by Max Barry

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by The Workers' Republic of Libertasnia. . 112 reads.

Assembly Day 2020 - Poetry Writing Contest

Our fourth regional anniversary is coming up on 14 January, and we are hosting a special event to celebrate this occasion! In response to expressed regional interest, we want to see your best writing skills in the form of poetry.


  1. We recommend that each poem you submit should be 100-150 words in length.

  2. The three categories that submissions will be judged in are:

    1. Community in NationStates

    2. Political world

    3. Real-world life/feelings

  3. Our judging panel - New Prague, Cedoria, and Libertasnia - will announce the winners for each category on Assembly Day!

  4. The panel's favourite poem from all the winners will be featured for one week in the regional World Factbook Entry


Four Years by Llorens

Four years is a long time for a community like ours,
‘The strong’ remain, while Tryzub rests in the stars.

Healing what was a chaotic divorce,
With unity in diversity helping it stay the course.

A leader caused havoc in a wild spring,
Stability and reform emerged an everlasting king.

The absurdity of a not-so-august incursion,
Its isolation a testament to a history of immersion.

A cavalier of death with creations of beautiful lyres,
A feline peering through a hundred spires.

Rose to hammer, solidarity in command,
This community of ours, it was meant to withstand.

‘Protectors of the revolution, forevermore!’
More than forever, for four years are more.

The Revolution by Papalonia

The sun shone bright on the laboring slaves,
And their resting ruler watched,
From his throne in the shade.

One man spoke of a greater land,
“Soon we’ll be free” he cried,
“From this cruel despot’s demands.”

So they raised their fists and their sickles and hoes,
Shouting “soon we’ll be free,
From our laboring woes.”

Though more wars were to be fought,
The people yet trust,
That they’d soon be free from tyranny’s mighty clutch.

But the suffering and sorrow, the slaughter and pain,
The lives and limbs lost were all lost in vain,
For when the bright sun blinded slaves,
They squinted and saw a man resting in the shade,
And “soon we’ll be free!” he continued to cry,
But the slaves saw through his petty lies,
For they realized that all that changed,
Was the man who sat upon the throne in the shade.

Windowsill by Greylyn

The rain droplets cascade down my windowsill as I look off into the horizon
I find myself lost inside the maze of recollection as I sift through shards of memories left behind by those who left me in this haze
But the days are longer; the nights are shorter
I’ve got nothing but time and no time at all
And I’ll keep you on my mind as if I had any choice after the fact
Flipping through this photo album, expecting something new
Wishing you’d call me and come back, but you never do
So I’ll sit here and wait beside my windowsill
Watching the sunset on another dismal setting
Am I tone deaf; I ask myself
Can I distinguish between the shades and hues I perceive before me?
Or am I destined to paint the world with the same old color palette?
All I can hear is the echo of the hollow chambers inside my heart beating for something more than what I see
But the days are colder and the rain has turned to snow and soon I am lost in a blizzard of my creation
Am I the architect of my demise?
Release me from this moment that I find myself trapped inside
Stuck beside this windowsill with nothing but these memories
If I could find a remedy, I would do all that I can
But I am just a man afraid of my shadow
Wishing I could go back to before I found myself staring pensively from this window
I wonder if the world will just pass me by, but do I even want to be among the rest?
When we’re all just restlessly searching for meaning and purpose beside our windowsill
Flipping through a photo album; remembering the days past
But these dreams won’t go away
No matter what I do, I know I have to stay awake
I’ve made promises; I have my fight ahead
But still I am drawn to this windowsill
I wonder if you’ll join me as I aim to look beyond
Perhaps we can find a way to both remember the days past and assemble the courage to move beyond
And perhaps that is the true calling of this spot where I remain watching the horizon line
These shards are sharp and cut deep into the very nature of one’s psyche
Reflected to me, I see the bitter truths I’d rather forget
A world on fire and no one to put it out
The people have gone mad and the powers that be feed into the chaos
But perhaps we could all learn something by looking out from this windowsill
Or perhaps we are doomed to perpetual repetition of our worst tendencies

Send submissions to Libertasnia via telegram or Discord DM (@stickypepsi13#6919).