Poetry competition CLOSED 30th April 2024 5:12pm
A public vote has been requested
2024 Official DUP NaPoWriMo Challenge
1/30
The Schrödinger's Cat in Ralph's Hat
Poor Ralph is a stick man
who's looking annoyed;
your attention is all that
keeps him from the void.
But Ralph does have a cat
(whose condition's unknown);
it's shut in a box
so let's leave it alone.
If Ralph is not here
then he must be out there.
He's wearing a hat
but his bottom is bare!
Quick! Call the police!
And instruct them to dash—
if we don't intervene,
he's going to flash!
There goes Ralph down the street;
do you think he'll get caught?
If not, he'll just vanish—
out of sight, out of thought!
And because he's a stick man
that someone invented,
nobody will see him—
he won't be lamented.
Though Ralph streaks away,
his hat is still here.
If he never returns,
will the hat disappear?
We could keep it safe
with the cat, in the box—
except, it won't open;
it's sealed like Fort Knox!
The Schrödinger's Cat in Ralph's Hat
Poor Ralph is a stick man
who's looking annoyed;
your attention is all that
keeps him from the void.
But Ralph does have a cat
(whose condition's unknown);
it's shut in a box
so let's leave it alone.
If Ralph is not here
then he must be out there.
He's wearing a hat
but his bottom is bare!
Quick! Call the police!
And instruct them to dash—
if we don't intervene,
he's going to flash!
There goes Ralph down the street;
do you think he'll get caught?
If not, he'll just vanish—
out of sight, out of thought!
And because he's a stick man
that someone invented,
nobody will see him—
he won't be lamented.
Though Ralph streaks away,
his hat is still here.
If he never returns,
will the hat disappear?
We could keep it safe
with the cat, in the box—
except, it won't open;
it's sealed like Fort Knox!
1/30
Ode to a Twirly Skirt (part 1)
She tramped through mud with tangled hair, her boots
and knees a mess of scrapes, wet grass, and shit.
As wild as spring, the wind and rain, her roots
a tangle deep, unwilling to submit
to social norms. She’d rather loose her will
into the woods and open fields, climb trees,
and stuff her pockets full of rocks until
the smell of lunch comes drifting on a breeze.
Her granny sighed, her mother cried, her dad
a proud old man. She made her way through days
in t-shirts ripped and holey jeans. She had
her ways while others hoped it just a phase.
But every now and once again that girl
would slip into a circle skirt to twirl.
Ode to a Twirly Skirt (part 1)
She tramped through mud with tangled hair, her boots
and knees a mess of scrapes, wet grass, and shit.
As wild as spring, the wind and rain, her roots
a tangle deep, unwilling to submit
to social norms. She’d rather loose her will
into the woods and open fields, climb trees,
and stuff her pockets full of rocks until
the smell of lunch comes drifting on a breeze.
Her granny sighed, her mother cried, her dad
a proud old man. She made her way through days
in t-shirts ripped and holey jeans. She had
her ways while others hoped it just a phase.
But every now and once again that girl
would slip into a circle skirt to twirl.
Anonymous
1/30
Oh! Cheer Up, You Miserable Bugger!
A heaviness attends my heart. A cloud
of gloomy grey blots out the sun, a rain
falls cold and seeps into my bones. Again
the thought comes grim and keeps my spirit bowed
then drags it deep along the ground. A crowd
of mourning sorrows, black as any crow,
flies close behind. The reason why? I know:
NaPo! The task ahead has ploughed my brow
with furrows like a frozen field – and now
I still have twenty-nine more rhymes to go.
Oh! Cheer Up, You Miserable Bugger!
A heaviness attends my heart. A cloud
of gloomy grey blots out the sun, a rain
falls cold and seeps into my bones. Again
the thought comes grim and keeps my spirit bowed
then drags it deep along the ground. A crowd
of mourning sorrows, black as any crow,
flies close behind. The reason why? I know:
NaPo! The task ahead has ploughed my brow
with furrows like a frozen field – and now
I still have twenty-nine more rhymes to go.
1/30
Heartache Number One
He drank
the last
Sunset Sarsaparilla
I was keeping in
my lockbox.
The cap, he left
for me to find
on top of my
dresser –
probably as an offer
of peace.
(or maybe,
let's be honest,
it's the wasteland, just
to tease)
With time, I learned
heartache here
comes
by the numbers,
so I guess
what’s
one more.
I sighed, and I
took instead
a rad-rich Nuka-Cola
and closed
the fridge door.
Heartache Number One
He drank
the last
Sunset Sarsaparilla
I was keeping in
my lockbox.
The cap, he left
for me to find
on top of my
dresser –
probably as an offer
of peace.
(or maybe,
let's be honest,
it's the wasteland, just
to tease)
With time, I learned
heartache here
comes
by the numbers,
so I guess
what’s
one more.
I sighed, and I
took instead
a rad-rich Nuka-Cola
and closed
the fridge door.
i
Untitled
Most seek poems
in the iris of the earth
because the well of her pupil
is too deep
for ink to survive
they think
but poetry lives
its life in shadows
between the pages
of forgotten or buried books
tucked in drawers
old envelops
and tombs of the dead
Its scent is distinct:
chrysanthemum, worn leather
lavender and peppermint
we catch its waft
when least expected
Its language is unspoken
infused with deja vu
and carefully tuned
upon the ivory bones
of an ancient spirit
still roaming the Serengeti
seeking its own poetry
from the iris of the earth
because it hasn't learned
yet
Untitled
Most seek poems
in the iris of the earth
because the well of her pupil
is too deep
for ink to survive
they think
but poetry lives
its life in shadows
between the pages
of forgotten or buried books
tucked in drawers
old envelops
and tombs of the dead
Its scent is distinct:
chrysanthemum, worn leather
lavender and peppermint
we catch its waft
when least expected
Its language is unspoken
infused with deja vu
and carefully tuned
upon the ivory bones
of an ancient spirit
still roaming the Serengeti
seeking its own poetry
from the iris of the earth
because it hasn't learned
yet
#1
Party season has officially begun
Last night was intense
Bright lights and much suspense
Smiles and laughter
Dancing forever after
Old friends and many new
Dreams awaiting to pursue
I was back among my youth
Cousin smashin’ it in the dj booth
Girls bringing that feminine mystique
Boys grinning from cheek to cheek
What a night, what a ride
My glee I truly can’t hide
I had everyone bopping
Grooving and rocking
The beats were the best
Put my moves to the test
I feel ecstatic, revived
Goddamn it, I feel alive!
Any town can be mine
Nightclubs, my own personal shrine
My soul awakens on the dancefloor
I’m not a human anymore
My body and heart come undone
Party season has officially begun
Unique word count: 92
Party season has officially begun
Last night was intense
Bright lights and much suspense
Smiles and laughter
Dancing forever after
Old friends and many new
Dreams awaiting to pursue
I was back among my youth
Cousin smashin’ it in the dj booth
Girls bringing that feminine mystique
Boys grinning from cheek to cheek
What a night, what a ride
My glee I truly can’t hide
I had everyone bopping
Grooving and rocking
The beats were the best
Put my moves to the test
I feel ecstatic, revived
Goddamn it, I feel alive!
Any town can be mine
Nightclubs, my own personal shrine
My soul awakens on the dancefloor
I’m not a human anymore
My body and heart come undone
Party season has officially begun
Unique word count: 92
#1
Don't Let Me Down
don't let me down, escapist thoughts
chained to an outcome, we'll call it fate
destined for pain my soul cries out
if I leave the perimeter the monsters circle
starving for the feast of grieving
my anger is tempting too
when I ignore the cruelty it sometimes gets worse
in the immortal since
I have grown
still, willful in my way
wondering at the nature of Yah
he has formed and shaped my being
breathing life into me at the foundations
skirting the truth denying my nature
he gets angry
he removes the veil from face
then enters the visions and twists of fate
the powers that be like to gossip
if you're in denial they are sure to torture
it is with great pain I am aware of my placement
submission to Him is vital
for survival
Don't Let Me Down
don't let me down, escapist thoughts
chained to an outcome, we'll call it fate
destined for pain my soul cries out
if I leave the perimeter the monsters circle
starving for the feast of grieving
my anger is tempting too
when I ignore the cruelty it sometimes gets worse
in the immortal since
I have grown
still, willful in my way
wondering at the nature of Yah
he has formed and shaped my being
breathing life into me at the foundations
skirting the truth denying my nature
he gets angry
he removes the veil from face
then enters the visions and twists of fate
the powers that be like to gossip
if you're in denial they are sure to torture
it is with great pain I am aware of my placement
submission to Him is vital
for survival
1/30
Death Metal Lullaby
At night
I hear death metal
Playing faintly in the distance
Maybe from the downstairs apartment
Or maybe from the deepest expanse
Of my ignored existence
I’ve never been a death metal
Type of gal
I’ve always sought out smooth
Rhythms keeping their balanced tempos
And safe chords
Never been one to step on someone’s toes
Or argue
Or stand up for myself
A people pleasing monster
to my own self
So maybe at night
Is when my body rebels
Screaming into the night
& standing up for itself
While my downstairs neighbor
Madame Linda
Has long drifted off
To her contemporary tunes
I guess we all consciously
surround ourselves
With things that we are not
To mute what rages inside of us
Until the deep night brings
My death metal lullaby
Trying to reclaim the given away
Self that hangs, crucified.
Death Metal Lullaby
At night
I hear death metal
Playing faintly in the distance
Maybe from the downstairs apartment
Or maybe from the deepest expanse
Of my ignored existence
I’ve never been a death metal
Type of gal
I’ve always sought out smooth
Rhythms keeping their balanced tempos
And safe chords
Never been one to step on someone’s toes
Or argue
Or stand up for myself
A people pleasing monster
to my own self
So maybe at night
Is when my body rebels
Screaming into the night
& standing up for itself
While my downstairs neighbor
Madame Linda
Has long drifted off
To her contemporary tunes
I guess we all consciously
surround ourselves
With things that we are not
To mute what rages inside of us
Until the deep night brings
My death metal lullaby
Trying to reclaim the given away
Self that hangs, crucified.
1/30
Always The Fool
A master of philosophy
Met with inaction
I can ponder how this came to be
But can't understand how it happened
The intellect that can dissect
Each and every step
If it's all the same to know my name
I can't recall how we have met
With every thought and every breath
Hindsight can't figure out what's next
With every spark and every flame
Every day that seems the same
A master of the ponder
Mind that wanders to the grave
As time passes on by
Procrastination paves the way
The fool amongst all of you
Gestures for distraction
Jesters dancing for attention
Pay no mind to their inaction
Entertainment in abundance
Stuck in place staring at a screen
Like moths to the flame
Pluck off my wings
I don't even know what it all mean
And yet I'll contemplate it seems
Always The Fool
A master of philosophy
Met with inaction
I can ponder how this came to be
But can't understand how it happened
The intellect that can dissect
Each and every step
If it's all the same to know my name
I can't recall how we have met
With every thought and every breath
Hindsight can't figure out what's next
With every spark and every flame
Every day that seems the same
A master of the ponder
Mind that wanders to the grave
As time passes on by
Procrastination paves the way
The fool amongst all of you
Gestures for distraction
Jesters dancing for attention
Pay no mind to their inaction
Entertainment in abundance
Stuck in place staring at a screen
Like moths to the flame
Pluck off my wings
I don't even know what it all mean
And yet I'll contemplate it seems
1/30
SPRINGTIME RUMINATIONS
A poet
Is a type
Of accountant
A transaction
Captured
In a journal entry
In the process
Understanding’s
Reconciled
***
It is tax season
But poems
Want to bloom
At night
I alternate between one side
And the other
Credits and deductions
Fight for critical
Liminal space
***
As the poems approach
I am almost too excited
To sleep
Words direct
Deposit into my children’s
Future fund
(54 uw)
SPRINGTIME RUMINATIONS
A poet
Is a type
Of accountant
A transaction
Captured
In a journal entry
In the process
Understanding’s
Reconciled
***
It is tax season
But poems
Want to bloom
At night
I alternate between one side
And the other
Credits and deductions
Fight for critical
Liminal space
***
As the poems approach
I am almost too excited
To sleep
Words direct
Deposit into my children’s
Future fund
(54 uw)
1/30
Red Sky
The dog wanted wet sand for breakfast
so the car had the oceans scent in its nostrils,
skittling down single track roads
forcing bread van's and jogger's
to dodge inside plump hedgerow's.
The morning was damp and deafening
a larva lamp orange spilled out its warning
onto the clawing nails of white foam
that slapped a hand across
smooth wet sand.
She made her marks four at a time
barking back at the chasing tide
as I found a calmness in the throng,
a moment of solitude, sea glass green
that can only be found on empty beaches.
My thoughts floated on cool thermals,
a place to rest under the wings
of hovering gull's.
A milk and two sugars mind
emptying with the coffee flask
ready to face the first
bacon sandwich of the day.
I shout her name across the rock-pools
then see her running like a mad fool
towards the call of beach-café shutters
as they open their smell to a sensitive wet nose.
Red Sky
The dog wanted wet sand for breakfast
so the car had the oceans scent in its nostrils,
skittling down single track roads
forcing bread van's and jogger's
to dodge inside plump hedgerow's.
The morning was damp and deafening
a larva lamp orange spilled out its warning
onto the clawing nails of white foam
that slapped a hand across
smooth wet sand.
She made her marks four at a time
barking back at the chasing tide
as I found a calmness in the throng,
a moment of solitude, sea glass green
that can only be found on empty beaches.
My thoughts floated on cool thermals,
a place to rest under the wings
of hovering gull's.
A milk and two sugars mind
emptying with the coffee flask
ready to face the first
bacon sandwich of the day.
I shout her name across the rock-pools
then see her running like a mad fool
towards the call of beach-café shutters
as they open their smell to a sensitive wet nose.
01 of 30
april song 01: April 01
journey of life—conceptual
concept of Almighty Father,
more conceptual than mere thought;
for I Am is greater, farther,
whom we know not as we ought.
dust there was upon the new earth,
light there was at His command;
formed He of the dust the true-birth
of His image, by His Hand.
journey of a thousand footsteps,
man conceived as living soul;
concept of superior concepts:
what would he write on the scroll?
would his scribble be of eden
or his ink blot of the heathen?
© cab♫
UWC 60
#1 of 30
Journal entry one on what is wilderness to me.
A point and a threshold,
A convergence on a waiting horizon’s line.
Where the supposed inhospitable,
And that, uncultivated,
Reign.
Where the presence and place,
Merge,
In a throng of unspoilt rain.
And the earth waits to grow,
Where seen through, are as one.
The soil and the mind,
Nature and our nature,
Entwined.
Conversing,
In narrow veins of rabbits runs,
And the shattered climbs
Of goat marked trails.
It's a place,
But a sense,
For the most part lost.
Journal entry one on what is wilderness to me.
A point and a threshold,
A convergence on a waiting horizon’s line.
Where the supposed inhospitable,
And that, uncultivated,
Reign.
Where the presence and place,
Merge,
In a throng of unspoilt rain.
And the earth waits to grow,
Where seen through, are as one.
The soil and the mind,
Nature and our nature,
Entwined.
Conversing,
In narrow veins of rabbits runs,
And the shattered climbs
Of goat marked trails.
It's a place,
But a sense,
For the most part lost.
1/30
Dotage
How would / will I know
with no one to observe
Tell me
Remind me
Write it down. . .
Living alone
Having chats
Acknowledging
affirmations
without a different
point of view
Yes, I’ve read up on
the symptoms of
ancient aging
diseases
passed on DNA
(hoping it skips a generation)
But how would I even
be aware if I became. . .
As I grow older & fatter
I have put a laminated
note on my bathroom
mirror:
What day is it, today
and
Who the hell are You!!?
69 unique words
Dotage
How would / will I know
with no one to observe
Tell me
Remind me
Write it down. . .
Living alone
Having chats
Acknowledging
affirmations
without a different
point of view
Yes, I’ve read up on
the symptoms of
ancient aging
diseases
passed on DNA
(hoping it skips a generation)
But how would I even
be aware if I became. . .
As I grow older & fatter
I have put a laminated
note on my bathroom
mirror:
What day is it, today
and
Who the hell are You!!?
69 unique words
2/30
on the day death came knocking ~ {i was drinking a venti mocha, dark roast, two pumps of caramel, three pumps of vanilla} //it tasted like ash//
you said it
around two
on an ordinary
afternoon
so matter of fact
explaining point a
b, c, d
omitted e
what the f’
ugh ~
you had
already
died inside
during the drive over,
cold hands in mine
asked me to
turn up the heat
when it was 40 outside…
… i
can't remember
your face from before
the moment you
opened your mouth,
but i
recall the minutiae,
soap suds
& my cigarette
burning down
between wet fingers,
the filter too wet
to suck succour from
on the day death came knocking ~ {i was drinking a venti mocha, dark roast, two pumps of caramel, three pumps of vanilla} //it tasted like ash//
you said it
around two
on an ordinary
afternoon
so matter of fact
explaining point a
b, c, d
omitted e
what the f’
ugh ~
you had
already
died inside
during the drive over,
cold hands in mine
asked me to
turn up the heat
when it was 40 outside…
… i
can't remember
your face from before
the moment you
opened your mouth,
but i
recall the minutiae,
soap suds
& my cigarette
burning down
between wet fingers,
the filter too wet
to suck succour from
