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Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo Competition

poet
JusTim_
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 22nd Jan 2017
Forum Posts: 112

18/30

Enlightenment


There's a playful chirp
outside my window
and today
I don't want to shoot her dead

I've said my peace
there's enlightenment in my head

the sun she brings her smile
warming up a chilly day
she's been gone for awhile
but I know now she's here to stay

the coffee is hot like my memory
as I swirl you around inside
each sip a kiss of happiness
from the times we laughed and cried

so sweet, for not the innocent
guilty, but still we ride
to dream a dream of wonderment
one life, two souls collide

poet
FromTheAsh
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 20th Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 382

18 0f 30

acrophobia


there are times
I will admit
I would perhaps prefer restraint
just a bit
moderation in emotion
everything level
flight steady
minimal turbulence
because itís unnerving
when unexpectedly found soaring
my tummy occasionally tumbles
suddenly remembering
the higher I fly
the more jarring the fall
as wings take a beating
and I plummet
soÖyes
the coward in me sometimes wishes
I had never left the ground
but thatís not who I am
itís all or nothing
if I love
itís all in
thatís just how it is
and no fear of heights
will ever keep me down

poet
Hepcat61
geoff cat
Dangerous Mind
United States
29awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 27th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 981

18/30

A Mutantís Pilgrimage: Day Eighteen

(pantoum)
You do not want to take this heart from me,
You think you know the nature of its need.
This heart is black as Satanís revelry,
An open sewerís gape, a rancid screed.

You think you know the nature of its need,
This mutant smiling back with lapis eyes.
An open sewerís gape, a rancid screed,
Would not begin to shape what they disguise.

This mutant smiling back with lapis eyes,
Its need to splay your open everything,
Would not begin to shape what they disguise,
A lust, your body and your soul unstring.

Its need to splay your open everything,
To drink in every feel and want you crave,
A lust, your body and your soul unstring,
Consume, to leave you like an open grave.

To drink in every feel and want you crave,
This heart as black as Satanís revelry,
Consume, to leave you like an open grave,
You do not want to take this heart from me.

Unique Words: 66

#NaPoWriMo2019

NaPoGloPoWriMo2019



poet
Heaven_sent_Kathy
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 1st Nov 2017
Forum Posts: 104


18/30

Twilight: Notes of an Online Journal


"Twilight"

As the sun is golden
near the twilight,
the seeds
were planted
before I was born,
and were nudging
to the surface
with each day.

I couldnít tell,
I didnít feel a thing
not even that
called Ďgrowing painsí,
when youíre
too young to know
and too
self-absorbed.

When the brain only
knows what you need
as the days
come and go,
and the sprouts start
to tickle their way
to the top.

Then one day
the rush begins,
and you find yourself
reaching & grabbing,
pigging out
with all senses ó
an insatiable appetite.

And it goes on,
for years & years
believing
youíre immortal
you take it for granted,
becomes a religion
a rite of passage,
a privilege.

But itís subtle,
a slower momentum,
sprouts that
had taken root, now
develop rot,
but you still have faith
from disbelief.

Reality, a pill
that used to taste like
candy on a tongue,
is brown
and bitter alfalfa,
like a body thatís
turning against you.

But somehow,
from the blessings
of family
and its garden,
I go back in time;
a girl racing the horizon
as the sun is golden
near the twilight.



132 unique words


#NaPoWriMo2019
NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019

poet
thepositivelydark
Fire of Insight
Philippines
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Joined 28th Aug 2013
Forum Posts: 108

11/30

over moon


The night is silent
Save for the cars and motorcycles flying past,
Save for your breathing -

I hold you closer to me.

I let you weep on my chest, in my arms,
As you fell apart in the darkness -
And I let you stay,
Kissed your head,
And sang you to slumber.

Rest, dear,
Dream.
Though I know it will not be of me.

I breathe, but cannot keep
Traitor tears from falling,
As my hand continues its path
On your back that will never be mine,
Arms that will never be mine.

The heartbeats I feel
As your body stay pressed with my body -
These, as well, will never be mine.

I stare out the open window -
Opened to soothe the cruel summer heat -
And I see my rival moon,
Bright with the faulty stars who
Decided that we are not to be.

But I hold you still,
And still, you cling to me.
As if unaware, or uncaring -
One wrong move and
You break me.
And you have
Another
Waiting when it's all over.
When the time comes
That I call,
And you will no longer answer.

I let a sob out -
I tried to let you go.



200 words, 113 unique

poet
Josh
Dangerous Mind
Portugal
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Joined 2nd Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 264

NaPoWriMo 2019 †- †April 18th †- †No:18 of 30


AN INFLUENTIAL LIFE

When death came I doubt
the fly had much time
to think about ex-
istential matters.
I brushed it away
from buzzing around
in my hair, ears, eyes
whilst concentrating
reading poetry -
an anthology
by Bloodaxe Books. I
had just got to Gunn
and notes concerning
the influence of
syllabic verse on
the freedom it gave
him as a bridge to
free verse, when the fly
buzzed one too many
times up my fine nose.
My Walkerís Rhyming
Dictionary
ended
its life. Thom Gunn died
in two-thousand and
four. The fly died some
fifteen years later.


(97 words. 78 unique words)

poet
Viddax
Lord Viddax
Guardian of Shadows
United Kingdom
21awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Oct 2009
Forum Posts: 6387

18.

A quick speech


What more words could be said,
after all has been written:
placed down for all to see
to wonder and gaze upon the majesties,
from all those that stuck with it
who saw it through
no matter what life threw at them
and overcoming each day's writer's block
to smash on through to the end,
here is to you wonderful writers,
cheers.

(Unique words: 50.)


18a.

Space, the final graveyard


The first time I saw it
I knew we would have a bittersweet relationship;
a sci-fi book about spacewrecks,
hardly my piece of choice
the morbid subject normally too dark for me
but I had a grim fascination with it
the late 70's artwork majestic and magnificent
yet disturbing with its weird warped perspective
with vibrant colours yet somehow
the definition somehow slightly off
giving it all a fever dream feel;
where the senses are assaulted
and gut instinct knows something is wrong
but cannot clearly say exactly what that is.
The rusted part skeletal remains of spacecraft
in full fold out gory glory,
the likes of which I had never seen before
accompanied by short stories
that only left more questions than answers
the forbidding lure pulling onwards
until I could take no more
and had to hide the book away on the bookshelf
there to dwell out of sight
until curiosity and recalling flashes of the horrors
meant I would open the strange volume once again
to suffer the unpleasant sensations anew;
never enough to invade my nightmares
but more disturbingly plant themselves in memory
to sprout in the future unknown
and start the creepy journey again.
Perhaps the hardcover book sits the attic
seeking to be seen,
or perhaps it went away in the great purge
gone with so many others
when the bookshelf was cleared and removed;
physically gone but its insidious taint
still remembered
brought afresh and renewed by an internet search;
a dozen pictures already enough
to put me off discovering anymore,
for now.

(Unique words: 178.)

(Unique word total: 212.)

poet
Summerrain75
Fire of Insight
Philippines
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Joined 6th Jan 2019
Forum Posts: 94

19/30


Random Thoughts


I'm posting this entry without a draft
Writing random thoughts that comes to my mind
to see where it leads
and how the flow of  thoughts
Streaming in my head would come out
I think the fifty unique word count would not be a problem if I make this long enough even without counting

Earlier tonight I felt stressed
From the chronic brown outs in this city but this time it lasted for five hours long enough to wear my patience thin

I was not able to watch my favorite tv program on primetime and the summer heat is getting worse as it affects the supply of water
For two days now, not a drop of water has come out from the faucet
No shower nor bath for me today
Fortunately I'm sleeping alone for the mean time and no one could smell my sweat

I'm whining here just like I did an hour ago
Even wishing the incumbent Mayor of the city to lose in this coming midterm election which will be held in May barely a month from now
Because she cannot solve the persistent problem on power supply

I feel so out of sorts tonight
That even the beauty of the moon did not lift my sour mood
I only took a glance at her round face but did not linger to admire her radiance

These are my ramblings for the night
My random thoughts pieced together
To make a coherent post


#NaPoWriMo2019


poet
ImperfectedStone
P M Banks
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
24awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Oct 2010
Forum Posts: 1077


Title : In all honesty
Eighteen of Thirty
Unique words: Ninety-Six

#NaPoWriMo19

I tip you one way and the other,
catch your lover, snip off their rising top
in order to continue
plumping his middle.

He jumps back as broken apart meets my basket
and I thank him for the gift that will later meet my vase.

I lower, watch you both in the glow of Spring's hosted Sun,
one by one remove anything wilted or weary,
any stem tilted or warped
to ensure your long season.

You in all your bruised purple life
and he in his bleach whites enjoy ample space together.

In a few months no one will know of your colours,
your ghost shells wafting on Summer's cautious breeze,
as bells or small child-drawn trees - simple in your delicacy
and the intensity of your colour will be replaced by the seeds of the year.

poet
SatInUGal
Kumar
Dangerous Mind
United States
14awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 31st Dec 2015
Forum Posts: 474

18/30

AN IMMACULATE MESSY PRODUCTION

He relates to both:
The golden knight
And scarred little imp,
Having inhabited
The triumphs and disasters
They present.
Who to be now?
He never knows,
Unless thereís a dragon to slay
Or pained poem to write.
One thing though
When he wakes up each morning:
There will be many
Opportunities
For magical growth
And tragical loss
And he intends
To feel the hell
(And sometimes heaven)
Of it all.


#napowrimo2019

poet
Thetravelingfairy
Fire of Insight
United States
4awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 12th July 2017
Forum Posts: 71

18/30

I Was Made to Break

weíre all a little dead inside
or so weíre told
we dwell on these feelings
as we grow old
some are born happy
others born sad
some of us good
more of us bad
if we were all whole
tell me this
would I see the sunlight
peak through your broken bits?
you may be perfect
in every single way
you are a master
at the game you play
but this time Iíll win
iíll make no mistake
because unlike you
I was made to break

so throw me

Unique Words: 70

poet
Earth_Child
shadoe
Fire of Insight
6awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 9th Aug 2013
Forum Posts: 274

subtext viii
18 ov 30


[iii]
[//on pancakes {&} burning bridges when we get to them... bring matches... i have cocaine & kerosene...//]
the compulsion isn't there; sliding from a warm bed†
stumbling downstairs
barefooted in the cold, half naked & still asleep
a pre-coffee zombie coming to find you in our spot on the sofa
to bask in the scent ov cologne & tobacco
forgetting for a moment there's a role to play
shit to be done that i don't want to do.
i have no urge to peel open the hardcover
tho i love it, the ancient letters, the new ones living in its belly,
i lost my mind in there for a week by the ocean,
i love it & hate it
you taint everything & when you left i cradled the ashes
ov things that brought me joy
you taint it all and i love you for it

[ii]
[//there are poppies in the exit wound... anarchy blooms like weeds... one more glass ov wine before i drown//]
love your impressions on my words, on the kitchen counter
as i bake while you sing and laugh, that beautiful dark sound
that i want to hold in my hands and examine because
i've never known anything so pure.
your fingerprints lay layered on my cheek, i am afraid ov crying
& washing them away
my reality is tenuous, i pray you're not just another on
in a string ov many.

[i]
[//somewhere, there is gone... i have been robbed ov everything... heard that it had been nothing all along... tell me who's wrong//]
don't want to mark the days by capital letters on a pill box,
i want to keep counting them in delirious giggles
that follow orgasms with your name on my lips,
introductions to stuffies that go awry, coffee shop hopping
before either sun rises
& midday kisses goodnight,
don't want to mark the days by capital letters on a pill box


poet
Sky_dancer
Dangerous Mind
11awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 10th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 568


18/30
Wishing Love

There's a restlessness in this fickle place,
A need for constant circumstantial change,
"Variety is, still, the spice of life",
A longing for perpetual exchange.

There's no happiness here in this quagmire,
No lasting contentment is to be found.
As soon as we taste it, the moment fleets,
Our feet never fall onto solid ground.

We're chasing reflections cast by our mind,
Thirsting for water in the desert sand.
Fooled by the temporal shift of our lot,
Hoodwinked by the magician's sleight of hand.

My heart yearns for a permanent answer,
For all my Dearest Ones to find their peace.
To abide in unending contentment,
And from dissatisfaction, sweet release.

poet
Gahddess_Worship
Dangerous Mind
United States
28awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 21st Aug 2013
Forum Posts: 436

DESTINATION OCCIDENTAL - IL PASTO
Poem 18 of 30

Entering the dining room,
remember the ďItalian Hotel?Ē
Greeted by cacophony of animated diners.
The space is large, well-lit, rustic.
Tables range in size,
some for two, some for twenty.
Red and white checkered tablecloths,
Ovviamente,
Twisted, green bottles of chianti in baskets, as tall as me,
are staged around the room.
With scenes of madre italia,
And portraits of antichi antenati
hung on the walls
An inviting, comforting place.

The bread is served first.
Straights from heavenís ovens.
But thatís an assumption.
Crunchy, light brown crust,
warm fluffy white center.
Served with real butter.
I mean the kind you can actually spread.
Not the hard stuff from the fridge at home.
Then comes the antipasto.
Though a tasty, tempting treat,
Brakes must be appliedÖ
A full tummy leaves no room forÖ
ALLELUIA!! The ravioli con marinara!
Delicious meat-filled homemade pasta pillows
Cooked by nonne siciliane and daily flown in fresh.
But thatís an assumption.

poet
wallyroo92
Fire of Insight
United States
61awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 11th July 2012
Forum Posts: 730

18/30

The River is Flowing


The river is flowing freely once again,
After the long winters rain and snow,
Now I must pick up this ink and pen,
Springís fresh flourishing and all itís glow.

I see the sun reflecting in the waterway,
The river is flowing freely once again,
Itís springís beautiful glorious display,
It brings simple joy to the hearts of men.

Thereís a cool breeze every now and then,
As if winterís frozen whisper melts away,
The river is flowing freely once again,
Springís warm embrace is here to stay.

Now that all the snow has melted away,
The season feels like I can reach my Zen,
Simply because itís a beautiful spring day
The river is flowing freely once again.

---------------
119 Words
74 Unique
#NaPoWriMo2019†

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