OFFICIAL DUP Glo/NaPoWriMo 2021 Competition
3/30
this poem could have gone on for days
don’t even need to wonder if it’s old of me
to say I was placed in the cradle
of a tropical navy base civilisation situation
fire ants attacking from huge, willing trees
twenty-five years ago now, almost to the day
my parents had kitted me with their brand new
mobile phone built like a brick, kept me reachable
while I skipped piano lessons to ride off with my bff
on my bike to the beach where I lost my retainer
[wave swooshed it right out of my mouth, swear down]
playing full-team football in some kid’s backyard
fishing for tilapia off the bridge by the biggest
sappiest, plumeria tree on the street where
my brother disassembled a live crab, then cried
at the weight of having researched it to death
we’d take Brandy sometimes, though
she wasn’t allowed to swim off the dock round the bend
where I’d seen hammerhead heads on the seafloor
in case there were more with bodies, the ones
accused of misplacing other neighborhood dogs
she couldn’t come to softball practice, either
with my dad and me, ‘cos she was too much of a
delightful distraction, as I later suspected my coach
may have been for my dad when I looked over once
during a game while they were talking close
and she was rubbing his back
before our team sleepover at hers at which I’d watched
my first horror movie and Grease, where everyone else
knew all the words to all the songs, and after which
I’d had Elm Street nightmares for solid weeks
doesn’t feel like how it sounds when I say “the ‘90s”
my walkman doesn’t feel like recycling, my hair knockers
would still second nature knot in my hands
and I still prefer jeans with a tear or two
not sure I’d want to wander down my street again
not since they cut down the huge trees
this poem could have gone on for days
don’t even need to wonder if it’s old of me
to say I was placed in the cradle
of a tropical navy base civilisation situation
fire ants attacking from huge, willing trees
twenty-five years ago now, almost to the day
my parents had kitted me with their brand new
mobile phone built like a brick, kept me reachable
while I skipped piano lessons to ride off with my bff
on my bike to the beach where I lost my retainer
[wave swooshed it right out of my mouth, swear down]
playing full-team football in some kid’s backyard
fishing for tilapia off the bridge by the biggest
sappiest, plumeria tree on the street where
my brother disassembled a live crab, then cried
at the weight of having researched it to death
we’d take Brandy sometimes, though
she wasn’t allowed to swim off the dock round the bend
where I’d seen hammerhead heads on the seafloor
in case there were more with bodies, the ones
accused of misplacing other neighborhood dogs
she couldn’t come to softball practice, either
with my dad and me, ‘cos she was too much of a
delightful distraction, as I later suspected my coach
may have been for my dad when I looked over once
during a game while they were talking close
and she was rubbing his back
before our team sleepover at hers at which I’d watched
my first horror movie and Grease, where everyone else
knew all the words to all the songs, and after which
I’d had Elm Street nightmares for solid weeks
doesn’t feel like how it sounds when I say “the ‘90s”
my walkman doesn’t feel like recycling, my hair knockers
would still second nature knot in my hands
and I still prefer jeans with a tear or two
not sure I’d want to wander down my street again
not since they cut down the huge trees
3/30
Lessons in life part 12.....Children of the Willows
The Brook looks good
without the detergent
foaming from the factory upstream,
it closed its gates in the eighties
but the fish never came back.
It's now called a linear park
but I can still see its heart beating.
I can feel the asthmatic cold
of white canvas tents,
raw black spuds hot handed
from the edge of its fires.
clean pathways weave
where we once dug dens,
I walk alone in the presence of friends
and pick out a spot
to sit and smoke myself to ash.
The spiked collars of hard to cross pipes
remind me of punks too drunk to stand.
I place a hand to the rough bark
of a tree that taught me to fly
the sandstone slab looks small
as retrace my take off.
Houses have been built
over most of the old routes,
but I know another way round,
everything is denser, undergrowth
heavier than I imagined,
but then the scent of trampled Jewel Weed
burst across forty years
and all I can do is smile.
Lessons in life part 12.....Children of the Willows
The Brook looks good
without the detergent
foaming from the factory upstream,
it closed its gates in the eighties
but the fish never came back.
It's now called a linear park
but I can still see its heart beating.
I can feel the asthmatic cold
of white canvas tents,
raw black spuds hot handed
from the edge of its fires.
clean pathways weave
where we once dug dens,
I walk alone in the presence of friends
and pick out a spot
to sit and smoke myself to ash.
The spiked collars of hard to cross pipes
remind me of punks too drunk to stand.
I place a hand to the rough bark
of a tree that taught me to fly
the sandstone slab looks small
as retrace my take off.
Houses have been built
over most of the old routes,
but I know another way round,
everything is denser, undergrowth
heavier than I imagined,
but then the scent of trampled Jewel Weed
burst across forty years
and all I can do is smile.
Anonymous
EPISODE 3/30
Our Fellowship of The One Poem ™ zigged and zagged over hill and through forest until the eardrum shattering shrieks of the Nasty Ghoulies abated far behind them. Then camp was made, although few were inclined to sleep.
"I've never been so scared in my entire life," said DUGlo Baggins as he fed baby carrots to the miniature Donkey he affectionately named John Ronald.
"Not nearly enough," said the Gray Lizard, parking himself on a hollow log. As he smoked a piped, Ganjosh elaborated. "The Nine are a frightening bunch, but their leader is a terrible bastard. He is the Ditch King of Humbug, a nightmarish valley that the living dare not enter on the sunniest of days. It is a swampland with the wretched stench of half emptied beer cans floating about - every stinking one of them teeming with inebbriated Borgul Beetles."
Jaragorn, given his poor gag reflex, almost threw up in his leather football helmet. Everyone else listening shuddered, for Muddle Earth was abound with tales of the legendary King of Humbug and his eight boogeyman dance crew.
Then there was much arguing going on as to what the next course of action should be, until Ahavarwen shouted, "Enough!" She removed a deck of cards from her cloak and held it out. "We shall let the Universe decide where we need to be based on which Location card is chosen. This knowledge will help us determine what we need to do when we get there."
Gimlyroo put down the axe he was sharpening and politely raised his hand. When acknowledged, he asked, "But who gets to pick the Location card?"
Ahavarwen sighed, rolled her eyes, and removed a second deck of cards. "Everyone pick one Character card. The person who ends up picking the MOAR!ON card will then get to pick the Location card."
"Excuse me," piped up Satin Gamgeez. "How do we decide which decks of cards we draw from in the first place?"
Rosie Grace in turn gave him The Look and said, "Be a good boy and repeat after me: Rosie knows an idiot when she sees one."
More arguing broke out amongst the Fellowship until a sleek raven swooped down and stole the top card from the Location deck. Before it could fly away, the card was pierced by an arrow that ended up stuck in a tree trunk. There was much ooing and aahing at the skill with a bow displayed.
From out of the dark strolled a familiar face. It was Lunalass Greenjeans of the Smirkwood Forest Elves. She plucked the arrow from the tree and approached them.
"Is this your card?" she asked, holding it up against her forehead. "Don't tell me what it is." A look of intense concentration came over her face. "I see a tall, black tower carved out of absurdian."
"It is the Tower of ThincTanc," confirmed PRaradriel. "Home of Salamandar, the White Lizard." She began to glide around the glade they were settled in. "And it is there that we can access the Muddle Earthenet using his P'lan Tier 3 connection and search for the The Dark Knight. He is the only individual we are aware of that knows how to destroy The One Poem ™. It's a long shot, but that's all we have to go on for now."
Lunalass sniffed the hair of her Elven comrades and said with a smirk that her clan was notorious for,
"You all stink of Dwarf."
3 of 30
foal cloche
you are foresight -sane, shamed,
drunk on cormorant wine and mail.
A kingfisher's tail
brushing over-rained damns,
your floods are leaking
indices codices portfolios
in asphalt baltic black
on sweet white older veins
jungian seed, tilling the five staves off
I am monocultured, gregorian
stammering lists abandoned
the nomenclature of odd-grey manes
hanging in manor windows
tiered eyes and lashes opening
I wake to the washed linen
morning
and hope to re-die early
60 unique words of 77 total
foal cloche
you are foresight -sane, shamed,
drunk on cormorant wine and mail.
A kingfisher's tail
brushing over-rained damns,
your floods are leaking
indices codices portfolios
in asphalt baltic black
on sweet white older veins
jungian seed, tilling the five staves off
I am monocultured, gregorian
stammering lists abandoned
the nomenclature of odd-grey manes
hanging in manor windows
tiered eyes and lashes opening
I wake to the washed linen
morning
and hope to re-die early
60 unique words of 77 total
3/30
The Three W’s
Finding myself bone Weary,
and constantly Wondering-
until I can’t breathe with Worry.
Where have I gone?
How would all the dead poets write
of this disappearance, or sadder, demise?
When did my shadow simply become an essence?
There are no poetic metaphors for choices that may have turned out differently.
Only imaginary scenario’s of what might have been.
And, with you-
might it all have been better?
Perhaps not.
Only different.
And yet the question begs-
Would a different story
have been rendered?
One can only Wish.
(58 unique words)
The Three W’s
Finding myself bone Weary,
and constantly Wondering-
until I can’t breathe with Worry.
Where have I gone?
How would all the dead poets write
of this disappearance, or sadder, demise?
When did my shadow simply become an essence?
There are no poetic metaphors for choices that may have turned out differently.
Only imaginary scenario’s of what might have been.
And, with you-
might it all have been better?
Perhaps not.
Only different.
And yet the question begs-
Would a different story
have been rendered?
One can only Wish.
(58 unique words)
3/30
A toddler, getting on!
Al Fresco when I felt the breeze
in nakedness so freedom seized
my reins escaped, was I ever pleased
Tried to walk in larger shoes
thought that i could run
but I wobbled, fell down on my bum
Tasks so simple. fumbled trough
to be fed with just a spoon
a learning curve that smells of poo
Someone clearing up my mess
the future hold no great prospects
always sit on the naughty step
With downcast eyes, looks of shame
to grow and flourish be my aim
but as I am, ever to remain
Others can attain that bar
rise above to be a star
me a Wally christened exemlpar
A milk-nurse be the help i seek
DU angels looking out for me
The childhood innocence of the elderly
A toddler, getting on!
Al Fresco when I felt the breeze
in nakedness so freedom seized
my reins escaped, was I ever pleased
Tried to walk in larger shoes
thought that i could run
but I wobbled, fell down on my bum
Tasks so simple. fumbled trough
to be fed with just a spoon
a learning curve that smells of poo
Someone clearing up my mess
the future hold no great prospects
always sit on the naughty step
With downcast eyes, looks of shame
to grow and flourish be my aim
but as I am, ever to remain
Others can attain that bar
rise above to be a star
me a Wally christened exemlpar
A milk-nurse be the help i seek
DU angels looking out for me
The childhood innocence of the elderly
#3 of 30
Ignored
ignored
as if no existence
beaten down
with silence
an opinion not worthy
beware saying anything
for it could offend
their sensibilities
but rebellion
is freedom
on the fringes
always marginalised
views hidden
forbidden thoughts
never highlighted
imagination stiffled
difference ridiculed
damaged reasoning
beyond normal parameters
creating fear
diversity outkawed
intelligence banned
be submissive
since resistance
breaks rules
Unique word count 58
Total word count 58
3 of 30
The Wedding
It's the third day of NaPoWriMo
And I'm just not in my best mood to write
But I have to spill a poem for the day
Or I'll get a strike or perhaps be disqualified
I can't allow that to happen
Not when I'm on my third NaPoWriMo Comp
Truth is, I am tired from today's event
I had to wake up earlier than my usual waking time
To go to town and buy a gift
For the wedding we attended this afternoon with my son
We had to hurry to get back home and prepare
I was on edge for days about this wedding
My brother and his wife was supposed to attend instead of me
But then they're hundred miles away from this city
I wasted a few amount over a dress I picked only to end up using a different outfit
I wonder when and where I could use that for
I knew it was a mistake when I made the purchase
The style isn't really my taste though I was excited to show it to my husband
I usually go for simpler style that is more comfortable and can be worn on any occasion
When I showed it to my younger brother and his wife
I received a negative feedback
They told me to look for another dress that is more elegant for the wedding
I felt bad and regretted my impulsive buying
This afternoon I went to the wedding in pants and a matching blouse
It looked good and comfortable enough
But when I arrived there most of the guest were in their best attire
I feign confidence seeing most of the ladies dressed up in long gowns and adorned with jewelries and make up
I was casually dressed for ordinary day
And the worst part of it was
When my name was mentioned in the entourage
To represent my brother and his wife
I did not move from my seat and just let the emcee go on to call the next sponsor
Now I'm relieved it's over
The Wedding
It's the third day of NaPoWriMo
And I'm just not in my best mood to write
But I have to spill a poem for the day
Or I'll get a strike or perhaps be disqualified
I can't allow that to happen
Not when I'm on my third NaPoWriMo Comp
Truth is, I am tired from today's event
I had to wake up earlier than my usual waking time
To go to town and buy a gift
For the wedding we attended this afternoon with my son
We had to hurry to get back home and prepare
I was on edge for days about this wedding
My brother and his wife was supposed to attend instead of me
But then they're hundred miles away from this city
I wasted a few amount over a dress I picked only to end up using a different outfit
I wonder when and where I could use that for
I knew it was a mistake when I made the purchase
The style isn't really my taste though I was excited to show it to my husband
I usually go for simpler style that is more comfortable and can be worn on any occasion
When I showed it to my younger brother and his wife
I received a negative feedback
They told me to look for another dress that is more elegant for the wedding
I felt bad and regretted my impulsive buying
This afternoon I went to the wedding in pants and a matching blouse
It looked good and comfortable enough
But when I arrived there most of the guest were in their best attire
I feign confidence seeing most of the ladies dressed up in long gowns and adorned with jewelries and make up
I was casually dressed for ordinary day
And the worst part of it was
When my name was mentioned in the entourage
To represent my brother and his wife
I did not move from my seat and just let the emcee go on to call the next sponsor
Now I'm relieved it's over
3/30
Catch the Drift
“But professor” said I striving to understand why
However, after he delivered the message he was gone
So I read and reread trying to decipher and demystify
But I am still lost in scales as the fire seems to drag on…
…My young fragile brain couldn’t really comprehend
But an inspiration was born for something to become
It was a relentless drive and coordination of hands
For those of us in the know succumb to the air drum
I remember falling in love with this rhythm and sound
I recall closing my eyes and picturing myself behind a set
It was a dream and passion that would never calm down
One that the professor would never let me forget
If you catch the mystery, catch the drift…
127 Words
92 Unique
Catch the Drift
“But professor” said I striving to understand why
However, after he delivered the message he was gone
So I read and reread trying to decipher and demystify
But I am still lost in scales as the fire seems to drag on…
…My young fragile brain couldn’t really comprehend
But an inspiration was born for something to become
It was a relentless drive and coordination of hands
For those of us in the know succumb to the air drum
I remember falling in love with this rhythm and sound
I recall closing my eyes and picturing myself behind a set
It was a dream and passion that would never calm down
One that the professor would never let me forget
If you catch the mystery, catch the drift…
127 Words
92 Unique
3/30
Wild Seed
Wild seed blown to the breeze;
where will he fall, who will call.
If given a chance, with him I would dance
twisting and shaking in a lofty romance.
In hours as minutes, seconds burned to dust
every notion a fragment adrift in wanderlust.
How he flies within the reeds
seeking nothing that he won't need.
Only a tiny resting spot
unstable and on a wavering lot;
going unnoticed even in wind
hiding among each branch that bends.
He will emerge in some strange time
to come alive in sight and mind
germinating in a fiery brand
with reaching roots to siphon the land.
Hungry for malignant ground
within a murky pool to drown,
he'll arise and spawn my dreams;
all my hardest scars will bleed.
My heart lies fertile;
wild seed.
Wild Seed
Wild seed blown to the breeze;
where will he fall, who will call.
If given a chance, with him I would dance
twisting and shaking in a lofty romance.
In hours as minutes, seconds burned to dust
every notion a fragment adrift in wanderlust.
How he flies within the reeds
seeking nothing that he won't need.
Only a tiny resting spot
unstable and on a wavering lot;
going unnoticed even in wind
hiding among each branch that bends.
He will emerge in some strange time
to come alive in sight and mind
germinating in a fiery brand
with reaching roots to siphon the land.
Hungry for malignant ground
within a murky pool to drown,
he'll arise and spawn my dreams;
all my hardest scars will bleed.
My heart lies fertile;
wild seed.
3/30
::A Solid Line Up::
a request was made
and the magician delivered a solid line up
three words land on the glow screen door
i really could not ask for more
is it really that easy?
rub a lamp and ask the genie?
apparently so and here we go:
Space.. what's needed to see
Fuzz.. what's in between
Murk.. the reality
and in it all these three lie in togetherness
connection
connectivity
relation
relativity
and so it is
::holy huzzah moly::
59 unique words
::A Solid Line Up::
a request was made
and the magician delivered a solid line up
three words land on the glow screen door
i really could not ask for more
is it really that easy?
rub a lamp and ask the genie?
apparently so and here we go:
Space.. what's needed to see
Fuzz.. what's in between
Murk.. the reality
and in it all these three lie in togetherness
connection
connectivity
relation
relativity
and so it is
::holy huzzah moly::
59 unique words
#3. April 3rd.
To ride away
Where do you now ride to?
To doom, to doom.
Where do you drive them on to?
To war, to war.
Where is the one I knew before?
They must quickly ride away
for their message will not keep
they can not linger or stay
and for them no rest or sleep.
They will pass as clouds in the sky
for it is that time calls them nigh
it is for you to stay behind
for their destiny is assigned.
Why do you now ride to?
For fate, for fate.
Why do you drive them on to?
For the call, for the call.
For they must now ride away
to join the harvest's reap
and to return, none can say
upon passing we will weep.
(Unique words: 61).
To ride away
Where do you now ride to?
To doom, to doom.
Where do you drive them on to?
To war, to war.
Where is the one I knew before?
They must quickly ride away
for their message will not keep
they can not linger or stay
and for them no rest or sleep.
They will pass as clouds in the sky
for it is that time calls them nigh
it is for you to stay behind
for their destiny is assigned.
Why do you now ride to?
For fate, for fate.
Why do you drive them on to?
For the call, for the call.
For they must now ride away
to join the harvest's reap
and to return, none can say
upon passing we will weep.
(Unique words: 61).
3/30
WATERBEARS
Great lava lake
A happy place
Transform ourselves
To tardigrades
Imagined claws
The truth suspends
Giving pause
Intrepid friends
Survive and thrive
A dream for sure
Get too close
We will be burned
No microscopic fortitude
Soft bags of flesh
With attitude
Filled with water
Bear our souls
Steer us clear
Of all black holes
WATERBEARS
Great lava lake
A happy place
Transform ourselves
To tardigrades
Imagined claws
The truth suspends
Giving pause
Intrepid friends
Survive and thrive
A dream for sure
Get too close
We will be burned
No microscopic fortitude
Soft bags of flesh
With attitude
Filled with water
Bear our souls
Steer us clear
Of all black holes
