Online Contests

Claudia Dudau, Poetry, Group III

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Claudia Dudau is participating in the 5th International Literary Creation Competition, from Bucharest, Romania and she is 24 years old. We thank for the participation and wish her success.

There were never stars

To the boy who laughed at me
Upon telling him about the constellations I see,
Hiding in those greenish eyes,
Waiting for the moonrise.

I wanted to tell you that you were right,
I was blinded by the sight.
There were never stars in your cosmos,
Only pain and sorrows.

I tried dimming my light
To fit into your endless night.
That's when the realization hit,
I was the only star living in it.

Now you pass by strangers on the streets,
And yet no one sees,
The galaxies I once brought into existence,
Through my love that you kept at a distance.

So, no, there were never stars in your eyes,
I put them there, made them out of lies.
And now that my love is gone,
Your magic is undone.

You were never a man, just a scared little boy,
Wandering through a deserted land, looking for his toy.
I was never too much, you were just too little.
I wanted to give you the world, but you wanted just a Skittle.

For there were never stars,
Only cracks in the pavement
From which desolation grows,
Fuel for your contemptment.


Desire

During my most dire hour
It is the object of my own desire,
Which will ultimately devour
My soul, my mind, my restless fire,
And leave nothing in its wake
But a poor heart filled with ache.

For when the sanity gives way,
There's only madness to display.
By morality no longer bound,
My spirit will cry into the night
A profane song, and yet profound,
About a dream onto which I held too tight.


Hell’s circles

How come we never speak
Of those who, in their seek
Of peace of mind, chose the end
To end all that happy pretend.

Are we afraid to admit, indeed,
Our world is not the paradise we believed?
We want to live in the delusion
Society sold us as the solution.

We went looking for Eden,
A place to rest our souls, oh so beaten,
But to wonder we stopped not,
Was the garden more than childish want?

We glorify the miracles life offers,
Yet vehemently deny its horrors,
For we are frightened of such burdens,
That all we ever did was run in hell's circles.