Poetry competition CLOSED 30th April 2024 5:12pm
A public vote has been requested
2024 Official DUP NaPoWriMo Challenge
15/30
time...sometimes light...sometimes darkness...
Time, money, sunlight and food are all necessary for life
but "time" is the rarest of all, slips like sand from the hand
although time brings with it both sorrow and happiness
but it brings a small silken cloth of happiness and a big cloud of sorrow
time is not like a continuously flowing river, it is a salty ocean
whichever colorful pearl or fish comes out is our luck
as the earth rotates, time also rotates continuously
if you stop anywhere, your defeat is certain
nature has given you gardens decorated with diverse flowers
now here, whether you want to keep counting the flower petals or inhale the entire fragrant garden, it is your decision
playing in mother's lap and living a golden childhood is the rarest gift given by nature
finding that childhood toothbrush while searching for something in old age, finding love letters written in youth, all these are golden memories
time is that which, even in the dreary autumn, gives us memories of cool breeze, weather and birds
time is that which enters even the dry soil and becomes a seed and flourishes...
time...sometimes light...sometimes darkness...
Time, money, sunlight and food are all necessary for life
but "time" is the rarest of all, slips like sand from the hand
although time brings with it both sorrow and happiness
but it brings a small silken cloth of happiness and a big cloud of sorrow
time is not like a continuously flowing river, it is a salty ocean
whichever colorful pearl or fish comes out is our luck
as the earth rotates, time also rotates continuously
if you stop anywhere, your defeat is certain
nature has given you gardens decorated with diverse flowers
now here, whether you want to keep counting the flower petals or inhale the entire fragrant garden, it is your decision
playing in mother's lap and living a golden childhood is the rarest gift given by nature
finding that childhood toothbrush while searching for something in old age, finding love letters written in youth, all these are golden memories
time is that which, even in the dreary autumn, gives us memories of cool breeze, weather and birds
time is that which enters even the dry soil and becomes a seed and flourishes...
15/30
The Write
My bleeding
verses mean
so much
But only
to me
The bloodletting
allows a few
minutes of
exquisite pain
to be purged
via my pen
Scratching away
my most tender
emotions depicts
intensity
I can’t speak
I pray
someone knows
this pain
Feels this pain
Because
I can’t
go it alone
The desolation
is akin
to a vacuum
sucking out
the very oxygen
I breathe
while my soul
crumbles
like an imploded
building
58 u/w
The Write
My bleeding
verses mean
so much
But only
to me
The bloodletting
allows a few
minutes of
exquisite pain
to be purged
via my pen
Scratching away
my most tender
emotions depicts
intensity
I can’t speak
I pray
someone knows
this pain
Feels this pain
Because
I can’t
go it alone
The desolation
is akin
to a vacuum
sucking out
the very oxygen
I breathe
while my soul
crumbles
like an imploded
building
58 u/w
15/30
Butterflies don’t get trapped in spider webs, so I must be something different…
this web of my own choosing
I even helped to build
its supporting structure
has upheld me
and those I love
through countless trials
invisible, sticky strings
of friendship
holding tight
preventing flight
I don’t want to tear the fabric
for those who still belong
but they’re too heavy to take with me
I am afraid to fly
alone.
I don’t know where I’m going
and I am afraid to stay
grounded
lest my wings (soul) dry up
drop off
the path is unclear
and I’m waiting
waiting…
Butterflies don’t get trapped in spider webs, so I must be something different…
this web of my own choosing
I even helped to build
its supporting structure
has upheld me
and those I love
through countless trials
invisible, sticky strings
of friendship
holding tight
preventing flight
I don’t want to tear the fabric
for those who still belong
but they’re too heavy to take with me
I am afraid to fly
alone.
I don’t know where I’m going
and I am afraid to stay
grounded
lest my wings (soul) dry up
drop off
the path is unclear
and I’m waiting
waiting…
15/30
Sunflower
on the winds of change
she traveled, full of hope;
transplanted miles from home,
she’d knew she’d never return;
tired from her journey, she rested
alone and afraid,
she crawled her way deep,
digging into the cold, hard soil:
buried in the darkness of winter,
she went about the business
of growing, of becoming
something else entirely, for sure
and something beautiful, perhaps -
but either way, alive and vibrant
expanding downward,
she established deep roots,
gathering knowledge and wisdom
from the stones brave enough
to try standing in her way;
they dared her to keep going
and so she did, fiercely
and when spring came forward
she pushed her way upward,
clawing her way to an unknown future;
ready to face the sun at last,
she stands tall and proud
unapologetically herself
Sunflower
on the winds of change
she traveled, full of hope;
transplanted miles from home,
she’d knew she’d never return;
tired from her journey, she rested
alone and afraid,
she crawled her way deep,
digging into the cold, hard soil:
buried in the darkness of winter,
she went about the business
of growing, of becoming
something else entirely, for sure
and something beautiful, perhaps -
but either way, alive and vibrant
expanding downward,
she established deep roots,
gathering knowledge and wisdom
from the stones brave enough
to try standing in her way;
they dared her to keep going
and so she did, fiercely
and when spring came forward
she pushed her way upward,
clawing her way to an unknown future;
ready to face the sun at last,
she stands tall and proud
unapologetically herself
15 of 30
bait & switch team
she tells them she's not looking to get involved
that they should just keep it moving
they insist they aren't either
...they just want to be friends
& isn't it just conceit on her part...to presume
but she's so often been driven down this well-traveled road
...knows where it probably leads
...& how it will likely end
her constant response to this accusation
to a sense of over-inflated ego
...is always the same
it might be...I am too full of myself...
...if it hadn't so frequently proven to be true
you'll say what you have to...
...trying to change my point of view
wear me down...in the hopes...
...I'll eventually see reason
...& finally want you
you think you're clever
playing a fresh game
trust me...you're no better than the others
....motives the same
looking at boundaries as a challenge
no will always be...no
same song...different verse
& they never learn
as one by one they rise & fall
she's not conceited...
...she's just trying to meet herself...
...& heal from the damage
...done by them all
bait & switch team
she tells them she's not looking to get involved
that they should just keep it moving
they insist they aren't either
...they just want to be friends
& isn't it just conceit on her part...to presume
but she's so often been driven down this well-traveled road
...knows where it probably leads
...& how it will likely end
her constant response to this accusation
to a sense of over-inflated ego
...is always the same
it might be...I am too full of myself...
...if it hadn't so frequently proven to be true
you'll say what you have to...
...trying to change my point of view
wear me down...in the hopes...
...I'll eventually see reason
...& finally want you
you think you're clever
playing a fresh game
trust me...you're no better than the others
....motives the same
looking at boundaries as a challenge
no will always be...no
same song...different verse
& they never learn
as one by one they rise & fall
she's not conceited...
...she's just trying to meet herself...
...& heal from the damage
...done by them all
15/30
Ode to Candy Salad
We have this thing, my boys and me,
we like to mix our sweets.
It’s so that I can guarantee,
everyone gets their treats.
One likes that and one likes this,
and I, well, I like them all.
It keeps our snacking full of bliss
and never starts a brawl.
We each pick our favorite treat
and dump it in a bowl:
sour gummies, licorice sweet,
chewy starburst makes it complete,
and everyone has control.
I shake it up and mix it well
(much like I’ve done this meter),
and everyone thinks my idea’s swell,
but I only did it to bid farewell
to shopping trips where bad moods fell
and make my days the sweeter.
Ode to Candy Salad
We have this thing, my boys and me,
we like to mix our sweets.
It’s so that I can guarantee,
everyone gets their treats.
One likes that and one likes this,
and I, well, I like them all.
It keeps our snacking full of bliss
and never starts a brawl.
We each pick our favorite treat
and dump it in a bowl:
sour gummies, licorice sweet,
chewy starburst makes it complete,
and everyone has control.
I shake it up and mix it well
(much like I’ve done this meter),
and everyone thinks my idea’s swell,
but I only did it to bid farewell
to shopping trips where bad moods fell
and make my days the sweeter.
15/30
Majority Rules
So very high and mighty
upon your stepping stool
belief you are of greater value
simply because you rule
Born of privilege
of this you cannot ignore
built solely on the backs
of the needy and the poor
Reaping benefits
meant only for a few
thinking you are superior
from an obscured view
You are disadvantaged
no capacity for compassion
pretending you are worthy
based on the clothes you fashion
All that was provided
only makes you weak
lacking skills to discover
the more of which you seek
Greed will be your downfall
knowing not how to survive
without your luxuries
you shall fail to thrive
Society owes no dues
no obligation exists
you will not hold your ground
when the majority resists
Majority Rules
So very high and mighty
upon your stepping stool
belief you are of greater value
simply because you rule
Born of privilege
of this you cannot ignore
built solely on the backs
of the needy and the poor
Reaping benefits
meant only for a few
thinking you are superior
from an obscured view
You are disadvantaged
no capacity for compassion
pretending you are worthy
based on the clothes you fashion
All that was provided
only makes you weak
lacking skills to discover
the more of which you seek
Greed will be your downfall
knowing not how to survive
without your luxuries
you shall fail to thrive
Society owes no dues
no obligation exists
you will not hold your ground
when the majority resists
15/30
My Life
my eyes open and I'm shaken
keeping everything in has cost me
awakening tears streaming down
I'm betraying my heart because I am afraid
the emptiness of being alone
adrift in a sea of faces
all looking as haunted as mine
with no place to call my own
my mind does not allow me freedom
beholden to a broken spirit
the pressure starts and the pain builds
and I find myself in an alternate reality
different than most, my heart paints delusions
seeming so real I get confused by them
forgetting to eat and pay my bills
ending up in the hospital with no visitors
broken of soul I drift
twenty-eight years ago I met him
he was kind to me when he didn't have to be
love grew from friendship
fearing the loss of his heart
grappling with the reality of his love
I center myself by focusing on due north
seeking the heavens I have to know what's real
I won't allow myself to break
not this time my life is at stake
My Life
my eyes open and I'm shaken
keeping everything in has cost me
awakening tears streaming down
I'm betraying my heart because I am afraid
the emptiness of being alone
adrift in a sea of faces
all looking as haunted as mine
with no place to call my own
my mind does not allow me freedom
beholden to a broken spirit
the pressure starts and the pain builds
and I find myself in an alternate reality
different than most, my heart paints delusions
seeming so real I get confused by them
forgetting to eat and pay my bills
ending up in the hospital with no visitors
broken of soul I drift
twenty-eight years ago I met him
he was kind to me when he didn't have to be
love grew from friendship
fearing the loss of his heart
grappling with the reality of his love
I center myself by focusing on due north
seeking the heavens I have to know what's real
I won't allow myself to break
not this time my life is at stake
15/30
The Sound of Silence
It is a lost echo
a wandering ghost
an empty room in a Victorian house
It is dust piled on unopened books
a writer’s empty page
slow winter snowfall
It is an incense burning
the warm sunshine upon dozing cats
the steady growth of a plant
It is that pause between breaths
an unvisited gravestone
a still woodland pond
It is the artist’s inner concentration
the awe at gazing upon shooting stars
the stage in an empty theatre
It is the meditated mind
The Sound of Silence
It is a lost echo
a wandering ghost
an empty room in a Victorian house
It is dust piled on unopened books
a writer’s empty page
slow winter snowfall
It is an incense burning
the warm sunshine upon dozing cats
the steady growth of a plant
It is that pause between breaths
an unvisited gravestone
a still woodland pond
It is the artist’s inner concentration
the awe at gazing upon shooting stars
the stage in an empty theatre
It is the meditated mind
xv.
Untitled
There are times a poet
feels so uncompelled
locked in sedentary confines
dreaming of exile
of regeneration
through inspiration
beyond this quicksand
cementing us to shores
we wouldn’t choose
for ourselves
But at high tide
the Muse rolls in
as waves
engulfing us
whispering. . .
‘It’s all a ruse’
This wasteful idling
this endless desiring
All we need do
is pick up the pen
open the keyboard
and allow the truth
to crash over us
Writing is about
opening our hearts to receive
not thinking or performance
it’s allowing Poetry
to take the stage
with its own voice
Untitled
There are times a poet
feels so uncompelled
locked in sedentary confines
dreaming of exile
of regeneration
through inspiration
beyond this quicksand
cementing us to shores
we wouldn’t choose
for ourselves
But at high tide
the Muse rolls in
as waves
engulfing us
whispering. . .
‘It’s all a ruse’
This wasteful idling
this endless desiring
All we need do
is pick up the pen
open the keyboard
and allow the truth
to crash over us
Writing is about
opening our hearts to receive
not thinking or performance
it’s allowing Poetry
to take the stage
with its own voice
15/30
Mixed Up
whiskey awakening memories
little playbacks looping
with stolen dreams mixed in
tossing turning restless
wondering if love
was ever real for me
like cigarette ash
it lays discarded
then blown away
safety net clearance gone
gap appearing too wide
doesn't deter jumping head first
often painful messy affairs
diving into oblivion
driving insanity further on
Unique Words 55
Mixed Up
whiskey awakening memories
little playbacks looping
with stolen dreams mixed in
tossing turning restless
wondering if love
was ever real for me
like cigarette ash
it lays discarded
then blown away
safety net clearance gone
gap appearing too wide
doesn't deter jumping head first
often painful messy affairs
diving into oblivion
driving insanity further on
Unique Words 55
15/30
cannon
The night sky was starry as I listened to the radio.
Another update, another statement –
More threats and promises –
Stories of little men beaten and
Pushed to the point of needing to fight back –
To say enough
Is enough and this wasteland –
Burning under its harsh sun and harsh histories,
This wasteland –
Imperfect, corrupted, yet
Full of good people hopeful
Still for a better
Future –
This wasteland is home. This wasteland is ours.
The heads sing their songs to be
Louder than the people,
Dance their dances over graves,
Play their part in the never-ending
Play – victims and victors and those
In between – killing, living –
Dreaming, believing –
Falling for it –
Dying against it –
Nukes and guns and lasers and cannons – this
Is canon:
War never changes.
Two hundreds years later and two hundred more.
The news and songs go on.
The starry night sky might as well have been empty.
cannon
The night sky was starry as I listened to the radio.
Another update, another statement –
More threats and promises –
Stories of little men beaten and
Pushed to the point of needing to fight back –
To say enough
Is enough and this wasteland –
Burning under its harsh sun and harsh histories,
This wasteland –
Imperfect, corrupted, yet
Full of good people hopeful
Still for a better
Future –
This wasteland is home. This wasteland is ours.
The heads sing their songs to be
Louder than the people,
Dance their dances over graves,
Play their part in the never-ending
Play – victims and victors and those
In between – killing, living –
Dreaming, believing –
Falling for it –
Dying against it –
Nukes and guns and lasers and cannons – this
Is canon:
War never changes.
Two hundreds years later and two hundred more.
The news and songs go on.
The starry night sky might as well have been empty.
15/30
Deep & wide
My father always told me
I lived life a mile wide
And an inch deep
I was never certain if I agreed
Because although I have traveled
Far and continuously
I believe somewhere inside of me
Unhinged
And I can’t decide if
Seeing too much
Is a privilege or a hindrance
But I do know how deeply
I feel about a wide range of places
It’s hard to look at a parent
And see a stranger
So maybe I take their words
With too much weight
Questioning my own character
So maybe I can relate
But they are the ones who have
Always stood still
And I am the one who seeks change
A mile wide, a mile deep
It’s hard not to be seen
{83 unique words}
Deep & wide
My father always told me
I lived life a mile wide
And an inch deep
I was never certain if I agreed
Because although I have traveled
Far and continuously
I believe somewhere inside of me
Unhinged
And I can’t decide if
Seeing too much
Is a privilege or a hindrance
But I do know how deeply
I feel about a wide range of places
It’s hard to look at a parent
And see a stranger
So maybe I take their words
With too much weight
Questioning my own character
So maybe I can relate
But they are the ones who have
Always stood still
And I am the one who seeks change
A mile wide, a mile deep
It’s hard not to be seen
{83 unique words}
#15/30
Musings
I find myself
Thinking of things
To write about
So many thoughts
Flowing in my mind
Right now
But can't put them
Into words
It's 11:40 pm
Just twenty minutes left
Before midnight strikes
I'm feeling bored and lazy
How quickly the days go by
We're in the mid of April
Schools will be closing in May
And so much things to do
And accomplish
Just thinking about them
Makes me anxious
April is a busy month for us
I have to reschedule our flight
Next week to next month
Because of some upcoming
Activities in school
I wonder if I made the right choice
In becoming a teacher
I would have been better
At caregiving or nursing
I enjoy teaching
But I don't enjoy the paperworks
Though I love to write
Musings
I find myself
Thinking of things
To write about
So many thoughts
Flowing in my mind
Right now
But can't put them
Into words
It's 11:40 pm
Just twenty minutes left
Before midnight strikes
I'm feeling bored and lazy
How quickly the days go by
We're in the mid of April
Schools will be closing in May
And so much things to do
And accomplish
Just thinking about them
Makes me anxious
April is a busy month for us
I have to reschedule our flight
Next week to next month
Because of some upcoming
Activities in school
I wonder if I made the right choice
In becoming a teacher
I would have been better
At caregiving or nursing
I enjoy teaching
But I don't enjoy the paperworks
Though I love to write
#15
It's Time
We have none to lose
Yet, it slips away
When most kinetic
In jubilant high spirits
It slips between grasp
Like pouring sand
Prying my own hands open
To lose my miser's cloak
At peak's potential
Yet it trudges onward
With seconds saturated
Scraps go to the dogs
Stay vigilant in panning
This eternal river for gold
Some days, perfume
Wisps that float by
Brushing into us
With memories
Like close embraces
Mixed with soft lips
Other days, stenching
A cruel taskmaster
Under whose thumb
We wish to be free
Numbering our days
Whether count towards escape
Or pass bittersweet tears
Like goodbyes to an old friend
Our eyes reflect our time
It's Time
We have none to lose
Yet, it slips away
When most kinetic
In jubilant high spirits
It slips between grasp
Like pouring sand
Prying my own hands open
To lose my miser's cloak
At peak's potential
Yet it trudges onward
With seconds saturated
Scraps go to the dogs
Stay vigilant in panning
This eternal river for gold
Some days, perfume
Wisps that float by
Brushing into us
With memories
Like close embraces
Mixed with soft lips
Other days, stenching
A cruel taskmaster
Under whose thumb
We wish to be free
Numbering our days
Whether count towards escape
Or pass bittersweet tears
Like goodbyes to an old friend
Our eyes reflect our time
