Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo Competition
Amorous_tryst
Forum Posts: 945
Dangerous Mind
16
Joined 12th June 2017Forum Posts: 945
April's Fool
12/30
It's Just My Preference
1..The invasion began once more in the same way it has each year,
2..THIS PIECE WAS GENERATED IN MUCH THE SAME FASHION.
1..in the Spring after the snow and cold retreats in the unrelenting
2..TIME SLIPPING AWAY AS THE DAY GROWS LONG HEADED INTO DARK,
1..onslaught of sunshine striking this rock as it shifts on its axis
2..HOURS REDUCED TO MINUTES AS THE CLOCK HANDS MARCH ONWARD.
1..First noticed was the foraging along counters, in search of needed sustenance
2..I OBSERVE THE EVERYDAY WITHIN MY SURROUDINGS HOPEFUL OF UNCOVERING
1..not found elsewhere during days yet to provide their daily quota of nourishment outside
2..A HINT, WORD, OR THOUGHT WHICH MAY LEAD TO AN IDEA.
1..They have no prearranged destination, only scrounging the area within their environment.
2..NOTHING IS PLANNED, NO LAYED OUT ROUTE TO FOLLOW, WINGING EACH DAY,
1..hopeful of something to carry back to their kin.
2..SPUR OF THE MOMENT UNTIL' IT' IS DISCOVERED, AND FLOWS FROM PEN TO PAGE
2..AS I WRITE THIS I AM REMINDED WE ARE NOT SO DIFFERENT FROM OTHER CREATURES
ON THIS PLANT EVEN PLANTS, INSECTS AND THE SMALLEST OF LIFEFORMS.
THE REALLY DIFFERENCE THE ONE THAT MOST MATTERS IS WE WERE GIVEN THE ABILITY TO KNOW BETTER, AND I TRULY, TRULY WISH WE WOULD USE THAT GIFT.
215 words, 151 unique
12/30
It's Just My Preference
1..The invasion began once more in the same way it has each year,
2..THIS PIECE WAS GENERATED IN MUCH THE SAME FASHION.
1..in the Spring after the snow and cold retreats in the unrelenting
2..TIME SLIPPING AWAY AS THE DAY GROWS LONG HEADED INTO DARK,
1..onslaught of sunshine striking this rock as it shifts on its axis
2..HOURS REDUCED TO MINUTES AS THE CLOCK HANDS MARCH ONWARD.
1..First noticed was the foraging along counters, in search of needed sustenance
2..I OBSERVE THE EVERYDAY WITHIN MY SURROUDINGS HOPEFUL OF UNCOVERING
1..not found elsewhere during days yet to provide their daily quota of nourishment outside
2..A HINT, WORD, OR THOUGHT WHICH MAY LEAD TO AN IDEA.
1..They have no prearranged destination, only scrounging the area within their environment.
2..NOTHING IS PLANNED, NO LAYED OUT ROUTE TO FOLLOW, WINGING EACH DAY,
1..hopeful of something to carry back to their kin.
2..SPUR OF THE MOMENT UNTIL' IT' IS DISCOVERED, AND FLOWS FROM PEN TO PAGE
2..AS I WRITE THIS I AM REMINDED WE ARE NOT SO DIFFERENT FROM OTHER CREATURES
ON THIS PLANT EVEN PLANTS, INSECTS AND THE SMALLEST OF LIFEFORMS.
THE REALLY DIFFERENCE THE ONE THAT MOST MATTERS IS WE WERE GIVEN THE ABILITY TO KNOW BETTER, AND I TRULY, TRULY WISH WE WOULD USE THAT GIFT.
215 words, 151 unique
Misfitpoet89
Forum Posts: 151
Twisted Dreamer
4
Joined 25th Mar 2018Forum Posts: 151
12/30
Lost Thinker
What am I even doing here
In this existence, with these words
Am I to shout it out maybe whisper
Just hoping to be heard
To share experience with the masses
To tell of places I have been
Help them see things I have seen
Oh but where do I begin
It seems to me my life’s a bore
And while I can’t complain
It seems too common and mediocre
Just to say I enjoy the rain
Or that I like to write when the mood strikes
Though my coworkers couldn’t care less
I raise my glass to an empty room
Not caring for when I put out my best
Attempts are futile to glean some interest
I find others too self absorbed
They forget to listen to others
Not bothered by their own record
I try to walk the paths of others
But all I do is end up lost
Becoming my moniker if lost thinker
To lose myself too high a cost
4/12/19
Unique words: 113
Lost Thinker
What am I even doing here
In this existence, with these words
Am I to shout it out maybe whisper
Just hoping to be heard
To share experience with the masses
To tell of places I have been
Help them see things I have seen
Oh but where do I begin
It seems to me my life’s a bore
And while I can’t complain
It seems too common and mediocre
Just to say I enjoy the rain
Or that I like to write when the mood strikes
Though my coworkers couldn’t care less
I raise my glass to an empty room
Not caring for when I put out my best
Attempts are futile to glean some interest
I find others too self absorbed
They forget to listen to others
Not bothered by their own record
I try to walk the paths of others
But all I do is end up lost
Becoming my moniker if lost thinker
To lose myself too high a cost
4/12/19
Unique words: 113
ImperfectedStone
The Gardener
Forum Posts: 1347
The Gardener
Tyrant of Words
28
Joined 10th Oct 2010Forum Posts: 1347
Title: Driving from site
Thirteen of Thirty
Unique Words: Eighty Five
#NaPoWriMo19
In the darkness,
where moon cannot cut through
a perpetually overcast sky,
I drive
across a red night
beneath extended tunnels,
lights of varying buzzing hue,
to land practically plate compacted
compared to our grey mountains of home.
I relinquish control of our vegetable plot,
coffee ground top ups,
dead-heading of tulips,
weeding,
tadpole care,
litter picking -
I don't despair as I know they're safe with you.
I can admit - driving six hours with your
precious daughter
on three days little sleep
due to a youthful cough
does feel like a heavy responsibility.
Music helps shorten time, mainly scout songs,
and BBC Radio 4.
Thetravelingfairy
Forum Posts: 252
Fire of Insight
14
Joined 12th July 2017 Forum Posts: 252
12/30
Bird of the Night
And there I saw
Through dust and fog
A silhouette
A shadow
Ever changing in the atmosphere
With weathered talons
She lifted my cage
Rebuilt my broken nest
Her feathers fall
Like dirty ash
Her song follows me home
Until morning breaks
And all is gone
I sit atop a juniper
On a beaten branch
Waiting for her return
My bird of the night
Unique Words: 53
Bird of the Night
And there I saw
Through dust and fog
A silhouette
A shadow
Ever changing in the atmosphere
With weathered talons
She lifted my cage
Rebuilt my broken nest
Her feathers fall
Like dirty ash
Her song follows me home
Until morning breaks
And all is gone
I sit atop a juniper
On a beaten branch
Waiting for her return
My bird of the night
Unique Words: 53
yelluw_always
Haley Quaquaversal
Forum Posts: 141
Haley Quaquaversal
Fire of Insight
5
Joined 24th Dec 2018Forum Posts: 141
Lakeside 12/30
People come to our shores,
steal glances, whisper back and forth
or maybe they’re dog-whistling
through the steel tubes of their lips.
I wash upon the world
in hyperbole and they exclaim
so beautiful, can you teach me
how to wave like you do.
I wash upon the world
typecast as a panorama
of dancing hands. Obvious
as nature. My expressions unclothed.
People come to our shores
from their city of ears
and say how pastoral and
quaint are their song of pictures.
I wash upon the world, babbling
about a rash of bees disconnected
by roads, turtle heads replacing
the bottles in plastic nooses.
People take home the dirt
on their shoes and wipe
them, automatic maneuvers
before they lock us behind their houses.
87 unique words of 125
People come to our shores,
steal glances, whisper back and forth
or maybe they’re dog-whistling
through the steel tubes of their lips.
I wash upon the world
in hyperbole and they exclaim
so beautiful, can you teach me
how to wave like you do.
I wash upon the world
typecast as a panorama
of dancing hands. Obvious
as nature. My expressions unclothed.
People come to our shores
from their city of ears
and say how pastoral and
quaint are their song of pictures.
I wash upon the world, babbling
about a rash of bees disconnected
by roads, turtle heads replacing
the bottles in plastic nooses.
People take home the dirt
on their shoes and wipe
them, automatic maneuvers
before they lock us behind their houses.
87 unique words of 125
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Josh
Joshua Bond
Forum Posts: 1686
Joshua Bond
Tyrant of Words
40
Joined 2nd Feb 2017Forum Posts: 1686
NaPoWriMo 2019 - April 13th - No:13 of 30
LATE STARTERS
Many years with a rising panic
over Mary Oliver’s question
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
through a mixture of grace and perseverance
was led eventually to the point
“One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began …”
Late-starters have an advantage
for in your sixties the ridge-line between
decline and vitality narrows towards
its ultimate vanishing-point
as we are challenged to make more delicate choices.
I sit with the grand-children and am thrown
back to ’82 when my first child was born
and experience once again
that non-negotiable gut-feeling of “I would die for them”
spurred on by the words
of some even more ancient sage:
‘Choose Life’.
(94 words. 79 unique words)
(Word-count does not include the two quotes from Mary Oliver’s poems ‘The Summer Day’ and ‘The Journey’)
LATE STARTERS
Many years with a rising panic
over Mary Oliver’s question
“Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?”
through a mixture of grace and perseverance
was led eventually to the point
“One day you finally knew
what you had to do, and began …”
Late-starters have an advantage
for in your sixties the ridge-line between
decline and vitality narrows towards
its ultimate vanishing-point
as we are challenged to make more delicate choices.
I sit with the grand-children and am thrown
back to ’82 when my first child was born
and experience once again
that non-negotiable gut-feeling of “I would die for them”
spurred on by the words
of some even more ancient sage:
‘Choose Life’.
(94 words. 79 unique words)
(Word-count does not include the two quotes from Mary Oliver’s poems ‘The Summer Day’ and ‘The Journey’)
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Forum Posts: 5134
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
154
Joined 9th Nov 2015 Forum Posts: 5134
13/30
Olvera de Los Angeles
The maracas! They shout, they laugh, they sing!
The seeds inside a gourd of red & green.
Sí, mira, in my hands, they smile at you,
Oh! You must take them, hold them & shake them!
As you start to dance you’ll feel such a joy,
In your beads and chamula sandals, huy!
To the beat of your heart, Señorita,
Like the deep throbbing notes, the marimba!
Mariachis, with their guitars strumming!
Be Marie in a black velvet painting,
Where your love from the bullring is waiting,
For the sweet taste of life everlasting!
Notes:
•Chamulas = high strung huaraches
•Huaraches = leather sandals
•”Sí, mira” = Yes, look
•Marimba = percussion instrument
•Mariachis = a style of music & musical group performance (western Mexico)
•Olvera Street = a historic monument in the oldest part of Los Angeles.
unique words: 74
#NaPoWriMo2019
NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019
JusTim_
Forum Posts: 171
Tyrant of Words
26
Joined 22nd Jan 2017Forum Posts: 171
13/30
We Died
The winds howled
time was pushing down the door
the rains came
drenching the barren earth
I watched, but couldn't move
there was no end in sight
the birds stop singing
and the rivers rapidly rose
the sand once plentiful
now washed away
trees that used to mightily stand
topple over with ease
there was nothing holding their place
life as we knew it seem to erase
tears fell from my eye
more in abundance than the sky
the world stopped spinning
and we died
We Died
The winds howled
time was pushing down the door
the rains came
drenching the barren earth
I watched, but couldn't move
there was no end in sight
the birds stop singing
and the rivers rapidly rose
the sand once plentiful
now washed away
trees that used to mightily stand
topple over with ease
there was nothing holding their place
life as we knew it seem to erase
tears fell from my eye
more in abundance than the sky
the world stopped spinning
and we died
Anonymous
13 of 30
plan b in play
we had a tiff this morning
when I expectantly came to her
pen in hand
and she gave me her back
I begged & she denied
said she wasn't in the mood
I panicked
I must confess
and selfishly commanded
but still she stubbornly refused
on the edge of tears
I asked her why
and this is what she said
sometimes
I just need a little silence
no conversation
no questions & answers
a bit of quiet time
alone
with my own thoughts
devoid of any external demands
peace & serenity
a pocket tailored for only me
you're an introvert
I thought you would understand
I was ashamed
and quietly tiptoed away
so this is the best you'll get
from my ragged ink today
the muse is taking a break
and she well deserves it
as I ask a lot of her
to be honest
we're sharing a moment of sorrow
we'll see how she feels tomorrow
but today's offering
is entirely on me
plan b in play
we had a tiff this morning
when I expectantly came to her
pen in hand
and she gave me her back
I begged & she denied
said she wasn't in the mood
I panicked
I must confess
and selfishly commanded
but still she stubbornly refused
on the edge of tears
I asked her why
and this is what she said
sometimes
I just need a little silence
no conversation
no questions & answers
a bit of quiet time
alone
with my own thoughts
devoid of any external demands
peace & serenity
a pocket tailored for only me
you're an introvert
I thought you would understand
I was ashamed
and quietly tiptoed away
so this is the best you'll get
from my ragged ink today
the muse is taking a break
and she well deserves it
as I ask a lot of her
to be honest
we're sharing a moment of sorrow
we'll see how she feels tomorrow
but today's offering
is entirely on me
Ahavati
Forum Posts: 14263
Tyrant of Words
116
Joined 11th Apr 2015Forum Posts: 14263
Good morning, Team NaPo'19! We're almost halfway to the Fountain of Inspiration discovered by Poems de Leon!
The Grub Luka Mukas excitedly danced on the shore, waving their spears in celebratory send off as we rowed back to our vessel, the Napowrimo. They were especially ecstatic over the trunk full of rum we left behind in return for such splendid hospitality.
And we were thrilled for a compass gifted to us, which once belonged to a lone slug sailor they boiled up in a root stew.
Apparently the Grub Muka Lukas were cannibals; we were fortunate enough to encounter them during a week of fasting!
The sky was pristine blue and we were almost midway through our journey. Crew was in good spirits, despite CSD1558 on a gurney and TPD still rowing to catch up.
Soon we would be imbibing refreshing waters from cups dipped in the Fountain of Inspiration - to which we would be blessed with all manner of wonderful ideas needed for finishing out the month of April! Perhaps even brilliantly formed experimental quaterns such as Josh's recent "Far-Right Populist Leaders".
Soon we would be imbibing refreshing waters from cups dipped in the Fountain of Inspiration - to which we would be blessed with all manner of wonderful ideas needed for finishing out the month of April!
That is, of course, if we don't run into any more obstacles - like those
odd tentacle-ish things coming out of the water up ahead ......
Team Members, thank you for your reports - they have all been addressed.
* If you have already submitted your Thirteenth offering, it will be reflected on tomorrow's update.
Remember, if we already haven't, we are in the process of transforming one of your shorter entries into designs for proud flag flying across our website and social networking platforms. If you haven't heard from us we're getting to you asap! You can view the designs that have been uploaded here:
http://poeticmedics.com/ Also on DUP's facebook. instagram, and twitter, so be on the lookout for your flag flying the mast!
Happy Poeting, Team Napo'19!
Legend:
✓ = 1 Week
thepositivelydark
Forum Posts: 134
Fire of Insight
4
Joined 28th Aug 2013Forum Posts: 134
Note: double posting due to illness
10/30
until the morning light
Back home beaten,
Grazed knees bruised
Wondering about prayer
And the layers of faith and believing.
For a moment,
He had me wishing,
For a moment,
He had me stuck still
In the silence of midnight conversations -
In the light of the comfort of
Beeing seen and heard.
Tears,
Let it all go.
Lost chances in between the hurt.
Years,
They will pass again.
Back to him being stranger
Than the strangeness of
The night we met.
Let this heart thump these last beats for him,
Before he pulls it out himself.
He told me, he showed me,
That he
He could be the type to crush it and eat it -
And make me wish it,
Ruthless mercy,
Insane love.
There must be another, her
Waiting somewhere -
I cannot break,
Cannot break at all.
And dreams and fantasies
Are nice in a haze of lust,
And blood,
And fire -
But they will not keep me
Until the morning light.
11/30
dally
A breath so deep -
Crushed in the rush of his hands on me,
Bare and breathless.
He caught me in his trap and I never
Want to escape.
Tight rope wrapped around my wrists.
His fingers wrapped
Around my throat -
Take me away,
Make me.
Push and pull me to the brink and back
And make me fear it.
Tear me apart, turn me inside out,
Make me fear it.
With
Each hit and every
Soothing touch I
Fall apart into small deaths.
You bring me back to life every time.
Morning - bruises
Throats sore from growls and screams
And squeals
And other things,
We'll only whisper at night - I
Fall for it one more time.
When you pin me to the wall,
Will you stay with me forever -
When you wreck me for them all -
Will you keep me forever?
When I scratch your back,
As you fly me beyond and back to earth -
After the gasps, and pain
Searing skin -
Sin.
Will you,
Will you,
Promise to never regret me?
Bite -
And never-ever forget me?
10/30
until the morning light
Back home beaten,
Grazed knees bruised
Wondering about prayer
And the layers of faith and believing.
For a moment,
He had me wishing,
For a moment,
He had me stuck still
In the silence of midnight conversations -
In the light of the comfort of
Beeing seen and heard.
Tears,
Let it all go.
Lost chances in between the hurt.
Years,
They will pass again.
Back to him being stranger
Than the strangeness of
The night we met.
Let this heart thump these last beats for him,
Before he pulls it out himself.
He told me, he showed me,
That he
He could be the type to crush it and eat it -
And make me wish it,
Ruthless mercy,
Insane love.
There must be another, her
Waiting somewhere -
I cannot break,
Cannot break at all.
And dreams and fantasies
Are nice in a haze of lust,
And blood,
And fire -
But they will not keep me
Until the morning light.
11/30
dally
A breath so deep -
Crushed in the rush of his hands on me,
Bare and breathless.
He caught me in his trap and I never
Want to escape.
Tight rope wrapped around my wrists.
His fingers wrapped
Around my throat -
Take me away,
Make me.
Push and pull me to the brink and back
And make me fear it.
Tear me apart, turn me inside out,
Make me fear it.
With
Each hit and every
Soothing touch I
Fall apart into small deaths.
You bring me back to life every time.
Morning - bruises
Throats sore from growls and screams
And squeals
And other things,
We'll only whisper at night - I
Fall for it one more time.
When you pin me to the wall,
Will you stay with me forever -
When you wreck me for them all -
Will you keep me forever?
When I scratch your back,
As you fly me beyond and back to earth -
After the gasps, and pain
Searing skin -
Sin.
Will you,
Will you,
Promise to never regret me?
Bite -
And never-ever forget me?
Anonymous
<< post removed >>
Hepcat61
geoff cat
Forum Posts: 1028
geoff cat
Dangerous Mind
33
Joined 27th Nov 2015Forum Posts: 1028
13/30
“Love, Love will Tear Us Apart…” – Cycle Five: Day Thirteen
How love like sepsis taints the blood,
In green cast light and wicked smiles.
Pursuit through nights of tangled lines,
The straight, the hope, transforms the way.
My long hours' waste, my lost nights spent,
So close I hear those fangs extend.
I sense the pierce and hear the glut
As rabid want distends to run.
So drunken, wrapped in sober tweed,
The thrift-store black and charcoal grey,
That wraps us both against the cold
Of love that shaped in hungry frost.
Like dance-beat Goethe’s sorrows sung,
Like ancient dogs are to put rest,
Like too much time and space resist,
Like phone calls seem to end in death.
The Jack, the pills in midnight black,
A sought escape would take me home,
But still the morning found me here,
My soul too strong to just let go.
But still the Left Coast beckons on,
Like fingers curl on K(C)ali’s hands.
My heart and cock cry out for her,
Like Joy Division’s killing song.
Unique Words: 121
#NaPoWriMo2019
NaPoGloPoWriMo2019
“Love, Love will Tear Us Apart…” – Cycle Five: Day Thirteen
How love like sepsis taints the blood,
In green cast light and wicked smiles.
Pursuit through nights of tangled lines,
The straight, the hope, transforms the way.
My long hours' waste, my lost nights spent,
So close I hear those fangs extend.
I sense the pierce and hear the glut
As rabid want distends to run.
So drunken, wrapped in sober tweed,
The thrift-store black and charcoal grey,
That wraps us both against the cold
Of love that shaped in hungry frost.
Like dance-beat Goethe’s sorrows sung,
Like ancient dogs are to put rest,
Like too much time and space resist,
Like phone calls seem to end in death.
The Jack, the pills in midnight black,
A sought escape would take me home,
But still the morning found me here,
My soul too strong to just let go.
But still the Left Coast beckons on,
Like fingers curl on K(C)ali’s hands.
My heart and cock cry out for her,
Like Joy Division’s killing song.
Unique Words: 121
#NaPoWriMo2019
NaPoGloPoWriMo2019
DaisyGrace
Forum Posts: 1337
Dangerous Mind
17
Joined 29th Mar 2017Forum Posts: 1337
13/30
Teetering
The dark hours of morning
will find me stirring
sugar and milk into scalding tea.
And I will find little boys
tucked, untidily into warm beds.
Sleep slackened faces sweet
with dreams and obsessed on wishes.
The littlest, nesting under
piles of pillows and favorite blankets
will snore his delightful snore
into the mattress under his cheek,
unaware of my awestruck hand
tucking his hair behind his ear.
The biggest, cocooned in one
fuzzy blanket, swimming in toys
he refused to put anywhere
but with him,
rests his golden head in the
crook of his arm and smiles a silent
smile as I breathe blessings
into the too somber air.
Torn between waking you both
to lighten my mood and keeping
you young and asleep,
I go back to my tea,
teetering between panic
and joy.
Teetering
The dark hours of morning
will find me stirring
sugar and milk into scalding tea.
And I will find little boys
tucked, untidily into warm beds.
Sleep slackened faces sweet
with dreams and obsessed on wishes.
The littlest, nesting under
piles of pillows and favorite blankets
will snore his delightful snore
into the mattress under his cheek,
unaware of my awestruck hand
tucking his hair behind his ear.
The biggest, cocooned in one
fuzzy blanket, swimming in toys
he refused to put anywhere
but with him,
rests his golden head in the
crook of his arm and smiles a silent
smile as I breathe blessings
into the too somber air.
Torn between waking you both
to lighten my mood and keeping
you young and asleep,
I go back to my tea,
teetering between panic
and joy.