Poetry Competition Ends Soon 30th April 2024 5:12pm
2024 Official DUP NaPoWriMo Challenge
17/30
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The radio played on, garbled and
distant,
the curtains blowing in the light night breeze –
the glass of the windows have long been broken –
shards still remaining on the sill, on the floor,
beside a toy car with wheels still complete,
colors still impossibly bright,
still ready to be played with.
I stepped further into the house,
the glass crunching under my feet –
I hold my breath as much as I can,
trying not to disturb the darkness, the moment
in time
I stepped into.
The song got clearer, closer and
closer –
in the kitchen –
a flash of a memory –
family,
food lovingly grown and prepared –
color –
so unlike all the orange and brown
that everything seems to be filtered through –
so unlike this darkness I walked into.
I took another step and caught
a glint of moonlight on more shards of glass –
on the table –
in front of people, family,
long gone and
now nothing but bones,
food nothing but dust,
music nothing but noise.
visit
The radio played on, garbled and
distant,
the curtains blowing in the light night breeze –
the glass of the windows have long been broken –
shards still remaining on the sill, on the floor,
beside a toy car with wheels still complete,
colors still impossibly bright,
still ready to be played with.
I stepped further into the house,
the glass crunching under my feet –
I hold my breath as much as I can,
trying not to disturb the darkness, the moment
in time
I stepped into.
The song got clearer, closer and
closer –
in the kitchen –
a flash of a memory –
family,
food lovingly grown and prepared –
color –
so unlike all the orange and brown
that everything seems to be filtered through –
so unlike this darkness I walked into.
I took another step and caught
a glint of moonlight on more shards of glass –
on the table –
in front of people, family,
long gone and
now nothing but bones,
food nothing but dust,
music nothing but noise.
17/30
How To Disappear Completely
Darkness breathes
Like a living thing
Thrumming rib bones
Exhaling smoke
And I can smell your
Breath for days
It’s getting harder
Just to breath
I am stagnant in stale air
Visiting my hollow stare
Upon a world of pain
Of predictable delusions
I dilute my presence
As my pupils dilate
Into distant dimensions
I can’t look away
I fade
Into the shadows
And d i s a p p e a r . . .
How To Disappear Completely
Darkness breathes
Like a living thing
Thrumming rib bones
Exhaling smoke
And I can smell your
Breath for days
It’s getting harder
Just to breath
I am stagnant in stale air
Visiting my hollow stare
Upon a world of pain
Of predictable delusions
I dilute my presence
As my pupils dilate
Into distant dimensions
I can’t look away
I fade
Into the shadows
And d i s a p p e a r . . .
17/30
Stay Tuned In
no hidden
agenda
behind these eyes
straight
in your face
honesty
please
don't curb
my voice
it always
needs to say
those things
tiny
exploding
tine bomb thoughts
are simply
mine traps
i step on
just making
normal connections
becomes harder
wondering
what barriers will be
smashed this day
stay tuned
for another
horror show
as bloody
words keep
popping out
Unique Words 61
Stay Tuned In
no hidden
agenda
behind these eyes
straight
in your face
honesty
please
don't curb
my voice
it always
needs to say
those things
tiny
exploding
tine bomb thoughts
are simply
mine traps
i step on
just making
normal connections
becomes harder
wondering
what barriers will be
smashed this day
stay tuned
for another
horror show
as bloody
words keep
popping out
Unique Words 61
xvii.
Untitled
There’s an ache poets suffer
as adults—
a yearning beyond
immeasurable doubt
trying to reconnect
to our inner child
where moments are holy
and love expects nothing
We’re held by grace
and our whole world
is made sober
from natural magic
like a reflection—
a wet shoreline
becoming the sky
the only separation
is that thin line
of sea foam receding
into the water
This becomes our altar
our offering of gratitude
between worlds
when childhood emerges
unaccountable
It’s here we know
the ache will return
it's also where we learn
how to feed it
sandcastles and poems
Untitled
There’s an ache poets suffer
as adults—
a yearning beyond
immeasurable doubt
trying to reconnect
to our inner child
where moments are holy
and love expects nothing
We’re held by grace
and our whole world
is made sober
from natural magic
like a reflection—
a wet shoreline
becoming the sky
the only separation
is that thin line
of sea foam receding
into the water
This becomes our altar
our offering of gratitude
between worlds
when childhood emerges
unaccountable
It’s here we know
the ache will return
it's also where we learn
how to feed it
sandcastles and poems
17/30
Home
Forever in my heart
Yet, I can’t feel it
It’s tangible I can see it
I can walk through the front door
Its sounds and smells
Ghostly memories of the past
In every room there’s a familiarity
I’d love to cherish but I don’t
I can only feel the desire
To tamp my urge to flee
How sad it would be
if those who loved me learned of this
I cringe at my own inability to let go
Grasp the good bits…
Home~
Forever in my heart
Yet, I can’t feel it
63 u/w
Home
Forever in my heart
Yet, I can’t feel it
It’s tangible I can see it
I can walk through the front door
Its sounds and smells
Ghostly memories of the past
In every room there’s a familiarity
I’d love to cherish but I don’t
I can only feel the desire
To tamp my urge to flee
How sad it would be
if those who loved me learned of this
I cringe at my own inability to let go
Grasp the good bits…
Home~
Forever in my heart
Yet, I can’t feel it
63 u/w
17/30
The Minack
They perched us where only
gulls should rest, seats carved
into costal rock, designed for dwarven kings,
I wonder if Rowena would approve.
Porthcurno sends its messages
crashing up to the players,
ready to be heard across the Atlantic
duck fat swapped for greasepaint.
The Tempest started out on the ocean
Cornish rain lashed us to the mast
hostages to the pirates of Penzance
our galleon swaying with the stage lights.
The performance smashed on the rocks
All humor lost.
The Minack
They perched us where only
gulls should rest, seats carved
into costal rock, designed for dwarven kings,
I wonder if Rowena would approve.
Porthcurno sends its messages
crashing up to the players,
ready to be heard across the Atlantic
duck fat swapped for greasepaint.
The Tempest started out on the ocean
Cornish rain lashed us to the mast
hostages to the pirates of Penzance
our galleon swaying with the stage lights.
The performance smashed on the rocks
All humor lost.
17/30
The Unweakening I
I felt its weft unravel slowly
all futures I planned on
as if they had their own choice
regardless of mine
As if they drew my breath
before I exhaled it yet after
it gained strength in my rest
and cognitive momentum
How can futures be that autonomous
formed when they should be fluid
How can plans be unmade and undone
in the faces of emergent fates
51 uw
The Unweakening I
I felt its weft unravel slowly
all futures I planned on
as if they had their own choice
regardless of mine
As if they drew my breath
before I exhaled it yet after
it gained strength in my rest
and cognitive momentum
How can futures be that autonomous
formed when they should be fluid
How can plans be unmade and undone
in the faces of emergent fates
51 uw
#17
If found, Goes by the name of wry
I have lost my sense of rhyme
have you seen it anywhere?
The light bouncing bundle of joy
riding along each vowel
holding happiness in its caress
the bright side
that is footloose and fancy free
on heels of rapture.
I am sure I had it somewhere
around here
last I looked
but I cannot find it for the
looming clouds
Oh, huzzah
there you are.
(Unique words: 54)
If found, Goes by the name of wry
I have lost my sense of rhyme
have you seen it anywhere?
The light bouncing bundle of joy
riding along each vowel
holding happiness in its caress
the bright side
that is footloose and fancy free
on heels of rapture.
I am sure I had it somewhere
around here
last I looked
but I cannot find it for the
looming clouds
Oh, huzzah
there you are.
(Unique words: 54)
17/30
Poetry Wipeout
O, typewriter!
Y, typewriter?
Y, O Y?!
I, poet, require wit.
Keyboard quit;
top tier type =
quite poor repertoire.
I wept.
Ropy torture!
Pouty ire!
I require wittier poetry.
Pity poor poet;
utter pretty quip.
You write trite type.
I report trope.
You retort, "write your poetry!"
I erupt - poutier poet.
Equip power: output wire.
O! Typo! Wipe piety.
rewrite proper prototype.
I quit—
poetry wipeout!
Poetry Wipeout
O, typewriter!
Y, typewriter?
Y, O Y?!
I, poet, require wit.
Keyboard quit;
top tier type =
quite poor repertoire.
I wept.
Ropy torture!
Pouty ire!
I require wittier poetry.
Pity poor poet;
utter pretty quip.
You write trite type.
I report trope.
You retort, "write your poetry!"
I erupt - poutier poet.
Equip power: output wire.
O! Typo! Wipe piety.
rewrite proper prototype.
I quit—
poetry wipeout!
17 of 30
Shallow graves.
Practice turns a new page.
And there's something in that,
Something, to be said.
How practice builds upon itself,
Constantly returning,
But never the same.
Laying new knowledge,
Upon old understanding.
Where the kernels of what remains,
Remain.
And the rest fall,
Washed in the returning attention’s rain.
From them,
Reminders are waiting,
Along the engrained passages of the next page.
The shallow graves of fallen letters,
Giving life to another word,
Another day,
Another world,
And practice building upon itself,
Constantly returning,
But never the same.
Shallow graves.
Practice turns a new page.
And there's something in that,
Something, to be said.
How practice builds upon itself,
Constantly returning,
But never the same.
Laying new knowledge,
Upon old understanding.
Where the kernels of what remains,
Remain.
And the rest fall,
Washed in the returning attention’s rain.
From them,
Reminders are waiting,
Along the engrained passages of the next page.
The shallow graves of fallen letters,
Giving life to another word,
Another day,
Another world,
And practice building upon itself,
Constantly returning,
But never the same.
17/30
The NO! machine malfunction
Eeny meenie miney moe,
my day is flying – watch it go!
The to-do list is like a rope
around my neck – there is no hope…
…that I can get out of this heap
when every task is layers deep
and messages won’t quit – BEEP BEEP!
and people keep on asking me…
…to do the things I promised them.
What was I thinking way back then??
My stupid optimistic mind
has bit me in my own behind!
There’s only one thing this could mean --
I have to fix my NO! machine.
The NO! machine malfunction
Eeny meenie miney moe,
my day is flying – watch it go!
The to-do list is like a rope
around my neck – there is no hope…
…that I can get out of this heap
when every task is layers deep
and messages won’t quit – BEEP BEEP!
and people keep on asking me…
…to do the things I promised them.
What was I thinking way back then??
My stupid optimistic mind
has bit me in my own behind!
There’s only one thing this could mean --
I have to fix my NO! machine.
17/30
Quantum
all it took for me to fall in love
was one chance, miraculous moment,
coinciding quite nicely with
a random rainy Tuesday afternoon;
the rundown yet quaint bookstore
provided the perfect intersection
between your day and mine;
I never believed in divine timing
until our eyes boldly introduced us,
spilling all our best-kept secrets
across the gardening aisle -
it was the most holy thing I’ve felt;
I still ponder the magnitude
of that small moment, a tiny seed
containing finely-detailed blueprint,
the structure of time and space
Quantum
all it took for me to fall in love
was one chance, miraculous moment,
coinciding quite nicely with
a random rainy Tuesday afternoon;
the rundown yet quaint bookstore
provided the perfect intersection
between your day and mine;
I never believed in divine timing
until our eyes boldly introduced us,
spilling all our best-kept secrets
across the gardening aisle -
it was the most holy thing I’ve felt;
I still ponder the magnitude
of that small moment, a tiny seed
containing finely-detailed blueprint,
the structure of time and space
17 of 30
Theme 2: Elements of Life
april song 17—dust
in the paths of puffing billy
(though, at first, it sounds so silly),
citizens of every nation
tremble at wild-dust invasion.
his passport is universal
and his threats know no reversal;
birds and mammals take a dust bath
to routinely ease his gust wrath.
embryonic to the human
race, ‘tis dust makes up the true man,
and to dust he soon returneth,
when the breath in him adjourneth.
nasa stardust has a duty
(and we should all join the tutti)
to reduce saharan nuisance,
till the world finds air translucence.
© cab♫
UWC 72
17/30
Ships/of/Eclipses
Thresholds & event horizons in the eyes
Darkening skies where light cries
Technicolor tears into monochrome
Revolutions in frequencies of cyclone
A journey inside of a journey through a corridor in a gurney
I drop this wish through the surface
Rotating kaleidoscopes in the scope of the scape
Ships into the depths of eclipses
So many caresses addressed under surface/s
Set into the skin in symbols
Speaking: Silent
Lips crossed across surfaces of skin/s to fingertip/s
Dipped
in
depth/s
oozing
dark
honey
Ink
Ships/of/Eclipses
Thresholds & event horizons in the eyes
Darkening skies where light cries
Technicolor tears into monochrome
Revolutions in frequencies of cyclone
A journey inside of a journey through a corridor in a gurney
I drop this wish through the surface
Rotating kaleidoscopes in the scope of the scape
Ships into the depths of eclipses
So many caresses addressed under surface/s
Set into the skin in symbols
Speaking: Silent
Lips crossed across surfaces of skin/s to fingertip/s
Dipped
in
depth/s
oozing
dark
honey
Ink
17/30
SUBVERTED SUBJECT
I watch the spotlight
Dance upon you
Just outside our door
You asked me
For some passion
It takes time but I’ll find more
Now that I have you back
You wandered out
Into the wild to play
I look upon these creatures
That you spend time with
All day
I don’t expect
That we will very long
Call this place home
I turned the music
Up for you
You left me all alone
(55 uw)
SUBVERTED SUBJECT
I watch the spotlight
Dance upon you
Just outside our door
You asked me
For some passion
It takes time but I’ll find more
Now that I have you back
You wandered out
Into the wild to play
I look upon these creatures
That you spend time with
All day
I don’t expect
That we will very long
Call this place home
I turned the music
Up for you
You left me all alone
(55 uw)
