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Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo 2020 Competition

Lost Thinker
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Joined 31st Mar 2020
Forum Posts: 33


Warrior Heart

She has this energy, that is all her own,
When it manifests; I know my soul is home,
You chasing cookies and cream, this Queen, is stars and light,
Never been of the scene, she moves in ways I like..
Never knew a women who moved with such grace!
Lifted up my soul, from the darkest place.
Just her aura was enough to make me feel safe.
A Warrior heart, with an Angel’s  face.

Thought Provoker
United Kingdom
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Forum Posts: 176

#8 of 30

Volcano repair

Left the eye fallow,
sky-light instincts harrowing;
gull-white boy-blue under the foil moon.

Within its spell and upon its teeth lies
the everafter over-touched,
underquoted response.

Please give back my surroundings
against all these odds.
heartening and extra embellished
for the hard of reckoning.

For if it is different
it will be left alone

like the liseron binding
the morning glass to the garden,

like saliva golden in the inkwell,

like the light footed assurity
on which every particle supports
the phantasm gaze,

like water jars in sunlight morning moonlight ways.

like when the current exploded every nerve cell

Like these things would ever become problematic.

73 unique words of 110 total

Lord Viddax
Guardian of Shadows
United Kingdom
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8 of 30.
Day 8: 08/04/2020, 21:49 GMT

Burial at Sea

Down we go
beneath the still waters
and below the current's flow
a slow parting wave
to where only demons will show,
to lie with the krakens
and the bones
of all that they know,
down to where no light can glow
no happiness nor laughter
where only the bitter and twisted
can grow,
for all family and friends, are left behind
there is nothing of comfort here
only weeds and tides of woe.

Unique words: 54

Poetry Accident
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Forum Posts: 193

#08 of 30

Reduced to Zeroes

Invalidation cuts both ways
from the sinner to the saint
or back again if truth be told
to be right is just that bold

the other end may have a name
still there’s room to shove the blame
without regard for middle ground
the place where truth can be found

this matters not for each side
it’s so much easier to glibly lie
even as the words assume
the vernier of studied truth

that surface all shine to luster
backed up with words of bluster
in the end there are no heroes
saints and sinners reduced to zeroes.

Tyrant of Words
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Forum Posts: 725

NaPo 2020, April 8th



Thick soft carpet of leaves
from the Australian Silver-Oak trees
graces the composting-zone homely —
nine fixed pods, two large biomass collectors,
customised long-term humanure slowly decomposing …
all shaded by the Grevilleas and the big mimosa
creating conditions for miracle microbes and wiggling worms:
an amazing transformation by Nature’s wisdom,
producing humus-rich soil
for growing high nutritional-value food —
my own mini-version of the world’s humus belt
which once stretched from the ancient ‘bread-baskets’ of North Africa,
Eastern Europe, Asia and the Americas …
sadly now almost disappeared, killed off
by deforestation and Big-Ag.
To stay sane in a world gone crazy
I stand in my own little humus-belt and listen;
listen to the wonders of regeneration.
Trees don’t reach the sky
and nothing dies for ever.

Tyrant of Words
United States
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[ NapoWriMo 2020 Collection ] Survival

Qinghai,Tibetan Plateau  
Guliya Ice Cap, 12,979 BC

Part I - Existence  

[ . . . ]

Crannied mountains, shimmering
in the watery sediment
of morning eyes—sunrise
smoldering fire; bedraggled
bodies coming to life

Days of taxing terrain were charted
toward Baishiya Karst Cave—
its northeastern edge of plateau
home to tribal clans;

families awaited their return
along with nutrient-rich
meat, pelts, and assorted bone
to last them through winter

Griffon descended, foraged
on scattered scraps—
gimlet eyes on three figures
diminishing into the sun
. . .

Unique: 62

Twisted Dreamer
United Kingdom
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Joined 25th Sep 2019
Forum Posts: 37

8 of 30

Wrapped in flesh

Within the cradle of our bodies
I feel the presence of your inflection
The un-dashed dreams that stream of hope
That dress the fruits yielded from our roots
Of those waged wars we’ve undertook
To tend our spirits wrapped in flesh
As we explore those anointed scars
Brought from earths’ laboured songs
And listen to the stories borne of ceaseless winds
And their echo of a forlorn call of longing
That whispers in renditions of virtues calling
To the rhythms of our beating chests
That holds our hearts and where their blessings beat
I feel your iridescent smile
As it rises upon my shoulders rest
Within the cradle of our bodies
We hold all of this and more
From then, till now and on again
As we ease upon the solace of our shore
And rise at last, the last of our breaths airs
To share in the tide of our eyes a future
That no longer hides..

Tyrant of Words
United States
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[ NaPo 2020 ] In So Many Words


For years I had confused
an infinite amount of patience
with despair born of its contrast

I don't give up

and wallowed in the afterbirth

I Don't Give Up

But I did


surrendering to feelings
speaking louder than words-
discharges from friction
between opposing beliefs

It begins with accepting defeat
evolves into managing, maintaining
then becomes handling, coping, dealing
going numb, tuning out, muddling through

and if you aren't already drinking
you probably should consider it-
given you're already as good as wasted

Every day inconspicuously hangs
over into the next as a bat
blind as yourself realizing that
after decades gone by

because you just wanted
Today over with-

you quit looking forward
to a better Tomorrows

In so many words

When you weave your own cocoon
you have to lie in it

Tyrant of Words
United States
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Forum Posts: 161


religiously unreligious

years upon years
nailed to the cross
rebirthed, oiled, and led to shine
it's time, it's destiny
where the good book sews
your sins to your cheek
none lesser, none weak

soapbox'd again and again
remembering only then
high priestess and his court
the showers a favourite sport
it's noon and he's high
strung up by the beads
and apostolic creed

I won't go back, despite
learning the wrongs of the right
left to simmer
in hell's kitchen

there'll be nun
of the usual pretense and precipice
I'll fall
from grace
Indulge in the human race
lust more than one god
the prick, the prod
the prude, the mighty
how rude and righteous
religiously unreligious

stripped bare, torn
the covers off
the bleeding books
run away
from the money,
damn crooks
and cooks

love me for who I am
for what I do
not some tit, sans wit
nor mind to word no more than
rehearsed verse


come seek,
we'll find

Dangerous Mind
United States
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Forum Posts: 682

viii of xxx

2020 TEST

I am parent
2 kids @ home
Instead of school

I am accountant, tax season
Herd cats = COVID-19 stimulus
Makeshift “desk,” side of bed

I am university student
Graduation 1 month away
Due dates left: 17

@ point where
# of layers of overwhelm
Overwhelms me

Can make me cry
@ any point:

Amount of release
Constituted “breakdown” previously
= Regular occurrence now


still lucky/blessed/privileged

   +    +    +

53 unique words
(care taken wrt #s etc)
out of 65 total
NaPoWriMo 2020

Fire of Insight
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Joined 27th Feb 2014
Forum Posts: 287

scribbles in a poet's diary #08
(08 of 30—Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo2020)

08 of 30

scribble #08:  odessa’s dance blooms in the night

april rites
birdiest day dance of spring’s
ornithologian wings
owl, duck, ostrich, finch, cardinal
uniquely ordinal
black on white
bright orange, green, dusk brown
some don red evening gown—
for relevé et grande plié
—whose plumes the wind gives sway-

odessa‘s dance blooms in the night
when wingéd birds cease fast their flight

© Copyright 2020 April 08
by Clyve A. Bowen♫
NaPoWriMo2020—April 08
Total Words 54
Unique Words 52

Fire of Insight
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Joined 29th July 2018
Forum Posts: 191


The Every Day: 80/20

I am twenty percent.
That’s fair. I accept it.

It has been an ongoing
anatomical breakdown
that even I can
not fully process.

Gnawing guilt is
a fevered pack of
lions sucking the
marrow from the bones
of a kill.

It lessens my core.

Sorrow is a steady
friend who
never leaves; though
I choke it with
bare hands.

These things
plague me, consume my
...devour  me.

If we could walk it
back five hundred paces-
the world would be right again.

61 unique words
84 total words

Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 11th July 2012
Forum Posts: 1079


†Cross to †Cross

Sometimes when I have to carry them
I wear and bear them for my own sake
And the times when I lost my faith
I came to find it when my heart ached.

At times I have been a little faithless
Mad as hell and angry at the world
Upset with myself for the choices I made
As the consequences then fully unfurled

But I’ve learned and made my peace with it
My beliefs have varied from year to year
It’s been a beautiful bedlam and chaos
And then it saves me with it reappears

95 words
57 unique

Dangerous Mind
United Kingdom
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Joined 4th Dec 2018
Forum Posts: 794

#9 Of 30

The Meltdowns Never Really Go Away

Irrational thoughts burst forth
Like a dam breaking
Emotions gushing beyond control
Destructive neurological meltdown

Switches inside my brain
Not operating properly
Distort and twisted signals
Blind me to everything

Normality quickly disappears
Fire and smoke from broken wires
Fog the reason that should prevail
Leaving a senseless wreck

All because my neural net
Has adapted differently
Taking time
For optional reception to resume

Total Words: 64
Unique Words: 60

Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 29th Mar 2017
Forum Posts: 351

8 of 30

Green Beans and New Potatoes

“No one breaks beans
with Granny anymore.”

I see this sentence
over and over
as evidence that today’s youth
“Just ain’t right.”

Part of me nods my head,
agrees one hundred percent,
and recollects all those late spring
afternoons forced to
s   l   o   w  
down so I could sit,
newspaper in my lap and
wash basin at my feet,
to break beans with Granny.

I learned, real quick, to take my time.
One wayward string, left attached
to a bean, my papaw caught
betwixt his teeth
was enough to make sure I
left a string again.

She told stories and jokes,
we sang every song we knew,
and we prayed.
Prayed over the beans to bless the eaters.
Prayed for our sick neighbors.
Prayed for our lost family.
Prayed for our found family.

Then we’d cook that mess of beans
with handfuls and handfuls of salt pork
and whole new potatoes.
The whole house smelled like
clean garden green
and cornbread.

The other part of me sighs
and thinks
“Today’s granny’s ain’t got no beans
to break and that ain’t no fault
of their grandbabies.”

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