OFFICIAL DUP Glo/NaPoWriMo 2021 Competition

23/30

Jigsaw Puzzle



I’m not sure I will ever
get over that smile.
The self-satisfied,
look at what I just did
grin that creeps onto your
face when you’re trying
not to show how proud of
yourself that you are.

It’s mischief and satisfaction
mixed in with “and you thought
I couldn’t do it” pride.

It is glorious.

I see you, son of my heart
and blood and tears.
You work harder than anyone
I know. Things people take for
granted are not right at your
fingertips. It takes more time, and more
effort, than even I can comprehend.
And I’m right here with you watching
every step along the way.

Today, after years of being frustrated
and downright refusing to complete
a set task, you did the thing.
You did it.

You.

On your own.

And I’m left weeping over
jigsaw puzzles.

24/30

awal, akhir, and whatever grows and dies between them

this temple breathes slowly
this holy place
water lilies sleeping sparse
taking surface tension
as an opened bed sheet
crooked roots wrapped heavy
through cracked clay
honouring dead wishes
at rest in the garden

pictures are etched here
into dome walls
telling stories of sacred things
secrets of life embedded in fable
history melts into legend

and we swell into this hushed room
becoming as vast
as the empty space above
where burnt sacrifices have left
their sooty reminders
that we will ultimately be outlived
our own stories forgotten by time
but not by the earth
thrumming with memory
recorded and left in the dirt

23/30
Just Us

Laughs and smiles
Talking and silence
Walking and stopping
Looking at the view and each other
Food and drinks
Happiness and joy
Having fun and living in the moment
Being present and focused
Goofing around and not caring who can see
Admiring the flowers and the pond
Watching the sun set and the moon rise
Feeling perfect and loved
No worries and nothing on my mind but you
Seeing you laugh and smile
Is the best thing in the world

#23

Afghan stripes

First, ketchuppy red – makes me hungry for fries,
then the messy off-white of April snow
Orange memory of seventies… harvest gold
Turquoise, the water on a Cuban beach
What is that colour – brown? auburn? poop?
And beige… f#%k that, it can’t decide what it is.
Bright green – my heart swells, dreaming of spring
Now lavender, lilac, heather – I say purple!
Back to ketchup – yuck, why use that one twice?!
Soft gray like Maritime ghosts in the mist
More poop – guess there’s always plenty of that
And white – it’s boring, but fills in the gap
Now deep forest green, my favourite pine tree
A deep blood red that’s much better than ketchup
A blue like the sky of a teenage romance
A few more colours, then it almost repeats
(with a few random splashes of black and hot pink)
It’s clear the maker didn’t have a real pattern
But the result is warm, and I guess that’s the point.

       24/ 30

worst poem ever


One day a spaceship will arrive
to take me on a trip to the stars
I’m not sure what I’ll see, maybe make
new friends, start an alien family

There is stark cold terror
out in space, I wonder a lot ?
do people live on the moon?
does Jupiter sing new tunes

was there, Is there, life on Mars
does Saturn have new rings
are we alone in our galaxy, could be
maybe we are a special breed







   

23/30

I cracked

When do you decide that enough is enough
I’ve always had a hard time saying no
Even when stretched beyond my breaking point
I knew how to keep it together
If not for myself but for others
To keep them going and moving along
However I seemed in a stasis, unmoving
Shoving all feelings aside until I became numb to them
Until I wasn’t
And they refused to be shoved down any longer
Came frothing and tearing to the surface
I hate to lose it in front of people
Especially ones I care so deeply about
But I’m tired of duct taping this facade back together
I’m tired of wrapping these cracks in cellophane
Dumping elmers glue on it and hoping it stays together


Unique words:  92

23/30

..friday night..

the wind whips and howls on this dark night
a chorus of brass wind chimes among the whistles
ye old oak witches sway hard..their movement sing the songs of ocean waves
cheap window panes creek and groan
this sweet match box mc mansion shakes and shimmies now and again
true soul vitamins
cozied up on my couch
soft lighting, laptop, tunes and poetry
incense wafting, tea steeping, fur babe at my feet
heart candy
does it get any better?

70 UWC

23/30

Mountain

This is where I was settled
At the age of ten
This forest home
Some would say it’s more of a “campsite”
A beautiful town, littered with cones and needles  
Green, for many reasons
Mostly, for the grass
Some of it weeds
And a few wildflowers here and there
This mountain will always be sacred to me

It’s seen hikers, bikers, farmers
All the way to nomads and vacationers
Some of them a little deranged
No wonder they chose the country
Couldn’t get along in the city..

Enough, now.. of this life
Away from pastures, crazies
Witches
I’m not a baby anymore

I was born of the forest
I thrive in the trees
I long for moss between my toes
And bark beneath my feet
So as I make my way forward
I will wave to this mountain
And search for another highland, to sprout on my own.

24/30

Clean well water for just three Guinea's

The worm burst through
his blistered leg
like white emerging shoots;
cruel were the winds
that spring, heating stagnant pools
where water fleas feed on larvae.

Ingested when one mans
drinking water is another mans
nature walk,
out with the children,
collecting algae and frog spawn.

I start to complain about the scale
inside the kettle, then remember
the pictures, sixty centimeters
and three days of pain
to wind it out onto a bobbin,
I close my mouth mid-sentence.

#24

Not Forgotten

Not forgotten
Never ever
How could i
For inside this heart
You're still beating

Rememberance of beauty
Will always live here
Vibrating on
Dreams keep awakening
Like my love

Since before
That first sparked
Existence
You have danced
In every sense

The flame's source
Compassion's
New born cries
Echoing
Forever touching

Cannot forget
About your soul

Its timeless effect

Unique word count 59
Total word count 59

24/30


FOURTH MYSTERY

Combine the power of technology
with the intention to subdue Nature,
fix the game in a vain ideology…
and it’s not looking good for humanity

Such power in the hands of so few
foisted forcefully on the population
can only lead to disaster — the clue
is psychos at the helm of every nation

And what’s the biggest mystery of all?
To destroy one’s own natural habitat,
make the masses suffer and then call
them all stupid, to blame, with no caveat

Does global growth in consciousness really need
such a mess, shaped by sense of lack, and greed?

EPISODE 24/30

The last candle in the Great Library of Minus Punctual flickered its final death throes as they frantically searched for Jaragorn's birth certificate.

"Well, that does it," stated Summdir rather glumly. "The Fellowship has failed. DUGlo will never reach Mount Dumb without being caught. This has all been in vain!"

"We'd have plenty of light if we set fire to some of these books," piped up InNomine.

There were so many gasps from utter shock you would have thought a monster was lurking in the darkness of the Great Library!

"What?!" replied silent_sound. "It's just a bunch of crappy poetry."

"Yeah!" chimed Honoria. "Knowing Steward Doneitbefore and his sons, most of it is likely plagiarized."

"Absolutely NOT!" said Lady Ahavarwen. "Every poem, no matter how badly written, has its potential to become something greater than it was. That includes those written by others that inspire us. That's why we have NaPoWriMo every year - to write whatever comes to mind - and then spend eleven months making it better! Would you instead burn your own NaPo entries before they reach their full potential?!"

"We'll just have to find something else to burn," said Jaragorn.

"I'm certain we could make a bonfire from all the Dwarf hair in here," Lunalass said with a chuckle. "Their armpits alone should provided plenty of kindling."

slipalong yelled, "Nobody shaves a Dwarf! Especially the likes of a pointy eared, smirky faced Elf!" There was a lot of protesting going on.

Somehwere amongst the shelves, Gimlyroo was accosted. "Not the beard!" he shouted. He was accosted again. "THAT's not my beard and definitely not being shaved either!"

CoolDude Merry strummed his ukulele to sooth everyone's nerves, pleading for them to stop. "MOAR!ON wants us to fight among ourselves and quit before NaPoWriMo starts!"

But the Dwarves weren't listening. Snail mail armor clanged as they bumped into each other in the darkness.

There was a thunderous booming crash! Light suddenly flooded the room through a gaping hole in the ceiling. Having narrowly crushed P'Radriel, had she not nimbly sidestepped it, was a huge boulder bearing an imbecilic looking stick figure of a Dwarf crudely carved upon it.

Ganjosh peered down through the hole, declaring, "MOAR!ON's army is attacking! The Steward has abandoned his people! It is up to us to make safe the citadel!"

The first thought that entered Eerowyn's mind was, Ohmygawd! Where did we park the Donkeys this time?!

And the army beyond the stone walls with catapults operated by Giant NaPo'sers had only just begun to lob their insults.

24/30

FATAL ATTRACTION

Trapped in a prison devoid of bars
Seeking emancipation from mental scars
Stars not shining as bright on most nights
Cause my stress levels are staying in flight

Yet I fight with the might of Apollo Creed
As The Sandman continues to beg & plead
Trying to get me to concede off the stage
Can't hook me so he's becoming enraged

Been engaged to death but we haven't eloped
Using healthier alternatives than using dope
In order to cope with an ailing mental state
They say it is written so I guess this is fate

24/30

[ Good Vibrations ] Artists, Rejoice!

For if life is truly of one's own making;
you need only better your craft

---be an artist who
not only aspires to create
great or at least adequate
works of art worthy
of adorning walls with

but also desires adequate
to nothing less than great
walls worthy of being
complemented with artwork

Why should either
be out of your reach
if both require belief
imagination and focus?

Gallery, canvas, living room . . .

each of these requires
thoughtful painting
as well as
painted thought