Poetry Competition Ends Soon 30th April 2025 11:19pm
DU Official NaPoWriMo Challenge
28/30
Undone
Let her be dust in the corner
It’s where she loves to sleep
Let the little candle burn til it’s a puddle of wax that won’t amount to anything, anymore
She likes it dim rather than dark, and never bright
Not to worry, she’ll light another
She’s been eroding for some time now
Like the seaside cliffs that succumb to the waves below
Because they’ve accepted their fate is in the swells below
She will lose herself
The script is written on the wall
Fading was a choice, once
… a decision, really
Now it’s all she wants
And despairingly has no option but to do it til theirs nothing left to —
Unravel what she weaved
Rip the flowers she knew from seed
Tear the sutures til they bleed
But you and I both know
If we kept her locked up, she wouldn’t know the destruction of her own life
It’s a room devoid of reflection
How painful are the cells of our own barbarism
Go on, leave her lonely and miserable
For she isn’t dead
She is utterly undone
Not “done.”
Undone
Let her be dust in the corner
It’s where she loves to sleep
Let the little candle burn til it’s a puddle of wax that won’t amount to anything, anymore
She likes it dim rather than dark, and never bright
Not to worry, she’ll light another
She’s been eroding for some time now
Like the seaside cliffs that succumb to the waves below
Because they’ve accepted their fate is in the swells below
She will lose herself
The script is written on the wall
Fading was a choice, once
… a decision, really
Now it’s all she wants
And despairingly has no option but to do it til theirs nothing left to —
Unravel what she weaved
Rip the flowers she knew from seed
Tear the sutures til they bleed
But you and I both know
If we kept her locked up, she wouldn’t know the destruction of her own life
It’s a room devoid of reflection
How painful are the cells of our own barbarism
Go on, leave her lonely and miserable
For she isn’t dead
She is utterly undone
Not “done.”
29/30
LANDMARKS
There is a land of which I am somewhat wary
yet it holds landmarks for my searching soul
The one existing clock tells me the only time is now
and there are circles where it seems I prefer
to go round and round
rather than break free to a new trajectory
I have become an oversensitive foetus
and clad in armour
I negotiate this world using my sharpest chisel
A flat-earther-prepper tells me the end is nigh
and today there is no electricity in Spain and Portugal.
He says it’s a sign. I agree. Still no internet.
Technology promises security but delivers dependency.
I go to the well for water.
LANDMARKS
There is a land of which I am somewhat wary
yet it holds landmarks for my searching soul
The one existing clock tells me the only time is now
and there are circles where it seems I prefer
to go round and round
rather than break free to a new trajectory
I have become an oversensitive foetus
and clad in armour
I negotiate this world using my sharpest chisel
A flat-earther-prepper tells me the end is nigh
and today there is no electricity in Spain and Portugal.
He says it’s a sign. I agree. Still no internet.
Technology promises security but delivers dependency.
I go to the well for water.
29 of 30
at the root
take my hand...
...or don't
that was our approach
bodies hunched in defensive postures
collectively nursing our individual wounds
quietly conversing
deliberately subdued conversations
what troubles her...
what's hurting me...
because emotions carry unpredictable tendencies...
& sometimes the best we can do
in our attempts to alter the entirety
is simply start at the lowest of issues
hoping for momentum to help carry it through
until we reach the real heart of the matter
nurturing that precious seed
guarding...
...for future endeavors
turns out...
there's nothing linear about life
sometimes we just have to circle back
one thing is certain...
when moving with compassion...
& focused wholly on healing...
...it really is all about the journey
at the root
take my hand...
...or don't
that was our approach
bodies hunched in defensive postures
collectively nursing our individual wounds
quietly conversing
deliberately subdued conversations
what troubles her...
what's hurting me...
because emotions carry unpredictable tendencies...
& sometimes the best we can do
in our attempts to alter the entirety
is simply start at the lowest of issues
hoping for momentum to help carry it through
until we reach the real heart of the matter
nurturing that precious seed
guarding...
...for future endeavors
turns out...
there's nothing linear about life
sometimes we just have to circle back
one thing is certain...
when moving with compassion...
& focused wholly on healing...
...it really is all about the journey
29/30
Want to return to HOME with answers
There’s nothing, absolutely nothing
to recreate, rewrite, re…animate!
The true reason, reasonable resonance
throughout our known
probably unknown ‘til we uncover,
discover
logical and not, Universe
ENERGY can neither be
destroyed nor created.
Yeah, but does this apply
In a 3 dimensional type of kindness
type of love?
What exactly is love and how
You tell me, how,
it transcends all dimensions
all answers
without satisfying
all the QUESTIONS!!
Want to return to HOME with answers
There’s nothing, absolutely nothing
to recreate, rewrite, re…animate!
The true reason, reasonable resonance
throughout our known
probably unknown ‘til we uncover,
discover
logical and not, Universe
ENERGY can neither be
destroyed nor created.
Yeah, but does this apply
In a 3 dimensional type of kindness
type of love?
What exactly is love and how
You tell me, how,
it transcends all dimensions
all answers
without satisfying
all the QUESTIONS!!
29/30
carnage
insipid pain nags at me
And I have to admit I'm getting older
My body is starting to feel it
My soul pushes, and my body balks
With threatening warnings of ache
So I slow down in the morning
looking much like the rusted out tin man in the morning
It takes me a while to get oiled up
And again walk smoothly
My thoughts turn to my youth
daring and foolish, afraid of nothing
I had to learn my limitations
pushing boundaries that pushed back
Sometimes hitting concrete
It was a learning experience
These days, a lot of things frighten my soul
Begrudgingly, I have to admit
I'm ensconced in a mushy gusy shell
that can get hurt
There are more foolish people
who think they are Superman behind the wheel
So I am cautious when I used to barrel down the road
going a hundred miles an hour
I don't know what I was thinking
Chasing the thrill, not understanding the carnage
carnage
insipid pain nags at me
And I have to admit I'm getting older
My body is starting to feel it
My soul pushes, and my body balks
With threatening warnings of ache
So I slow down in the morning
looking much like the rusted out tin man in the morning
It takes me a while to get oiled up
And again walk smoothly
My thoughts turn to my youth
daring and foolish, afraid of nothing
I had to learn my limitations
pushing boundaries that pushed back
Sometimes hitting concrete
It was a learning experience
These days, a lot of things frighten my soul
Begrudgingly, I have to admit
I'm ensconced in a mushy gusy shell
that can get hurt
There are more foolish people
who think they are Superman behind the wheel
So I am cautious when I used to barrel down the road
going a hundred miles an hour
I don't know what I was thinking
Chasing the thrill, not understanding the carnage
29 of 30
Can’t-Face-The-Day Cure
Dance to the euphoric beat
with Snoopy, Charlie, Linus, and Lucy
smooth Jazz and Christmas feeling
heads bobbing, shuffling feet
arms shaking off cares of the world
standing bass guide us into the day
piano send us singing on our way
drums rat-a-tat us into action
life is not such a bad thing
as long as I remember
to sing, sing, sing
who cares if you look like a ding-a-ling
whether in public
or within your four walls
dance with carefree abandon
have yourself a ball
Can’t-Face-The-Day Cure
Dance to the euphoric beat
with Snoopy, Charlie, Linus, and Lucy
smooth Jazz and Christmas feeling
heads bobbing, shuffling feet
arms shaking off cares of the world
standing bass guide us into the day
piano send us singing on our way
drums rat-a-tat us into action
life is not such a bad thing
as long as I remember
to sing, sing, sing
who cares if you look like a ding-a-ling
whether in public
or within your four walls
dance with carefree abandon
have yourself a ball
29/30
No Need To Apologize
Spare me
the hypocrisy
of your apology
Your eyes
Bore into my
Soul
Your voice
Becomes more…
Seductive
With a hint
Swagger you
Simply can’t
Abandon
I can see you
trying to mean it
You don’t
and that makes
it all The more
laughable
There’s such
A comedy
To watching
Your process
I’ll pretend
Way Better that
I’ve accepted it
But I don’t mean it
And now
I can laugh
Even harder
54 uw
No Need To Apologize
Spare me
the hypocrisy
of your apology
Your eyes
Bore into my
Soul
Your voice
Becomes more…
Seductive
With a hint
Swagger you
Simply can’t
Abandon
I can see you
trying to mean it
You don’t
and that makes
it all The more
laughable
There’s such
A comedy
To watching
Your process
I’ll pretend
Way Better that
I’ve accepted it
But I don’t mean it
And now
I can laugh
Even harder
54 uw
29/30
With The Stars (For Eerie)
You are with the stars now
No longer bound to this realm
Where mortal exists
But your presence is still felt
In the poetry you versed
In the ink you spilled
When you were still here on earth
Your soul can still be felt
In every lines you've written
In every words you've spoken
Your memory is alive in our minds
You're not really gone
Your shadow still lives
In the heart of those you've loved
In the life of those you've touched
You are one with the stars now
You have gone ahead of us
To walk back to your celestial home
As you journey to the stars
With The Stars (For Eerie)
You are with the stars now
No longer bound to this realm
Where mortal exists
But your presence is still felt
In the poetry you versed
In the ink you spilled
When you were still here on earth
Your soul can still be felt
In every lines you've written
In every words you've spoken
Your memory is alive in our minds
You're not really gone
Your shadow still lives
In the heart of those you've loved
In the life of those you've touched
You are one with the stars now
You have gone ahead of us
To walk back to your celestial home
As you journey to the stars
29 of 30
That I
It is there,
Unsettling.
In that in-between space,
That I come face to face,
That,
I feel my heart, race.
That I see a quiet murmur,
Upon lips that I taste.
Stirring in this sleepless place,
That I,
Shift the sight,
Shift the plight of, foundless night,
Through the fractured prism,
Of different coloured light.
That I smear and blend beneath a palm,
The reflection seen,
Looking back.
Asking if I dream,
Or,
If I dreamt.
Or,
If indeed this is,
Goodnight.
That I
It is there,
Unsettling.
In that in-between space,
That I come face to face,
That,
I feel my heart, race.
That I see a quiet murmur,
Upon lips that I taste.
Stirring in this sleepless place,
That I,
Shift the sight,
Shift the plight of, foundless night,
Through the fractured prism,
Of different coloured light.
That I smear and blend beneath a palm,
The reflection seen,
Looking back.
Asking if I dream,
Or,
If I dreamt.
Or,
If indeed this is,
Goodnight.
#29/30
One More Poem
Poetry has been holding me hostage:
every day,
tasks delayed
in anticipation
of versification.
It’s happening again,
tethered to my pen…
Poetry is keeping me captive:
my time diminished
as chores go unfinished,
teased by a muse
who aims to confuse.
Each date a new fight
to find something to write…
Poetry has got me imprisoned:
suspended animation
as I wait in frustration,
shirking my duties
to seek lexical beauty.
Tomorrow this struggle shall finally cease –
just one more poem to earn my release!
One More Poem
Poetry has been holding me hostage:
every day,
tasks delayed
in anticipation
of versification.
It’s happening again,
tethered to my pen…
Poetry is keeping me captive:
my time diminished
as chores go unfinished,
teased by a muse
who aims to confuse.
Each date a new fight
to find something to write…
Poetry has got me imprisoned:
suspended animation
as I wait in frustration,
shirking my duties
to seek lexical beauty.
Tomorrow this struggle shall finally cease –
just one more poem to earn my release!
29 of 30
Just another bauble
First glance
and the allure and pull
of what could be
the new obsession;
merchandise and pieces of a franchise,
yet,
no intense urge is awoken.
And I chalk it up
to being something for someone else
as only
mild interest is evoked;
I neither need it
or want it.
And if it passes me by
it is as rain and weather,
not mourned as loss,
but enjoyed in the moment
when it tugs true;
not just more gold
for a dragon's jealous hoard.
(Unique Words: 63)
Just another bauble
First glance
and the allure and pull
of what could be
the new obsession;
merchandise and pieces of a franchise,
yet,
no intense urge is awoken.
And I chalk it up
to being something for someone else
as only
mild interest is evoked;
I neither need it
or want it.
And if it passes me by
it is as rain and weather,
not mourned as loss,
but enjoyed in the moment
when it tugs true;
not just more gold
for a dragon's jealous hoard.
(Unique Words: 63)
29/30
A bunch of fives
Being musos, life's never quiet.
heart songs whirl; brain tunes thrum;
iambs pulse; words voice
their urges: "Write, hence
music comes alive!"
Piano notes plink;
harp's chords whirr;
vocal lines swell, surge, heave.
Drums bring solid tempi;
words weave paths.
Light, night tunes
boost sleep.
Peppy party songs
alert folks.
Awake, souls!
Allow music space—
tutti voice.
A bunch of fives
Being musos, life's never quiet.
heart songs whirl; brain tunes thrum;
iambs pulse; words voice
their urges: "Write, hence
music comes alive!"
Piano notes plink;
harp's chords whirr;
vocal lines swell, surge, heave.
Drums bring solid tempi;
words weave paths.
Light, night tunes
boost sleep.
Peppy party songs
alert folks.
Awake, souls!
Allow music space—
tutti voice.
29/30
[NaPoWriMo - 2025 Collection] Flowers from Thoughts
[ . . . ]
v
Autumn
Reformation
The sun is setting
now, shadows stretch
their spindly arms
across the littered lawn
strewn with the first
fallen leaves, still donning
their color, a bit paler
now, age spots defining
themselves on fronds
Spring blooms have fallen
forgotten across time
summer blossoms wither
on their stalk—it’s beautiful
though, this kaleidoscopic
stained-glass window
We rise, dried from warmth
crisp evening air a reminder
that nothing lasts forever
amid the cycle of living
not even us, it’s beautiful
though. . .
. . .
[NaPoWriMo - 2025 Collection] Flowers from Thoughts
[ . . . ]
v
Autumn
Reformation
The sun is setting
now, shadows stretch
their spindly arms
across the littered lawn
strewn with the first
fallen leaves, still donning
their color, a bit paler
now, age spots defining
themselves on fronds
Spring blooms have fallen
forgotten across time
summer blossoms wither
on their stalk—it’s beautiful
though, this kaleidoscopic
stained-glass window
We rise, dried from warmth
crisp evening air a reminder
that nothing lasts forever
amid the cycle of living
not even us, it’s beautiful
though. . .
. . .
30/30
Deep Underground
For the past twenty nine days
I always post late at night
I want to write when my mind
Is clear and focused
And the day's work
Has been completed
But today I want to post early
For a change and be done
With the NaPo'2025
I haven't sleep yet, not a wink
My mind is too awake for sleep to intrude
It's the last and final day
Of NaPoWriMo'25
I'm writing my last entry
For the "Journey to the stars"
I'm excited and thrilled
To reach the finish line ahead
Seven years of NaPo writing
Is a journey for me
And I am grateful to DU
For the opportunity
To grow in this community
Being part of the team is an honor
I did my task faithfully and took pride in it
I learned the value of teamwork
Of responsibility, discipline, persistence
And time management
Deep Underground is my refuge
My haven for seven years
The place I go to when I needed
To spill my thoughts and unload
The heaviness of my heart
I have made connections here
Developed friendship with some members
Burned bridges with a few
And found my path to healing
In the deep burrows of the underground
I grew, I learned, I healed
And I belonged
Deep Underground
For the past twenty nine days
I always post late at night
I want to write when my mind
Is clear and focused
And the day's work
Has been completed
But today I want to post early
For a change and be done
With the NaPo'2025
I haven't sleep yet, not a wink
My mind is too awake for sleep to intrude
It's the last and final day
Of NaPoWriMo'25
I'm writing my last entry
For the "Journey to the stars"
I'm excited and thrilled
To reach the finish line ahead
Seven years of NaPo writing
Is a journey for me
And I am grateful to DU
For the opportunity
To grow in this community
Being part of the team is an honor
I did my task faithfully and took pride in it
I learned the value of teamwork
Of responsibility, discipline, persistence
And time management
Deep Underground is my refuge
My haven for seven years
The place I go to when I needed
To spill my thoughts and unload
The heaviness of my heart
I have made connections here
Developed friendship with some members
Burned bridges with a few
And found my path to healing
In the deep burrows of the underground
I grew, I learned, I healed
And I belonged
29/30
Dinnertime, Summer 1990
She wilts her lettuce with popping
bacon grease and pulls a pone
of cornbread from the oven, steam swirling
a halo around her head and fogging
her glasses right up.
She calls her man and all them babies
come running ahead of him,
sunburnt cheeks and nary
a clean pair of feet to be seen.
And as their oldest granddaughter pours
sweet tea into mason jars, he slips
his hands around her waist and steals
some sugar while the groans
of their legacy fill the air and cover their eyes.
Dinnertime, Summer 1990
She wilts her lettuce with popping
bacon grease and pulls a pone
of cornbread from the oven, steam swirling
a halo around her head and fogging
her glasses right up.
She calls her man and all them babies
come running ahead of him,
sunburnt cheeks and nary
a clean pair of feet to be seen.
And as their oldest granddaughter pours
sweet tea into mason jars, he slips
his hands around her waist and steals
some sugar while the groans
of their legacy fill the air and cover their eyes.
