2019 NaPo Prompt Comp

Co-Hosted by Ahavati & JohnnyBlaze

Here are the Official DUP NaPo/GloProWriMo 2019 prompts that were created by the joint efforfs of NaPo Team members JadePandora, yelluw_always, Amorous_Tryst, Earth_Child, Ahavati & JohnnyBlaze.

While these are meant to aid participants in creating entries for NaPo, those particular entries are then viable for winning the Trophy of this comp!

Be advised - only entries posted by registrants to NaPo will qualify!

https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/forum/speakeasy/read/10651/

Now, here are the Prompts!

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1. Describe Dug the Worm as a wily, wiggly wizard who refuses to let poets pass the Bridge of Stanzas into the Deep Underground without first completing three insane poetry related challenges.

2. Describe how Dug accomplishes the need to wiggle between perspectives and individual values of the poets who inhabit a worm hole in DUP.

3. Describe how Dug ventilating the Deep Underground with worm holes prevents the atmosphere from becoming rank with the body odor of so many unwashed poets.

4. Imagine in metaphoric form how you would explain to a small child the need for green worms and ham in this world.

5. Write about NaPo participants as Worms in a horse race around the Deep Underground in want of the Trophy!

6. Write about how Dug has wriggled through the dirt into the midst of a huge NaPo Celebration Carnival where rides and concessions abound. The closest is the Tilt-A-Whirl, but those boarding must meet the height requirement of at least 5' (1.524 meters), but our Worm loves a challenge and must get on that ride.

7. Write about how Dug burrows into a sandbox filled with Tonka Toys and believes what is discovered is a construction site digging for buried treasure -  so joins in!

8. Write about a specific adventure in the Deep Underground that occasionally gets Dug into hot water, which is no place for our Worm to be.

9. Write about how Dug leads a secret life in the Underground as a poet in our Worm's own write! Reveal his -or- her -or- both pseudonym!

10. Write about how Dug gets kidnapped by a colorful band of gypsies who plan to use our Worm in a "worm oil medicine" show perpetuated by the  Webmiss. Write about Dug's rescue by you and your DU buddies!

11. Dug has been kidnapped and is being held hostage within an undisclosed potted plant in the Webmiss home. Describe what you would trade for his freedom and how the exchange would go down.

12. Write a poem from Dug's POV observing human activity in the Deep Underground through his worm hole.

13. Oftentimes in gardening, a worm is cut in half, and then its halves regenerate and move on. Write about the two halves having different lives.

14. Worms eat dirt nutrients, and in turn give off nutrients for plants to grow. Thus, a healthy environment needs worms! Write about a plant that grows from Dug's nutrients, and how it benefits DUP's ecosystem.

15. Write about how Dug gets rounded up and imprisoned in a fishing bait vending machine.

16. Write about how Dug wakes up in another country ( and what he does to get home ) after passing out drunk on tequila in a Les Paul following a concert the night before.

17. Write an anthem Dug would dance to if it was a mascot for a football team known as the Washington Wormholers .

18. Write Dug's toast to the winners at the award banquet for the participants and hosts of this year's Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWriMo.

19. Describe Dug's superpowers after being bitten by a radioactive slug. Will Dug go on to be a superhero? Or a * gasp * villain?

20. When placing Dug on your hook to be cast into the vast ocean of poetry, describe the catch you hope to attract and land, and any snags, (optional), you hope to avoid.

21. Dug is drowning after accidentally being knocked into a Jose Cuervo tequila shot during a Cinco de Mayo celebration! Write about how you would save Dug!

22. Dug has awakened amidst maggots on a corpse from a murder mystery. Tell us about the crime, the detective, the murderer, etc!

23. Write an episode of AS THE WORM TURNS, with Dug guest starring in a popular TV soap. Hero or villain?

24. Write about Dug as an Indiana Jones-ish archaeologist excavating poems from the earth's surface, where everyday objects and appliances become booby traps!

25. Write about Dug traveling back in time through a worm hole to warn classic poets that future masses of the new millennium will be glued to digital devices listening to musical acts such as Lady Gaga and Eminem.

26. Write about the Lord of the Slugs declaring dominion over the Deep Underground and how Dug the Worm poetically defeats him!

27. Write about Dug and other worms wandering the desert for 30 days and nights while waiting to receive inspiration from the Grand Earthworm.

28. Write about Dug being aboard a bus wired to explode if the driver and passengers write poetry with less than 50 unique words, while the bomber demands a ransom of . . . ?

29. Write a myth or urban legend about Dug.

30. Live and write about a Day in the Life of Dug.

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You have 30 days to copy & paste your NaPo  inspired entries here.

May the best Worm win!

1.

Words Over A Bridge


Dug the wily wizard guards the bridge:
standing watch over the Bridge of Stanzas
ever vigilant so that only the true poet may pass
while the rest can only gaze at the greener grass.
To prove that they are a poet true
three trialling testing challenges must be passed
that is all Dub asks for those who wish to pass.
Yet budding poet beware;
these terrifying tests have sent some mad
the writing strain proving too much for their brain.

Along came the first contestant,
dressed in fine Oriental garb
though in truth from central Texas,
and said this to the worm of words:
"honourable one
accept this given token
let me pass freely".

Then came the second
sporting a smirk and bounce in their step
a jolly hat perched askew on their head
and a bundle of puns under one arm,
they spoke to the squirm of syntax:
"There once was a writer
who was a bit of a fighter
with pen and sword
and many a word
was a satirical blighter."

Finally came the third
dragging reams and reams behind them
every page covered in blue language
an epic of their erotic odyssey,
they opened their mouth to recite their odious verse
but before they could
Dug zapped them with a spell
so they said instead:
"Oh to be a lonely cloud
and think above the world
far from the so maddening crowd
to fly unhindered above
basking in the sunshine
watching over all I love
that is my greatest desire
to be able to float freely
before I sadly expire".

Yet for all the Worm's wizardly wisdom.
poetic wiles and wordy cunning,
they had been outsmarted and undone
as the three poets joined hands
to cross the bridge together,
as Dug had forgotten to state that the three challenges
must be completed by each and every poet.
So it was that the wily worm was thwarted,
unable to wriggle out of this predicament
as countless poets flooded over the bridge
spouting poetry to all and sundry
oversaturating the world with poems
until no one wanted to read them anymore,
oh dear!

(Unique words: 213.)

2.

View to a Fill


You may not think that there is a lot to a hole,
but just ask Dug,
to be severely surprised:
the almighty spectrum of stance and infinite number of perspectives
are crammed into the hole Dug calls home.
Dug digs deep to uncover and catalogue each viewpoint
hoping all those standpoints and vantages
will grow long gangly legs for Dug to perambulate about on:
as Dug is sick of sitting on the fence during debates
without so much as a leg to stand on.
Though Dug is not quite that desperate
to become a flipping frog who hops
from one view to another,
hoping their hops put them in pole perspective position
where the thoughts are fresher than tomorrow's daisy
and make great leaps and strides with their progressive outlook,
instead of the croaking broken bloated approach
that the toads flick out:
ribbiting on and on in a way that no cares to hear.
Dug is by no means too keen on becoming a crane either;
those bird brains who always have a superior overview
never bothering to swoop down
dirtying their feathers with actual specific facts or focus
instead flying high with an expansive scope
getting in a frenzied flap in the framework and the future
seldom seen doing any groundwork.
A fine set of legs
would also let Dug run away from the fish;
those serene swimmers that dive deep
dragging poor witty worms
down into profound depths that defy perception
making all sentiments naught but drops in an ocean.
All this means
Dug is ceaselessly wrangling the diverse dimensions
of all attitudes and universal opinions
as a good worldview can move the world
therefore a few outlooks can surely move a worm
and let them turn over a new leaf
- all the easier to eat and forage,
now isn't that some thought for food!

((Unique words: 201.)

3.

Alphaget


Assemble and adhere approaching announcement about aeration activities
Behold beneficial business below busy building boreholes brilliantly
Causing critical cavity channels ceaselessly consummately created cunningly
Dug digs delves deeply digging diligently devotedly deepunderground
Erecting efficient environmental earthen exits expertly enhancing extraction
For furrows facilitate forceful flow filtering filth forthwith
Greatly generating gouges gladly given great gaping ground
Helpfully hurrying hither horrid humid humours hence handily
Interestingly incessant imaginative ink issues intolerable irritating infragrance
Justly judicious justified job jointly jettisons 'journalist's jasmine'
Keenly keyholes keep known Kipling-esque 'knock keeps' kosher
Long lengthy laborious labour lets literature live leisurely
Meanwhile many malicious malodour migrates methodically maintaining movement
Now normal notations note new naughty nausea nought
Open orifices optimally outlet objectionable offensive odours outside
Poets persist proverbially penning pieces poignantly precisely perfectly
Questionable quotations quite queer quickly quite quit quality
Regular renewed recesses respectably replace reproduced resident's rank
Such scribbler's subterranean standards surely sufficiently seriously smells
Thus tubes thoroughly take the taint thence thankfully
Ultimately uncontaminated underground users unhindered unceasingly undertake utterances
Verily vile vapours vacate verb vaults vigorously ventilated
While writer worm will wilfully work with wonder
Xenial xenodochial xenophilia xanthic xeric xerophytic xenobiotic xenogenous
Yet yesterday's yuck yanked yawning yonder yields yes
Zealous zeal zealously zones zesty zany zappy zoons!

4.

Green Worms and Ham


The world will always have the need
for more green worms and ham
to make the natural world go round
plus give us things like spam;
as green worms are caterpillars
who then turn into beautiful butterflies
wonderful winged things
that grace and paint the skies,
helping plants bloom
life would be dull without flowers
no more colours and smells
just boring dull dreary muted hours,
while ham is part of a good diet
making you grow big and strong
full of vim and vigour
for a life that is long,
green worms are part of nature
that eat the leaves and shoots
of trees and plants
also all those dangling juicy fruits
then making more green worms
which then spin some fine silk
used in clothes and cloth
and all that type of ilk,
ham is full of energy
that the body uses to run
letting limbs and legs move
to run, jump and have fun
ham has lots of helpings of protein
it is a type of fuel
for the body like a car
keeping it going which is cool,
outside would not be as colourful
if there were no more flowers
all thanks to those green worms
with all those wriggling munching powers
and there would be less birds
to tweet and twitter in trees
less chirping music
and an awful lot less bees
buzzing busily producing honey,
so you see how useful green worms are
even though look nasty and unkind
with many gribbly legs and antennas
they are very useful you'll find
although they eat plants
other animals also eat them too
as all things have to eat
cats, dogs, worms, me and you,
as we need food and water
with the nutrients and energy enough
in order to grow and live
becoming strong, smart, kind, helpful, tough
ham is one thing that has such energy
it is a type of meat
that can go with bread and vegetables
inside sandwiches isn't that rather neat,
life would not the same without such things
imagine a world without green worms
where no flowers bloom or birds sing
could you come to those terms
in a silent colourless world
without even any ham to eat
nothing to get your teeth into
as there'd be no other meat.
The world will always have the need
for more green worms and ham
to make the natural world go round
plus give us things like spam.

5.

Horses for competition courses


And they are off,
The Positively Dark horse first out of the gate,
with just behind by a length
Earth Child singing into second place
and Ahavati the proverbial third
that is slightly slower but by no means unsure,
PoetsRevenge going strong down the lane
in fifth its no fool, Amorous_tryst
in this damn derby in sixth is Tallen,
the Cloventongue89 just leaving square one
thanks to a cloven hoof,
eighth is Jade-Pandora flying along like a paper bag
a strange one takes up position nine:
known only as number 24601
speeding along, if it was a tree you'd yell timber,
from Rockhollow hails ImperfectedStone,
eleven with more than just feelings is JusTim_,
goodbye to the start line says number twelve; Sky_dancer,
Hepcat61 makes for a hopeful inception in this race,
as we segue into fourteenth position
with FromTheAsh,
strutting in splendour is Summerrain75 in fifteenth,
storming into sixteenth is DaisyGrace,
Yelluw_always just passing lakeside point now,
adamantly galloping on at a blaze is JohnnyBlaze,
Heaven_sent_Kathy becoming settled into nineteenth spot,
slipping into the twenty slot is Josh,
with Misfitpoet89 asking please for next place,
rather Southern from the pack is CSD1558,
Wallyroo92 making for a super flight as the twenty third,
having strong words with the track edge
while foaming at the mouth is the Lord,
with all feet simultaneous flying in the air
is SatInUGal as twenty fifth,
with a full plate if it wants to finish is Gahddess_Worship,
and way back by the water is ImperfectedStone
last but by no means least,
each one a fine steed out to finish
already on the fifth furlong of the race
but remember folks it is a marathon not a sprint
as it is not who finishes first
but whether they even finish,
so good luck to them all and be sure to cheer on your favourite,
betting is still open if interested
even though the competitors have already bolted,
keep glued to see if any can stick to it
or if any come unstuck during the long race.

6.

A length of worms


What can a worm do
when it wants to ride the Tilt-A-Whirl
but is too short to ride?
Well, an average earthworm is about
three hundred and sixty millimetres
yet that is far from five feet tall
but fortunately is a fifth of the way there
and an inchworm is surprisingly enough
a mighty inch tall making it one and a quarter feet
with just two worms so far,
add in a flatworm at about half in inch
plus an arrow worm for another 60 millimetres
yet that is only a third for the trying tally,
though should a bristle worm
not be busy and in the area
their immense one metre length
sees the worms wriggling ever closer
although still slightly shy
of the required extent
and adding in microscopic worms
could get close
but the other worms
may well be ex-worms by then,
thankfully the African giant earthworm
has more than enough great girth
to smash any height required
as they can be about twenty two feet
yet they can be beat:
by the marine nemertean worm
who wallops in at one hundred and ninety feet;
now that is quite a feat indeed!
So should the humble earthworm
have a hankering and hunger
to use the carnival slide or any other ride
then even the sternest attraction steward
will be hard pressed to not concede
to the lengthy creatures
who help a worm in need
using their increased length
to give other worms a stretch,
however such lengths can be achieved
with enough worms
who although but earthworms
are numerous enough in the great earth
to go to great lengths
in order to overcome
any obstacle or requirement
when they put their heads together
becoming greater than the sum of their parts,
even if admittedly those parts
are little more than little worms.
This just goes to show what can be achieved
when individual worms work together
in joint venture for a common cause.
though perhaps it would be easier
to simply make such beguiling attractions smaller
rather than pile worms upon worms
only to tilt and whirl the wrigglers
until fearsome unforgiving physics
seems them scattered
through the air without care
to land unceremoniously inevitably
making them true earthworms!

7.

Childhood Treasures


In a play pit
there is a great hubbub
and ado
where only Tonka toys
are rough and tough enough
for digging buried treasure
seeing what lies forgotten
swallowed by the sand
lost to time and memory;
Encrusted Furbies
sit as slanted sentinels
their unblinking eyes looking east,
varied in colours and styles
their large impassive heads
stare on, their bodies submerged,
of what wonders
could those beaks speak?
Forsaken army men
stand in serried ranks
awaiting the call back to battle
with every weapon
a budding commander will need,
they will stand the test of time
for theirs is the long war.
Embedded near the very base
lie the Tamagotchis
they slumber still
entombed into eternity
until excavation disturbs them
when hands grasp their casing
shaking up their sleep.
Elsewhere Pokémon cards
peek out from the sand
they provide pictures
of a past artistic style,
grit and dust making them incomplete
little more than mosaics now.
Crazy bones litter the scene
always found in groups
but frustratingly always incomplete sets
these collected remnants
a poor disjointed insight
into their previous owner,
their importance only surmised
though their use is intuitive.
The most amazing and lucky digs
uncover Lego minifigures
buried with all their accessories
and assorted paraphernalia
clearly showing their identity
too often the prized possessions
are just out of reach
yet always with them.
Stuck in the dunes
with worn wheels
Matchbox vehicles sit idle
archaic conveyances
but still capable of movement.
Hidden in plain sight
the Transformers await
only those cunning and clever enough,
to open them up
to discover the secrets hidden inside
while the majority
merely peruse the outside
and admire
the technological marvels of the past
with a faint idea of their purpose
while the relentless researcher
works to discover
more than meets the eye.

11.

Hook Line and Sinker


It was raining,
it always rained when I went out,
the bear seemed to know my name and number
and always tipped the clouds to bump off the Sun
whenever I stepped out once again.
Except this time may be my last
because I was going to pay her a visit,
the Mistress,
and once you set foot in her home
the only way you got out again
was lying down in a free box for your troubles.
Somewhere elsewhere behind the screens
someone is probably enjoying a hot cup of coffee
While I'm out here in the rain
still getting soaked despite my long coat;
boy, had the bear tipped extra hard today.
I thought back to what meant I was walking to my death;
some dame,
she never said her name
only flashed her pretty eyes and an incentive
enough to make me doing anything,
absolutely anything;
she had me hook line and sinker
all because of that damn worm;
it knew things about me I wanted no one else to ever know
it had even helped me out of a fix once or twice
so I guess I owed it;
enough to walk myself straight into the lion's den.
See down here was the underground
there was still light and laughter
but not the usual sort, still the type I would call home
it suited me just fine.
The mistress's place shone clearly like it was neon
if I was lucky and quick
I'd still leave upright and alive;
a brief exchange of words followed by a list for the worm
just more words and letters on a page
but I still some ammo up my sleeve if needs be
though if it came to that,
we'd all end up six feet underground with the worms
and not in a good way.
I should have seen the double cross coming
but then I always had a soft spot for a nice pair of eyes and a smile
that list was my death warrant;
just a bunch of names,
the big names
who to rub out to get ahead in the competition
stupid of me to only read it while handing it over;
extra stupid of me to not recognise the worm's script
their mark crawling all over the damn page
just enough time to see that dame laughing
before the gut shot
sends me reeling back out into the rain
to either die in the drink
or drink myself to death in sorrow,
just another day underground.

Compost & Castings

In this zany and often quirky underground universe
Spillers of ink continue to compost syllables deep
below the Forest Trees.

One might think a great pile up and stoppage
would occur as the writers are many and the One
is  one.  
Dug, however, is an extraordinary worm.
His prolific castings created from composted spills
are known far and wide throughout the realm of
the Deep underground and Gaia’s Forests above.

In fact, without Dug,
there might not be an underground
might not have the Trees who rely on Dug’s
castings for sustenance.
It’s easy to see how Poets and Writers,
of all manner of ink. . .themes spill and feed
off one another.
With Dug diligently working to maintain
this symbiotic eco-system.

Join us at the next picnic
no one leaves hungry.
------------------------------------------------------
Prompt Number 14 in the
2019 NaPo Prompt Comp

15.

Bait and Switch


Caught and netted while out at sea
hauled overboard amidst sea spray under azure sky
amongst other grubs and seabed dregs
bundled, bagged,
from one jostled cramped net to another crowded bag
destination unknown
while the background sea calls home,
bumped and banged hither and thither in transport
whether by waves or wheels it could not be known
tipped unceremoniously into a new container
though actually old judging by the rust,
sloping metal walls sending inevitably downwards
there to stay,
trapped,
pressed against glass
for all the world to see and
all the world to see while imprisoned
advertised bait advertising death;
foul fate to be naught but fish food
just another lure in a long line
pursuing an ever larger catch
all in the name of contest and cash;
set to be a soul sold in slavery
where owners and buyers
uncaring and indifferent
to the small miracles of life before them,
the machine one of torture
with the sight of the sea
so close yet so very far away
resigned to die for an unknown cause,
a shadow forms and envelopes over
heralding the path to change
fingers fumble for coins:
clink, clank
turn the knob,
have your bucket ready
and out pours bait
who can but wriggle in confinement
as worms and maggots are wont to writhe
perhaps their last fleeting free movement
before hook line and sinker,
sun's brightness obscures the carrier
little can be gleaned
apart from their loping gait
the sound of the seashore
and seagull squawks far but not far enough away,
sudden thump down onto wood
not even a short walk to punctuate the end,
before abruptly airborne again
suddenly tipping
welcome water rushes in whilst bait streams out once again into the sea.
Somewhere a child looks on blankly proud
before an adult chastises their thoughtless waste
meanwhile worms emit thanks
and something great smiles favourably.

22/30 A Garden Pet

One day I was in Nana’s and Grandpa’s yard
in the early morning after spending the night
at their house and the flowers were waking up.

I looked beneath them and saw a tiny green
worm moving along, clambering over the bark
mulch and inching towards me.  

I got down to ground level and put my ear close
to the ground and heard something like, ‘Someday,
you will write about all this and lots of people
will read it’, and I whispered in reply, ‘Someday
you will become a butterfly’, and heard,
‘So will you'.  

I went inside to have breakfast.
I didn't tell Nana and Grandpa about the worm.

              110  words,  80 unique

26.

War of the Wrigglers


Hark and hear the absurd proclamation of a terrible tyrant
the Lord of Slugs
who with envious eyes has declared all of Deep Underground
are to be his dominion,
another diamond to add to his under empire
where the enslaved will toil to harvest soil
so that all becomes base and broken
and as impotent as he is,
the virility around offends his sight
and must be brought to heel
in order to satisfy his tyrannical demands
for this so called lord
is naught but a greedy parasite
who feeds upon the labours of others
plagiarising their efforts to then call his own.
Yet this land shall not fall without any fight
and a great army of poets are amassed
in multitudes stretching beyond sight
assembled in serried ranks
bonded together by the love of words,
with the brave Sir Dug there to lead them.
By their skill they seek to repulse the invader
a bulwark of civilisation
determined to push back and crush
those that would exploit and enslave,
for theirs is the kingdom unimpaired
free to pursue their language ends
without owing a tribute to a tyrant that is incapable of speech.
Valiant Sir Dug met the Lord of Slugs in single combat
whilst around them whirled the melee
where poets clashed against trolls and parasites,
the Lord unleashed a torrent to drown the upstart Worm
a veritable wall of text conjured without craft
to destroy and deafen all who stood before it,
yet Sir Dug stood resolute for nothing could shake him
or break him or make him bow
for so embedded into the very earth he called home
the worm could not be moved by any power
nor mortal or god or by any act.
With a flick of his body brave Sir Dug
flung a holy grenade at the Lord of Slugs
the thrice sanctioned weapon
filled with the salt collected by poetic endeavours
garnered from trophy imbued winners,
melting the Lord into nothing more than memory
and with that the Slugs forces melted away
while the Underground remained victorious.

27.

Sand Seeking


Stumbling, staggering
ever onwards on endless sand
an infinite stretching sea of sand
as far as the eye can see,
sand, always sand,
a detestable desert
where wearied walks
make little footprints
in the sand,
travellers seeking a hand
upon the desiccated sand
a hand in inspiration,
dried up and dried out
of ideas
no new pieces
so no new peace
upon the hot sand,
enough to drive anyone mad,
sand, sand, as far as the eye can see;
seek and ye shall find,
sand and signs
empty lands for empty minds
empty as a bowl,
dry, so very dry
and tired
but not tired enough to stop
- to sleep upon the sand
and make sand angels
as to sleep would be final
inviting death's cold hand,
instead onwards,
more shambling and staggering
upon the accursed sand,
up one dune
and down another
sands crests like waves
rising and falling as swells
while trudging grudgingly
towards no destination
with no real direction
until inspired
to stop
and jot down
in manic frenzy
sand sent sentences
with miraculous images
born in mirages
driven to distraction
where words will flow
forgetting the sand,
but until then
stumble on
step on
shuffle on sand
until inspiration is sent
and through will
weather
whatever comes
whether it is hot or not,
as it will come when the time is right
whether that is day or night
seek and ye shall find,
as you wither
beneath
the scorching sun
staggering across the sand
sent ever onwards in the search
for divine inspiration
to sate the thirst
and satisfy
the urge
for something
something special
enough to shake the earth
with such words,
until then
it is yet more sand
and shuffling
with suffering
as sand dunes shift
making shushed susurrations
sure to test patience
sorely,
as the sand stretches on
yet more of the same
stretching the sane
with such sand,
enough sand
to fill an ocean
or seal in any sea
with innumerable grains
of the sandy stuff,
all sustained
in order to gain some thought
and be inspired by the blank canvas
to create something, anything on the sand
and so end the shuffling marathon
before no more could be stood
of the constant sand,
with a head full of ideas
far from the land of sand
the sand having stirred something
and it thus emerges
having endured
the stumbling
and shuffling
on the sea of sand
the endless sand in sight.

29/30

Les & Dug... and Mary Ford🎸
( Prompt #16 )

There was always the player
of songs in his head, the worm
who had crawled out from
under the dead, of a concert
gone ballistic back in the States.

He’d passed out to a riff, a
duet to a banana clip,
in a pool of a Cuervo dream
that screamed in its stupor
as the worm tossed & writhed;
was baptized, down for the count.

But then, he slowly came to;
it was dark and he couldn’t tell,
nor who he was, what place
was this, why was it so cold.
He groaned. He felt so old.

The world quickly split in two!
Scraping, banging, vertigo
clanking, sliding, whoa hey!
Somebody yy yy yy ow ow ow!
The muffle of a rev’d up motor.

Dug was still in the dark, while
he felt on a ‘helter-skelter’ ride,
his insides shaken up, and
couldn’t recall when he last ate!
Till at last he felt he had arrived
Wherever that was; he was alive!

He was being rattled about,
as people shouted, banging stuff
everything was getting too rough!

And then, Hey Ben, lose my picks?
I can’t remember where they are!

“Look in the case with your guitar!”

You mean my Les Paul? “Ya, that one!”

The sound of latches opening
caused Dug to scamper, wriggling
behind a baffle, trail of ink,
Was dazed by the cacophony.
It was a band he’d hitched a ride
When he’d passed out in the guitar!

The worm held on for his dear life
as members of the band ran on
into an auditorium;
Dug heard someone tune up a drum.

A lot of scuffled steps were heard.
He hunkered down, the plunks & plinks,
as the guitar was being tuned.
The worm would squint, he couldn’t think.

The curtains of the stage would part,
the audience stood up and cheered.
Poor Dug may never hear again,
He hasn’t thumbs to plug his ears!

But one thing told him where he was
While hearing the guitarist sing
the lyrics to their songs in French;
They were in Paris for a gig!

Then four hours later they left,
took Dug with them in the guitar.
Hopped aboard a private Lear jet,
treated Dug just like a rockstar!

And suddenly Dug realized —
I’m a snail? A slug? No, a worm!
It could’ve been hours or days
since after he’d slumped overboard,
while roaming deep into a dream.
He’d swear off of dark rum for life,
For now he was headed for home!

And as the sleek aircraft approached
to Heathrow, Dug only could hear
through the fuselage, Mary Ford
singing in 4-part harmony:

”Somewhere there's music
How faint the tune
Somewhere there's heaven
How high the moon
There is no moon above
When love is far away too
Till it comes true
That you love me as I love you
Somewhere there's music
How near, how far
Somewhere there's heaven
It's where you are
The darkest night would shine
If you would come to me soon
Until you will, how still my heart
How high the moon”



265 unique words (sans the song lyrics)

Prompt # 16, for the 2019 NaPo Prompt Comp

#NaPoWriMo2019
NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019