF ANGER

TEAR AND THROW AWAY!

Arcadia Tempest Arcadia Tempest 1263 posts

Ok will give it a try :O)

MaryMac MaryMac 401 posts

thankyou for the invitation
i’ll take the challenge
peace

Arcadia Tempest Arcadia Tempest 1263 posts

I did have an entry but upon waking this morning I knew it wasn’t “right” ….. so will for now enjoy the wonderful entries from other bubblers for this challenge :O))xx

TheBrit TheBrit 292 posts

Thank You Ushna!

Brit :)

Blake Steele Blake Steele 4 posts

Whoops… the picture got changed… this was for the clown face…

One dark winter somebody took little Maggie down
to a cold river before she could think
and baptized her being into intolerable pain.
Her heart swore she would never forgot,
but her mind refused to remember.

So everyday she pasted on a mask:
bread flour skin, black eye-liner, a touch of rouge…
the normal protocol of a clown.
She wore it until it froze to her cheeks.

Whenever life took something away she needed,
she painted on one long black tear
so her friends would think she could actually feel.
But, how can a phantasmagoria be real?

I see her empty eyes
and wish to gaze into them all night,
for I’m sure little Maggie is huddled back inside,
a pitiful, lightless thing, like a crippled owl,
longing to be seen in her perceived ugliness
and heard as one long eerie scream.

Let’s surround her in a breath,
hearts united in the blue flame of Love,
until her soul softens into her wild future Self…
and Love’s tears eclipse every tormented thing
to pour glistening down
an abandoned child’s astonished face.

It may happen now, or at the end of time,
but one thing is certain… she will be real.

TheBrit TheBrit 292 posts

A piece of paper

I grew from a seed

which became a sappling

then into a tree

i did grow

i stood mighty proud

and tall

for a hundred years

the eagles nest

i cradled in the wind

then one day

the woodcutter arrived

a big migty axe

cut into my side

timber she go’s

and away i came down

off to the paper mill

i did go

i was made into reams

of paper,

then distributed to stores

all over this land

you came and bought a

ream of your own

you sat me on the

back of your truck

the lid on my box

was not too secure

you drove over a

railroad track

a little too fast

off came the lid

paper went flying all

over the place
with a gush of the wind

a little boy was waiting

to cross the tracks

he reached to grab

a piece of me

as i slid by his little

fingers

the sting

of a paper cut

he did

feel

A piece of Paper

Author
TheBrit © 2011

Rocky Loder Rocky Loder 257 posts

Paper cut

torn to shreds
I spill… my soul
for the world too see
without regret
I write… upon my soul
one last time
casting into the wind
my passion
my desire
my want
etched with bleeding thoughts
scratched
deep into my heart
I cast… into the wind
my world
releasing ten thousand
verses
bleeding
from a thousand wounds
I die…shattered and torn
standing alone
for my mind
as come undone
for today
I write…no more

wormink wormink 1948 posts

I wrote a piece and entered into the group did you want it done live in this format?

Sybille Sterk Sybille Sterk 1513 posts

Here’s mine, specially written for this challenge. I’ve submitted it to the group as well. Arrgh. Forget this… Posted the wrong poem – had something else in my head. Will try again… Couldn’t delete this, just change it. :-(

Sybille Sterk Sybille Sterk 1513 posts

Okay, here’s the right poem….

Paper Cut

each word
a prayer
a code

carved
in ruby red
blood
on pristine
paper

sent

flying
into
the ether

points on a map
coordinates
for a journey

follow

and
perhaps
you’ll
see
into
my heart

follow

and
maybe
we’ll
meet
one
day.

© Sybille Sterk

Maree Cardinale Maree Cardinale 2015 posts

Hello Ushna, I have submitted mine to the group, and will do here also :)

Good luck everyone!

Thanks
Maree.

Paper Cuts Deepest When It Is Empty

This is a story of toil and dedication.

Of a young marriage and hopes and dreams.

Of sacrifice from a young man for the woman he loved, a writer tap-tapping her masterpiece on an old Remington, a quirk of preference over technology.

Of endless days and lonely nights… and always the endless tap-tapping.

This is a story of neglect, of a young husband’s heart, and his dreams of togetherness.

Of trying to reach across the growing chasm and be recognised… and seeing only in her eyes the search for the next line, the next brilliant twist… my novel is full of clever twists she would say.

He adored his gifted driven wife and longed for the day of the final tap-tap.

He would do anything for her… even lose himself.

One day he came home early from work and saw the clothes of another man leaving a trail to their bedroom door… there was no sound of tap-tapping… instead ahh-ahhhing and oh Godding.

Sobbing, he scooped up her stack and drove to the most barren place he knew, flinging their marriage to the sky… how’s that for a clever twist he thought.

© alMara

MaryMac MaryMac 401 posts

heres mine…

Paper Cut

The Canyon

millions of years to form
erosion continues to alter its contours

layer upon layer rises over
above the riverbed

the river does she not flow
cutting through

spruce pine fir
larch aspen and birch
grow abundant across the land

corporate man
money money money man

trees cut
clear cutting
chemical pulp mills
inorganic chemicals
bleaching with chlorine
large amounts of dioxins
pee-ewe peppie-la-pew
environmental pollution

corporate Enron man
reckless standards in audits
new inventive ways
to save the company money
capitalizing on loopholes
Generally Accepted Accounting Principles
exploiting the weakness
scandal
get rid of the evidence
throw paper to the wind

man littering canyon

paper litters the riverbed
hints of inorganic chemicals

paper cuts…

Sally Omar Sally Omar 950 posts

paper cut

rising above him
one sheet at a time
days of his life
encrypted in silver
boring and uneventful
in the corner
of the first sheet
a small drop of blood
a paper cut

an epiphany

life was speeding
yet he had stood still
to this point in time
the realization
blood, sweat and tears
for naught

an epiphany

time for changes
time to find himself
to find true love
to breathe in the scent
of freedom
no more chains to bind him

an epiphany

time to rewrite his life
to search for adventure
to write a new history
to find his heart
to retrieve his soul

an epiphany

then new sheets
encrypted in gold
will rise
drifting in the wind
as he starts
his life anew
and will be the man
he was meant to be

paper cut

Sybille Sterk Sybille Sterk 1513 posts

Phew! I am glad I don’t have to choose! Fabulous entries and all so different.

Cosimo Piro Cosimo Piro 26 posts

Thanks for the invite Ushna. There’s some great entries.

PAPER CUTS

All that I have learnt,
taught to me as a child
to accept unquestionably
I release now,
shedding my chameleon skin
to dance with my own truth;
liberating the tattered pages
between leathered layers of denial
protecting paper thoughts
scrawled with Time’s fading ink;
scattering all that I have become
into misty remembrance,
and with new ink
seeping from a thousand paper cuts,
lacerated on weathered flesh,
flows as rivers do,
meandering,
carving,
where valleys lay deep
in the shadows of ancient beliefs.
All that I will become
and yet to pass
is cast
to the whims of four winds,
into the burning eyes of the Sun
and the Moon’s shifting moods,
like a Phoenix’s ashes surrendered
to find wings anew
for the winds to play upon feathered strings
the songs of newborn cries.
Paper cuts heal
for fresh ones to sting
new memories into being.

C.C. Arshagra C.C. Arshagra 21 posts

Thank you for the invite here, http://www.redbubble.com/people/ccapoet/writing...

C.C. Arshagra C.C. Arshagra 21 posts

I cannot compare or compete with erosion
I cannot compare or compete with destructions’ conscious loss
I cannot compare or compete with beauty in the wind of gravity’s way
I cannot compare or compete with throwing life away
I cannot compare or compete with ‘I love you selfish reasons.’
I cannot compare or compete with the disease of greed or divine hatreds
I cannot compare or compete with un-embodied entities, cold blood, and insects
I cannot compare or compete with the whoremasters’ of freedom
I cannot compare or compete with the creations of water’s ruin
I cannot compare or compete with divine reasons to kill or blame the ‘others’
I cannot compare or compete with Kingdom’s Come wane or ‘Me!’

I love you poetry
I love you poets
I love you failures of the heart so genuine to the receive of life’s gift

I cannot compare or compete with you

And still
In the wake of all that dies to the kiss of each moment’s good-bye
I cannot compare or compete with the compliance of pain is the end of happiness

And so I give to life in return of my soul’s joy and gratitude’s hug my last words;
always.

highbeam highbeam 512 posts

Here is my offering Ushna, called, Between never and always. I wish the best of luck to all here, and ‘write on.’

Ushna Sardar Ushna Sardar 597 posts

@ Sue, You’re a wonderful writer & you had entered an exceptional entry for this competition! wondered why you removed?

Jenifer DeBellis Jenifer DeBellis 1250 posts

I began to write a poem for this challenge and was inspired midstream to turn it into a villanelle. It’s been a while since I wrote formed poetry and until reading Plath’s “Lament” yesterday it has been a while since one has deeply inspired me. So here’s my entry:

Paper Cut (out)

I believed I needed to clip these things of old,
needed to extract these intricately woven fibers
from my soul in order to remain in the mold.

By the moonlight I’d unhook and I’d unfold
heart threads that had weaved with soul embers.
I believed I needed to clip these things of old.

I plucked loose these feathers – now a mangled
kaleidoscope collage of detailed describers –
from my soul in order to remain in the mold.

These pieces of me that I’d plucked and pulled
were cast to the wind in uncountable numbers.
I believed I needed to clip these things of old.

Once I let go I resented what I didn’t withhold
(all of my heart’s desires now severed dismembers
from my soul) in order to remain in the mold.

There was bondage in this manmade chokehold.
Where freedom could’ve nurtured valued members
I believed I needed to clip these things of old
from my soul in order to remain in the mold.


I have some homework to attend to before I take off for some playtime with my family, but I can’t wait to come back to this and read all the other entries. :) Thanks for the inspiration and the muse. xox

Arcadia Tempest Arcadia Tempest 1263 posts

Paper Cut Boy

I knew work was going to find a way to demote me.
To get rid of me in time…
But I sure didn’t think that I ’d be their paper cut boy.
I mean I shelled out a lotta bucks for this suit.
And here I am standing in this valley of no promotion!

“Shred them” they said.
Yeh just erase the company’s secret debt.

“Easy job, just burn them” they said.
“Important job” they said.
Yeh well I hope they like this photo and the paper story that wasn’t cut.
Read it and weep is what I said.

© K S Hardy 2011
autumnwind autumnwind 4927 posts

Paper Cut

you should pen your machete mouth
in dark red ink
they would fill a thousand papers

cast them to the wind
let them fly razor sharp
and slash who they will

seemingly superficial
deeply painful
they still bleed

careless your written wounds
I now avoid
the barrage of blades
within the damp dismal
dark of affliction

I have sought a new path
bereft of slinging arrow words

in the light of truth
I now perceive

you are merely
a paper cut

sting sharp in memory

scars
invisible
healed