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Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo Competition

poet
Josh
Dangerous Mind
Portugal
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Joined 2nd Feb 2017
Forum Posts: 263

NaPoWriMo 2019  -  April 19th  -  No:19 of 30


GOOD FRIDAY REVISITED

When the world went dark at 3 o’ clock
stock-market dealers pencilled a pause
vipassana healers went into shock
science researchers looked for a cause

political pundits wheedled for more
when the world went dark at 3 o’ clock
theology students dithered, unsure -
the weight of history stood in the dock

all of a sudden there came a ‘Knock, Knock!’
with Hades invaded, ghosts were surprised
when the world went dark at 3 o’ clock
choices were made concerning the lies

old-dog retrievers peed on the tree
blocking the minds of the flock with a lock
but canny believers sensed they were free
when the world went dark at 3 o’ clock.


(113 words. 70 unique words)

poet
Hepcat61
geoff cat
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 27th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 981

19/30

April Fool’s Day: Day Nineteen

(quatern)
It smells so dead ‘April Fool’s Day,
Familiar sights yawned my return,
To friends - I’d never been away,  
My hobbled cane of no concern.

The parties still reek of spilled beer,
It smells so dead ‘April Fool’s Day,
Still Chronic Town, though SHE’s not here,
Still chronic hope, still soul’s dismay.

How drinking stills this disarray,
And midnight ACID runs surprise,
It smells so dead ‘April Fool’s Day,
Burned, damp, austere in failed sunrise.

I stumble on, not knowing why,
Through nights of sleepless dreams convey
In wants that cast themselves away,
It smells so dead ‘April Fool’s Day.

Unique Words: 70

#NaPoWriMo2019

NaPoGloPoWriMo2019

poet
Jade-Pandora
jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 4370




19/30

Fashionista!: #10 Black Market
( The Blessed Event? )

Hello, my darlings. Fashionista here!
A-tooling ‘round the town to make a score.
To be selective, anyone who’s near,
A jungle at the Park, I come for more!

There’s tasty vittles; morning, noon & night,
I shape-shift to the tiger as I walk.
The sounds & smells that whet my appetite,
I go into my crouch, begin to stalk.

But lately I hear ticking from the clock,
That has the mother in me contemplate;
To raise a family, so I’m taking stock
To buy black market and not have to wait!

My chances, slim to none, to find a mate
That wanders in the Park where we would meet.
Who lives a life like me, a kosher taint,
With whom I’d copulate, and after - eat!

That’s why I think the matter makes no sense,
To eat the dad so I can have a son!
I’ll meet with my connect, he’s such a mensch,
At twelve o’clock today, yes, he’s the one.

He’s bringing me some samples, take my pick,
And when he does, he brings a girl and boy.
The one’s been circumcised, his little dick,
I can’t make up my mind; confusion, Oy!

I start to think the happiness we’ll bring,
The social media will never fail.
A hipster with a pram, the latest thing,
I think I’ll keep this one, she’s got a tail!




unique words: 157


Jade’s note:
My Fashionista, for those of you who are meeting her here for the first time, is a shape-shifting character of mine who has been in two of the DUP NaPoWriMos, and now, this is her third!


#NaPoWriMo2019

NaPoGloPoWriMo 2019

poet
ImperfectedStone
P M Banks
Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
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Joined 10th Oct 2010
Forum Posts: 1076

Title: Rockhollow's Life
Nineteen of Thirty
Unique Words: Eighty-Six

#NaPoWriMo19

I've been away five days
yet the many ways you've changed baffles me
from the iris in her other earthly dusk, cast from her naked roots
to the shoots of aquilegia amongst low branches of hazel.

In pots black tomatoes are ready to meet soil,
brassica settling into their long term home
before sleeping soundly in my stomach or compost
and I almost forgot to mention the giant forget me not

who is hot with majestic blue beside the pond
where tadpoles are much the same, but living,
immersed in ferns, water buttercup and loosestrife.
There's an abundance of life I feel I've missed overnight.

poet
SatInUGal
Kumar
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 31st Dec 2015
Forum Posts: 473

19/30

WROTE A POEM FOR TOMORROW

I learned something of late
(Pity: ignorance is bliss)
That is worth in gold its weight
As pure as love’s first kiss
Wrote a poem for tomorrow
It would do no good today
Sure I’m friends with fear and sorrow
Soon enough they’ll have their say
I’m balanced on a skinny rope
Breathing prayers to creator
Presently I dine with hope
And I don’t want to agitate her
Keep your fingers crossed for me
As I teeter on this line
At its end a dark lady
And an aged bottle of wine


#napowrimo2019

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

20/30

Seasons

Through out your life
You meet people
You cross their paths
Some stay longer
Some move along
They come and go
Like the changing of season
These meetings are not accidental
They are meant to happen
For unknown reason
That will only unfold with time
People you meet are like gifts that comes in different bundles and wrappings
You never know what they are until you open them
Some are delicate and fragile
Some are slightly damaged
And some are completely intact like a new blossom in spring
Just like the seasons they never linger for long
They fade away and life goes on turning
The cycle continues as seasons keep changing
People coming and going through out your life
Leaving traces of their existence in your memory
Like a scent that you cannot forget for a long time


#NaPoWriMo2019



poet
Viddax
Lord Viddax
Guardian of Shadows
United Kingdom
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Joined 10th Oct 2009
Forum Posts: 6387

19.

Wonder Worm


Faster than a speedy limerick
stronger than  a sympathetic ode
sharper than any haiku;
is it a tweet?
is it a sonnet?
is it a overlong epic about personal sex life that no one asked for?
No! Its wonder worm:
a melding of worm, thesaurus and radioactive slug bite
with all the power to write words faster than anyone can say,
able to pen a piece on a prompt
before others have even started to put their thinking caps on.
Mild mannered worm by day,
but a change of glasses later they become
Super worm by night,
patrolling the Underground fighting against dreaded Writer's Block
in the name of art and feasible speech
with all the powers of language that they can muster.
Able to flit from word to word at the turn of a letter
aided by great onomatopoeic sound bites and hash tags,
wrangling prose and poetry from the jaws of uninspired hackneyed cliché drivel
to punch you right in the feels
with imagery stronger than steel.
The name of this superhero is
Wordworm, or wwm to all but his closest friends and allies,
so banal stereotypical predictable pieces beware!
Your time has come and you will be beaten into shape
pushing the envelope in ways hitherto unthought of
spewing lines like its going out of fashion
like superhero amounts from comic books.
This superhero is not coming to any big screen near you anytime soon,
instead you will have to read about his adventures
or indeed write your own if so inclined,
every good superhero has a back story
but with it being a worm,
their back is rather small
meaning their back story is likewise
suffice to say all the shortcuts and plagiarism dregs
have to end up somewhere
and add them to a slug with a taste for plutonium
and you will get a rather wordy concoction,
the type not fit for any page
but thankfully from that slug's bite arose
a hero nobody particularly needed or asked for.
A true worm among heroes.

(Unique words: 209.)

poet
DaisyGrace
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 29th Mar 2017
Forum Posts: 192

18/30

Visiting the Aquarium

We waltzed and
weaved our way through
dark, blue spaces. Backlit to
showcase all the seemingly
unnatural colors
hidden in the waters.

Your eyes glinting as fish
darted in their tanks,
dancing in front of your crinkled
against the glass nose.

And I watched you relax;
gazing into vast tanks
of crystal water and instantly
you felt understood.

(How I understood that,
I’ll never know.)

These silent and slow
creatures pressed their noses
back against yours
and I know there was
communication.

The giant fish said to you,
with his ancient eyes,
We just need to slow down
and quiet our minds.

And you listened.  

poet
wallyroo92
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 11th July 2012
Forum Posts: 728

19/30

A Distant Shore


Did you ever find what you were looking for?
Were your prayers answered at last?
Did you get there and then saw there’s more?

Do you remember every promise you swore?
Or dId they fade away into the past?
Have they become ghosts you can’t ignore?

Do you reminisce about those days of yore?
Compared to today it’s quite the contrast,
Do you still wonder and then go explore?

Do you ever think about the words I said before?
The conversations we had and what I asked,
Because sometimes it gets me to the core.

Perhaps it’s the nostalgia that’s makes us sore,
When time slips by and it goes by fast,
When the message has reached a distant shore.

I once watched my tears bleed on to the floor,
My heart and spirit was blue and downcast,
From there I swore to myself, no more,
Wondering if you found what you were looking for.

------------------
155 Words
104 Unique
#NaPoWriMo2019 

poet
Gahddess_Worship
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 21st Aug 2013
Forum Posts: 436

DESTINATION OCCIDENTAL - THE RANCH
Poem 19 of 30

Grandpa owned 10 acres
in the hills outside of town.
The road up was rough and dusty.
Reaching the property
We’d swing wide the creaky steel farm gate.
Walking the rest of the way.
Past the old well.
Dipping in for a drink.
The cold water tasted of rust.
Forget spinach, one iron fortified, ladle full
Watch out Popeye!

The barn with sun-bleached wooden walls,
roofed by corrugated steel panels,
Smelled of old motor oil,
years of tinkering and woodworking projects.
Its sole occupant, an ancient John Deere tractor
Grandpa would fire it up, back out slowly
Rolling back the years
Becoming the Michigander farm boy of long ago
Riding the fences, surveying his land
Clearing brush
While big sister and I would find our small suitcases
kept there just for us
Filled with little trinkets and toys
What I’d give to see the contents of mine again.
Sitting on the cool barn floor
We’d play for what seemed hours.

Sometimes I’d try and help grandpa
I loved being by his side
However, my middle name was “liability’
As was evinced on several occasions.
Once, while camping
I helped put up the big canvas tent
I steadying the tent stakes
Grandpa hammering them into the ground
Placing my finger on top of one and “BAM”
I have the scar still, it reminds me of him.
I helped him paint a house once
Licked the oil paint laden stirring stick
Followed by a trip to hospital, stomach pump.
My grandad must have cringed when I’d utter those words
“Can I help?”

We stopped going to the ranch
The land was sold.
Somebody else's house is there now
The property now unrecognizable
But the memories linger long
Of those carefree days
In my grandpa’s company.

poet
cloventongue89
Nathaniel Peter
Thought Provoker
United States
18awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 18th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 413

19/30

Forget Me (Mark My Words)

Knit into the fabric of faith
I have a song to sing
With something and nothing to say
The legacy left is a vain endeavor
To be remembered as I fade away
Forget me but mark my words
More than the aesthetics of poetics
A message I embody to be overcome
I am not the marvel
I may know how to articulate the light
But I'll never outshine the sun
I am a melody but the music dies with the song
Heritage of my humanity
The myth of our greatness
What's there to say
When death finds us a dying memory
Every legacy expires with time
As night is forgotten for the dawn of a new day...

poet
PoetsRevenge
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 30th June 2016
Forum Posts: 142

19/30  Orchids

Orchids, orchids, why must they die?  
We never quite figured that out.  

They had to be purchased in this tiny little
flower shop in a thickly settled neighborhood
with little parking, Nana had affirmed, to ensure
success.

The fancy planter it came in was somehow
relevant with its mossy trim.  

That long and tall bow of a stem with its round
and delicate white exotic flowers perched along
it were a must-have for the dining table.  

But oh, to make them last. ‘Don’t overwater them’-
Genius advice from the little flower shop.

              92 words, 72 unique

poet
Ahavati
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 2403

19/30

Proverbs  [ NaPoWriMo 2019 Collection ]

III.  Rules of the Game

iii. Xiangqi


 Combatant armies;
 pawns vying death against
 their General's enemies:

 Guards, Ministers, horses
 chariots, soldiers, cannons—
 sans placement of woman

 No Queen protected any interest
 among status quo boards;
 only sancong—three rules
 dominated her subservience:

 father, husband, then son—
 created by man to work
 beneficially toward men alone

 She is socially-segregated chattel
 often physically ill-treated—
 forever under philosophical
 and religious norms

 “Chess was life in miniature:
  a struggle, battle."


 Especially for women
  . . .

words: 73
unique: 73

poet
DaisyGrace
Thought Provoker
United States
2awards   profile   poems   message
Joined 29th Mar 2017
Forum Posts: 192

19/30

Okay

You will always amaze me.
Brave heart.
Mischief eyes.
Quiet smile.

Your very being
is one of tender
embrace and fast
forgiveness.

And being your mama
means I need that.
Daily.

Sometimes every minute.
Every second, it feels.

When our house is peaceful,
and it’s just you and me,
I’ll hold you close,
pray into your ear
that you are okay.

And okay is such a
bland word.
You are not bland words,
but I use it.

Because it grounds me.
Centers me
in your world of
lovely chaos.


*******
Double post today to get myself caught up from yesterday’s miss.

poet
rowantree
Rowan E.
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 5th Aug 2015
Forum Posts: 150

19/30

black beach drunk

allow me to squeeze
the vodka from my head
so I can love you with some grace.
now
is unabashed
like the angry black waves
just listening to the wind
without a human kind of ear

and free, too, from fear.  
except I don't know why I did this sweetness
to myself.
And I wouldn't want you to see me
drunk.
Though it is prettiness  
spilling,
sloshing hot  
over mug edges,
it might burn you.  
 
but I'm stumbling
to another Tom Waits album
that puts your voice in my ear.
singing brave
to the balcony.
I know where we are
now.  
I'll feed my vibrato
my love
and wait on my worry  
until New Orleans  
has not only my heart and attention
but my address.

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