DU Official NaPoWriMo Challenge

05/30

The Cast

I will write words on a page for you.
Hoping to engage your mind.
As I spill the ink in your name
I hold my breath still.
The words weave
and I cast a net to thieve your heart.
With it in my possession,
it has become my obsession
to break into your heart
for the sake of my sanity.
Yet, I am scared to find Pandora’s box
but I still want to jimmy open the lock

[Unique Words 52]

5/30

ODE TO MY FEATHERED LADIES

Six little dinosaurs
Wake me up each mornin’

Blast the funk
Out with a hose
So they can have bahl hornin’

Sprinkle their small table
With red pepper
Seeds and bugs

They are so soft
And anxious
And I want to give them hugs

They find things
In the dirt for me
Toy soldiers glass and such

I want them to be happy
People love their eggs
So much

5/30

The Golden Dreamscape

How the prairie grass reaches high
Saffron gold and amber stalks above
How their hands touch the sky, a beautiful distant sky
A forgotten view
Towering above my head, lives a field of light
Memories kept in earth and seed
Her ghost lurking, hunting, swaying in the wind with the sun struck weeds so very tall
But she is taller, and wears a black dress
Chestnut strands fall long upon bony shoulders
Always watching on a hill behind
I turn away
I look back
She is beautiful, how could I not?
You’d feel the same
maybe you’ll feel her now among the soul searching
Surrounded is my body and mind
Escape is futile
I understand, time is of the essence
I run through moors and rivers gone dry
My head is a desolate mess
And my heart hurts for a while longer
Takes me further than I’ve wandered before
And I’ve wondered more than ever
How far the prairie grass stretches from east to west
north to southern sea
does it meet the Antarctic shoreline?
Which direction is my path?
I’ve followed one and sought solace in this golden dreamscape
I’ve found my peace
But there’s another home out there
as I’ve aged with the clouds that smile warmly (mostly) down upon my face
It calls and those whispers have found a volume loud within this cage of little bones
I am going, for I cannot stay in the comfort of an illusion
I hate that
The field knows too much
The ghost is tied up to me, somehow
I repeat; she is beautiful, I dare not let her go
I pray she follows me to the ends of the earth, as my purpose moves too
If she stays in the prairie grass reaching high
Perhaps I’ll stumble here again, and wave hello
It’s addicting, you know..

You know.

04/30

[NaPo2025—Random Eloquence]

minimalist virtues

❝To the truly benevolent mind, indeed, nothing is more satisfactory than to hear
of a miser denying himself the necessaries of life a little too far and ridding us
of his presence altogether.❞—James Payn


the wind that howls the weakest leaves no mark
upon the sands of time, but leaves the leaves
unscattered, that must languish for a lift
to higher ground, where innocence reprieves.

the efforts of a man too slight to move
a muscle for the good of other men
shall count for naught, upon the threshing floor,
where useless inks mock every fountain pen

whose streams would do the world a world of good
inscribing jot and tittle where blank notes
no call to action fashion for the blind,
whom on the edge of liberty have stood.

the river bleeding lamely in the soil
hath zero cut or thrust to journey south
to celebrate the joyful ocean spray
whose tritest praise has perished in its mouth.

no fenke-fenke battles can be won,
where wit and grit fall comatose in arms,
the minimalist virtues of the weak
inadequate to'escape death's wicked charms.

you're dead the day you stumble from the womb,
unless you sever, soon, umbilicus—
a butterfly that crawls upon the ground
for lack of purpose, or slight impetus,

to gather sunshine from dark, sullen skies,
or harvest-soils make pregnant of strong seed.
salvage what little lies, still, in your reach:
let sense arise and wisdom intercede.

© Copyright 2025 March 08
by Clyve A. Bowen♫

UWC 144



05/30

[NaPo2025—Random Eloquence]

narcissist

❝Some relationships are like broken glass. It's better to leave them alone
than hurt yourself trying to put them back together.❞—Crystal Evans


her words against mine:
fact harassed by fiction.
my thoughts against hers:
futile contradiction.
for she knows no slight error,
condescending
to arguments with tenor
hers transcending.

last-words are first her birthright,
then the husks mine;
and when potential spotlight
kills her einstein,
she rends the seams of
delicate apparel,
and claims my tongue scoffs,
bittered by a quarrel.

she teaches me all Bible
duties bounden
to be served by reliable
and profound men;
and yet, it seems so
unincumbent on her
to seek for thorough
ways to give men honour.

she humbles mortal saints
with mock perfection,
yet from my error faints,
her predelection
to claim unblemishment
in winsome wisdom,
while plotting my descent
from heaven's high kingdom.

i hold my peace, lest she
should take my pieces
as fodder for her glee,
to write new theses.
let me be humble, for
i know my weakness,
which is no metaphor
for useless meekness.

© Copyright 2025 April 04
by Clyve A. Bowen♫

UWC 112


DOUBLE-POSTING TODAY, FOR PRE-REPORTED ABSENCE YESTERDAY, DUE TO SABBATH OBSERVANCE AND POST-SABBATH CHURCH BOARD MEETING

6/30

The Faults in the Stars of Our Waltz

The otherworldly in a touch.
Mountain peaks, peeking into cold clouds,
sent straight to the bloodstream, veins
vibrating antennas at attention,
super-sensory information download
into

The senses.  Intense.
Ending
as
beginning: The movement of the dance
commenced – Afars
even

Beyond the stars.
Brain a membrane through which to see
A domain
of

Infinity.  Beyond sun become sea
into

Soul become star – Where you told me:
Everyone really

Dies

Simultaneously, whispered from afar
Drawing so near.  

Dimensionality of time absorbed
into reason
of

Rhyme.  Fault lines in formulas
of light, reinvention
of

The physics of sight, where I saw:

The awe
of

It all.  There are no faults in the stars of our waltz.

6/30

EQUIPOLENT

There is joy in being stuck, uninspired
it forces you to stop — reconsider — be silent
experiment with listening to a quieter voice
let the hectic fire die back down to calm hot embers
still the mind with waiting curiosity

Lean into that for which we’re soft-wired
desire without grasping, equipolent
for the task at hand — equivalent choice
a little lower than the angels, we remember
exchange with the universe — a reciprocity …

Fine words when written on holiday, at rest
in the wilderness, away from work, it flows best
(not true, I jest).

6 of 30


one to the next...


as so often happens
she just proved that old adage
{maybe it's just a joke...I don't know}
but it's so frequent I think it should be
...more than just accepted as a maxim

I opened my mouth
& my mother came out

it used to drive her crazy
not so much anymore
as she's seeing firsthand
the wisdom in what she's saying
was once heard emitting from my lips...previously

& sometimes we speak...
...in stereo
{I giggle}
while she rolls her eyes & purses her lips
trying to look indignant

it's easier to accept
when the value of words resonated
well enough to really stick
...only to then later
...hear them regurgitated

I used to tease her
about being my baby bird
as I cut up meat in bite sized pieces
when she was a teenager{...& later}
now she's chirping my own phrases

so when I catch myself
using my mom's old standards
parroting her frequently brilliant lines
{though I'd never admit it}
I give myself grace

we repeat them for a reason
knowledge is passed through generations
because we're actually paying attention

I say...what she said to me
my daughter says it later
& everytime it occurs...
I'm taken back to the original encounter
a process we so frequently repeat...
...again & again...
wisdom is shared in simple language
each time it happens...
...I am reminded

#6 of 30

Uneven Pulses of Hope (
The Weight of Longing)

In the quiet chambers  
rhythms falter
struggling murmurs
pulses uneven
beats hesitantly
ever echoing  

vessel muscle weary
mind racing
shadows linger
breath shallow
each moment hangs

fading notes
fragile resolve
hope flickers
like candles inside storms  
constant fragility

silent battles
years worn
weight of longing
leaving invisible scars
across old tissues

dreams interrupted
crimson threads fray
love’s essence fights
endings always rewritten
against  twilight's slow crashing light  

unique words 67
total words 67

6/30

Fallow

Consider the field that stretches out ahead;
you say that nothing has grown there for years
and that might be true,
but NOTHING has been wasted.
Not time,
not energy,
not opportunity.
The land that has been left to stand,
fallow,
is full of fertile soil
and rich with promise for the future.
Let me help you pull out the weeds
and plant the field well.
Nurture it with love and care;
water and light and good food.
Have patience and hope,
then wait to see what is going to grow.

06/30

Jugate but very Different

I have to confide here in often clear
but also murky waters,
my 2 Favorite Scribes, here in the
deep end of the pond –
Crimsin (Unveiling)  & oskar.
Maybe it’s because I KIND OF UNDERSTAND
maybe I only get it via a Feel, a tingling.
No idea why and why I keep reading
their ink.  
With Oskar, his tags are not always but
ever what he is trying to convey.
I wish I could interpret his heart
in his original  language.
With Crim, the depths of her Feel
& convictions often baffle me
to a point where I DO NOT GET IT.
Still, I WANT to UNDERSTAND.
Both, I’ve followed for what feels like
yesterday, tomorrow…….
now.
Crimsin, I hope to follow elsewhere,
Oskar, who knows – he has yet to
reply to my messages.

6/30

accountable

invariably, I am what I am not
an empath struck by what is
channeling the pain of the verses

It affects me at a deep level
sometimes intertwining with my thoughts
a soul so complex with its art

metaphors and philosophies
that are not all mine
are just my way of coping with what is

flooded with visions that disturb
My first thought is to shove them down deep
but they cause me great anxiety
so I free them on the page
at what toll I don't know

They say kindness covers a multitude of sins
I hope that they do
because I am full of flaws

my creed is never to harm another
yet the rage of the world affects me
The outlandish things I've seen burn me
and I vomit out the remains

sometimes in an unseemly matter
knowing full well I am accountable for each word

6/30


Weather


The weather is cold today
It rained in the morning
The sun came out at noon

I slept late last night
My insomnia has gotten worse
These past months
That I have to make up
For my lost sleep in the mornings

I woke up at a little past 2 pm
And had my lunch of rice and fish soup
Finally I was able to go to the seamstress's house this afternoon

Early this evening it rained again
I feel cold and sleepy and lied down
Lately my body is sensitive to cold
I feel the weather in my bones
When it rains

#6

Market

What good comes from the death
That you’ve contributed to?

What’s done with the energy you burn?

Are living things captured and slaughtered
For you to mundanely roam?

What recourses have you dried up
For blood circulating in your veins?

The earth stripped away
How’s that coffee taste?
How many injustices did it take?
Where will it rot this time?

We are an unsustainable nation
Who has traded comfort for misdeeds
We blame the ones who hold the reins
But we stay on our knees.


68 u/w

6/30

Journey to the stars

"stardust to stardust"

every atom in me
longs to return to thee;
o' majestic stars...
wish i could defy gravity,
soar high into infinity,
be sucked into blackhole-
your ever disintegrating soul

made from stardust,
each cell of my being
yearns to be in sync;
whirling within and within-
you in me and me in you,
a self-destructive waltz
to go on for eternity-
ever lost in mystery...

i'm rusting on earth,
mud peeling off my skin...
lost between here and now,
i no longer wish to sing
songs of birds and wind;
have no desire
to burn in the fire
of this worldly lust.
no hunger
nor thirst...

only and only
i pine
to go back
to where i belong;
have been waiting
for so long...
i'd give up
rainbows and flowers
just to be on a journey
back to the stars...

6 of 30

Schrödinger's Repair Service


Fixing a light
and I realize how
heavy-handed I can be.

How many Philosophers
does it take to screw
in a light bulb?
- Only one
is somewhat true,
but the light might
not work
until observed.

Shattered the strip bulb
by forcing it too far in,
thankfully we had spares.
Practical advice
is to always
have a spare
before you need it.
And try to
have a care;
softly, softly,
works wonders
more times than thought.

(Unique Words: 58)