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Poetry Competitions


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When I am not dancing, I particularly enjoy writing poetry, (most of which is about dance, but anyway...). A few months ago, a friend mentioned to me about the Poetry Rivals 2012 competition. So, after much deliberation, I sent off a poem, forgot all about it, and to my surprise, today recieved a letter to say that my poem was selected to be published!! :D

I wrote it in sheer frustration at about midnight one night, after what seemed like hours of trying to get to sleep...



It is midnight.

I am alone.

The world is silent.

The world is sleeping.

I am awake…

A fiery dragon

Bathes me in His heat.

I kick off the Duvet.

I am in the Arctic,

Not a warm, cuddly

Polarbear in sight.

My heartbeat echoes

Through the blackness.

Beat. Beat. Beat.

A relentless panther,

It paces agitatedly.

I. Can’t Sleep.

Another sound.

A tide ebbing and flowing

With my pulse .

The fan purrs,

A spider cocoons

Its helpless prey.

The tiny, agile bee zips with ease,


Into a soft,

Graceful butterfly,

Her intricate wings

Wafting heavily as

My breathing slows.

Outside my window,

Fairies wings’waft,

As their crowns

Adorned with icicles

Glitter in the moonlight.

It is one-am.

I am still alone.

The world is anything

But silent

As the midnight orchestra

Lulls me into dreamland…


Anyone else enjoy writing poetry? :)

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Throwing all semblance of self preservation :) to the winds - here is one:



An Awestruck Part


A mountain climbs on earthen feet

To reach the sky beyond

And leaves behind the rolling rocks

Leaving ripples on a pond


At night its awesome peak is lit

By an eternal star graced crown

By day the mountain’s side is clothed

In a glorious tree laced gown


The wind blows strongly round its top

When the nostrils of heaven flare

The clouds knot and twist about

Into ribbons of streaming hair


Meadows and groves beguile the eye

Fields of snow, like flowing milk

Down the crags the water streams

In a skein of sodden silk


Telling again an eternal tale

Without the use of a word

Only the flutter of a fallen leaf

The grunt of a bear, the song of a bird


But I come to hear the silence

To hear only the sound of my heart

And find again the grand creation

Of which I am an awestruck part.


copyright: Sheila Orysiek

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