OFFICIAL DUP Glo/NaPoWriMo 2021 Competition
18/30
Someone’s Favorite
With so much longing
I wish to be someone’s favorite
The one that’s put on a pedestal
Such a terribly lonely place to be, yet I desire it so badly
I can taste the acrid smoke of want
Always from a place of safety
I protect myself from loves burn
I still wish to be someone’s favorite
Shy to seek this place on high
I’ll go on pining and craving
It hurts much less than trying
Rejection after attempting
T’would be a massive free fall
Never to be recovered
Lamenting this fate has gotten
Me nowhere and
this far simultaneously
I still wish to be someone’s favorite
Without all the work
(53 unique words)
Someone’s Favorite
With so much longing
I wish to be someone’s favorite
The one that’s put on a pedestal
Such a terribly lonely place to be, yet I desire it so badly
I can taste the acrid smoke of want
Always from a place of safety
I protect myself from loves burn
I still wish to be someone’s favorite
Shy to seek this place on high
I’ll go on pining and craving
It hurts much less than trying
Rejection after attempting
T’would be a massive free fall
Never to be recovered
Lamenting this fate has gotten
Me nowhere and
this far simultaneously
I still wish to be someone’s favorite
Without all the work
(53 unique words)
19/30
Weekends with Cowbells
You hung their field over the front door,
Austrian air captured in your vestibule,
the vast echo of a mountains voice
languishes, lush green beneath the Alps.
Grandad would leave as early as the milk floats
and I would see them ambling down, udders full
for the wooden stool, then drift back off to sleep
and dream the warm bucket onto the doorstep.
What tales you must have, secrets hand crafted
into curves. The village procession on fresh melt snow,
leading to the rich high pastures, this is where
we will go, beyond the suburban street lights.
Following your young herd, high on majestic peaks
I wait to catch your hollow sound as Grandad
gets in from work and shares his stories
about the cows he had to wrestle for the bells.
Weekends with Cowbells
You hung their field over the front door,
Austrian air captured in your vestibule,
the vast echo of a mountains voice
languishes, lush green beneath the Alps.
Grandad would leave as early as the milk floats
and I would see them ambling down, udders full
for the wooden stool, then drift back off to sleep
and dream the warm bucket onto the doorstep.
What tales you must have, secrets hand crafted
into curves. The village procession on fresh melt snow,
leading to the rich high pastures, this is where
we will go, beyond the suburban street lights.
Following your young herd, high on majestic peaks
I wait to catch your hollow sound as Grandad
gets in from work and shares his stories
about the cows he had to wrestle for the bells.
18/30
Sunday Dinner
sleepy morning, spent
on chores put off
as long as they could be,
fixed between yawns and
cooling cups of French Roast
sweetened with real cream;
one by one, each
of my grown children
return to this empty nest
for Sunday dinner;
the menu is lasagna
and salad, served fresh
alongside a healing helping
of Mama’s love, and perhaps
a tiny bit of checking in
with each other
to be sure we’re all ok;
dessert and more coffee,
entire conversations
comprised of inside jokes
and two decades
of shared memory
74 unique words
Sunday Dinner
sleepy morning, spent
on chores put off
as long as they could be,
fixed between yawns and
cooling cups of French Roast
sweetened with real cream;
one by one, each
of my grown children
return to this empty nest
for Sunday dinner;
the menu is lasagna
and salad, served fresh
alongside a healing helping
of Mama’s love, and perhaps
a tiny bit of checking in
with each other
to be sure we’re all ok;
dessert and more coffee,
entire conversations
comprised of inside jokes
and two decades
of shared memory
74 unique words
#18
Anything Else
I want to write about something else.
Maybe about the daffodils finally in bloom -
a flowery description of their sunshiney faces.
Or maybe about dad’s seashell collection -
whispers of his life before I came into being.
I’d like to write about piano keys
or soft doggy ears
or the taste of pineapple
or anything, really, that’s outside of myself --
But everything comes out tasting of tears,
sounding like echoes in an empty chest;
No matter how I try to steer my thoughts,
they turn back into this constant ache…
and I’m crying for scars I gained in the past
and I’m crying for friends I miss in the present
and I’m crying for losses yet to come.
I promised to keep my heart open, not closed,
but I’m crying, how long, Lord? how long must I cry?
And I’m trying to keep all my crying inside
so it won’t be alarming to those with dry eyes…
But the pain, this ache, just won’t come to an end
as long as there are people I care about,
And frankly it’s getting ridiculous now
The sky is still gray and I’m still full of fears
I’m going to drown in this lake of tears
And I just want to write about something else.
Anything Else
I want to write about something else.
Maybe about the daffodils finally in bloom -
a flowery description of their sunshiney faces.
Or maybe about dad’s seashell collection -
whispers of his life before I came into being.
I’d like to write about piano keys
or soft doggy ears
or the taste of pineapple
or anything, really, that’s outside of myself --
But everything comes out tasting of tears,
sounding like echoes in an empty chest;
No matter how I try to steer my thoughts,
they turn back into this constant ache…
and I’m crying for scars I gained in the past
and I’m crying for friends I miss in the present
and I’m crying for losses yet to come.
I promised to keep my heart open, not closed,
but I’m crying, how long, Lord? how long must I cry?
And I’m trying to keep all my crying inside
so it won’t be alarming to those with dry eyes…
But the pain, this ache, just won’t come to an end
as long as there are people I care about,
And frankly it’s getting ridiculous now
The sky is still gray and I’m still full of fears
I’m going to drown in this lake of tears
And I just want to write about something else.
19/30
On The Horizon
The brightest light emerges out of the deepest depths of darkness
So hold on and be strong during your moments of weakness
Life will test our perseverance and we must answer the calls
Standing up tall throughout it all even when pouring rain falls
Pitfalls are inevitable but we can be charitable to each other
Providing shoulders to cry on as one to rely on when not asunder
Thunder will rumble and there'll be flashes of lighting
We just have to weather the storms and keep on fighting
Delighting and cherishing the heat rays of those sunny days
Don't go cray cray or just lay down; throwing your crown away
Stay upright cause after dark nights the Sun's on the horizon
Use your 5G and hear me clearly as if I was Verizon
On The Horizon
The brightest light emerges out of the deepest depths of darkness
So hold on and be strong during your moments of weakness
Life will test our perseverance and we must answer the calls
Standing up tall throughout it all even when pouring rain falls
Pitfalls are inevitable but we can be charitable to each other
Providing shoulders to cry on as one to rely on when not asunder
Thunder will rumble and there'll be flashes of lighting
We just have to weather the storms and keep on fighting
Delighting and cherishing the heat rays of those sunny days
Don't go cray cray or just lay down; throwing your crown away
Stay upright cause after dark nights the Sun's on the horizon
Use your 5G and hear me clearly as if I was Verizon
19 /30
Dr.doofus
I know,
that you think you are smarter
than most people, brilliant in fact
with your mental heath education
but would you talk to me in jail?
would you take a trip to the ghetto?
Prolly not,
you are too full of yourself to notice
you’re the real problem
you are what's wrong with the world!
So,
while you're out doing what you do
trying to figure out the rest of the world
assuming and judging, you should know
it's people like you that make the rest of us
Crazy!!!
Dr.doofus
I know,
that you think you are smarter
than most people, brilliant in fact
with your mental heath education
but would you talk to me in jail?
would you take a trip to the ghetto?
Prolly not,
you are too full of yourself to notice
you’re the real problem
you are what's wrong with the world!
So,
while you're out doing what you do
trying to figure out the rest of the world
assuming and judging, you should know
it's people like you that make the rest of us
Crazy!!!
18/30
These Thoughts
Awakened again by those thoughts that aren’t there
Seem to appear and disappear without much of a care
Unbidden untamed and wild as they can be
There is no end in sight of them at least nor for me
But what can I do when they are always within my reach
I cannot pluck each out in in doing so, teach
To only call when bidden and not a second before
Though with how they listen I’ll fall behind in score
Some days easier than others and others not so
Leave me no room to wallow and no room to grow
Unique words: 77
These Thoughts
Awakened again by those thoughts that aren’t there
Seem to appear and disappear without much of a care
Unbidden untamed and wild as they can be
There is no end in sight of them at least nor for me
But what can I do when they are always within my reach
I cannot pluck each out in in doing so, teach
To only call when bidden and not a second before
Though with how they listen I’ll fall behind in score
Some days easier than others and others not so
Leave me no room to wallow and no room to grow
Unique words: 77
18/30
The Storyteller - One
Selecting, by far, the longest line
ignoring all others much shorter
I’m unemployed, got plenty of time
to wait for my favorite checker
When ringing up my items, last visit
she greeted me like a friend, so warmly
In voice so exquisite with smile so sublime
today I’m seen through a darker lens
one that sees right through me
before, her face created sunshine
countenance now flat, demeanor surly
“Hello” I say, she mumbles a response
she thinks I’m vain because I bought croissants
nope, she saw that off-brand, looked at me funny
she’s convinced, I know, that I’m tight on money
damn, damn, damn I’ve done something else wrong
my life’s just as bad as a sad Country song
Easily sensing my obvious distress
she says “can you tell I’m depressed?”
then telling me she’d been up all night
because her baby had colic
and her husband’s alcoholic
The Storyteller - One
Selecting, by far, the longest line
ignoring all others much shorter
I’m unemployed, got plenty of time
to wait for my favorite checker
When ringing up my items, last visit
she greeted me like a friend, so warmly
In voice so exquisite with smile so sublime
today I’m seen through a darker lens
one that sees right through me
before, her face created sunshine
countenance now flat, demeanor surly
“Hello” I say, she mumbles a response
she thinks I’m vain because I bought croissants
nope, she saw that off-brand, looked at me funny
she’s convinced, I know, that I’m tight on money
damn, damn, damn I’ve done something else wrong
my life’s just as bad as a sad Country song
Easily sensing my obvious distress
she says “can you tell I’m depressed?”
then telling me she’d been up all night
because her baby had colic
and her husband’s alcoholic
18/30
..throat monster..
i was in a deep slumber when you came
i woke to your broken glass in my throat
so swollen and sore each breath slices
each swallow a thousand daggers
the dreams are distressed
not even water can be sipped
daylight could not come quick enough
where are the numbing agents of the world
relief was found but not for long
please leave soon
56 UWC
..throat monster..
i was in a deep slumber when you came
i woke to your broken glass in my throat
so swollen and sore each breath slices
each swallow a thousand daggers
the dreams are distressed
not even water can be sipped
daylight could not come quick enough
where are the numbing agents of the world
relief was found but not for long
please leave soon
56 UWC
19/30
THIRD ROAD
Like a homeopathic remedy
poetry is carefully potentised,
it sinks into the skin fast like comedy,
or slowly like an unfolding tragedy
Performing an intense operation
words combine in a surgical manner —
readers know not of the writer’s oblation,
the secret struggle and gestation
The journey is one the reader completes …
a single road offering many ways
where at the end a stretched hand smiles and greets
the traveler who dumps their burden, and sleeps
The poem, multicultural, stands alone,
cuts real from fake, gristle from bone.
THIRD ROAD
Like a homeopathic remedy
poetry is carefully potentised,
it sinks into the skin fast like comedy,
or slowly like an unfolding tragedy
Performing an intense operation
words combine in a surgical manner —
readers know not of the writer’s oblation,
the secret struggle and gestation
The journey is one the reader completes …
a single road offering many ways
where at the end a stretched hand smiles and greets
the traveler who dumps their burden, and sleeps
The poem, multicultural, stands alone,
cuts real from fake, gristle from bone.
#19 of 30
Listen Carefully
please listen carefully
i welcome oblivion
as the sky begins to scream
self impoaed insanity
carries all these hallucinations
permanently depressed being
with only temporary lucid moments
abnormal conditions surface
like timy monsters
you know misery lives company, right?
come join my nightmares
reconnecting echoes lost
never seems so easy
isolation creates darkness
where light cant exist
an infinite sorrow burts forth
Unique word count 62
Total word count 62
Listen Carefully
please listen carefully
i welcome oblivion
as the sky begins to scream
self impoaed insanity
carries all these hallucinations
permanently depressed being
with only temporary lucid moments
abnormal conditions surface
like timy monsters
you know misery lives company, right?
come join my nightmares
reconnecting echoes lost
never seems so easy
isolation creates darkness
where light cant exist
an infinite sorrow burts forth
Unique word count 62
Total word count 62
19/30
Green Thumb
May the cold hearts find warmth
Under these hands
May the blind hearts trust
What stands before them
May the fearful hearts take refuge
In my arms
And may the angered hearts fall soft
In my embrace
Yes, I will do my very best
To shower endless love on every heart
The hurt ones cry in silence
Like flowers planted from sunlight
Such beauty will be grown, all I ask
Is you agree, to let my helping hands weed
Green Thumb
May the cold hearts find warmth
Under these hands
May the blind hearts trust
What stands before them
May the fearful hearts take refuge
In my arms
And may the angered hearts fall soft
In my embrace
Yes, I will do my very best
To shower endless love on every heart
The hurt ones cry in silence
Like flowers planted from sunlight
Such beauty will be grown, all I ask
Is you agree, to let my helping hands weed
EPISODE 19/30
Sheila Lobelia and her crew were about to wrap up our Fellowshippers into fresh juice boxes when Ahavarwen blurted out,
"Spiderweb Mistress, the Dark Knight still loves you!"
The Sisterhood of the Eight Legged pants froze at the sudden outcry and looked up at their once upon a time Queen, who was nothing less than wide-eyed at the mention of the name. She blinked in Morse Code,
That name sounds familiar . . . It felt as if a fog shrouding her memory slightly lifted. He was my ... boyfriend?!
"YES!" everyone exclaimed in unison. The Spiders who, despite their hunger, were enraptured by the prospect of romance.
The great Eye of DUPon began to tear ( almost drowning Viddax who was stuck in the web directly below ). The memories came back to her slowly, until she finally remembered what the Dark Knight looked like: such a strapping hunk in those tights, the pointed rubber ears, the way he discoed in the moonlight and danced the Batusi under the stars . . .
"Help us be free of this web!" said Ganjosh. "Then we'll help you find him!"
She blinked wildly in agreement. Sheila and her crew clapped their mandibles excitedly and went straight to work on pulling everyone free. Then the Eye of DUPon was loaded onto a wooden cart to be pulled by several of the Donkeys.
In gratitude, Rosie Grace gave each of the spiders a basket of blueberry muffins and a recipe for the most dynamite Bloody Marys.
"Which way do we go now?" asked da_poetic-edifier after that harrowing escape.
"We head straight for that volcanic mountain spewing flames and noxious fumes," said P'Radriel, pointing to the East.
"Or, we just follow the shrieks," Lord Melrond added.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
And the shrieking of the Nasty Ghoulies was relentless as they galloped back to the armor plated, spikey gated community of Humbug. Their miniature midnight steeds were tuckering out. They would search for The One Poem ™ from the skies instead. It was time to saddle up their awful, dragon-winged Smelly Beasts!
But first, at the guard shack, the Ditch King swiped his badge through the card reader and entered his 4 digit PIN code. The security in his kingdom was so tight that even he was subject to random body cavity searches. Then they disappeared through the metal gate that was briefly opened.
The Dark Knight listened intently, then sighed in relief. The Poemwraiths were travelling away from them. They could breathe more easily now. It was slow going through the Dreaded Marshes, but they were making better time than if they had gone around.
DUGlo was alarmed when he came across a face in the water staring back up at him. "Who are these people?" he asked hesitantly.
The Dark Knight explained, without slowing down. "The bodies here have been preserved by these boggy waters for thousands of years. They were the Numeralians, Men of the West who fought MOAR!ON's armies and drove him into the East. Most of their race is extinguished and without a king to lead themthese days."
The Glowyrm thought of all the NaPoWriMos that were held before and after MOAR!ON's reign of terror, thanks in part to these brave, fallen soldiers. It put things into a sort of perspective. This was history they were travelling through. And its future depended on the outcome of their quest.
DUGlo was really just a little fellow, in a wide world after all.
Greetings, Fellowshippers! Apparently a carnival is held on the outskirts of MOAR'DOR each year. You can't have a day off, but you can have a day of fun if you have a ticket beside your name! We'll be meeting at the Ferris wheel at midnight to continue our trek!
Have fun!
( 19/30 )
Satellite
[ . . . ]
Part III: Systems of Nomenclature
[ . . . ]
ii.
February—Deep Snow Moon
( Mahican Dialect, Stockbridge-Munsee Band of Wisconsin )
Lunisolar calendar, midmonth
full-brush ere so close to earth
her super-sized orbit
emanating energy o'er us
Earth-based longitude
opposite the sun—heavy
snows make difficult the hunt
filling storerooms with bones
Yet, exalted Venus follows suit
provides the flicker of love—
we become receptive
deeply intuitive
absorbed in forms of art
distracting us from hunger
gnawing our spirits bare
Wolf Spirit resonates
and resourcefulness arises
from hymnals of heart:
Muxaʔtaawe Osãane Neepãʔuk
( Deep Snow Moon ), you provide
our guidance to survive
. . .
Satellite
[ . . . ]
Part III: Systems of Nomenclature
[ . . . ]
ii.
February—Deep Snow Moon
( Mahican Dialect, Stockbridge-Munsee Band of Wisconsin )
Lunisolar calendar, midmonth
full-brush ere so close to earth
her super-sized orbit
emanating energy o'er us
Earth-based longitude
opposite the sun—heavy
snows make difficult the hunt
filling storerooms with bones
Yet, exalted Venus follows suit
provides the flicker of love—
we become receptive
deeply intuitive
absorbed in forms of art
distracting us from hunger
gnawing our spirits bare
Wolf Spirit resonates
and resourcefulness arises
from hymnals of heart:
Muxaʔtaawe Osãane Neepãʔuk
( Deep Snow Moon ), you provide
our guidance to survive
. . .
