OFFICIAL DUP Glo/NaPoWriMo 2021 Competition

8/30

The Mirror shows

A torn sky
beyond it, story tellers
with lies and deception.
They whisper poetry
that I still love you too much
to speak.

You carry the weight
of half glances
measured through a pair
of old readers.
It will mention us one day
from someone else's wall
but they'll be too young
too care.

I wonder now how much more
will pass into its glass
before all the cracks
come at once.

8/30

Esoteric Yokes

There's so much pain hidden deep within the jokes
Gotta crack the shells to reveal the inner yokes
Pain evokes a means to cope in so many varied ways
Like ducking for cover during the thunder of bullet strays

Going day to day trying to stay psychologically sane
While on the edge of the ledge on the verge of being Bane
Consuming things via veins that're bane for our bodies
Or conveying pain through window panes of standup comedies

EPISODE 8/30

Lady Ahavarwen and Lord Jaragorn approached the ruins of a once great castle carved from sandstone.

"This weathered fortress was home to the Mudbug tribe who fled Muddle Earth when MOAR!ON waged his war," said Ahavarwen. "Shelfin the Great Elfin Yabby refused to live in a realm where only ABAB rhyme scheme was allowed. He instructed his people to construct a huge ark on which they all sailed away across the Mudpuddle Sea. Knowing MOAR!ON despised free form poetry as well as alliteration, especially tongue twisters, his last words as they drifted away from the dock were, She saw sea shells by the seashore. "

Jaragorn stared up at the sandstone tower that the bat creature disappeared into. He drew his sword and rapped it against the front door. To their surprise when it opened, DUGlo Baggins was standing there as fine and happy as can be!

"Greetings, my ffellow Fellowship friends!" the Glowyrm cried. "I'm so happy to see you! And I want you to meet my new acquaintance."

Dumbfounded, they followed the little bugger inside to where a Man in a black hooded mask and cape sat in a recliner. He was nursing a stein of ale. "Tada!" said DUGlo with a grand guesture. "Allow me to introduce ... the Dark Knight!"

The masked man slurped from the stein, hardly acknowledging them.

"THIS ... is the Dark Knight?" Ahavarwen asked incredulously.

"Yep!" DUGlo replied rather proudly. So much that he was beaming. Literally, as light was radiating from him in all directions.

Jaragorn sheathed his sword and scratched his whiskered chin. "DUGlo, are you sure? He seems a bit ... pudgy and out of shape. And why is he wearing a bat costume?"

The masked man leapt to his feet, spilling some ale as he almost fell forward. He took a moment to steady himself as if riding a surfboard. "Hey!" he scowled. "When you get to be a few thousand years old like me, you'll probbly get a bit of a spare tire too. Don't let the junk in this trunk fool you, Mister - I can still shake and bake with the best. Watch this!"

The Bat-Man proceeded to drunkenly swoop around the living room like a child pretending to fly, flapping his cape and spilling more ale.

"Oh, god," Ahavarven said. "I better put on a pot of coffee."

"BAM!" he cried, swinging wildly at the air. "NaPOW!"

"Make it two pots," said the Glowyrm. "Have I a tale to tell you!"

And the four of them sat by a roaring fire as DUGlo relayed the tale of how the Dark Knight first arrived in Muddle Earth. "He fell out of a hole in the sky along with my great great great great great great great grandfather and Keeper of the Sacred Poetry Books, Nice Admirable DUG." The Glowyrm paused for a moment to think. "Or maybe it was Vice Admiral . . .?"

He looked imporingly at the Dark Knight. The costumed Man threw up his hands, saying, "Beats the hell out of me. Last thing I remember is making toast this morning." Then he slugged down more coffee.

"Here!" DUGlo said, flipping through a photo album and pointing. "This is the first DUG of my bloodline with all of the poetry books he brought from beyond the Blank Space. This is how the Earthwyrms discovered so many wonderful forms of poetry that ushered in the Dawn of Literature. That is ... before the dark days of MOAR!ON's reign."

The Dark Knight began sobbing when they came across a photo of the Spiderweb Mistress in the album. "She was so beautiful," he said and sighed heavily. "I was her wittle Batman and she was my wittle Spider Woman."

The duo fought MOAR!ON on behalf of all the peoples of Muddle Earth, DUGlo continued to explain. "For he was on his way to destroy The One Poem ™ when the Ditch King pierced him with a Black Arrow. The Dark Knight fell from the sky and crashed landed into a deep ravine that trailed off into an underground cavern. When he awoke, The One Poem ™ was missing."

"It was those halfwit Frogs!" grumbled the Knight. "They hopped off with the darn thing, They stole The One Poem ™ from us while we were unconscious! They stole the Precious!"

"Why does he refer to himself as "we" sometimes?" asked Jaragorn.

"I'm not quite sure," replied DUGlo. "Occasionally he speaks to an invisible friend named Robin ... though it might be the alcohol talking. He hasn't been sober since rescuing me."

There was a faint sound of war drums. As they listened, it grew louder.

"To the Bat Cave!" the Dark Knight enthusiastically exclaimed, suddenly on his feet again. He leapt onto a one person trampoline and slingshotted up into the tower's belfry. After a few minutes of climbing the stairs like normal people, they found him staring out the observatory using his thumbs and index fingers as goggles.

Torches blazed in the distance, growing brighter.

"Holey Moley!" he cried. "Salamandar has discovered our whereabouts. Little Fellowship fellow, were you by any chance talking to anyone through that magic bowling ball in the dining room?"

"Ooopsie," replied DUGlo. "Sorries."

"Oh, ugh," Ahavarwen said. "It's an army of Porks!"

8/30

8/30

[ Of Power And Rings ] Enigmas

He was that old;

this jolly fellow who could recall
the first raindrops falling
on freshly acornamented oaks

Not quite man-sized
but say, taller than a hobbit
jacketed blue and booted yellow

And when adorning his fair hand
with The One Ring freely offered
he didn't disappear, seemingly
remaining unaffected by its power

Thus it was that old Tom, unconcerned
with the fate of a mere trinket  
or of Middle Earth's free peoples
could not be bothered or badgered
or even trusted to take the mission
of melting it down in the fires of Orodruin
seriously

He was that powerful

8/30

Horticulture

I prefer my trees
My flowers, shrubs
And weeds

They fill my lungs with petal breath  
Never refuse breakfast
No.. plants are easy

People have a way with disappointment and complaining, though I’ve tried
Friends
Such uncooperative beings

That’s why, I choose gardening
Sweet little sprouts, buds
Thorns
All in rows for me to tend..
Even the sun acknowledges my efforts
It labors with me

Many seasons I have gone
Without someone to water me
Hold my hand
Trim my leaves
Now, look at me!
Unkept, scraggly
I feel it won’t be long
Before my body begins
Withering
Though part of it has already begun
Decomposing

That’s why I prefer my trees
My flowers, shrubs
And weeds

I will admit, some days
I fail at sprinkling their roots
Not sure if it’s fatigue, or downright
Neglect

But I get up, once ready
Replenishing soil
With their watering can
Following, they reward me
In floral dance

I sow my company in pots outside
At a distance
Just far enough to see
But not quite close enough to prick
Too many things I’ve lost
As if these hands of mine are cursed
Grow them far, or I just might kill
Those too.

Greetings, Great Fellowshippers! If you have reached Tree Beard, he will safely carry you into Day Eight! Congratulations to poems well-written and those to come! Bloody Fantastic! All of you!

( 8/30 )

Satellite

[ . . . ]

Part I: Anatomy of a Cycle

[ . . . ]

vii.  

Botany—
germination, infancy
a cracked hull
releasing twofold:
downward roots
and upward sprout
to bloom: leaflets form
perhaps thorns
followed by a bud
from air, sunlight. water, soil
prior to flowering flower
fruit or nut

Leaves absorb light
nourishing growth;
Leaftide—the Moon's gravity
conducting water's movement
within veiny structures
Into lunisolar tide cycles

Sturdy stems filter water
from dirt, until come the elements:
wind, rain, animals, insects
harvesting seedlings
into a legacy—

germination, infancy
a cracked hull. . .

. . .

8 of 30

Faith


Few days from now
Ramadhan will begin
A month of fasting
And purification for muslims
Time to renew my faith
By connecting with Allah
But I'm not as enthusiastic
To meet it like before
This year is different
I'm emotionally weighed
By circumstances
Yet I need to strengthen my faith
More than ever
I need the presence of Allah in my life
I draw my strength from Him
When I remember Him I feel ok
There is comfort in His remembrance
There is peace in His presence
He forgives no matter how I sinned
He is the most merciful
This Ramadhan I will do my best
And try to be among those He love

8/30

The Anticipation of Summer

Summer is coming;
six long years spent
on the flat, yellow prairie
have me longing for
the lush green of
ninety-degree days
at eighty percent humidity,
screaming cicadas
and lightning bugs
with fluorescent bums,
backyard barbecues
and citronella tiki torches
to make my eyes water
with candy-pungent smoke;
I listen for the whisper
of Umstead Park’s trails
calling me to lace up
my old hiking boots;
the long gray rock
at mile-marker seven
will beg me to come and sit
a spell on its sandpaper surface,
and I really can’t wait

74 unique words

8/30

A newbie MUON

They sat and scratched  their heads
underground, so buried deep.
The particle accelerator hummed its lullaby.
its magnets hot enough to fry.
The screens let out an eyrie beep, beep beeep.
Scientist`s watched and cast a suspicious eye.
The chief honcho said in shock
"there`s something strange in the cooking pot"
An interloper we failed to spot.
All previous theories, may be warped and bent.
Strange music from an instrument,
physics hold a new concept.
To vision an unwritten law
the elusive chased with fevered brow

The cosmos vastness gave a wink,
threw fairy dust to make us think
a cusp we need, the ever brink

A force to add
the cryptic clue we missed
Steven Hawking`s, bones so laid
stir perhaps? just a tad
a power untapped, the hidden slave

8/30

Resuscitate Me

If you must but I’m content
Playing the dead wife.
It suits us both.

I never have to
Pretend to be anything
But apathetic.

To strangers unknown
I’ve vented into the void
And feel way better.

Sorrow, replaced by
Fury, contained by disdain
Not for a moment will you know.

A devilish smirk
I callously toss your way-
With suspicious doubt

My little secret
The one to sucker punch you...
Is my greatest joy.

(52 unique words)

#8 of 30

Colliding Hearts


Let my love open the door
To realms of beauty unknown
Universal  possibilities untold
Wonderment and awe
Common place

Dreams do come true
Wishes made real
For colliding hearts
Faithful souls searching
Worlds in hope

Creativity given form
Beautiful artustery seen
Through loving eyes
Magic shapes imaginations
Feelings assured connection

Unique word count 50
Total word count 50

8/30

F.A.M.E
(Feel All My Emotions)

Contradictory to what I think
These vowels keep throwing up in the sink
I woke up this morning with a bladder of P
And a wicked hangover from my poetry T
My bud was weak and my beer was high
My eyes were red but my tears were dry
My weight was Y not even explained
My dignity X ploded and strained
My train of thought is literally stranded
Chilling on the tracks where U was reprimanded
My writing license is revoked
My homie J just got smoked
My tricky writer’s block eloped
Lucky Charms drove down my throat
My neck is stiff from doing this (up, down, left, right)
The alphabets blew me a kiss
My anger plunged into the abyss
This is day ate of the pits
My bowels are crammed
My thought process is damned
My arthritis was planned
But my tendonitis is grand
My mail is always late than early
FOTP makes me feel burly
Typing in time makes me want magic
RL me baby its automatic