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Official DUP NaPo/GloProWrimo 2018

poet
Misfitpoet89
Lost Thinker
United States
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Joined 25th Mar 2018
Forum Posts: 29

12/30
The Woman, the Rose

The rose, so soft and so sweet
Only here for a moment itís time is so fleeting
For it blooms ever wide and then fades away
Itís prime only lasting for a few days
Yet rain can make them wilt and petals fall below
For when hey are weakened they are not ready to show
So fall to the ground as they surely will do
Where they wither and dry out to some different hue
Will bloom again when the timing is right
Whether it be some days or hundreds of nights
And just like the rose a womenís beauty shines above
All else as she favors you with kindness and love
Her skin emitting soft fragrance unlike anything before
Softly caressing her, fingers on bare skin wanting more
Sheís divinity in motion, living and breathing right there
With her beautiful aura and whimsical flair
You can feel her heartbeat as it pulses through her veins
Feel her pressed against you as she hands you the reigns
To explore and adore her like the queen that she is
Itís moments like these to discover what love really is




*posting double today, got sidetracked yesterday*


13/30
Memories

Give me your memories so ravaged by time
Let me make them new, spin then divine
The madness of memories left you to bare
The shell of a person, barely even there
But come thereís much to change and to show
So many different directions in which one may go
Donít look at the bad it is merely a lesson
Itís hard for you to see which Iím guessing
Let me take your burdens and show you the way
To spin them around and lead to better days
Showing you the good and bring it to light
Make something so dull more shiny and bright
To lift you up when you donít see the reason
Lifting you up higher no matter the season
It may not work quickly of course this is true
Weíll just work at it harder to change up its hue
You mustnít give up I wonít let you fall down
Iíll pick you back up from your place on the ground
I wonít let you slip through the cracks or my fingers at all
Know that Iím your friend and Iíll never let you fall

poet
rosegold
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 12th July 2017
Forum Posts: 28

8/30

they say they care

It seems
the ones who say
they'll pray
for me
have the most
hope
that things
will be
okay


Is it bad that
I get mad at
them? They're only trying
to help
But I'm not crying
over spilled milk

All I see
is sympathy
(and maybe
a little pity)
They wish me the best
and watch as I try to clean
up my mess


Are they proud of how
noble they must have seemed
as they stooped down
to grace me with their good deed?

Empty promises of prayer
and that they'll always be there
The ones who dare
to say they really care

--------------------------------

9/30

brightest and best

(inspired by prompt #1: deep)

she's so talented
so deep
her emotions flow like ink

she's so expressive
so original
so in touch with her soul

she's so young
but profound
nothing can tear her heart down

she's the brightest
she's so deep
she's a poetic prodigy



she's a doll
in daddy's eyes
dressed in pretty pink disguise

perfect to him
but in truth
she's just another spoiled youth

of course he's proud
most parents are
he sees his daughter as a star

but he forgets
she's one of many
the sky is filled with galaxies

she's just a dot
among the rest
but he's confident that she's the best

daddy's gaze
stays fixed on his girl
the bright center of his world

poet
cloventongue89
Nathaniel Peter
Fire of Insight
United States
16awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 18th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 360

Love In The Hands of The Broken (14/30)

Going to war
Every word like a fight
Competitive marketing
And a sales pitch for the soul
Scrutiny reigns me in
Youíre like a noose
Whether itís the statement of your eyes
Or your silence
Unresponsive, no reaction
Taking up space in the feed
Devouring esteem
Itís in the way we read
Only the signs that we can see

Subtle indications
Discontented and strife motivations
Kindness with the backhand of control
A puppetry of guilt trips
My confessionís the ammunition
And your condescension is loaded
Tripping the trigger of your pride
What is your love made of?
As you die in the face of inconvenience
When age is permission for a lack of patience
To wear thin enough to resent

How is it, it seems Iím always wrong in light of you?
Defective as the handicaps of perception
Whether my eyes are stunted
Or your blind for having seen it all
God forbid the pain still lingers in the wound
And I care enough to salvage whatís left of the heart
Remedies like tourniquets for brain bleeds
When reason is contrived of self-defense philosophies
As weíre conditioned to preserve ourselves

Foresight for the oncoming traffic
I throw myself under the bus
Just to upset suburbia
Tell me again
Whatís there to hate about me?
As I become obstacle to your eyes
Calibrated for its own vision
Iím a tool for your fix of using people
Investments only made
In so much it benefits you

Cooperate stats
And expendable numbers
Iím your scapegoat
And an easy target to ridicule
When itís all about the way the shade is drawn
And I live overcast by your shadow
As you slant my mistakes to the favor of your pedestal
You never see me till Iím criticizedÖ

poet
JohnnyBlaze
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 20th Mar 2015
Forum Posts: 836

14/30


Most Haunted

by apparitions of you
undaunted, I roam
the restless nights

through an open floorplan
of a home yet to be built

before
Dawn smites the sky
causing my drafting table to
tilt

Whispering a poem
softly in your ear

I sigh

letting it be known
I am always nearby

ready to join you soon
under quilt again
when Taurus moon
circles back round high

Until then, I
remain ghostly

most haunted
by who we could be












for Ahavati with Love

💜




poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
45awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1455

And we're rounding the bend holding at 19!

Greetings, Poets! Welcome to DAY 14!  You're halfway home, and the downhill descent has begun ( in countries leading the time zones for those confused ).


1. Ahavati - I ✔✔✔✔✔✔
2. JohnnyBlaze - II
3. JadePandora - I ✔✔✔✔✔✔
4. Viddax - I ✔✔✔✔✔✔
5. Mel44 - I ✔✔✔✔✔✔
6. cloventongue89 - II
7. David_Macleod - I ✔✔✔✔✔✔
8. rowantree I ✔✔✔✔✔
9. ImperfectedStone I ✔✔✔✔✔✔
10. MadameLavender - I ✔✔✔✔✔✔
11. ThePositivelyDark - I ✔✔✔
12. RevolutionAl - II
13. DaisyGrace -  I ✔
14. Hepcat61- I ✔✔✔✔✔✔
15. poetryaccident - I ✔✔✔✔✔✔
16. Thetravelingfairy -I ✔✔✔✔✔✔
17. MisfitPoet89 - I ✔✔✔✔✔✔
18. Samael - I ✔✔✔✔✔✔
19. Rosegold - I✔✔


If your name has been removed, it's because you haven't posted, and we haven't heard from you in at least three days! If you're a registrant, resume posting ( no more than two a day, subsequently numbered in the same post ), with a footnote or prefix explaining why and you're back in!

thepositivelydark, Rosegold, and Misfitpoet89, way to hang in there! Your dedication and commitment are noted! DaisyGrace, don't give up! You're still in the running! 🏆

30/30 or bust, Poets! 🚌📝

poet
poetryaccident
Fire of Insight
United States
13awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 30th Oct 2016
Forum Posts: 161

14/30

Breathing Misdeeds

Just say no to kitten huffing
euphoric hit that ruins lives
it's a path that led to doom
addiction to rice pudding
resist the urge for plush fur
seeking fragrance locked within
it's source of all sin
that covenant broken in past times.

The holy books has it wrong
an apple was not the fatal charm
instead a feline was the lure
for sin to enter mankind's heart
the lying serpent spun his lie
furry kitten held in hand
'it's not right for the boss
to keep nirvana for himself'.

The temptation lay in fur
for the fragrance trapped within
dulcet notes that were forbid
became the knowledge not meant for man
the rest is history to our chagrin
an end to goodness all bemoan
even as the addicts claim
they find God by breathing deep.

Never mind the hairballs coughed
or the new fear of any dogs
the transgression that's damned us all
is still pursued by high and low
in plush enclaves of the rich
or dank hovels behind closed doors
Lucifer laughs as the trapped
breathing misdeeds into life.

poet
MadameLavender
Guardian of Shadows
United States
61awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 17th Feb 2013
Forum Posts: 4453

An Experiment in Hope

(NaPo #14, April 14, 2018)


I tried
to open the door, a crack, thinking
that If I peered out,
something hopeful
would peer back.

There was a fancied thing, that
seemed it could be prosperous, but
red flags flew high, once more
at subtle inconsistencies.

Tarnished views of certain
parts of the world,
of life,
reaffirmed themselves.

ďWhat would you take
from me, if Iíd swung the door
wide?Ē

I am content
once again, with
my own heart, if you donít mind.

Next, I shall explore ďtrustĒ
instead of ďhopeĒ.

poet
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
110awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 3687


Virgo (Rising) @ Starbucks   *14/30

1
Unshaven.
In black and white.
Like cup of Pico Dark,
its evidence in limbo
stretches his senses
waiting in a niche,
the early wake
with bags of
roasted whole bean
retail.

2
Pastries.
In glass case display.
He holds a vigil to the
sound of ghostíd speak
watching passers-by
passing time & fail
to piped-in jazz,
while empty
sipping @ coffeeís
edges.

3
Slow drip.
Thru filter'd mind.
Like a glowing sunrise
from laptop Apple face
that steels his watch
in an anxious chill
like an epitaph,
sans a voice
sans her live warmth
scented.



Copyright ©️ 2018 Jade Pandora.  All Rights Reserved.
*NaPo/GloPoWriMo 2018

poet
Hepcat61
geoff cat
Dangerous Mind
United States
23awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 27th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 920

Sculptor
(unrhymed pantoum paring)
formule poťsie ťrotique 14/30

Sculpting -

What artist could resist this medium?
How could creative hands not seek its depthí
To bring to life its mysteries well kept.
What skillful progress forms this inner world.

How could creative hands not seek its depth?
How harden softness gives to fingers wet,
What skillful progress forms this inner world,
In slickened rise and turn, in pull and press.

How harden softness gives to fingers wet,
With sheerest dampened fabric, slow removed,
In slickened rise and turn, in pull and press,
That brings reversive cede with art defined.

With sheerest dampened fabric, slow removed,
With every stroke and slide of artistís stylí,
That brings reversive cede with art defined
Goddessí emerge with each caressing touch.

With every stroke and slide of artistís stylí
In whispered gasps emit as work gives space,
Goddessí emerge with each caressing touch,
As shape responds in offered fold and curve.

In whispered gasps emit as work gives space
To bring to life its mysteries well kept,
As shape responds in offered fold and curve,
What artist could resist this medium.


Resculpting -
What artist could resist this medium,
As shape responds in offered fold and curve,
To bring to life its mysteries well kept,
In whispered gaspsí emit as work gives space.

As shape responds in offered fold and curve.
Goddessí emerge with each caressing touch,
In whispered gaspsí emit as work gives space,
With every stroke and slide of artistís stylí.

Goddessí emerge with each caressing touch,
That brings reversive cede with art defined,
With every stroke and slide of artistís stylí,
With sheerest dampened fabric, slow removed.

That brings reversive cede with art defined,
In slickened rise and turn, in pull and press.
With sheerest dampened fabric, slow removed,
How harden softness gives to fingers wet.

In slickened rise and turn, in pull and press,
What skillful progress forms this inner world,
How harden softness gives to fingers wet,
How could creative hands not seek its depth?

What skillful progress forms this inner world,
To bring to life its mysteries well kept,
How could creative hands not seek its depth?
What artist could resist this medium?



poet
rowantree
Rowan E.
Thought Provoker
United States
3awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Aug 2015
Forum Posts: 116

(yesterday was so full of things; I didn't have time to sit down and get it out. doubling up today)
13/30

withdoodles

Friday:
no caffeine;
not my usual two cups, or three
of lovely black nectar -
just a spot of Earl gray
that I couldn't even finish all the way.

And no headache?

Okay...

I've suspected something's wrong with me.
Now I have tangible evidence.
Why am I fine?
How can I
so coldly
slice what I want
from my life
and not lose a pint,
let alone a drop
of this blood that
loves so completely,
carries caffeine like an intravenous,
daily parade?

And why am I bothered
by missing out on pain?

Guess I feel like it's waiting.



poet
David_Macleod
Guardian of Shadows
United States
32awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Nov 2014
Forum Posts: 735

Morbidity   (14 / 30)

Death comes to us all
for some just not quick enough
karma needs my help

Immortality
who wants to live forever
I'd get fuckin bored

He just passed away
no light at end of tunnel
he threw six touchdowns

burgers, buns and fries
turns you into super size
too soon your demise

My morbidity
mind no longer set to stun
all fear has just gone

Edgar Allan Poe
is not dead; he is simply
Living in a box

your Jugular slashed
with my faithful Stanley knife
should have said sorry

poet
Viddax
Lord Viddax
Guardian of Shadows
United Kingdom
19awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Oct 2009
Forum Posts: 6110

14.

Funny Business


Down where the deep dank things are,
lies a clown of ill repute
this bull faced bozo
will bore the pants off you
with truly terrible poetry
which stink of stupid rhymes
more than enough to warrant as crimes
against literature and language.
Hidden in the sewers
this would be bard has holed up
plotting and conniving
the next pennywise dreadful
to kill with its vileness
and give all nightmares
of this antic's anthology.

But fear not!
For a brave band of misfits
with wizard wisdom
berserker belligerence
roguish repartee
and monk manoeuvres,
went down to cleanse
underground clown town
and cease the jester's japes
by beating the lyrical loon
in an epic snap rap battle,
silencing their waxing lyrical
with a verse so satirical,
that this could not even come close
to those mean keen beats
and is but a tribute
to those well versed warriors
who made that clown kowtow
to their superior melody;
now that clown has changed their views
and writes the nine o'clock news!

(Unique words: 126.)

poet
rowantree
Rowan E.
Thought Provoker
United States
3awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 5th Aug 2015
Forum Posts: 116

14/30

Summertime Came (rap)

Summertime's comin' -
summertime came,
archin' her back to the sun's vibrations
It was worth every minute of the winter wait:
I heard her say my name...

like she missed me, she crashed on my chest, just trembling
Window wide, songbirds our assembly
They perch on the sill, just listening in
to this bright bedroom that my drowsy voice is fillin'
to the brim - summertime hymns -
coffee talkin', I can't get it off the subject
10 AM fresh, for the time of year the spirit resurrects
and rides the days' slow waves, cool morning to warm finish;
it's French-pressed nectar, black, bold, heaven-sent
substance that has been blessed, what they pour you at Brennan's
When you get lip contact - the very first touch -
that's the first spring day the season's eyelashes flutter up...
April goes on, you're watchin' her come to;
by May you can't believe what that seasonal blush do - the pillows
get so hot, got you ravenous come June -
you two all tangled up.
Ain't she something wonderful to wake to?

Summertime's comin',
Summertime came again,
archin' her back to the sun's vibrations
It was worth every minute of the winter wait
to hear her say my name.

poet
ImperfectedStone
P M Banks
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
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Joined 10th Oct 2010
Forum Posts: 960

Sorry, my daughter is being tough tonight. Will catch up tomorrow

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
45awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 1455

ImperfectedStone said:Sorry, my daughter is being tough tonight. Will catch up tomorrow

No worries. Thanks for letting us know.

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