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OFFICIAL DUP Glo/NaPoWriMo 2021 Competition

Tyrant of Words
United States
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( 20/30 )


[ . . . ]

Part III: Systems of Nomenclature  

[ . . . ]  


March— Super Crow Moon
(  Anishinaabemowin (Ojibwe) )

Perigee, ninety-percent
closest approach to Earth
in a given orbit, swollen
with energetic fluoresce

Winter's bulb now dimming
holding space for spring;
snow thawing; earthworm casts
herald the Robin's return

Counting Crows, their caws
signifying a season's end
and a new on the horizon. . .
new leaves and sticky sap;
the tapping of maples begun

Blustery wind interspersed  
amid temperate, sunny days—
hungry bear, chipmunk
and woodchuck rouse from sleep

Pussy willows and wild flower
bloom, frogs lay their eggs;
wildling geese and duck
flying a northbound route

O! Crow—you thief of time:
Beware of The Ides of March
Don't forget to 'Spring ahead'—
Fast-forward those bloody clocks!
. . .

Dangerous Mind
United States
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Video games killed
The morning cuddle with mom
Did not see it happening
This quickly
Loving soft arms replaced
By red and gold controllers
Whispers of I love you
Switched into longing requests
More screen time
And growls when met with
Unintended answers
How to drive your mother
Completely crazy
Disappear into the moving image
She is right here
Physical not virtual
In this desperate time
Of connection
Somehow still not enough

Fire of Insight
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20 of 30

Flight of Time

April glides smoothly
Going by so fast
How swiftly days move along
Time really flies
A second passes
In the blink of an eye

I wonder how far
I would go or would have gone
If I raced with time in its turning
If I made each second each minute
And each hour
That passed me by count

Perhaps all my days would have been full
There would be no time to feel empty
Maybe I would be somewhere else
Not where I am now
At this moment in my life

I've wasted time in the past
Not fully using it when I had it
In my posession
I let it slip from my fingers
Like loose grains of sand
Falling back into the sea

Tyrant of Words
United States
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Please, Make This End!

Gods and Goddesses of poetry
I beg you- fast forward these
next ten days!

Supply me with word prompts, dictionaries and Thesaurus’ a plenty.

There should be no shortage
of poems pouring forth from
my quill.

Alas, there isn’t and I have stalled by way of thoughts.

I can’t decipher another metaphor or count my unique words.

Nor, postulate even the notion of an epic! I haven’t the brain power or lexicon come to that.

I dream of poetic perfection
It’s the hippest. Anyone can pen
a novel.

Not everyone can receive a Reading List honor.

(69 unique words)

Tyrant of Words
United States
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[ Of Power And Rings ] The Incident With The Dragon

Of a lonely mountain's worth of gold    
slumbered upon by dragon old    
whose cup runneth over    
with ill gotten gains    
surely a single coin or chalice    
not a soul would miss    
Though, this  
remains to be seen    
And for the time being;    
in moments brief    
the ring serves the simplistic    
purposes of simple minded folk  
or the average thief    
---renders Bilbo Baggins    
entirely unseen by magic spell . . .    
if not for a winged serpent's    
keen sense of smell!    
Unaware as to the extent    
of a drake's olfactory capacities    
he boldly takes on the challenge:    
from the sleeping behemoth    
burgle nothing more than a tiny sum    
and of the power at his fingertips;    
he slips on the Birthday Present    
once belonging to the creature Gollum    
Don't get caught, they say    
Little does the little fellow know    
he already is    
          caught up in something    
greater than himself    
          and the whole of the Shire    
The real illusion all along    
was Bilbo thinking he didn't belong    
on such a grand adventure, as if    
Hobbits were somehow exempt  
from the world's problems

Guardian of Shadows
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(20 of 30—Official DUP NaPo/GloPoWrimo2021)

sonnets among my scribbles

sonnet #20

the smell of war is as the scent of blood,
crusted on scars that laminate the book
of human ire, no heart to overlook
the tragedy of rivalry.  what good
the taste of blood that leaks the taste of death,
till every drop falls cringing in the trench,
to foul the evening breezes with the stench
of broken bodies lying there beneath?
the sight of dead men is the sight of hell,
kindled by flames of passion in their eyes,
that ember into ash as each heart dies
under the storming of life's citadel.

and war broke out in heaven, and the beast
fell from his glory to become the least.

© Copyright 2021 April 18
by Clyve A. Bowen♫

UWC = 74

Fire of Insight
United States
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Pavement Birds

Call us the pavement birds
Blazing on the boardwalk
Kicking up sand
Under the midnight marine layer
Smog in our lungs
Fun comes first, who needs seatbelts
When you’re flying?
Just two pavement birds
On an adventure
With the wind to our backs
We will ride where the alley cats prowl
Where the clubbers howl
And we won’t turn to the light
Because our home is the night

Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
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Memory foam

Long night so reaching out for rest
my yawn, still prevalent at dawn
and yesterday`s, still remain beset
floats like the thunders echo

Alarm, vivid flashing lights, behind the eyes
and weary steps upon the stair
tired wood it groans and creaks
calling the lift you seek, the fresher air

Spume flies on frothing winds
free to find new forms
the page wiped clean
to leave the imprint, left before

Sharpen the dull edge, dispense with sepia
a lullaby it beckons, switch off that  media
lavender cushions, bely the eyelid`s droop
floating downy clouds, that spell insomnia

Fire of Insight
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21 of 30


You're so fragile now
Physically and emotionally
Like a glass prone to breaking
An abrupt change has happened
Since your hospitalization

You used to be strong and agile
But that physical strength is gone
Your legs that can walk for kilometers before
Can barely support you for hours on your feet now
It's sad to see you this way
Totally different from what you used to be

I have to handle you with  care
No more massages and tight hugs from me
Your skin cannot endure pressure
It would cause you hematoma
Because of your proneness to bleeding

Blame it on warfarin for this vulnerability
But we cannot do anything to change it
We have to live with these changes in you
I can only assure you of my constant support and understanding
And one thing is for sure
My love will never change

Lord Viddax
Guardian of Shadows
United Kingdom
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#20. April 20th.

Fight rather than Flight

The Long Defeat
- Well,
maybe if you didn't retreat so much
from the world,
there would still be a world worth saving.

I never particularly liked the Elves
or Elf-like races,
full of arrogance and superiority
a faded empire
built only on memory.

But I like the Eldar,
but only the warlike Biel-Tan,
who don armour
to become 'aspect warriors'
and give themselves to one aspect of war:
beauty and elegance of violence
driven by a bloody-handed God;
the aggressive warmonger behind the elven facade.
Better to die a warrior's death of defiance
than shirk from it all,
and shrink into self-preserving communes.
If defeat is inevitable,
better to burn the light
of stubborn defiance,
to pass the torch to the next;
than fade into darkness
and complain none are worthy
while refusing to lead by example.

Yet perhaps the Elves chimed too much with me?
I always was more a 'Tomb King':
arrogant and different,
and from another time,
tempering faded glory with a temper
enough to fight for past values.

(Unique words: 121.)

Twisted Dreamer
United Kingdom
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20 of 30

Almost time..

Almost every time I pause;
Placing back the pen.
Knowing the moment will return.
Irrelevant of whether I yearn,
The words will churn or,
Curdle in the pen.
If I was caught in different cloth,
There is a write on buttermilk,
Or even clotted cheese.
You need make do,
With this morass,
For times can be an ass,
Just ask,

Twisted Dreamer
United States
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where are we

following the swan brought me
to a sunny beach bog
the one where i saw cows
walk along the water’s surface
it was a glass table, maybe

took me a second
to process their reflections
cows on a beach
cows walking along the top of high tide
eating seaweed
like it was normal to see cows
eat seaweed at the beach
with their calves in tow like wild bovines
a different mental exercise
than dealing with shapes
of horses or sheep wandering dunes
scavenging near the water
wading across an unrippling mirror

they looked graceful almost
brachiosaurus slowly plodding
toward the [g]reat [v]alley

Fire of Insight
United Kingdom
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Hard chords to play

He plays the blues,
as cigarettes cloud the stage-light,
he drinks the blues,
twelve bars and bottles drown in booze
gets lost in every chord he strikes
and wants to feel the bruise each night
so he can hate the blues.
As hunger waits for its supper
he eats the blues,
the shelves are bare he writes for food
finishes one, starts another
one-night stands but never lovers
he finds the blues again.

Dangerous Mind
United States
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Dear Whoever Finds this Message,

It’s not often that I find myself
alone. There are always,
always, people about me.
Around me. Touching me.

But today, I am here.

Alone. Writing a message to shove
into an empty wine bottle and send
floating down this river.

First, I hope this finds you well.
If not happy, at least content.
Second, have you told someone you
loved them recently? If not, do it.
Even if they don’t return the words,
the feelings. You won’t regret saying them.
There isn’t enough love in the world these
days and people returning (or not returning)
your love should not dictate
if, and when, you love them.

Third, you really should find some time
to put your body in the sand. Lay down,
let it get in places sand shouldn’t. At the
very least, submerge yourself in water –
the ocean, a creek, a river,
your bathtub.  

Fourth, learn to savor time alone and
in your own mind.
Fifth, drink lots of water.
Sixth, being busy shouldn’t be
a defining part of your personality.

Seventh, remember that you are
incredible. If no one has told you that
recently, let me (a total stranger) remind you.
You are incredible.

Eighth, jump in the damn puddle. It will
be amazing. I promise.
Nineth, be the adult that your
eight-year-old self needed on their
very worst day.

And tenth, should we ever meet,
cross paths and share a few laughs over
coffee or wine,
could you remind me of the first
nine things?


Rain Woman
Fire of Insight
United States
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I want to scream
Or cry
Or run far away from technology
And smash all my electronics
I am so sick of emails
And tests
And zoom calls
Technology causes me so much stress
But it’s the only way to do things
Like go to class
Talk with my professors
Fill out applications
Literally do anything
It's stressful
And causes headaches
Some days I am just so done with it all

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