Poetry Competition Ends 30th April 2025 11:19pm
DU Official NaPoWriMo Challenge
10/30
Rx
Remedy for heartbreak
If only there was such a thing
Finding solace in anything
has its merits but…
What of the consequences there-in?
There are always some, intended or not
The poor sods wishing us happy, I’d rather lay them out with a hard uppercut.
I wish you well sojourner of desire
You’ll never realize you had it already
54 uw
Rx
Remedy for heartbreak
If only there was such a thing
Finding solace in anything
has its merits but…
What of the consequences there-in?
There are always some, intended or not
The poor sods wishing us happy, I’d rather lay them out with a hard uppercut.
I wish you well sojourner of desire
You’ll never realize you had it already
54 uw
#10
Judgment. The Sun. Ace of Wands.
Are you standing in your way today?
Has your judgment been too harsh
Or soft?
Have you really begun to question
Why your world is so distraught?
Have you been shaping clouds to block the sun?
Are your worries even real?
Did you give your torch away,
Hoping someone else would heal?
Instead of standing, why don’t you sit?
Why don’t you listen and feel the crisp
Spring air and rays of the sun
Breathe in the healing your body wants.
57 u/w
Judgment. The Sun. Ace of Wands.
Are you standing in your way today?
Has your judgment been too harsh
Or soft?
Have you really begun to question
Why your world is so distraught?
Have you been shaping clouds to block the sun?
Are your worries even real?
Did you give your torch away,
Hoping someone else would heal?
Instead of standing, why don’t you sit?
Why don’t you listen and feel the crisp
Spring air and rays of the sun
Breathe in the healing your body wants.
57 u/w
#10
~Our Fusing Breaths, of “UYIR”:: body, mind, soul
(an inspired lyrical)
(Intro Refrain)
my darling my love...
you are my child
just this flesh alone, is not love
for the lifetimes lived on this earth
in all truth, your soul will arrive unto me
for the lifetimes lived on this earth
in all truth, your soul will arrive unto me
my darling my love...
you are my child
just this flesh alone, is not love
Stanza #1
dear, golden glinting flowers
I wear on my blackly free falling hair..
are in echoing calls of you... just you
dear, the shrilly tinkling notes in musical
pitch… by your glass bangles in jingle..
shatters this wanton vulnerable me...
am in lucidly vivid dreams now... keeping
my oozy wetting bare kohl eyes wide & open...
within the rigorously tightened... a befallen
darkening blankness… of these cellular doors
of my closed eyes... I am in search of visions…
when your golden fingers touch me
in an unclassifiable, an elevating ecstasy
of a divinely chaotic arousing fire... I
sudden erupt as a blossom…
for the lifetimes lived on this earth
In all truth, your soul will arrive unto me
my darling my love..
you are my child
just this flesh alone, is not love
Stanza #2
without anyone’s saying to gather
& in absolute soundlessness...
flaming fire & silken cotton
are in this consuming pull
of a nearness...
cannot now differentiate, who
is masculine... or who is feminine..
when the two becomes One
in this fully fusing
inclusiveness...
you as pure nectarine honey..
sumptuously falls & fills
this, in sacred embed, a now crystallized
yet your awaiting-ly receiving…
this destined fontanelle portal
of my crowning skull... seeping
wholly smooth unto my hymning core
in an awestruck soul~ sweeten
have thoroughly forgotten
this my earthen origin even...
morphing into an alien newness...
will you bring me back
to my original form…
your soulful smell
is what am breathing in…
that is magically~ infinitely
prolonging this
my numbered lifetime
for the lifetimes lived on this earth
in all truth, your soul will arrive unto me
for the lifetimes lived on this earth
in all truth, your soul will arrive unto me
*unique words: 174
~Our Fusing Breaths, of “UYIR”:: body, mind, soul
(an inspired lyrical)
(Intro Refrain)
my darling my love...
you are my child
just this flesh alone, is not love
for the lifetimes lived on this earth
in all truth, your soul will arrive unto me
for the lifetimes lived on this earth
in all truth, your soul will arrive unto me
my darling my love...
you are my child
just this flesh alone, is not love
Stanza #1
dear, golden glinting flowers
I wear on my blackly free falling hair..
are in echoing calls of you... just you
dear, the shrilly tinkling notes in musical
pitch… by your glass bangles in jingle..
shatters this wanton vulnerable me...
am in lucidly vivid dreams now... keeping
my oozy wetting bare kohl eyes wide & open...
within the rigorously tightened... a befallen
darkening blankness… of these cellular doors
of my closed eyes... I am in search of visions…
when your golden fingers touch me
in an unclassifiable, an elevating ecstasy
of a divinely chaotic arousing fire... I
sudden erupt as a blossom…
for the lifetimes lived on this earth
In all truth, your soul will arrive unto me
my darling my love..
you are my child
just this flesh alone, is not love
Stanza #2
without anyone’s saying to gather
& in absolute soundlessness...
flaming fire & silken cotton
are in this consuming pull
of a nearness...
cannot now differentiate, who
is masculine... or who is feminine..
when the two becomes One
in this fully fusing
inclusiveness...
you as pure nectarine honey..
sumptuously falls & fills
this, in sacred embed, a now crystallized
yet your awaiting-ly receiving…
this destined fontanelle portal
of my crowning skull... seeping
wholly smooth unto my hymning core
in an awestruck soul~ sweeten
have thoroughly forgotten
this my earthen origin even...
morphing into an alien newness...
will you bring me back
to my original form…
your soulful smell
is what am breathing in…
that is magically~ infinitely
prolonging this
my numbered lifetime
for the lifetimes lived on this earth
in all truth, your soul will arrive unto me
for the lifetimes lived on this earth
in all truth, your soul will arrive unto me
*unique words: 174
10 of 30
Mightier than the (Buster) sword
Anything is a weapon
if you throw enough force behind it.
In a few moments of wandering imagination
and curious searching,
thinking upon the
weird and wacky weapons
of history and media.
Such as the 'Kpinga'
which looks like
a schizophrenic iron-age swiss army-knife,
or the Dutch 'Goedendag';
a spear and club mix
and its name meaning 'good day'!
Or the fantasy 'Buster sword'
with ridiculous size.
Though, despite their appeals,
I am more than content
in the knowledge
that I have the freedom
to choose the pen
as my weapon of choice.
Mightier than the (Buster) sword
Anything is a weapon
if you throw enough force behind it.
In a few moments of wandering imagination
and curious searching,
thinking upon the
weird and wacky weapons
of history and media.
Such as the 'Kpinga'
which looks like
a schizophrenic iron-age swiss army-knife,
or the Dutch 'Goedendag';
a spear and club mix
and its name meaning 'good day'!
Or the fantasy 'Buster sword'
with ridiculous size.
Though, despite their appeals,
I am more than content
in the knowledge
that I have the freedom
to choose the pen
as my weapon of choice.
10/30
Fib... onacci
Lies.
Truth.
Which one?
Does anybody know?
Is truth an absolute phenomenon,
always valid, unchanging, for all, regardless of context?
Or is it a relative, shifting complexity, dependent on one's beliefs and viewpoint?
I searched for the answer in something reliable - mathematics -
figuring that shapes and calculations are facts, and figures do not lie;
only for points of reference to change,
in such realms as imaginary numbers and non-Cartesian geometry.
What was true in three-dimensional planes suddenly no longer applies...
not forgetting that liars also habitually manipulate statistics.
Fib... onacci
Lies.
Truth.
Which one?
Does anybody know?
Is truth an absolute phenomenon,
always valid, unchanging, for all, regardless of context?
Or is it a relative, shifting complexity, dependent on one's beliefs and viewpoint?
I searched for the answer in something reliable - mathematics -
figuring that shapes and calculations are facts, and figures do not lie;
only for points of reference to change,
in such realms as imaginary numbers and non-Cartesian geometry.
What was true in three-dimensional planes suddenly no longer applies...
not forgetting that liars also habitually manipulate statistics.
10 of 30
The obligatory contentment ritual
Shoplifting a new religion
Learning to camouflage this disease,
‘The original made redundant,
The average made lethal’.
Those voices,
Those abandoned voices are revived.
Disobey realty,
this has no survival value
tread this illusion openly
There are fewer exits.
Create your own exit.
Thought is considering death,
then making a decision.
Praying for a rare attack of humanity.
It is fatal to look hungry
The obligatory contentment ritual
Shoplifting a new religion
Learning to camouflage this disease,
‘The original made redundant,
The average made lethal’.
Those voices,
Those abandoned voices are revived.
Disobey realty,
this has no survival value
tread this illusion openly
There are fewer exits.
Create your own exit.
Thought is considering death,
then making a decision.
Praying for a rare attack of humanity.
It is fatal to look hungry
10/30
The Tortoise and The Cat
You’d think I was torturing my tortoise
As he squirms about in his water bucket
He makes a lot of noise as he tries to climb the walls
I hear it's quite common for his species to be this dramatic
Especially when they are soaked in water
It’s for his own good to keep him hydrated and healthy
Yet he is still not a fan
My cat watches curiously
Her head bobbing up and down at him
They have been siblings for some time now
Yet she is still fascinated by him
She could stare at him all day
And he is a brave little dude
He doesn’t seem to care
That a fluffy creature several times bigger likes to watch what he does everyday
The Tortoise and The Cat
You’d think I was torturing my tortoise
As he squirms about in his water bucket
He makes a lot of noise as he tries to climb the walls
I hear it's quite common for his species to be this dramatic
Especially when they are soaked in water
It’s for his own good to keep him hydrated and healthy
Yet he is still not a fan
My cat watches curiously
Her head bobbing up and down at him
They have been siblings for some time now
Yet she is still fascinated by him
She could stare at him all day
And he is a brave little dude
He doesn’t seem to care
That a fluffy creature several times bigger likes to watch what he does everyday
10/30
Nightmare
the volume of my voice
is a haunted house;
I thrash and wail, unheard
spent, I feel weightless
floating in the space
between sun’s sweet rays
streaming through
the late morning window;
the nightmare fades, softly
whispering one last shiver
along my spine until, then
as if never there at all;
stretching limbs frozen
in horror, they ache bone-deep;
daylight chases the chill away,
and muscles release,
warm again
Nightmare
the volume of my voice
is a haunted house;
I thrash and wail, unheard
spent, I feel weightless
floating in the space
between sun’s sweet rays
streaming through
the late morning window;
the nightmare fades, softly
whispering one last shiver
along my spine until, then
as if never there at all;
stretching limbs frozen
in horror, they ache bone-deep;
daylight chases the chill away,
and muscles release,
warm again
10/30
[ NaPoWriMo Collection 2025: Flowers from Thoughts ]
[ . . . ]
I. The Greeks
[ . . . ]
ix
Healing Elixer:
Peony
Paper mâché petals, pink
layered upon another
forming a circular tuft
soft to the touch, aromatic
aroma drifting into summer
Paeon, student of medicine
academical wonder, milked
the root of the tender bloom
alleviating agony and sorrow
of Pluto’s painful wound
For this feat did the youth
rise within Olympus,
yet Asclepius, his teacher
in jealousy took offense
plotted against this genius
His ego, direly wounded
would not see the boy live
would've succeeded triumphantly
had not Apollo intervened
transforming Paean into a peony
to forever provide healing
. . .
[ NaPoWriMo Collection 2025: Flowers from Thoughts ]
[ . . . ]
I. The Greeks
[ . . . ]
ix
Healing Elixer:
Peony
Paper mâché petals, pink
layered upon another
forming a circular tuft
soft to the touch, aromatic
aroma drifting into summer
Paeon, student of medicine
academical wonder, milked
the root of the tender bloom
alleviating agony and sorrow
of Pluto’s painful wound
For this feat did the youth
rise within Olympus,
yet Asclepius, his teacher
in jealousy took offense
plotted against this genius
His ego, direly wounded
would not see the boy live
would've succeeded triumphantly
had not Apollo intervened
transforming Paean into a peony
to forever provide healing
. . .
10/30
Journaler
I place all my hope
between the pages. Forbidden
eyes glance over its covers,
land on the ribbon
bookmark flapping in the wind.
Do they wonder about the sanctity of secrets
that I slip away from sight?
Do they think I have a fancy
shopping list? A hit list?
Do they see: serious writer,
eyes glued to the white space,
pretentious asshole plumbing
the depths of humanity?
Artist with a capital A?
I’m just a girl
with an ever-expanding
desire to capture, to hold
in my tired hands, Life.
So, I tuck her safely between
the grackle feather and a clipped
recipe from an old Better Homes and Gardens.
Let her beautiful chaos drip and splatter
across the page in collage and ink
and maple leaves picked up on the first day of fall.
Whisper words onto pages that I’m too afraid
to shout into the open air.
Journaler
I place all my hope
between the pages. Forbidden
eyes glance over its covers,
land on the ribbon
bookmark flapping in the wind.
Do they wonder about the sanctity of secrets
that I slip away from sight?
Do they think I have a fancy
shopping list? A hit list?
Do they see: serious writer,
eyes glued to the white space,
pretentious asshole plumbing
the depths of humanity?
Artist with a capital A?
I’m just a girl
with an ever-expanding
desire to capture, to hold
in my tired hands, Life.
So, I tuck her safely between
the grackle feather and a clipped
recipe from an old Better Homes and Gardens.
Let her beautiful chaos drip and splatter
across the page in collage and ink
and maple leaves picked up on the first day of fall.
Whisper words onto pages that I’m too afraid
to shout into the open air.
10/30
YOUR SKIN
Don’t erase your wrinkles
Or remove your smile lines
Whatever you replace them with
Will not be as divine
I see the sacred space in you
When you don’t hide from me
The proof of your experiences
Please just let them be
Don’t tell me about pressure
To inject yourself with sick
Just so you can make-believe
Your lips are much more thick
There are those who will desire
You exactly as you are
They’re the ones worth knowing
Whether near or very far
YOUR SKIN
Don’t erase your wrinkles
Or remove your smile lines
Whatever you replace them with
Will not be as divine
I see the sacred space in you
When you don’t hide from me
The proof of your experiences
Please just let them be
Don’t tell me about pressure
To inject yourself with sick
Just so you can make-believe
Your lips are much more thick
There are those who will desire
You exactly as you are
They’re the ones worth knowing
Whether near or very far
10/30
No Fear
I
Talk about a
poetic haze,
I fell in the
fuckin shower
earlier, no, not
that kinda
Shower. Heh heh
Heh. :)
II
Been lookin for
online laugh
text.
I always liked Heh
heh heh. It suited
me most. Like
laughing without
laughing.
Of course, I do
laugh, or even
cackle, like a
madman.
In this case:
Ahahahaha. Works.
It has the five A’s
that form a pentagram
while actually
sounding and looking
like my actual
Laugh. Onomatopoeia.
(Not gonna lie I had
to look up the spelling…
I never tried to pronounce
it after seeing in the
Mary Oliver book…
II
But I fuckin
fell
in
The shower.
Twas like a slow
motion free
Fall.
It was like…
I saw it coming
and I knew
because I been
here before.
Not many times
as I am…
Very careful.
But it was like
I could stop
time.
With time to
write a book
Between.
III
Maybe I was
on
Cloud nine.
Maybe I am
on cloud nine
all the time
Nevertheless.
I was not
afraid of
The fall. No
Not at
All
IV
Took down the whole
shower curtain.
Landing-laughing.
I thought
of
The Weezy verse
in
Forever.
What should
I
Scream for – This
is
My theme park.
No Fear
I
Talk about a
poetic haze,
I fell in the
fuckin shower
earlier, no, not
that kinda
Shower. Heh heh
Heh. :)
II
Been lookin for
online laugh
text.
I always liked Heh
heh heh. It suited
me most. Like
laughing without
laughing.
Of course, I do
laugh, or even
cackle, like a
madman.
In this case:
Ahahahaha. Works.
It has the five A’s
that form a pentagram
while actually
sounding and looking
like my actual
Laugh. Onomatopoeia.
(Not gonna lie I had
to look up the spelling…
I never tried to pronounce
it after seeing in the
Mary Oliver book…
II
But I fuckin
fell
in
The shower.
Twas like a slow
motion free
Fall.
It was like…
I saw it coming
and I knew
because I been
here before.
Not many times
as I am…
Very careful.
But it was like
I could stop
time.
With time to
write a book
Between.
III
Maybe I was
on
Cloud nine.
Maybe I am
on cloud nine
all the time
Nevertheless.
I was not
afraid of
The fall. No
Not at
All
IV
Took down the whole
shower curtain.
Landing-laughing.
I thought
of
The Weezy verse
in
Forever.
What should
I
Scream for – This
is
My theme park.
10/30
When We Cross
I’m often amazed at the insightful musings of others
Not just in their intellect
But also in the spiritual sense of being and understanding
As if clarity has been achieved through the obstacles they’ve faced
Perception comes at different times and different levels
Especially when we’re caught up in those moments of unity
Poetry seems to capture it perfectly
Making our journey through this human experience
That much more fantastic
60 Unique Words
70 Total
When We Cross
I’m often amazed at the insightful musings of others
Not just in their intellect
But also in the spiritual sense of being and understanding
As if clarity has been achieved through the obstacles they’ve faced
Perception comes at different times and different levels
Especially when we’re caught up in those moments of unity
Poetry seems to capture it perfectly
Making our journey through this human experience
That much more fantastic
60 Unique Words
70 Total
10/30
NaPo 2025 Day 10
Ahhhh... it is 11:45 pm
Better get on this poem
cause it is not gonna write itself.
Damn, time slipped by me.
Ever have that happen?
For real surreal.
Good thing I noticed.
Heck of a time trying get this done.
I hope I can zoom through.
Just 10 plus more lines.
Killing my fingers to type.
Let me keep going.
My heart is racing.
Not felt this stressed before.
Oh, well, it is coming along.
Pretty sure it is downhill now.
Quite funny actually.
Really stressed just to make it here.
So, I need to set an alarm
to remind me of the time.
Unfunny at the same time, lol.
Vastly unnerving.
We are all crazy.
X-ray my brain.
Yes, I love this.
Zesty souls writing poetry.
[Unique Words 98]
NaPo 2025 Day 10
Ahhhh... it is 11:45 pm
Better get on this poem
cause it is not gonna write itself.
Damn, time slipped by me.
Ever have that happen?
For real surreal.
Good thing I noticed.
Heck of a time trying get this done.
I hope I can zoom through.
Just 10 plus more lines.
Killing my fingers to type.
Let me keep going.
My heart is racing.
Not felt this stressed before.
Oh, well, it is coming along.
Pretty sure it is downhill now.
Quite funny actually.
Really stressed just to make it here.
So, I need to set an alarm
to remind me of the time.
Unfunny at the same time, lol.
Vastly unnerving.
We are all crazy.
X-ray my brain.
Yes, I love this.
Zesty souls writing poetry.
[Unique Words 98]
10 of 30
Suburban Huck Finn - 1
Three blocks from my childhood home
runs Los Alamitos Creek
a sylvatic, kids paradise
the shoreline choked
with stands of twenty-five foot bamboo.
punctuated by large sycamores
one with a tire swing attached
wearing cut-off jeans
we'd sail over the seven-foot, ice cold swim'n hole
with a woooo hooo we'd let go.
along the shallows
crawdad and minnow fishing
was the sport of choice
strictly catch and release
the water was tainted with quicksilver, mercury
so what we caught we couldn't eat.
Unique word count: 68
Suburban Huck Finn - 1
Three blocks from my childhood home
runs Los Alamitos Creek
a sylvatic, kids paradise
the shoreline choked
with stands of twenty-five foot bamboo.
punctuated by large sycamores
one with a tire swing attached
wearing cut-off jeans
we'd sail over the seven-foot, ice cold swim'n hole
with a woooo hooo we'd let go.
along the shallows
crawdad and minnow fishing
was the sport of choice
strictly catch and release
the water was tainted with quicksilver, mercury
so what we caught we couldn't eat.
Unique word count: 68
