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Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo 2020 Competition

Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 30th June 2016
Forum Posts: 331


A Modern Existentialist (I)

Oh, to roam free inside the wild fields of the mind!
Oh, to revert away from the outer shell that binds!

I hear you, I hear you (my inner voice speaks)..
To fear you, how could I, you accompany the meek;

To azure ponds and earthen plains where
I hear you whisper in soft refrains...

I can't believe you remember my name
but you murmur a solitude all the same...

Inside me the retreat is a beckoning blliss
as I rest not hastening to carry or insist...



Dangerous Mind
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Joined 18th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 284


I once had a forest of fast-growing dreams
A big solid mountain on which to stand
My love was as hot as the dancing flames
And life was unfolding just as I planned.

The forest – laid waste by a stampeding hoarde
The mountain, made dust at the earthquake's command
My love disappeared as I reached out for comfort
And life became something I don't understand.

So I'm building a tree out of broken sticks
I’m forming a new rock out of sand
I’m making a lover from old dry bones
And life, I put firmly in Creator's hands.

geoff cat
Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 27th Nov 2015
Forum Posts: 1028

8 or 30

Consider The Alternatives

How can this be a way to live,
In fear of every narrowed space?
“Consider the alternatives.”

We’re trapped and bored, our thoughts restive,
Too many days stuck in one place,
How can this be a way to live?

Progressive and conservative,
Who disavowed are now disgraced,
“Consider the alternatives.”

Once force restrain was punitive,
The saving lives, we must embrace.
How can this be a way to live?

When venturing is “perversive”,
But shagging at home all day “grace”,
“Consider the alternatives.”

The greatest gift of love we give,
To put a cover on our face.
How can this be a way to live?
“Consider the alternatives.”

64 unique words.

Rain Woman
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 8th Jan 2017
Forum Posts: 53

#8 of 30
Process of Writing
Draft after draft
And I keep erasing
Trying to write
Trying to create
Fusing the story
Building the characters
Yet still not finding
The correct words
Discovering a universe
Even bigger than I imagined
Consuming all my time
And each of my thoughts
Sucked into a world
Completely all its own
That started with a seed
And continues to grow
Each idea even bolder
Pushing the boundaries of my skills
But once it’s done
I know it’ll be worth it

Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 21st Aug 2013
Forum Posts: 574

No. 8 of 30

Voyage In Crimson - Part 3

Personal Log: Intervention and Reassignment

Admiral daddy pulled some strings, not exactly in my favor
Summarily demoted to galley steward second class
White cook’s shirt, black and white checked pants, peeler in lieu of phaser
No longer nicknamed “dead man walking” now “lieutenant panzypass”

My ensuing career in the Starfleet was neither stellar nor bold
I spent the days mopping, washing dishes, peeling spuds and cooking
Made a fine hasperat soufflé, when paired with Voodai, I’m told
Bored silly but relieved to shed the red target I’d been wearing

Words = 84
Unique words = 76

Jennifer Michael McCurry
Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 22nd June 2015
Forum Posts: 2047

8 of 30

From where I've been Led

I have peered through dust and windows
And found my ghosts
Of self
And segregate
And of intended maps

I had thought to follow them precisely
Had thought to live wisely
Had thought to live so purely

That as snow flakes fell
And found my lashes
I believed they would not run away

As I closed my eyes for dream and being
For finding pleasures far beyond any suffering

Those luxuries of fleeting existence
Held no permanence in my view

Now my gaze through dirty frame
Catches a glimpse of my infancy
And marvels at its comfort

And in my ears
A rocking chair creaking
And the riotous sound
Of cicada summer buzz howl

If I could only know now
What I did know then
And still not find warning in their call

I think then my direction
A magnetic north of stillness and self
Might be exactly the way to what I've been looking for

Rowan E.
Thought Provoker
United States
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Joined 5th Aug 2015
Forum Posts: 176

8 / 30


Rosé in cans.
Dear god, sis?...
but thank you for getting us some drinks.

Two of them down.
They da-dink, watch me unscrew
the wheels of my rollerblades,
laughing aloud
now and then,
gone in the head,

wearing hardly anything -
and spring
was burning
dandelion embers;

I felt the whole sky
watching me.

(And perhaps
the boy next door.)

When I'm dizzy like that,
all my complicated,
ice-sculpted sorrows
turn to simple puddles.

On days
dizzy like this
Days the likes of which
I've never imagined
far away
from the pillow fort days
of careful planning...

I imagined, sure
what kind of person I'd be
Sleeping with a dog,
a lover or three
Sweating under Louisiana spring
Thick ones
My shoulders and the ditch in my back, still
too damn gorgeous in the streetwide sauna
eyeing the bachelors of the neighborhood
with aged green
but most importantly -
Taking off
every damn morning
in running shoes
and honey skin fit to coat someone's toast
Leaving everything but my heart behind...

My feet are wet with them,
and I've given up
trying to rescue water
from the cycle - give it to that sun,
it's too heavy for me -

but, two toppled cans, pink
glints, watching me
fix up these skates
and pick the past from the bearings -

I am in a gap between
those dreams
and my worn-out memories.

Time to ride them
and see where we go.

Sabrina Kirk-Caldwell
Thought Provoker
United States
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Forum Posts: 288



Out on the waves afar,
Where the valiant sailors are,
In the days of yore,
Past the yearning shore,
Longing for more,
Yearning to be free,
Tugging at the sea.
That. Aye, that is where I long to be.
A captain free,
A swashbuckling, leader of a fleet,
Through sun, rain, snow, and sleet.
Traveling to far off lands,
Discovering uncharted islands,
As a brave, free, buccaneer,
In a nautical atmosphere,
To tear asunder, plunder, and pillage
Each seaside town and village,
With my only real treasure,
A special, jeweled, locket, with your picture.
Not held to any laws or rules,
But that which we agree upon as a crew, those rules
That we have written out, that we sign,
To rein in even the most malign.

Meals of fish, potatos, limes, and/or grits,
Few land visits,
Just our sail against the sky,
And the sea creatures that swim by.
Merfolk, and other unseen creatures of the deep,
Who make little a peep,
And the sounds of wind, waves, gulls, and a creaking ship, when it comes time to sleep,
As on each trip
Gently rocks, the ship,
From waves of blue,
And the spray of the salty sea, long overdue.

In the morning sun,
As rays hit the ocean's surface, sparkling with it's calm motion,
Mermaids upon the rocks, brushing their long hair,
Without a care.
Working to the tune of many a shanty,
Sung from the heart with glee,
On the way to find fame and fortune,
Searching through the world's treasure distribution,
With treasure maps of all kinds,
Which was not so well hidden by those "masterminds".

To live so free,
To liberate what should belong to me,
To go wherever I wish to see,
To be me
In presentation, thought, action, and deed,
That is what I doth long for, indeed.

Twisted Dreamer
United States
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Joined 25th Mar 2018
Forum Posts: 114


What Wanders These Halls Unseen

It’s bed time in my home with distant snores flowing through
Moonlight shines through uncurtained windows anew
Washing the whole of the home in eerie bright white light
Unnatural for the hour as it is, indoor lights, extinguished sight
The days heat evaporating into the nights calming chill
The coldest parts coming fast upon all the window sills
The sounds of clocks echo throughout this fine place
Marking time from their perches, displayed ‘crossed unseen face
As the residents rest their sleeping heads upon their pillows rest
Not knowing of the goings on when the sunlight is gone from the west
Tis time for the spirits that remain to roam around so free
While most residents remain so unaware, except for you and me

Unique words: 94

Dangerous Mind
United States
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Joined 27th June 2012
Forum Posts: 41


Nothing Down

Nothing down / A brush with sound / Unseen touches my crown / Thief of dreams / Scrounging upstairs / Relief it seems / Is found nowhere fair / Night terrors / Flowing for a room full of empty chairs / An almost me almost there / Incomplete / Slim pieces, past bare / What’s within releases / What remains hidden is compared / Like “Beware, you could have been any of him.”’ / What wins is what you relentlessly dig into / Rip it through / Witch’s Brew / Go write Wicked II / Stick to what proves / What’s illicit and true / Everything else is quips and groove / Slip of the wrist / Whisper touches down / A brush with sound / Nothing down

poet Anonymous


Rockhollow Series: Books

Today I'm a librarian, ordered to my post between tool shed and compost heap
by an intense boss with no furlough.
She's thought it through
brought out a selection of books
laid them out between blue borders.
She leaps lengths, in and out of hedges, through the lake -
makeshift paddling pool come cement tray.
She says,
"Hello again,"
I comment on how long she's been away,
she flicks through the selection,
judging her own choices,
chooses a book laid between Granny's bonnet and geranium.
She waves at me, thanks me,
bolts away toward lawns
to read treasure in the Sun.
She passes by again,
asks for another one.
I ask her where her overdues are, she smiles,
darts through grasses, returns, text in hand.
Light catches leaves in the lower beds,
cherry-acer and tit-headed myosotis
calls eyes across the garden as if mischievous friends -
I try not to lose focus.
The Persian potters by, yowls for strokes I'm in no position to deny.
This enforced view isn't bad,
company isn't awful either,
another day flies by in the 'Hollow.

Nathaniel Peter
Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 18th Sep 2017
Forum Posts: 494


Rebirth Marks (The Easter Lamb)

What mystery is this

Death is but the catalyst

Instrumental in salvation

When death is deliverance

From the pain

Disease is the thief of living

And just surviving is torture

Cut off from the world

Save our souls before our breath

Better off dead

When dead is alive

Devour the Lamb

When love is a massacre

Bleeding out

To buy us back

You suffered a vapor

For an eternity

I'm learning to die with you

There is no such thing as an ending

Just countless stories told

With one of two conclusions

As to live and die happily ever or never after

When resurrection is the miracle of death

We are but a spirit in the womb of our bodies

Like cocoon shells waiting to break

Love wears the rebirth marks

I wear the blood

The un-dead Lamb

Slain to become a Lion

Sacrifice is strength

When dead is alive

Taking our last breath first

Don't waste your breath trying to save it

When death is salvation...

poet Anonymous


A Purple Prose, A Few Words, Because Poetry is Evil

Every shattered tossed aside lover
fucking hates poetry
and the bottom of this glass seems to want to determine my future

everything in this pub is slick
lacquered timber
Doug the tender wanders around polishing it all
until it reflects the ocean in a cadre of light particles
that cause the patrons to squint
as if they're all perpetually puzzled
by the sheen
the gloss
and now I've hit the sixth beer down
the pen on the bar makes me raise my lip in a sneer
at all the falsehoods presented by this
accommodating tool of fucking poetry
and if I was less civilised I'd have hawked and spat on the floor

a clack from the pool table rattles the room
big's is declared and the game is on
but it's just window dressing now

because in those lines of rhyme and prose
I felt like I mattered
striding through the halls as you crumpled into my arms
as if your touch made me whole
and as our lips pressed together
it was a draw on a cigarette after being strung out for days
the way the flavour kick starts the neurons and the jittering stops
and the head spins were delicious

Dave waves a hello to Jimmy and they fist bump
then collapse into a hug hands thumping each others backs
the raucous laughter disguises my whimper of pain

because I'm that deer with C.W.D
my collarbones clank as I raise my hand
to try and drown the common sense
that I should simply run away before
my body stops responding
before I fail to muster the energy for anything…

your eyes fold me into another bout of
self recrimination as each breath I become less than
the stool I'm perched on
and you glow like the bar in polish and splendour

I bid you sit in my lap
and hand me a pen
so I can squint at the page
stain it with beer
and wait to be inspired

Tyrant of Words
United States
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Joined 11th Apr 2015
Forum Posts: 5924

Greetings, participants! If you see a shining star beside your little spaceship, congratulations, you've successfully made it to Day Nine of the Challenge.

Fire of Insight
United States
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Joined 11th Aug 2016
Forum Posts: 84


Persevere Through Fear

Woke up to the sound of a bird singing
Thought I was in R.E.M. & still dreaming
It's amazing how an avian will sing a song
Regardless if it's imprisoned or in a storm

Decided to write a poem about how it perseveres
How the melodic tune is like music to my ears
Aware of its snare but its spirit soars the skies
Our bodies can be caged but never our minds

I rise this morning prepared for another day
Motivated by avian's symphony to stay & play
Not being carried away by the streams of fear
Avoiding overindulgence of this Corona beer

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