Poetry competition CLOSED 6th May 2016 2:57am
WINNER
Artemios
Artemios
DUP's NaPoWriMo 2016
Hepcat61 said:
I thank you, Jade, for hosting... This is a great competition. It really has me on my game...
geoff
Thanks so much, Geoff, this is wonderful to know! I hope others here watching as the WriMo progresses will see for themselves that such an exercise can be done, even with a busy lifestyle!
--Jade
I thank you, Jade, for hosting... This is a great competition. It really has me on my game...
geoff
Thanks so much, Geoff, this is wonderful to know! I hope others here watching as the WriMo progresses will see for themselves that such an exercise can be done, even with a busy lifestyle!
--Jade
My third 5-poem entry:
NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 16-20)
April 16th
plantings
Volunteers bend their backs
on blackened hillsides
from unbridled firestorms of
a long summer's season
of drought's withering breath.
Saplings lean with the wind
of Santanas from canyon's maw,
and their tree-planting songs.
April 17th
I ask of myself
Where are you
in that wistful way you become,
when you fly away from me.
Where do you go,
your mind and body together,
when the pain sets you free.
What do you see
through the flashes of light
when there's nothing more.
How do you feel,
and is it all you hope for
when I promise to be there.
How many times
can it be the same still
when you let me, if you will.
April 18th
spire
A church built tall, to have
village worshipers believe its spire
has brought them within reach
of heaven's gate.
But my home is closer to where
I'll recede back,
to pass the time, dreamless
without being bothered with destiny.
April 19th
debate
In the soundless vacuum of cyber wasteland,
slow death never filled coffers, nor war chest,
nor gave tangible efforts and effort's sway.
Admirable, the quick kill, a clean assault,
the bayonet thrust of literary twist,
katana's bloodless lightning swipe of sage & quote,
leaving it's severed beheaded self, with tongue
to flap and quiver on a cold senate floor,
trying to articulate in endless debate.
April 20th
.not about you.
(many years ago)
I don't know which was worse
When it came to the expression
Of how it was to love you
And why you would love me.
Was a blessing & a curse,
This struggle between us.
We both fed off the irony,
The conflict of the two.
Overgrown Eden jungle,
Where we stalked & hunted prey.
On the scent, to find ourselves
Running to, and then away.
Friction of physical heat,
A tension that never lessened
And kept growing stronger,
Till we accepted the bitter.
Finally, with our last caress
When we could take it no longer,
We tearfully thanked each other.
It was a curse, and a blessing.
Copyright ©2016 Jade Pandora. All Rights Reserved.
NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 16-20)
April 16th
plantings
Volunteers bend their backs
on blackened hillsides
from unbridled firestorms of
a long summer's season
of drought's withering breath.
Saplings lean with the wind
of Santanas from canyon's maw,
and their tree-planting songs.
April 17th
I ask of myself
Where are you
in that wistful way you become,
when you fly away from me.
Where do you go,
your mind and body together,
when the pain sets you free.
What do you see
through the flashes of light
when there's nothing more.
How do you feel,
and is it all you hope for
when I promise to be there.
How many times
can it be the same still
when you let me, if you will.
April 18th
spire
A church built tall, to have
village worshipers believe its spire
has brought them within reach
of heaven's gate.
But my home is closer to where
I'll recede back,
to pass the time, dreamless
without being bothered with destiny.
April 19th
debate
In the soundless vacuum of cyber wasteland,
slow death never filled coffers, nor war chest,
nor gave tangible efforts and effort's sway.
Admirable, the quick kill, a clean assault,
the bayonet thrust of literary twist,
katana's bloodless lightning swipe of sage & quote,
leaving it's severed beheaded self, with tongue
to flap and quiver on a cold senate floor,
trying to articulate in endless debate.
April 20th
.not about you.
(many years ago)
I don't know which was worse
When it came to the expression
Of how it was to love you
And why you would love me.
Was a blessing & a curse,
This struggle between us.
We both fed off the irony,
The conflict of the two.
Overgrown Eden jungle,
Where we stalked & hunted prey.
On the scent, to find ourselves
Running to, and then away.
Friction of physical heat,
A tension that never lessened
And kept growing stronger,
Till we accepted the bitter.
Finally, with our last caress
When we could take it no longer,
We tearfully thanked each other.
It was a curse, and a blessing.
Copyright ©2016 Jade Pandora. All Rights Reserved.
Entry #3
April 16
Blooded
(a postmodern sonnet)
I wish your steady golden eyes would leave,
For almost forty-years your ghost remains.
You never made a sound, I can’t believe,
With everything smeared in your bloody stains.
How you and that old Chrysler came undone,
And how we got involved, I’ll never know.
But there we are, that group, me with my gun,
And all my older kin said I should go.
That moment sighting down the barrel’s side,
Me praying that you would not turn my way,
But from me and your end you would not hide,
I shot that face, I blew it straight away.
With severed legs and single shot you went,
But left your eyes, my decades long repent.
April 17
Drunk and Disorderly
(a sestina)
I wish that I could say I’d take them back,
Stupid decisions and beds that I’ve made.
But as my pen draws out this ink, I know
It’s every drop of piss and puke and blood
That’s making me this thing I’ll know as me
And not the dead whose stolen all this time.
I can’t remember all, before my time,
But when I venture in my mind, I’m back
With all those local kids laughing at me.
The perfect drunken gainer that I made,
Back porch to ditch, amazed I drew no blood,
But stars, electric fence, peace I know.
Then all my peace from bottles comes, I know.
In drinking, wasted all my friends and time,
Its hungry need came with my family’s blood.
Drink killed my mother’s dad and further back,
That Devil’s deal in ancient times was made,
Its tainted stain bearing its brand on me.
What fun I had… until it poisoned me,
Then broken hearts and pain like none should know.
To know their end, drunken decisions made,
Bottles of pills I chose for my first time.
For unknown reasons this life brought me back,
Then came the night of gin and beer and blood.
I have those tapes still covered in my blood,
I lived, but ended killing both that car and me.
My friends, my life, there’d be no going back,
For decades spent, I’d never fully know
Until “my name is” rooms I found in time
And finally came that one decision made.
And now another right decision made,
I know I can’t escape my family’s blood,
In lying, I have wasted too much time,
And now’s the time I’ll take the time for me.
For there’s a person “me” would love to know,
When I’m with her they’ll be no going back.
It’s taken so much time to get me back,
Because we’re made of more than blood, you know?
And I would have her truly knowing “me.”
April 18
Hydra
(a postmodern sonnet)
OK, Hydra, the time has come, let’s dance!
I’ve run from your insanity too long.
It’s time to prove whose better spell incants,
And who to whom the other one belongs.
I’m tired of your constant whispered hate,
So many words that seem to want me dead.
Like poison spits that fear and pain create,
And spews like filth from every lying head.
You think you finally took the upper hand,
But talismans arrive by me unsought,
That offer searing verse that breaks your stand,
With love defeats, though battle's never fought.
And, having silenced every misspent voice,
I hear my own in words of her rejoice.
April 19
Prayer
(a villanelle)
Sweet muse, bestow your graceful words on me.
Give them the sounds that fill her heart with joy
That she you sent would find my love worthy.
My songs once filled my life and set me free,
But long has life sought to those songs destroy.
Sweet muse, bestow your graceful words on me.
An ill tuned gong my verse appears to be,
And hers like crystal dawning mists employ,
That she you sent would find my love worthy?
But as I make her smile, my words I see,
Become, as she, pure heaven’s true envoy.
Sweet muse, bestow your graceful words on me.
And still I’d have her feel my full degree,
Each line give pleasure to this cute tomboy,
That she you sent would find my love worthy.
So in my every phrase I hope that she
Finds little gifts I leave and she enjoy.
Sweet muse, bestow your graceful words on me
That she you sent would find my love worthy.
April 20
Mouths
(a postmodern sonnet)
Let our mouths be a sanctuary found,
A place where loving selves may come to rest.
With willing throats and passioned tongues unbound,
Where we anointed are and ever blessed.
For we have found all recent pleasures there,
And come to know that other’s deepest wants.
Our caves where we have stripped each other bare
And flavors of our souls know sacred haunts.
For rare have we employed love’s angry taste,
And let it bitter spill across our lips,
But rather we have shown love’s measured pace,
And drunk that other’s wine in measured sips.
So in my mouth may your true refuge find,
And I in yours that other of my kind
April 16
Blooded
(a postmodern sonnet)
I wish your steady golden eyes would leave,
For almost forty-years your ghost remains.
You never made a sound, I can’t believe,
With everything smeared in your bloody stains.
How you and that old Chrysler came undone,
And how we got involved, I’ll never know.
But there we are, that group, me with my gun,
And all my older kin said I should go.
That moment sighting down the barrel’s side,
Me praying that you would not turn my way,
But from me and your end you would not hide,
I shot that face, I blew it straight away.
With severed legs and single shot you went,
But left your eyes, my decades long repent.
April 17
Drunk and Disorderly
(a sestina)
I wish that I could say I’d take them back,
Stupid decisions and beds that I’ve made.
But as my pen draws out this ink, I know
It’s every drop of piss and puke and blood
That’s making me this thing I’ll know as me
And not the dead whose stolen all this time.
I can’t remember all, before my time,
But when I venture in my mind, I’m back
With all those local kids laughing at me.
The perfect drunken gainer that I made,
Back porch to ditch, amazed I drew no blood,
But stars, electric fence, peace I know.
Then all my peace from bottles comes, I know.
In drinking, wasted all my friends and time,
Its hungry need came with my family’s blood.
Drink killed my mother’s dad and further back,
That Devil’s deal in ancient times was made,
Its tainted stain bearing its brand on me.
What fun I had… until it poisoned me,
Then broken hearts and pain like none should know.
To know their end, drunken decisions made,
Bottles of pills I chose for my first time.
For unknown reasons this life brought me back,
Then came the night of gin and beer and blood.
I have those tapes still covered in my blood,
I lived, but ended killing both that car and me.
My friends, my life, there’d be no going back,
For decades spent, I’d never fully know
Until “my name is” rooms I found in time
And finally came that one decision made.
And now another right decision made,
I know I can’t escape my family’s blood,
In lying, I have wasted too much time,
And now’s the time I’ll take the time for me.
For there’s a person “me” would love to know,
When I’m with her they’ll be no going back.
It’s taken so much time to get me back,
Because we’re made of more than blood, you know?
And I would have her truly knowing “me.”
April 18
Hydra
(a postmodern sonnet)
OK, Hydra, the time has come, let’s dance!
I’ve run from your insanity too long.
It’s time to prove whose better spell incants,
And who to whom the other one belongs.
I’m tired of your constant whispered hate,
So many words that seem to want me dead.
Like poison spits that fear and pain create,
And spews like filth from every lying head.
You think you finally took the upper hand,
But talismans arrive by me unsought,
That offer searing verse that breaks your stand,
With love defeats, though battle's never fought.
And, having silenced every misspent voice,
I hear my own in words of her rejoice.
April 19
Prayer
(a villanelle)
Sweet muse, bestow your graceful words on me.
Give them the sounds that fill her heart with joy
That she you sent would find my love worthy.
My songs once filled my life and set me free,
But long has life sought to those songs destroy.
Sweet muse, bestow your graceful words on me.
An ill tuned gong my verse appears to be,
And hers like crystal dawning mists employ,
That she you sent would find my love worthy?
But as I make her smile, my words I see,
Become, as she, pure heaven’s true envoy.
Sweet muse, bestow your graceful words on me.
And still I’d have her feel my full degree,
Each line give pleasure to this cute tomboy,
That she you sent would find my love worthy.
So in my every phrase I hope that she
Finds little gifts I leave and she enjoy.
Sweet muse, bestow your graceful words on me
That she you sent would find my love worthy.
April 20
Mouths
(a postmodern sonnet)
Let our mouths be a sanctuary found,
A place where loving selves may come to rest.
With willing throats and passioned tongues unbound,
Where we anointed are and ever blessed.
For we have found all recent pleasures there,
And come to know that other’s deepest wants.
Our caves where we have stripped each other bare
And flavors of our souls know sacred haunts.
For rare have we employed love’s angry taste,
And let it bitter spill across our lips,
But rather we have shown love’s measured pace,
And drunk that other’s wine in measured sips.
So in my mouth may your true refuge find,
And I in yours that other of my kind
Hepcat61 said:Entry #3
April 16
Blooded
(a postmodern sonnet)
I wish your steady golden eyes would leave,
For almost forty-years your ghost remains.
You never made a sound, I can’t believe,
With everything smeared in your bloody stains.
How you and that old Chrysler came undone,
And how we got involved, I’ll never know.
But there we are, that group, me with my gun,
And all my older kin said I should go.
That moment sighting down the barrel’s side,
Me praying that you would not turn my way,
But from me and your end you would not hide,
I shot that face, I blew it straight away.
With severed legs and single shot you went,
But left your eyes, my decades long repent.
April 17
Drunk and Disorderly
(a sestina)
I wish that I could say I’d take them back,
Stupid decisions and beds that I’ve made.
But as my pen draws out this ink, I know
It’s every drop of piss and puke and blood
That’s making me this thing I’ll know as me
And not the dead whose stolen all this time.
I can’t remember all, before my time,
But when I venture in my mind, I’m back
With all those local kids laughing at me.
The perfect drunken gainer that I made,
Back porch to ditch, amazed I drew no blood,
But stars, electric fence, peace I know.
.......
Hi Geoff! I'm glad to receive your third entry as you continue to work those formulaics through the WriMo. Thank you for the contribution to the competition!
--Jade
April 16
Blooded
(a postmodern sonnet)
I wish your steady golden eyes would leave,
For almost forty-years your ghost remains.
You never made a sound, I can’t believe,
With everything smeared in your bloody stains.
How you and that old Chrysler came undone,
And how we got involved, I’ll never know.
But there we are, that group, me with my gun,
And all my older kin said I should go.
That moment sighting down the barrel’s side,
Me praying that you would not turn my way,
But from me and your end you would not hide,
I shot that face, I blew it straight away.
With severed legs and single shot you went,
But left your eyes, my decades long repent.
April 17
Drunk and Disorderly
(a sestina)
I wish that I could say I’d take them back,
Stupid decisions and beds that I’ve made.
But as my pen draws out this ink, I know
It’s every drop of piss and puke and blood
That’s making me this thing I’ll know as me
And not the dead whose stolen all this time.
I can’t remember all, before my time,
But when I venture in my mind, I’m back
With all those local kids laughing at me.
The perfect drunken gainer that I made,
Back porch to ditch, amazed I drew no blood,
But stars, electric fence, peace I know.
.......
Hi Geoff! I'm glad to receive your third entry as you continue to work those formulaics through the WriMo. Thank you for the contribution to the competition!
--Jade
NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 11-15)
April 11, 2016
Birth
Pictures on the diamond
thoughts made of candle
love appears in the sleep,
mothers
give birth to us and others
again and again.
Nightmare, the laughs were,
Memory, were the desires,
the light contrast to the “I love you”.
Each ones mother
is in pain again and again
and the birth –alone-
it hurts us and others.
April 12, 2016
I was wet
I was wet but it wasn’t raining.
Was I crying? No, I wasn’t crying openly
this spontaneous sound.
If it is about a funny moment
you are struggling;
you open your mouth, cut some breaths
and there you have it.
I am talking about the smile.
Spontaneous smile, spontaneous tear,
I close my eyes and I become silence
I open my mouth and I become human
spontaneously I forgot how to fall in love.
April 13, 2016
Some flashes higher up
There are some times that I want to tame a dark night,
to climb on it naked, snaffle all of its stars
throwing them in front of it
and having it making wishes to let it free
so the night can feel as well, how it feels to make a wish.
Imagine the night, depending
on some flashes higher up than it is
to stay alone in this ironic darkness.
However, the nights that cannot be tamed
are the ones that have promised an endless day
and maybe that is their wish
and for me, that is where I want to go
to the wish’s and promise’s corner,
not even a street further away
and from the fast way, the ideal,
but waiting doesn’t have any time,
and the sea, no matter if it separates “waitings”
it’ s her that she connects them at the end, with inaccuracy
and somewhere in the middle, swirls the flee,
somewhere there, close to the giant “nothing”
before the “never” and a bit after the “maybe”
and it is almost there, besides it’s just a life away
until you twist a wish, you have already arrived to “I wish I”.
April 14, 2016
Hide and seek
I just want to play with a word,
fixing it and breaking it down
and then from the beginning again.
She shall be made single and me breaking her down
into other words
and when she wants me to play,
I’ll be breaking down
a little bit of my privacy
and having her winning all of my thoughts
that consistently
they delete the invisible “before”
before we come to draw onto the “wants”
because it’s so illuminated
and from the beginning again
she flirted with me and this time I wanted.
Created so much light the hope with her aitch
that spoiled my play with the impossible.
April 15, 2016
Desire
Should I look at the deep
or be drown in the gaze?
Mistake at first sight it is
that from the first delegacy
I see you like a desire.
Copyright ©2016 Artemios Moulos. All Rights Reserved.
(April 11-15)
April 11, 2016
Birth
Pictures on the diamond
thoughts made of candle
love appears in the sleep,
mothers
give birth to us and others
again and again.
Nightmare, the laughs were,
Memory, were the desires,
the light contrast to the “I love you”.
Each ones mother
is in pain again and again
and the birth –alone-
it hurts us and others.
April 12, 2016
I was wet
I was wet but it wasn’t raining.
Was I crying? No, I wasn’t crying openly
this spontaneous sound.
If it is about a funny moment
you are struggling;
you open your mouth, cut some breaths
and there you have it.
I am talking about the smile.
Spontaneous smile, spontaneous tear,
I close my eyes and I become silence
I open my mouth and I become human
spontaneously I forgot how to fall in love.
April 13, 2016
Some flashes higher up
There are some times that I want to tame a dark night,
to climb on it naked, snaffle all of its stars
throwing them in front of it
and having it making wishes to let it free
so the night can feel as well, how it feels to make a wish.
Imagine the night, depending
on some flashes higher up than it is
to stay alone in this ironic darkness.
However, the nights that cannot be tamed
are the ones that have promised an endless day
and maybe that is their wish
and for me, that is where I want to go
to the wish’s and promise’s corner,
not even a street further away
and from the fast way, the ideal,
but waiting doesn’t have any time,
and the sea, no matter if it separates “waitings”
it’ s her that she connects them at the end, with inaccuracy
and somewhere in the middle, swirls the flee,
somewhere there, close to the giant “nothing”
before the “never” and a bit after the “maybe”
and it is almost there, besides it’s just a life away
until you twist a wish, you have already arrived to “I wish I”.
April 14, 2016
Hide and seek
I just want to play with a word,
fixing it and breaking it down
and then from the beginning again.
She shall be made single and me breaking her down
into other words
and when she wants me to play,
I’ll be breaking down
a little bit of my privacy
and having her winning all of my thoughts
that consistently
they delete the invisible “before”
before we come to draw onto the “wants”
because it’s so illuminated
and from the beginning again
she flirted with me and this time I wanted.
Created so much light the hope with her aitch
that spoiled my play with the impossible.
April 15, 2016
Desire
Should I look at the deep
or be drown in the gaze?
Mistake at first sight it is
that from the first delegacy
I see you like a desire.
Copyright ©2016 Artemios Moulos. All Rights Reserved.
Artemios said:NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 11-15)
April 11, 2016
Birth
Pictures on the diamond
thoughts made of candle
love appears in the sleep,
mothers
give birth to us and others
again and again.
Nightmare, the laughs were,
Memory, were the desires,
the light contrast to the “I love you”.
Each ones mother
is in pain again and again
and the birth –alone-
it hurts us and others.
April 12, 2016
I was wet
I was wet but it wasn’t raining.
Was I crying? No, I wasn’t crying openly
this spontaneous sound.
If it is about a funny moment
you are struggling;
you open your mouth, cut some breaths
and there you have it.
I am talking about the smile.
Spontaneous smile, spontaneous tear,
I close my eyes and I become silence
I open my mouth and I become human
spontaneously I forgot how to fall in love.
.......
Hi Art! It's great to see you return with your second 5-poem entry, and you're still on schedule, congratulations!
--Jade
(April 11-15)
April 11, 2016
Birth
Pictures on the diamond
thoughts made of candle
love appears in the sleep,
mothers
give birth to us and others
again and again.
Nightmare, the laughs were,
Memory, were the desires,
the light contrast to the “I love you”.
Each ones mother
is in pain again and again
and the birth –alone-
it hurts us and others.
April 12, 2016
I was wet
I was wet but it wasn’t raining.
Was I crying? No, I wasn’t crying openly
this spontaneous sound.
If it is about a funny moment
you are struggling;
you open your mouth, cut some breaths
and there you have it.
I am talking about the smile.
Spontaneous smile, spontaneous tear,
I close my eyes and I become silence
I open my mouth and I become human
spontaneously I forgot how to fall in love.
.......
Hi Art! It's great to see you return with your second 5-poem entry, and you're still on schedule, congratulations!
--Jade
NaPoWriMo batch 4
Lifeline - Regrets (They Never Gave Me Flowers)
April 21, 2016
©Oxy2016Dup/NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 21-25) All Rights Reserved
More than thirty years,
I lived on this earth.
I thought of things,
That I have yet to experience.
As I mentally recall,
Pain shot thru my heart.
A single tear falls,
Before my brown hazy eyes.
I have never received,
A single flower, let alone a bouquet.
No one thought to give me,
Not even my boyfriends.
No one asked me for a date,
To watch a movie.
To eat in candle lit table,
To walk in the park...
Never received chocolates,
Not even a candy...
Nor a loveletter,
From some admirer.
The list goes on,
And I stopped to think.
Romance never graced,
My home for three decades.
I never minded before,
But today, I crave the thought...
Of a hand to hold and a lips to kiss,
And a heart to give me all of those things...
Lifeline - Memories (The Other Side)
April 22, 2016
©Oxy2016Dup/NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 21-25) All Rights Reserved
I was raised in a world of diverse lifestyle.
One moment I was surrounded by people whose faith...
Bordered on religious fanaticism,
Hardline christians and morally uptight...
With set rules on how to live life;
Church on Sundays, grace before and after meals,
Angelus at Six pm - Monotonous... Habitual...
I doubted if it would really mean salvation on the afterlife.
Another moment I was hoisted in a world of politics,
Where intrigues and dirty tricks shower my conscious mind...
Where needy people comes in every color...
Where politician's allegiance changes like a chameleon...
Where good deeds and bad intentions sync in harmony...
All in the name of public service.
I doubted if those Honorables means what they'd promised,
I guessed not, really.
For a time I found myself on the opposite side;
Holding placards on the streets,
Cursing the government, the superpowers, the capitalist, the imperialist.
Lamenting for the flight of the oppressed,
The farmers, the workers, the students...
And all those who suffer injustices at the hands of the authorities.
I even held arms, learned to shoot a gun...
And was ready to die for the cause I believed in.
But my family holds an important place in my heart.
I returned home for their own peace of mind.
For a while I was aimless,
Unsure where I should belong.
Carcinogen became my lover
Liquor, my bestfriend
My world stopped and became stagnant,
Trapped inside a maze that I created.
I am who I am.
Became the me that I am,
Because of the things I've done.
In the past, my present stood;
In my present, the future hoped.
Remembering what had been,
Lighting the path of the rest of my travel...
My memories, my beacon.
Lifeline - Breaking Point ( Tattoo On My Arms)
April 23, 2016
©Oxy2016Dup/NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 21-25) All Rights Reserved
Fads, peer pressure,
Pure pleasure, wanton abandon,
Indulgence, bored indifference...
All of the above, I gave onto.
Gin addiction, night life,
Men, money, controlled substance,
Pseudo smiles, bleeding inside...
Reality check, I can't go into.
Decisions made, hardened resolve,
In front of a fourteen inch black and white T.V.
Drinking gin to numb the pain,
A needle in a dynamo pierced my left arm with waves and curves.
Black ink marked me for life...
Reminding me of who I really am.
And as the wound heals, so did I.
I walked away, never to look back.
Lifeline - Starting Over ( Standing Tall on my Four Feet Ten Inches Height)
April 24, 2016
©Oxy2016Dup/NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 21-25) All Rights Reserved
Ready... Set... Go... Run!
That's what I did.
To pick up myself,
And break free from the detour...
Of the road to destruction.
Accepting the hands,
Of those who was willing...
To pull me up,
To push me hard...
I found the path at last.
When the time had come,
To swim on my own...
To brave the current,
And weather the storms...
My limbs keep me afloat.
On my own two feet,
I stood tall and proud.
I can do it!
I can make it!
I believe, I accept!
Lifeline - Journey (Walking Through A Straight Line)
April 25, 2016
©Oxy2016Dup/NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 21-25) All Rights Reserved
And now, here I am...
In the mids of my life.
My eyes bespectacled,
Yet everything looks clearer.
Cobwebs, gone from my head.
Doubts, took a sick leave.
My heart repaired,
And free of aches.
My backpack is ready,
Less heavy, more complete.
Baggage packed ,
I am travelling lightly.
Where I am going,
The road has opened;
No more fork roads,
No more crossroads.
Wherever I would go,
Whichever path I walk thru,
There would be no going back,
Only choice is to move forward.
There'll be rough roads,
There'll be humps and bumps.
But no matter what,
My journey would never stop.
Until the end of the line,
Until the lit of my lifeline died...
I'll move forward with pride,
Knowing that all I was, is all that I am.
Inside of me, a fire burns;
Fueling my renewed vigor.
I knew now, I owe the world,
And not the other way around.
My journey,
My deeds,
My life,
It counts.
Lifeline - Regrets (They Never Gave Me Flowers)
April 21, 2016
©Oxy2016Dup/NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 21-25) All Rights Reserved
More than thirty years,
I lived on this earth.
I thought of things,
That I have yet to experience.
As I mentally recall,
Pain shot thru my heart.
A single tear falls,
Before my brown hazy eyes.
I have never received,
A single flower, let alone a bouquet.
No one thought to give me,
Not even my boyfriends.
No one asked me for a date,
To watch a movie.
To eat in candle lit table,
To walk in the park...
Never received chocolates,
Not even a candy...
Nor a loveletter,
From some admirer.
The list goes on,
And I stopped to think.
Romance never graced,
My home for three decades.
I never minded before,
But today, I crave the thought...
Of a hand to hold and a lips to kiss,
And a heart to give me all of those things...
Lifeline - Memories (The Other Side)
April 22, 2016
©Oxy2016Dup/NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 21-25) All Rights Reserved
I was raised in a world of diverse lifestyle.
One moment I was surrounded by people whose faith...
Bordered on religious fanaticism,
Hardline christians and morally uptight...
With set rules on how to live life;
Church on Sundays, grace before and after meals,
Angelus at Six pm - Monotonous... Habitual...
I doubted if it would really mean salvation on the afterlife.
Another moment I was hoisted in a world of politics,
Where intrigues and dirty tricks shower my conscious mind...
Where needy people comes in every color...
Where politician's allegiance changes like a chameleon...
Where good deeds and bad intentions sync in harmony...
All in the name of public service.
I doubted if those Honorables means what they'd promised,
I guessed not, really.
For a time I found myself on the opposite side;
Holding placards on the streets,
Cursing the government, the superpowers, the capitalist, the imperialist.
Lamenting for the flight of the oppressed,
The farmers, the workers, the students...
And all those who suffer injustices at the hands of the authorities.
I even held arms, learned to shoot a gun...
And was ready to die for the cause I believed in.
But my family holds an important place in my heart.
I returned home for their own peace of mind.
For a while I was aimless,
Unsure where I should belong.
Carcinogen became my lover
Liquor, my bestfriend
My world stopped and became stagnant,
Trapped inside a maze that I created.
I am who I am.
Became the me that I am,
Because of the things I've done.
In the past, my present stood;
In my present, the future hoped.
Remembering what had been,
Lighting the path of the rest of my travel...
My memories, my beacon.
Lifeline - Breaking Point ( Tattoo On My Arms)
April 23, 2016
©Oxy2016Dup/NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 21-25) All Rights Reserved
Fads, peer pressure,
Pure pleasure, wanton abandon,
Indulgence, bored indifference...
All of the above, I gave onto.
Gin addiction, night life,
Men, money, controlled substance,
Pseudo smiles, bleeding inside...
Reality check, I can't go into.
Decisions made, hardened resolve,
In front of a fourteen inch black and white T.V.
Drinking gin to numb the pain,
A needle in a dynamo pierced my left arm with waves and curves.
Black ink marked me for life...
Reminding me of who I really am.
And as the wound heals, so did I.
I walked away, never to look back.
Lifeline - Starting Over ( Standing Tall on my Four Feet Ten Inches Height)
April 24, 2016
©Oxy2016Dup/NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 21-25) All Rights Reserved
Ready... Set... Go... Run!
That's what I did.
To pick up myself,
And break free from the detour...
Of the road to destruction.
Accepting the hands,
Of those who was willing...
To pull me up,
To push me hard...
I found the path at last.
When the time had come,
To swim on my own...
To brave the current,
And weather the storms...
My limbs keep me afloat.
On my own two feet,
I stood tall and proud.
I can do it!
I can make it!
I believe, I accept!
Lifeline - Journey (Walking Through A Straight Line)
April 25, 2016
©Oxy2016Dup/NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 21-25) All Rights Reserved
And now, here I am...
In the mids of my life.
My eyes bespectacled,
Yet everything looks clearer.
Cobwebs, gone from my head.
Doubts, took a sick leave.
My heart repaired,
And free of aches.
My backpack is ready,
Less heavy, more complete.
Baggage packed ,
I am travelling lightly.
Where I am going,
The road has opened;
No more fork roads,
No more crossroads.
Wherever I would go,
Whichever path I walk thru,
There would be no going back,
Only choice is to move forward.
There'll be rough roads,
There'll be humps and bumps.
But no matter what,
My journey would never stop.
Until the end of the line,
Until the lit of my lifeline died...
I'll move forward with pride,
Knowing that all I was, is all that I am.
Inside of me, a fire burns;
Fueling my renewed vigor.
I knew now, I owe the world,
And not the other way around.
My journey,
My deeds,
My life,
It counts.
Life of a Future Journalist
Date written: January 1,2015
I write because it makes me feel good,
I would publish my work one day if I could.
If I could just strive,
Strive for success because I don't want to be left behind.
I write to express my feelings,
I write about life and my willing.
This is the life of a future journalist.
And it's due to what she missed.
This girl is impressive,
Life is crashed like a car crash, somebody call progressive.
Writing is my passion, it will never end,
Flowing like a river. I am a writer within.
And less within and more within,
I made, I made it in.
Some people say that my writing is nothing but garbage,
But I've graduated from high school and made it to college.
My dreams will never burn,
I'll be the best journalist, that's for your concern.
I will fight for my destiny and I will win,
I will be the pretty young lady working for CNN.
I will be the one who they'll choose,
If not so, then I'll strive for Fox 6 news.
This is my destiny and I will not turn back and I will not rest,
This is the life of a future journalist.
Date written: January 1,2015
I write because it makes me feel good,
I would publish my work one day if I could.
If I could just strive,
Strive for success because I don't want to be left behind.
I write to express my feelings,
I write about life and my willing.
This is the life of a future journalist.
And it's due to what she missed.
This girl is impressive,
Life is crashed like a car crash, somebody call progressive.
Writing is my passion, it will never end,
Flowing like a river. I am a writer within.
And less within and more within,
I made, I made it in.
Some people say that my writing is nothing but garbage,
But I've graduated from high school and made it to college.
My dreams will never burn,
I'll be the best journalist, that's for your concern.
I will fight for my destiny and I will win,
I will be the pretty young lady working for CNN.
I will be the one who they'll choose,
If not so, then I'll strive for Fox 6 news.
This is my destiny and I will not turn back and I will not rest,
This is the life of a future journalist.
Lasagna_1997 said: Life of a Future Journalist
Date written: January 1,2015
I write because it makes me feel good,
I would publish my work one day if I could.
If I could just strive,
Strive for success because I don't want to be left behind.
I write to express my feelings,
I write about life and my willing.
This is the life of a future journalist.
And it's due to what she missed.
This girl is impressive,
Life is crashed like a car crash, somebody call progressive.
Writing is my passion, it will never end,
Flowing like a river. I am a writer within.
And less within and more within,
I made, I made it in.
Some people say that my writing is nothing but garbage,
But I've graduated from high school and made it to college.
My dreams will never burn,
I'll be the best journalist, that's for your concern.
I will fight for my destiny and I will win,
I will be the pretty young lady working for CNN.
I will be the one who they'll choose,
If not so, then I'll strive for Fox 6 news.
This is my destiny and I will not turn back and I will not rest,
This is the life of a future journalist.
Good poem, welcome to dup.
Question: is this really intended for here in this competition dear?
Date written: January 1,2015
I write because it makes me feel good,
I would publish my work one day if I could.
If I could just strive,
Strive for success because I don't want to be left behind.
I write to express my feelings,
I write about life and my willing.
This is the life of a future journalist.
And it's due to what she missed.
This girl is impressive,
Life is crashed like a car crash, somebody call progressive.
Writing is my passion, it will never end,
Flowing like a river. I am a writer within.
And less within and more within,
I made, I made it in.
Some people say that my writing is nothing but garbage,
But I've graduated from high school and made it to college.
My dreams will never burn,
I'll be the best journalist, that's for your concern.
I will fight for my destiny and I will win,
I will be the pretty young lady working for CNN.
I will be the one who they'll choose,
If not so, then I'll strive for Fox 6 news.
This is my destiny and I will not turn back and I will not rest,
This is the life of a future journalist.
Good poem, welcome to dup.
Question: is this really intended for here in this competition dear?
OxyMoronicMe said:NaPoWriMo batch 4
Lifeline - Regrets (They Never Gave Me Flowers)
April 21, 2016
©Oxy2016Dup/NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 21-25) All Rights Reserved
More than thirty years,
I lived on this earth.
I thought of things,
That I have yet to experience.
As I mentally recall,
Pain shot thru my heart.
A single tear falls,
Before my brown hazy eyes.
I have never received,
A single flower, let alone a bouquet.
No one thought to give me,
Not even my boyfriends.
No one asked me for a date,
To watch a movie.
To eat in candle lit table,
To walk in the park...
Never received chocolates,
Not even a candy...
Nor a loveletter,
From some admirer.
The list goes on,
And I stopped to think.
Romance never graced,
My home for three decades.
I never minded before,
But today, I crave the thought...
Of a hand to hold and a lips to kiss,
And a heart to give me all of those things...
.......
Hi Oxy! You've climbed the peak, and now, with your fourth 5-poem entry, are the first participant who is making their way down the home-stretch slope, with just two more entries (total: 10 poems) to go! And thank you!
--Jade
Lifeline - Regrets (They Never Gave Me Flowers)
April 21, 2016
©Oxy2016Dup/NaPoWriMo 2016
(April 21-25) All Rights Reserved
More than thirty years,
I lived on this earth.
I thought of things,
That I have yet to experience.
As I mentally recall,
Pain shot thru my heart.
A single tear falls,
Before my brown hazy eyes.
I have never received,
A single flower, let alone a bouquet.
No one thought to give me,
Not even my boyfriends.
No one asked me for a date,
To watch a movie.
To eat in candle lit table,
To walk in the park...
Never received chocolates,
Not even a candy...
Nor a loveletter,
From some admirer.
The list goes on,
And I stopped to think.
Romance never graced,
My home for three decades.
I never minded before,
But today, I crave the thought...
Of a hand to hold and a lips to kiss,
And a heart to give me all of those things...
.......
Hi Oxy! You've climbed the peak, and now, with your fourth 5-poem entry, are the first participant who is making their way down the home-stretch slope, with just two more entries (total: 10 poems) to go! And thank you!
--Jade
UPDATE: THE STATUS AS THINGS ARE ATM
Hi All! I hope everyone is coasting along with their writes in preparation to post more, or in some cases perhaps, your first entry, because it's not too late, that's right!
Only 13 days have passed and there's still 17 days to go... that's A LOT of time left! So remember, as long as your six 5-poem entries are in before the hour of closing on May 5th, you'll be on the list for consideration when it comes to final results, yes!
Here's how things stand at the moment:
The current entrants are-
👉_shadoe_ with two 5-poem entries.
👉OxyMoronicMe with four 5-poem entries.
👉Artemios with two 5-poem entries.
👉Hepcat61 with three 5-poem entries.
Of course, my entries are included as guides, motivation and/or inspiration, to aide in the experience of the WriMo for the initiates.
And those if you who hoped to enter, give it a go, you'll be surprised what you'll accomplish, and it's beneficial to keep your pen limber & learning...
Cheers!
--Jade
Hi All! I hope everyone is coasting along with their writes in preparation to post more, or in some cases perhaps, your first entry, because it's not too late, that's right!
Only 13 days have passed and there's still 17 days to go... that's A LOT of time left! So remember, as long as your six 5-poem entries are in before the hour of closing on May 5th, you'll be on the list for consideration when it comes to final results, yes!
Here's how things stand at the moment:
The current entrants are-
👉_shadoe_ with two 5-poem entries.
👉OxyMoronicMe with four 5-poem entries.
👉Artemios with two 5-poem entries.
👉Hepcat61 with three 5-poem entries.
Of course, my entries are included as guides, motivation and/or inspiration, to aide in the experience of the WriMo for the initiates.
And those if you who hoped to enter, give it a go, you'll be surprised what you'll accomplish, and it's beneficial to keep your pen limber & learning...
Cheers!
--Jade
Jade-Pandora said:Hello All!
Things are cruising along in the land of the WriMo, and I can't wait to see more of the entries as they come in!
HERE IS SOMETHING THAT MAY HELP THINGS ALONG:
I had a participant pm me with the following question, to which my reply follows. I think this is an excellent question:
"Until the deadline, can I still edit and change those I have already posted, even if the schedule for posting has passed?"
Jade answers: Yes, you can edit all you need to, right up to the moment before the competition closes. I and the participating judges at that time will re-read all of the entries.
For those who missed this...
Things are cruising along in the land of the WriMo, and I can't wait to see more of the entries as they come in!
HERE IS SOMETHING THAT MAY HELP THINGS ALONG:
I had a participant pm me with the following question, to which my reply follows. I think this is an excellent question:
"Until the deadline, can I still edit and change those I have already posted, even if the schedule for posting has passed?"
Jade answers: Yes, you can edit all you need to, right up to the moment before the competition closes. I and the participating judges at that time will re-read all of the entries.
For those who missed this...
Hi All!
Here's how things stand at the moment:
The current entrants are-
👉_shadoe_ with two 5-poem entries.
👉OxyMoronicMe with four 5-poem entries.
👉Artemios with two 5-poem entries.
👉Hepcat61 with three 5-poem entries.
And still bags of time left at 16 days!
Here's how things stand at the moment:
The current entrants are-
👉_shadoe_ with two 5-poem entries.
👉OxyMoronicMe with four 5-poem entries.
👉Artemios with two 5-poem entries.
👉Hepcat61 with three 5-poem entries.
And still bags of time left at 16 days!
Entry #4
April 21
ART SHOW
(an un-nursery rhyme)
The moon, its vulture’s eye looks down
On room of walking ghosts.
And shiny plates of animals,
Of who likes whose the most.
Like mulling vacant reaper’s eyes
Look from and back at me,
With coffee spoons from Eliot
Serve Dylan’s nightly plea.
From greying face to greying heart,
My ending staring back.
Gently going from this place,
I’ve had an Art attack.
Driving home in that good night,
With words of who did well.
Too late these thoughts have come to me,
It’s my season in Hell.
April 22
FUTURE POET
(an un-nursery rhyme)
In taking steel that cuts and rends,
Stains blood in dead tree’s skin.
How decadent these ancient tools,
Deliciously spent sin.
In choosing words and bending phase
To have you feel my mind,
To hear my thoughts and sense my touch
With love in verse defined.
“Her flesh is like the honeyed dawn,
Her love like gentle rains.
Encompassing my world, she comes,
All love’s express contains”
How quaint, when I with simple thoughts
Can bring rooms to their knees.
Projecting subtle strokes and swirls,
Or thrusted moaning pleas.
With sending “feels” from mind to mind,
New worlds of thought create.
With bringing every part to life,
Pleasures unbound await.
Still truth exists in pen and page,
In line, in verse, in rhyme.
In my mind’s eye becoming yours,
A form that transcends time.
April 23
Of Great Price
(a villanelle)
A pilgrim’s way is rocks and pebbles ground,
With leather, flesh, or bloody stains it’s made.
And faith restored in chants and sacred sound.
With broken seeker saints, the truth is found,
As holy steps with supplicants conveyed,
A pilgrim’s way is rocks and pebbles ground.
Their wounded hearts with words and actions bound,
To mend in miles, and worldly wantings stayed,
And faith restored in charts and sacred sound
At footfall’s gate all earthly scars are bound,
Sharp stones and fallen wounds are their psalms prayed.
A pilgrim’s way is rocks and pebbles ground.
A mala’s cants canyons and caves resound,
With sandals’ drums and singing birds are played,
And faith restored in chants and sacred sound.
For godly travelers in jewels crowned,
In pebbles gold and pearl and tinkling jade.
A pilgrim’s way is rocks and pebbles ground,
And faith restored in chants and sacred sound.
Author’s Note:
Namu Amida Butsu
Nen Nen Fu Ri Shin
April 24
LA PETITE MORT
(a postmodern sonnet)
To die that I might come alive in you,
In you that I might know true hearts’ desire.
To know the straining grip of hearts’ renew
In coming to that place all hearts aspire.
For heads are places filled with wasted wants,
And mouths may taste of love but nothing more.
That hands, if marks are found, are simple taunts,
It's deep within where hearts’ true loves implore.
Though rush engage, I won’t be rushing on,
For time well spent in you, I’ll savor all,
And spend my love in you like coming dawn,
That day break over us, covering all.
That I may come with you and little die,
That little death, for you, may come as I.
April 25
HEARTLANDS
(a postmodern sonnet)
Within twin rolling hills, twin ridgelines spanned
True North to highest peak, a rounded dome.
In valley of their Southern spreading land
And rushing stream, is where I’d make my home.
It’s here I’d plant my hearty, fruiting trees,
Dwelling erect, where gushing waters bring
My place of rest that all my cares release,
Where I might daily bathe in warmest spring.
This place, a journey that my heart would make.
A walk, though far, that I should start today.
New life begin, one single foot step take,
That leads from dreams to sacred heartland’s stay.
I’ll keep that land in my mind’s purest sight,
‘Til I arrive in heartland’s true delight.
April 21
ART SHOW
(an un-nursery rhyme)
The moon, its vulture’s eye looks down
On room of walking ghosts.
And shiny plates of animals,
Of who likes whose the most.
Like mulling vacant reaper’s eyes
Look from and back at me,
With coffee spoons from Eliot
Serve Dylan’s nightly plea.
From greying face to greying heart,
My ending staring back.
Gently going from this place,
I’ve had an Art attack.
Driving home in that good night,
With words of who did well.
Too late these thoughts have come to me,
It’s my season in Hell.
April 22
FUTURE POET
(an un-nursery rhyme)
In taking steel that cuts and rends,
Stains blood in dead tree’s skin.
How decadent these ancient tools,
Deliciously spent sin.
In choosing words and bending phase
To have you feel my mind,
To hear my thoughts and sense my touch
With love in verse defined.
“Her flesh is like the honeyed dawn,
Her love like gentle rains.
Encompassing my world, she comes,
All love’s express contains”
How quaint, when I with simple thoughts
Can bring rooms to their knees.
Projecting subtle strokes and swirls,
Or thrusted moaning pleas.
With sending “feels” from mind to mind,
New worlds of thought create.
With bringing every part to life,
Pleasures unbound await.
Still truth exists in pen and page,
In line, in verse, in rhyme.
In my mind’s eye becoming yours,
A form that transcends time.
April 23
Of Great Price
(a villanelle)
A pilgrim’s way is rocks and pebbles ground,
With leather, flesh, or bloody stains it’s made.
And faith restored in chants and sacred sound.
With broken seeker saints, the truth is found,
As holy steps with supplicants conveyed,
A pilgrim’s way is rocks and pebbles ground.
Their wounded hearts with words and actions bound,
To mend in miles, and worldly wantings stayed,
And faith restored in charts and sacred sound
At footfall’s gate all earthly scars are bound,
Sharp stones and fallen wounds are their psalms prayed.
A pilgrim’s way is rocks and pebbles ground.
A mala’s cants canyons and caves resound,
With sandals’ drums and singing birds are played,
And faith restored in chants and sacred sound.
For godly travelers in jewels crowned,
In pebbles gold and pearl and tinkling jade.
A pilgrim’s way is rocks and pebbles ground,
And faith restored in chants and sacred sound.
Author’s Note:
Namu Amida Butsu
Nen Nen Fu Ri Shin
April 24
LA PETITE MORT
(a postmodern sonnet)
To die that I might come alive in you,
In you that I might know true hearts’ desire.
To know the straining grip of hearts’ renew
In coming to that place all hearts aspire.
For heads are places filled with wasted wants,
And mouths may taste of love but nothing more.
That hands, if marks are found, are simple taunts,
It's deep within where hearts’ true loves implore.
Though rush engage, I won’t be rushing on,
For time well spent in you, I’ll savor all,
And spend my love in you like coming dawn,
That day break over us, covering all.
That I may come with you and little die,
That little death, for you, may come as I.
April 25
HEARTLANDS
(a postmodern sonnet)
Within twin rolling hills, twin ridgelines spanned
True North to highest peak, a rounded dome.
In valley of their Southern spreading land
And rushing stream, is where I’d make my home.
It’s here I’d plant my hearty, fruiting trees,
Dwelling erect, where gushing waters bring
My place of rest that all my cares release,
Where I might daily bathe in warmest spring.
This place, a journey that my heart would make.
A walk, though far, that I should start today.
New life begin, one single foot step take,
That leads from dreams to sacred heartland’s stay.
I’ll keep that land in my mind’s purest sight,
‘Til I arrive in heartland’s true delight.
