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Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo 2020 Competition

Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 5961

Good morning, Participants!  Congratulations, if you see a check beside your ( invisible ) little rocket ( or lollipop ), you've successfully made it to day seven, which will bring you 1/4th of the way home if you make it through!

Thought Provoker
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Joined 26th Jan 2019
Forum Posts: 175

#7 of 30

Cup Of Hope
I don't want to write a poem today
It seems I'm out of things to say
Or maybe that's not really the case
The hours just bleed into days

Wake in the morning with nothing to do
Same old coffee and milk for you
I'll take a pass on the news today
Nothing's wrong with a bit of delay

I check it often this little phone
It helps me not feel so alone
While the world goes berzerk
And another day hides under skirt

No alarms and no routine
Only vague ideas so it seems
But at least there's sun and we woke up
So I'll focus on this half full cup

Tyrant of Words
United States
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Forum Posts: 2600


"Have no fear," said James T. Blaze in his duct taped Captain's chair. "We can engage the Warped Drive and be on the other side of the Universe in a few minutes!"

However, Spock-josh was apprehensive about taking any unnecessary risks.

"But Captain, without a properly calibrated End Stop Mechanism, there is a ninety-three percent likelihood of punctuating the fabric of Space and Time and creating a wormhole."

Rear Admiral DUG was very excited by the prospect!

"Sir, it's not that kind of a wormhole," Warfyroo whispered in his ear.

Dispirited, DUG sank back into his chair.

"No buts, no guts, no coconuts nor glory!" Blaze declared and hit the BIG GREEN BUTTON.

Being color blind, he pushed the BIG BLUE BUTTON instead and emptied the trash compactor. A few moments later, T'PoetsRevenge returned from her spacewalk covered in upside down pineapples and fostered banana peels.

Nurse Daisy Chapel giggled.

Commander Deannavati - aware that Poetry waits for no man, woman, or worm - pushed the actual BIG GREEN BUTTON and the USS Stanza lunged into Typer Space.

"Goddammit!" hollered Poppykat through her communicator. "I'm still on Rhymulus! Is anyone going to beam us the fuck up?!"


Just then Redshirted chezz disappeared down the throat of a giant Venus flytrap on the other side of the sign that warned DO NOT FEED THE PLANTLIFE.

"Uhh ... make that just me," she said.

And it was AFTER doing a u-turn in the parking lot of the Typer Space Bar, returning to fly over Rhymulus, abd beaming aboard Poppykat - then Then THEN! the Poet Wardens were FINALLY on their way to recovering the twice stolen Muses and once stolen Webmistress.


poet Anonymous


Rockhollow Series: Her Majesty (unedited)

She darts beds
fleeing imaginary creatures
in a homemade grassy crown.

Echoes of her left
through frayed privet, along desire paths,
in a painted flowerpot filled with soil as tea.

She sails, freedom oozing out of her low legs,
pinecones kicked - hard as footballs,
baked open in Spring Sun.

We rock, left fingers locked,
separate blood mingled
creating her.

Bundle of wonder
orders plastic hippos in and out of terracotta pots.
She plots a new game.

Hippo becomes pirate,
summerhouse to ship,
birdsong a symphony of arching waves.

I miss their sway, skin against infinite lapping,
another life, a bluer journal,
a stranger muse.

"Let's go." She calls joyfully and I go
because I can,
have no other plans.

Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
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Joined 15th Sep 2019
Forum Posts: 82


Fresh Breath

We thought they had died off,
like the Sunday lunch invites
spooned into gravy, smeared over lamb,
relaxing after with a good red
while the dog cried for leftovers.

There's parts of our garden
I haven't visited in a while,
too much work, too many weeds
but today there's a southerly breeze
that takes me back to that table.

Just for a moment you are with me
and I hear the kitchen clatter,
see your faces, each in its own place.
I follow that path and find you
not gone at all, just out of sight.

I shout to the house
"Guess what? they came back"
crush a handful and inhale
as if to store more moments. "Thank you"
I whispered as if the leaves could hear me.

poet Anonymous


A Silent Paryer To A God That Politely Excused himself From The Room

I lost the will to travel the world
collecting scraps of lost wisdom from ramshackle ruins
because I got a run on at the blackjack table
leaving all the slides I would have shown
as mere ethereal ghosts
things in the past
where hindsight is 20/20 making up the moves as you go

you know what I mean
the mythical thinking of what if
what if I was a fire that never went out, never budged an inch
a hiss from the crack in the sunburnt sidewalk
mid summer where every street corner is another possibility
you squandered

the sigh of those going to mindless jobs for their cheap bit of theatre
a bread and circuses affair
an orgy of intellectuals headed by a retarded child
that listens to the prayers of dogs in the breach of evening
each howl sends a shiver
a portent of the depths we've plumbed
an eye looking into a mirror only to see an abyss
of politicians talking double speak
where the dissonance is a resonant tone
something a half filled bagpipe wielded by an ADHD patient
hyped up on cocaine would yield

and we see the whispers of people on buses
praying for insanity to win out
because god is a wilful
capricious bastard
who would light his Cuban cigar
with the embers of a child
if we are shaped in his image
and so we lie in the gutter to die
because we already know how

jade tiger
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 9th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 5087

# 7 of 30

But It Was Good

But it was good to know you when,
And we would party in the street
With all the moves we knew back then
To sweat in summer with the beat.
It was that year the boys would grin.
But it was good to know you when
As puberty was setting in,
Our ‘bra size started to extend.

While at the local five and ten
We’d drop a rival with a dime.
But it was good to know you when
It was spent youth with all its time.

It seems forever since we talked;
How girls were jealous of your friend.
Because on Facebook you don’t block,
But it was good to know you when.

Fire of Insight
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Joined 6th Jan 2019
Forum Posts: 192

# 7 of 30

  (acrostic Poem)

Chaos is the order of the day
Overcrowded hospitals and overworked frontliners
Volunteerism is called out by the Government
Individualism is discouraged,  Unity and cooperation is required this time
Deaths are increasing in number day by day

No country is prepared for this pandemic
Isolation and social distancing is the norm now
No stone is left unturned in fighting this virus
Every possible drug has been tested and tried
To Cure this dreaded disease
Each one is responsible in stopping the spread of Covid19
End of this plague is not yet in sight, staying at home helps to keep the virus at bay
Now, more than ever we need to be strong and healthy and to keep praying for the world, for our life today

Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 9th May 2019
Forum Posts: 524

The Cat That Is/Not

holotropic breathing
dressed in ong”s hat

safe warm
secure in the egg

chaotic thoughts


am i alive?

am i both?

is life or
death affected by
an outside observer?

(quit  staring at me quahog)

quaternary quantum quarks quiz

is the kitty

does it matter
if i look in the box?

does the fact that
i take a peek
affect the outcome?

quaternary quarks quest

if i sneak a look
and the cat is dead
did i kill her
or was she already

if someone else
looks is the
creature still dead
or alive?

quotidian quantum questions

is the contents
of the box
a realm

of infinitely
possible kitties
or is there

only one poor

quadratically quaffed quetzal

does it matter
or wave?

if scroedinger
knew the answer
of course
he would have shared it


i know the answer
i know not

quixotic quarantined quagga

if you want/need
to know
why haven’t
opened the box?

hurry! the
kitty is waiting
or not


chaotically quivering?

quit quietly quail

(c)2020 Raibeart Bruis

la merle
Fire of Insight
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Joined 28th Aug 2013
Forum Posts: 134

Double posting because of internet failure causing me to miss April 3rd to 6th.

All Bad Things

Aunt Rhody is a woman
Who sees a lot of devils in a lot of things.

Not just in disembodied
In an empty house or
A graveyard of old dreams --

But also in men -- especially those drunken and
Slurring words daylight,
Calls of the flesh --
Carnal she says,
And in this city
There are many, she told me --
Killers, and thieves, and
Men and women like Lily who
Comes and leaves as they please and
Then she jumped
To stories of clown freaks, costumed freaks
Night stalking.

Aunt Rhody warned me.
Her home is my home for now,
That's the thought, and what
She told me.

But with Aunt Rhody's five kids all
Up in my space and
Peace and quiet --

Loud and vicious in their attack
Of each other --
A learned move,
A learned tactic --

A booming echo from my childhood
My new shell --

The pulses of my
Skin and bones hurt me;
This was no home.
It was her voice --

It was Aunt Rhody's.
There were days where what would
Travel through the walls
Were hushed vitriol, slowly dripping acid --

And most where their mouths
Were deafening cannons to my soul and
Probably theirs.

It was Aunt Rhody.

Telling them how useless they were --
Telling me how hideous I look
With my hair poofed up by
The humid air of that old shitty
Town --

Idiot, dumbass,
Fucking waste of space --
All these spat to your face --

There was a numbing
Through the years, I guess.
But 'til now,
A heavy unpleasantness.

The children whine and cry
Like yesterday and all the other days,
And expertly point their fingers,
Expertly pull each other down.

Aunt Rhody's hell was taught
And passed down and
All her kids are now
Giving each other their little hells.

Aunt Rhody was a woman
Who saw a lot of devils in a lot of things.

As I walked my way to my classes,
Out of their hell cluster --

I wonder what she sees in the mirror,
And what she sees within.

340 words
180 unique

A Bird and The Professor

Mr. C had a pet parrot --
A known fact.

No one knows its name,
Perhaps it doesn't have one,
But what most knew was --

The havoc it brings
When it escapes out of its cage,
When it sings.

Mr. C's desk was almost full,
But I managed to
Put down my papers,
Stacked neatly, quietly.

But the bird, the bird
With its cage beside me --
Decided that today
Was my day.

The bird flew out and
Pecked at me, made
A mockery of my neat stack,
Clawing and cawing,

As my legs tried to
Carry me away from
The chaos the darn bird was
Determined to give me.

Oh city, what more hell must you give me?
Is there no pardon for a girl --
Sleepless with little sisters bawling,
Toxic and eating away --

What fresh grass had I hoped for?
Here I was running down corridors --
The bird still in pursuit of me --
Good god, why me,
A turn right to history, and then --

A wall, no a solid chest --
A man just out of his office.

Then, feet failing, arms around me.
Up --
Eyes of green,
Of grass,
Of that first day.

The man --
With the hope and the dance,
Here he stood,

Mr. D, history, the professor.

A feet away,
The bird landed and squawked.

217 words
129 unique

Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 18th Sep 2018
Forum Posts: 135


Sleepless Nights in The Devil’s Playground
The 4 Horseman

Part 1
The White Horse:

He gallops at a speed
No mortal can follow
Carrying quivers that bleed
Corrupted with poison we swallow
He takes careful aim with his bow
Spying authorities in power
His crown justifies his actions below
Spraying his arrows in a pestilent shower
Wicked hearts are the first to cower
Seeking the pure to devour
We become white mice in a lab
Unsuspected candidates of a bio-hazard war
It starts with one on a slab
Until trial and error reels in more
He’s the father of disease
He begets children for his plague
Conquering our minds with utmost ease
In a language that’s perfectly vague
His arsenal is not his only voice
His tongue is lacquered with his poison
And in our darkest hours he shall rejoice
His plan is prophesized to come to fruition

Fire of Insight
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Joined 29th July 2018
Forum Posts: 188


The Every Day: Anatomy of a Migraine

Pain builds pressure
behind my eyes, murky
vision. Ears ring one thousand
blistering bells. Tiny needles
piercing eardrums.
Heat scorches brain matter, inflamed
skull, tissue, nerves.
Hammer to anvil.
Light is laser focused, searing neural
impulses; sharp, stabbing waves.
Gastric tsunami; violent
tectonic shifts.
Logic removed. Reasoning reduced.
Activate serotonin receptors;
Sailing the high
seas of sumatriptan relief.

*NaPoWriMo 2020*
59 unique words
59 total words

Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 8th July 2019
Forum Posts: 169


Amare (for Aaron)

“love is another soul recognizing when your own is weary and aching, and then endeavoring to act.”

when the weight
of my own shoulders
makes a prison of my bed,
love meets me in the dark
where it finds me
-wandering, lost-
and it tries it’s best
to carry me out
into the brightness
of the daylight;
love is devotion,
followed by action

love is
the first sip of hot coffee
made exactly the way I like,
set quietly on the bedside table
as I stretch lazily
under warm blankets
on still-crisp Spring mornings;
it is an invitation to come and play
while the sun shines,
waiting eagerly
to see me smile

being loved is
padding out to the kitchen,
remembering the trash
you forgot to take out
and finding it already gone;
the napkin under my cup
with it’s hand-drawn heart,
will be discarded
long before the the memory
of its enduring message

Unique Word Count: 96

Tyrant of Words
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Joined 15th Oct 2018
Forum Posts: 1675

(seven of 30 - Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo 2020)

Is my hope
of events --
things to come
life & death
spacial. . .

to (my)

it’s a resolve
which might
& open to

My esse --
to opt for
during my

leading me
to kindness.

i am, all of me,
void of self-image

an illusion
on this orb

burn away the
dross of me
and all that

78 words  
63 unique

Fire of Insight
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Joined 3rd May 2018
Forum Posts: 992

The Talk

There wasn’t anything extraordinary
of the moment, mother calling me in
to have that talk which every girl for
generations have known,
the inevitable change to womanhood.

Although, the day was as bright as ever
and sounds outside clattered with same
flittering tempo, comfortably allowing
ripples of echo.  Her voice was quieter
and the words were wisely measured
“It only gets better with time and in time
you will learn one must make choices.”

She had loved once and once was enough
in her lifetime.  Blooming in hands tender
yet, strong.  
She rouged her lips, perfumed her skin
dressing in red because it was the color
he adored and she adorned his desires.  
My father cherished her and the luck
bestowed, fanning the spark
to never cease the fireworks.

I’d watch them from the corner of my eye,
in disbelief.  Happily ever afters do exist.  
But—how could I tell mother that I’ve split
more wishbones than one to free the bird
with broken wings rattling in cage of bones
who no longer recalls, the songs of the heart.

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