Least Read Poems About Na Po Wri Mo 2024
#NaPoWriMo2024
Ljdynamic
Poem Published
17th Apr 2024 3:51am
17th Apr 2024 3:51am
Euphoric
Enraptured by the twinkling stars
and their glimmer in his galaxy.
Umbra, release me from the trauma
and deliver me into the light.
Purple ices over the midnight hues,
and the reflection adds the silver lining.
Hanging on to the edge of the sickled moon,
hoping to see far beyond the expanse
orbiting and interwoven by speckles
that accompany me along the way.
Rotating planets foretell my fate
then tuck me away in a dream.
Inspiration returns and struts
alongside my rhythm and flow.
Cosmically lost...
and their glimmer in his galaxy.
Umbra, release me from the trauma
and deliver me into the light.
Purple ices over the midnight hues,
and the reflection adds the silver lining.
Hanging on to the edge of the sickled moon,
hoping to see far beyond the expanse
orbiting and interwoven by speckles
that accompany me along the way.
Rotating planets foretell my fate
then tuck me away in a dream.
Inspiration returns and struts
alongside my rhythm and flow.
Cosmically lost...
#happiness
#love
#NaPoWriMo2024
23 reads
16 Comments
Fiftysevenhours
Poem Published
24th Apr 2025 10:35pm
24th Apr 2025 10:35pm
The 24th, Unnamed
There is something about,
The early realm of mist,
That slips inside,
Consciousness.
That awakes,
An unsung song,
Curled upon the tongue.
As I walk,
Enchanted,
I watch,
A low slung belt of mist,
Riding up the mountain's hips.
The unyielding day,
Pierce the trawling touch of gray,
Casting its breath of light,
Its breath of life,
Through the descent of condensate.
I watch the pallor,
The sickness,
Evaporate.
Expose the swathes of green,
Breaking through the boughs,
The fronds,
The...
The early realm of mist,
That slips inside,
Consciousness.
That awakes,
An unsung song,
Curled upon the tongue.
As I walk,
Enchanted,
I watch,
A low slung belt of mist,
Riding up the mountain's hips.
The unyielding day,
Pierce the trawling touch of gray,
Casting its breath of light,
Its breath of life,
Through the descent of condensate.
I watch the pallor,
The sickness,
Evaporate.
Expose the swathes of green,
Breaking through the boughs,
The fronds,
The...
#NaPoWriMo2024
31 reads
0 Comments
Fiftysevenhours
Poem Published
9th Apr 2025 6:16pm
9th Apr 2025 6:16pm
The toll
I pause ,
Now home.
Above,
An unprecedented sun,
Has steeped the day,
In swathes of,
Unrelenting,
Ultraviolet rays.
And I've meandered,
From the start,
Towards the close of ways.
In a semiconcused haze,
A stitched together forgetfulness,
Tainted by,
Regretfulness.
Wary, worn and slightly bleary,
Over warm and stumbling over words,
Seemingly to far worn,
And I,
To far gone,
To find a way to peal them back.
So leave them as they rang,
Black backed,
And bound...
Now home.
Above,
An unprecedented sun,
Has steeped the day,
In swathes of,
Unrelenting,
Ultraviolet rays.
And I've meandered,
From the start,
Towards the close of ways.
In a semiconcused haze,
A stitched together forgetfulness,
Tainted by,
Regretfulness.
Wary, worn and slightly bleary,
Over warm and stumbling over words,
Seemingly to far worn,
And I,
To far gone,
To find a way to peal them back.
So leave them as they rang,
Black backed,
And bound...
#NaPoWriMo2024
32 reads
0 Comments
Fiftysevenhours
Poem Published
28th Apr 2025 9:56pm
28th Apr 2025 9:56pm
Become a gain
I give myself more each day,
To what holds weight,
And stays.
Give myself more,
To what remains,
Letting loose those,
Surplus grains amongst the rains.
Watch each washed,
Become a gain,
As in each,
I rise, a little lighter.
There is still a beach within my hand,
Still a weight within my step,
A strain upon the line of sight.
And as I die,
Between the dusk’s of nine to five.
My hand,
Feels the feign of a silver sand.
A ghost amongst the passage.
And I,
Mair fain tae fecht,
Leave wondering, ...
To what holds weight,
And stays.
Give myself more,
To what remains,
Letting loose those,
Surplus grains amongst the rains.
Watch each washed,
Become a gain,
As in each,
I rise, a little lighter.
There is still a beach within my hand,
Still a weight within my step,
A strain upon the line of sight.
And as I die,
Between the dusk’s of nine to five.
My hand,
Feels the feign of a silver sand.
A ghost amongst the passage.
And I,
Mair fain tae fecht,
Leave wondering, ...
#NaPoWriMo2024
32 reads
0 Comments
Fiftysevenhours
Poem Published
15th Apr 2025 5:49pm
15th Apr 2025 5:49pm
A part of me.
There is a part of me,
That looks out into the broad,
The dark and level sea.
A part,
That's always looked out for me.
I see that part standing,
Washed from sand
Upon the waiting gravel
While I,
Exiled,
Unravel.
I've seen that part as it's seen me,
Seen the art it makes of fear,
And,
Seen the fear it's found in me.
Mistakenly.
The line it drew,
I drew,
Near.
The line it knew,
I saw with fear.
And in a break so disturbed
The birds awoke
And broke the sky.
I found,
All...
That looks out into the broad,
The dark and level sea.
A part,
That's always looked out for me.
I see that part standing,
Washed from sand
Upon the waiting gravel
While I,
Exiled,
Unravel.
I've seen that part as it's seen me,
Seen the art it makes of fear,
And,
Seen the fear it's found in me.
Mistakenly.
The line it drew,
I drew,
Near.
The line it knew,
I saw with fear.
And in a break so disturbed
The birds awoke
And broke the sky.
I found,
All...
#NaPoWriMo2024
38 reads
0 Comments
Fiftysevenhours
Poem Published
16th Apr 2025 10:01pm
16th Apr 2025 10:01pm
Blinkered
The preconceptions,
The,
False idolisations.
Those three months,
Six months,
Five year, ten year tendered plans.
Somehow,
Never given ground,
Never found the strength to stand.
A pull cord of a blind,
Pulled blinkered over a mind.
Where a future vision board
Is shut away,
Buried with closed cliché’s..
There is reason,
Many reasons,
Why the future lies curtailed.
Though no future now stands,
Where I unlearn,
What I now know.
The,
False idolisations.
Those three months,
Six months,
Five year, ten year tendered plans.
Somehow,
Never given ground,
Never found the strength to stand.
A pull cord of a blind,
Pulled blinkered over a mind.
Where a future vision board
Is shut away,
Buried with closed cliché’s..
There is reason,
Many reasons,
Why the future lies curtailed.
Though no future now stands,
Where I unlearn,
What I now know.
#NaPoWriMo2024
39 reads
0 Comments
Fiftysevenhours
Poem Published
22nd Apr 2025 10:07pm
22nd Apr 2025 10:07pm
Transgression
Home again as if the day,
Has been a held,
Hiatus.
A score of hours,
Ransomed,
For some petty coin.
And this,
Unwanted,
Regression.
Being by any other term,
Known as,
Transgression.
I call the day,
For what it is.
The month,
For what it will.
Biding with the act of binding,
Time in the terms of action.
And this recurrent,
Incessant,
Reflection.
Is raked through the tines,
Of creeping boundaries.
The meddle of Ladies bedstraw,
Lies interwoven with blades of green.
And...
Has been a held,
Hiatus.
A score of hours,
Ransomed,
For some petty coin.
And this,
Unwanted,
Regression.
Being by any other term,
Known as,
Transgression.
I call the day,
For what it is.
The month,
For what it will.
Biding with the act of binding,
Time in the terms of action.
And this recurrent,
Incessant,
Reflection.
Is raked through the tines,
Of creeping boundaries.
The meddle of Ladies bedstraw,
Lies interwoven with blades of green.
And...
#NaPoWriMo2024
40 reads
0 Comments
Fiftysevenhours
Poem Published
29th Apr 2025 5:51pm
29th Apr 2025 5:51pm
That I
It is there,
Unsettling.
In that in-between space,
That I come face to face,
That,
I feel my heart, race.
That I see a quiet murmur,
Upon lips that I taste.
Stirring in this sleepless place,
That I,
Shift the sight,
Shift the plight of, foundless night,
Through the fractured prism,
Of different coloured light.
That I smear and blend beneath a palm,
The reflection seen,
Looking back.
Asking if I dream,
Or,
If I dreamt.
Or,
If indeed this is,
Goodnight.
Unsettling.
In that in-between space,
That I come face to face,
That,
I feel my heart, race.
That I see a quiet murmur,
Upon lips that I taste.
Stirring in this sleepless place,
That I,
Shift the sight,
Shift the plight of, foundless night,
Through the fractured prism,
Of different coloured light.
That I smear and blend beneath a palm,
The reflection seen,
Looking back.
Asking if I dream,
Or,
If I dreamt.
Or,
If indeed this is,
Goodnight.
#NaPoWriMo2024
41 reads
0 Comments
Fiftysevenhours
Poem Published
11th Apr 2025 6:58pm
11th Apr 2025 6:58pm
An ending
It is all an ending, a little death,
Maybe that is why each exhale,
And each farewell,
Leads a little closer.
Takes, a little more.
Why some turns,
Hold, no returns.
An, in the end, acceptance.
An acceptance, no one, no thing,
An acceptance,
Nothing,
Can change.
Not the face by which it's seen,
Or the face by which,
It sees.
For both, maybe the same.
An ending and a death,
Both will always only ever be,
A part to a story that leads you closer,
To its closing,
That leads you closer,
To its...
Maybe that is why each exhale,
And each farewell,
Leads a little closer.
Takes, a little more.
Why some turns,
Hold, no returns.
An, in the end, acceptance.
An acceptance, no one, no thing,
An acceptance,
Nothing,
Can change.
Not the face by which it's seen,
Or the face by which,
It sees.
For both, maybe the same.
An ending and a death,
Both will always only ever be,
A part to a story that leads you closer,
To its closing,
That leads you closer,
To its...
#NaPoWriMo2024
42 reads
0 Comments
Fiftysevenhours
Poem Published
10th Apr 2025 5:20pm
10th Apr 2025 5:20pm
Liminal
Inconspicuous and worn,
Aged,
Not as in an heirloom,
But,
A prime 80’s spin,
Thin faced and,
Paper based.
A no expense spared,
Top flight plastic barrel,
Houses an unraveled spring.
Jammed,
More than clear.
A keeperless catch,
Keeps a keeper which doesn't catch,
Waiting upon a threshold,
Forever tainted and hungry,
So close its lip,
Clicks,
Yet,
Always gets away.
A wafer fine cold pressed,
Aluminium skin,
Somehow stands up,
Just right,
Swing after...
Aged,
Not as in an heirloom,
But,
A prime 80’s spin,
Thin faced and,
Paper based.
A no expense spared,
Top flight plastic barrel,
Houses an unraveled spring.
Jammed,
More than clear.
A keeperless catch,
Keeps a keeper which doesn't catch,
Waiting upon a threshold,
Forever tainted and hungry,
So close its lip,
Clicks,
Yet,
Always gets away.
A wafer fine cold pressed,
Aluminium skin,
Somehow stands up,
Just right,
Swing after...
#NaPoWriMo2024
46 reads
0 Comments
Fiftysevenhours
Poem Published
13th Apr 2025 8:32pm
13th Apr 2025 8:32pm
Not today.
As I shift and load again,
The endless tide of things.
Remnants and pieces,
of lost and forgotten priorities.
Omitted and left exceptions,
Acquired in chasing other peoples dreams.
The perplexities,
Of what we find ourselves in.
The shallow streams and
Dead end streets.
The numbers hung,
Upon the door to regret.
How,
We first met.
Tied within these reminders,
The pain of tortures,
Or the torturor, still torturing.
Is placed within a cardboard coffin.
A cursed hoard,
To summon open and lay to rest, ...
The endless tide of things.
Remnants and pieces,
of lost and forgotten priorities.
Omitted and left exceptions,
Acquired in chasing other peoples dreams.
The perplexities,
Of what we find ourselves in.
The shallow streams and
Dead end streets.
The numbers hung,
Upon the door to regret.
How,
We first met.
Tied within these reminders,
The pain of tortures,
Or the torturor, still torturing.
Is placed within a cardboard coffin.
A cursed hoard,
To summon open and lay to rest, ...
#NaPoWriMo2024
46 reads
0 Comments
Fiftysevenhours
Poem Published
14th Apr 2025 9:20pm
14th Apr 2025 9:20pm
Affirmations
From waning and fire emblazoned skies,
To mornings such as these,
Waking to the cries,
Of fresh snowfall,
laying before our eyes.
In a world where belief,
Inhibits more than it admonishes.
And perspectives lost,
Indentured more than nurtured.
In a near silence,
I quietly reaffirm that,
Anything, is possible.
Upon black wings paused,
And yellow ringed eyes,
Still following.
Anything,
Is..
To mornings such as these,
Waking to the cries,
Of fresh snowfall,
laying before our eyes.
In a world where belief,
Inhibits more than it admonishes.
And perspectives lost,
Indentured more than nurtured.
In a near silence,
I quietly reaffirm that,
Anything, is possible.
Upon black wings paused,
And yellow ringed eyes,
Still following.
Anything,
Is..
#NaPoWriMo2024
46 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Least Read Poems About Na Po Wri Mo 2024
