Share Your NaPoWriMo 2022 Poems

A poem from my part as a token of love in NaPoWriMo!

Now fireflies adorn mine poesy... Now fireflies adorn mine poesy, in this wakeful dark night For thou- O beloved, as thy thoughts ne’er reach me; Intense which were, by luxuriant wave of love Which if gathered in care, shall restyle heaven’s elixir; Do remind me they, those elegant days of passion Titivating mine vision, to a gentle wave of bliss. With crystals on her belly, as pious as thy heart In motion, smoothing her bright lustre each day All pain did cease, in darling's sacred eyne As if fashioned since ages, overseeing love’s legend. Thy loveliness in her smile, as young roses of May Art mighty before winds, which seeks to rob all joy. Golden chariot of thine, cushioned by divine hands- Would mourn if pains thou, O fine Aphrodite’s charm. Dulcet nightingale, or a bluebird of paradise Perchance pines for the secret, of thy sheer perfection. Thy arrival’s a tumult, of tender elegance as the Sun Rising in the wake of winter’s dead veil. O winters! O winters! Why gazing o’er us? Erotic essence of our song, is loosing now tis’ words. Aloud in alfresco, autumn’s adoring eternity Now's haunted by the whispers of omen long dead- On divinity unmatched, the seed of all disaster; Which albeit had to be, the seed to endless love. Listen! O inane people, all worship art to God, Who imparts tale of love, awaiting us to imbibe The glory of grandeur emotions, foretelling unity to grow. Narrow doors of sanity, never let in boundless nights- This fair fervour when blooms, tis’ devoured by time & now fireflies adorn mine poesy, in this wakeful dark nights, I await ink to dry out, for Master’s pleasant sight. -R.G.

New Beginning that Never Happen

Trigger Warning: Mentions of religion

About a year ago,from this day

I left the job I hated,and now

I'm in a job I like,poetry

Is now in question,I remember

When I came here,I had a book

Working on,now due to very

Unfortunate events,unsure

If poetry book is in the cards

Now,maybe that is the point

Of experimentation

More breathing room to try new

Things and write when there's something

Worth mentioning,there's enough

Poems about life,love and

Favorite topics to write,so

Many talks about approach

Life and trying to make sense

Many Hollywood Celebs

In spotlight,so then why am

I still here??? To be yes man

Yes lord,yes your majesty

Everyone saids "God has a plan for you"

If I'm mistaken so did I.

Unlike Christianity

God,politics,religions

Relationships,hell,even

Humanity itself,art

Never lie to me,express

What I need to express or

Get out of this life,been dead

For very long time,likely

For all of my childhood

Wasted on dramas,abstractions

Since that's what the Bible is

Four years on self improvement Yet,never equated to

What my whole being always

Wanted,you took my dreams a

Way,the one thing I love,when

You took that from me,you made

An enemy,by stabbing

Hope in the face,like you care

Love hurts enough to be hate

Scar for eternity,life

Ended before it started

Does this mean poetry did too?????????????????????

//////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Side Note: I usually don't like to write this kind of content,since I did this alot in my early early days of poetry.

Talking about life,or self help content.

Today felt needed as I've notice I've grown bitter lately and as of right now,poetry is the one outlet I can express what I'm really feeling.

With that said,thank you all who have contributed to this experience.

Its always cool to be around Covers.

And if theres an available opportunity I can make it too,I'm happy to swing by.

See you all very soon and as someone once said: "Happy Writing".

30th April

It is with a sense of bittersweet

melancholy

I write this final NaPoWriMo.

It could have been a dry well of inspiration day

after 29 days of inky perspiration.

Is there a part of my brain

now dedicated to only metaphor and simile?

perhaps a place I didn't use before.

I hope that now it won't lie dormant

full of unwanted vocabulary.

Will obscure poetry forms

recede to the back of my memory?

Will poetry prompts continue to clutter

my Instagram feed?

and will I continue to write even if I don't feel it's necessary?

Well for now.

I'll forget about that

and finish this craft beer

before it gets warm and flat.

Museum (a haiku inspired by Rachel's prompt: Imagine your heart is a museum. Take the reader on a journey through the museum.).

...And here is my heart.

This is where I fell in love.

That's why it's broken.

Box

Nothing changes here,

blank walls uninspired spaces.

If only they were trees

and their leaves turned

green red yellow

falling.

Perhaps I can arrange the books,

their broken spines like this:

brown/seed green/shoot yellow/bud red/flower

so I don't forget

the movement of the seasons.

Perhaps I'll discover curious animals

hiding amongst the pages,

between faded words,

under folded corners.

Give me the music of a constant stream

tiny bells

the polishing of stones,

instead of drip

drip

drip

drip

drip of the broken tap,

in the kitchen.

And give me the vision of glittering Orion

instead of cracks

in the ceiling.

Wish I Never Existed Anymore

Warning: Harmful language,mentions of suicide and death

I'm done with life

I'm done with things

I'm done speak king

Words none listen

To,blind by their

Own bias,code

Green symbols

Digitized

Whole world sees

Fake broadcast

Fake humans

Fake message

"I want to help you"

And charges freaking

Premium for course

"I will give you this

For x amount of time"

Then take away when

Its not making cash,

Sink titanic,not

Realize same person

That brought you in all

So can kick you out

"I think you have potential"

"How old are you?"

"You have bright future ahead of you"

Oh here's a good one:

"Doing THIS,is the easy way out"

FUCK YOU TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Minimize painful experience

Nor saying "ITS NORMAL"

Especially when mental

Health deteriorate every second

Shows intentions don't

REALLY LISTEN!!!!!!!!!!!!they just pretend they do...........

With blanket statements and

Inspirational messages gifting

Customers a fallacy

Smack head on floor in gymnasium

Makes me wonder if my death

Is the decimal at the end of museum

A few SciFaiku

1.

Approaching a black hole -

thoughts are moving

slower than fingers

2.

Nothing

big bang

universe

3.

Neil Armstrong

one small step

... oops forgot the words!

4.

Weightless -

no diet Coke

in zero gravity

Found Photo Of A Dog I Didn’t Know

In the street

next to a bin

lay the photo of a dog,

an Alsatian.

Somehow it had escaped the garbage

like a dog might escape the dog catcher.

A German Shepherd

eyes as brown as Earth,

tongue like a piece of bacon

rolling from its mouth.

I’ll never know its name

or if it is a boy or a girl.

But I know someone loved it

and it loved them.

I adopted it, in a way

and now its stuck to my fridge,

with magnets amongst a jumble

of other memories.

Every day when I come home

I’ll see it-

the dog I never knew.

Photograph

Arrive at a cityscape

Stand on these rooftops

Look out,families

Happy,couples holding

Hands,bros eating a meal

Together,children pick

Up from school,people in

Costumes with director

Saying "QUIET ON SET" and

It ain't metaphorical

Joy appears everlasting

Without me in their lives

Peace and harmony live

In restoration

Confirmative,story

Ended long time ago

A Haiku, A Month Into Grieving

I miss you. I have

so much to tell you. I wish

you could call me back

Lethal 4

Walking on the backs of titan

Confront one true Raiden with gear

Sparks fly,clash of swords,zero fear

Drive ferrari with bear over

Off ramp,interrupt fight???NEVER

Continue forever set score

Between teddy, hedgehog rip core

Out of chest,beating,gore mouth fall

All four jump off cliff,none stood tall

The Inspector

Drunk as a boy

hands in my pockets,

tears made of blood

like rubies.

I faced accusations,

rehearsed words

poisoned darts.

Motionless.

Sweating.

There would be no confession.

A murdered Syrian,

yes,

but no confession.

An Alternate Reality

if I drank coffee

if I hated my English teacher

if I studied Italian Instead of French

if I studied harder

if I didn’t learn to drive

if I watched Eastenders

if I read Tolkien and Stephen King

if I never learned to drive

if I taught myself how to play the violin

if I bought a boat and taught myself to sail

if I told everyone to call me Rae

if I was smart enough to be a doctor

if I was smart enough to be a painter

if I was good enough

if I was enough

if I wore contacts

if I never cut my hair

if I never dyed my hair

if I loved myself enough to wear shorts

if I baked

if I moved to Italy and fell in love

and moved to New York and fell in love again

and moved to New Zealand and fell in love again

if I worked the night shift

if I ate spicy food

if I laughed more

if I smiled more

if I gave everything to charity

if I said I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry and meant it

maybe your doctor would’ve been smarter

maybe your body would’ve fought the cancer in time

maybe you’d still be alive.

Accepted My Fate

Putting back wounded spatula

Tornado attempted to sway

This wooden box,tarantula

Bitten mechanic flesh away

Nothing gone one sanity way

Crawling on fragile cranium

Behind bars in this asylum

Hellfire blazing on casket

Air rise out new elysium

Ashes ashes cover blanket

A Random Thought

It occurs to me that you never met

my Gran even though she died

maybe a decade before I met you.

You would’ve liked her

and I’m certain of this.

You would’ve drunk tea,

taken selfies with her,

bought flowers for each other,

eaten cake and biscuits,

watched tv,

complained about people parking outside,

complained about the weather,

complained about me,

gossiped about me,

talked about why you’re both worried about me.

You would’ve both complained about being old.

It occurs to me that it’s likely, possible,

even entirely probably that on a random Tuesday,

you went to Morrisons and saw an old lady

wearing a green dress, using a walking stick.

You put a box of PG tips in her trolley

because she would never ask for help

but you were kind and could tell she needed you

and you agreed PG tips is the best kind of tea.

The Yin And Yang Of Getting Old

When I’m old

I’m going to be

an English gent.

Wear a tailored

suit, with a pocket

square and a

walking cane.

I’ll smile,quote

classic poems

and reminisce

without a hint

of regret, about

all the things

I used to do.

When I’m old

I’m going to need

someone to push

my dribbling

decrepit body

in a wheelchair.

Nothing I say

will make any

sense, my words

confused, shaking

like my hands

and my memories

will be

escaping prisoners.

Shisha

Smoking fruit tobacco

Snaking thro cold water

Soothing bubbles smooth my

Stiffened mind and I drift

So I imagine I'm

Sitting in the desert

Sharing with a Bedouin.

this is a Pleiades poem.

So Much Better Back

Video game industry truly change

Affluent disable old headphone jack

Developers,company,has been strange

Downloadable content really derange

Microtransaction overdrive down whack

Video game industry truly change

Consumer wallet completely unhinge

Hibernate on global media back

Developers,company,has been strange

Archetype in spiky,warrior orange

Hair,fans say originality lack

Video game industry truly change

Open worlds,modern ideas,just scavenge

For creativity under attack

Developers,company,has been strange

Resolution,engine,next gen,arrange

Console,LIVE E3 on the YT shack

Developers,company,has been strange

Video game industry truly change

Black Hole

Head on cotton seed

Thin layer bones had decay

Skeleton spooks greed

Submits to engulf earth's way

Nails wooden coffin today

A Gift Horse

One day

I looked a gift horse

in the mouth.

At his big teeth -

- white tombstones

and his pink tongue

rolling about the metal bit

that enslaved him.

And everything was OK

for me

but not for him.

Must Rush to be Remember

What the hell is this about leaving

An impact or legacy? is

It really about ego?

Family,childhood

Being all happy

Flip off Martin

Over there

Orange

Clock

Based on Rachel's awesome 'first line in a book' prompt:

I was asleep when he died (the opening line to Patti Smith's 'Just Kids').

I was asleep when he died

My head less on feathers, more in the clouds

Buoyant on illusions of euphoria

Dancing with the ghosts of lovers past,

Drunk on fantasies where he told me that he loved me

Truly

Not with words but with actions

and sacrifices without the agony of the crucifix

because, he loved me.

True love is all pleasure and pleasure pain

But he wouldn't wake up to meet me in ecstasy,

So he fell fast asleep as I took a lazy selfie,

Dyed my hair,

Kissed a man he would have hated.

He left once and then left twice and then life went on.

He fell asleep, while I lived out dreams I couldn't while he was awake,

When he forced me to bed while he sneaked out to play.

I was asleep when he died.

Day 18: Who Wins???

Ninja stars,sent mid air,spartan defending shield,throws javelin

Ninja retaliated with katana,spartan with bronze sword

Clash between two of most respected warriors from era ends in.....

What Happened Next

It’s been a month

and I don’t think God knew

what she was getting herself into

when she called your name.

Sure, it took a few weeks

for you learn where everything is

and to meet everybody.

But now you can get to work.

First, you ask God for new wings:

nothing flashy but bigger

and a colour that brings out your eyes.

You tell God the angels’ rotas will never work

and you draft new ones for the next millennia,

you rearrange the furniture and clean everything.

You keep the kitchen stocked with tea, coffee,

sugar, and milk and you always make God a cuppa

when you want a chat. You ask Her if you can visit

but that’s not what happens

no matter what the movies tell us.

Instead, she rearranges the stars,

creates a constellation of you

so we’ll always remember.

As if we could forget.

Dress

I finally found a dress to wear

to Laura’s wedding: knee length,

short sleeves, blush pink

with a white stripe above the hem.

Mum says it’s ‘very Rachel’

and a pair of white Converse

will make the stripe pop.

I’ll probably end up buying

the same style of Converse

you bought from work

about five years ago

but I don’t tell anybody this.

I want to show people the dress,

tell them how pretty I feel in it.

I showed a picture to my hairdresser

who asked about you because Mum

told her about you and she said

it was awful and didn’t know what to say.

I want to send you a picture of me

in my new dress and I still have your number,

your name still a recent contact on Whatsapp.

But your phone is with your partner or daughter,

the contract cancelled, the number out of service.

I think of your Converse

still in the bottom of your wardrobe.

Day 16: Alien

Envision inter galatic horoscope,

Completed inner domination tonic,

Satellite enter archery telescope,

Destruction transformation as bionic

Chameleon ever change kaleidoscope,

Prevention event that happen......ironic

Conform environment authenticity

Confide ambassador synchronicity

Cartography

I’m terrible with directions.

I get it from my dad.

I use Google maps to get me everywhere,

even places I’ve been a thousand times before.

I’ll look at Streetview so I know

what the roads and junctions look like.

Your house is still a recent location

from three weeks ago. Monday,

I pushed a card through your letterbox

saying I’m thinking of you,

you can talk to me, we can watch Friends

if that’s what you want. Wednesday,

I pushed a card through your letterbox

telling your partner I’m sorry for his loss

and I don’t know what to say

because what can I say

and all anyone says is I don’t know what to say.

But Google Maps can’t take me to where you are

or show me which direction to go to move on.

Give me a map, a compass, a sign post, a star to follow,

introduce me to a cartographer.

Show me where to go in a world without you.

Time Passes

today, I think I hid these feelings like so many things But beauty shines forever, for sure we've both parts we play on the way.

(this is kinda like a blackout poem. I took the lyrics from 'Time Passes' by Paul Weller and just deleted stuff till I was left with this)

THE CROCODILE

#napowrimo

I navigate through life's murky waters without a frown or a smile. A perfect mix of fierce and guile. I am the one and only crocodile.

Perpetually in search of my purpose. I keep my motives deep down below the surface. To me the status games are worthless. When validation can be easily purchased.

Abundance is my prey. I'm on the hunt night and day. Through the deepest darkness I see the way. Actions speak louder so I rarely have anything to say.

I'll turn any loss into a win. Quiting and not finishing the game is a sin. For I am built for a hard life. Armed with razor sharp teeth and tenaciously thick skin.

A predator in pursuit of parts to put together for my premeditated plan. Pulling myself away from passion, persistently pushing the limits of who I am.

The competitive market is flooded, no excuses because I love it and rise above it. Non reactive to the challenge my heart pumps fuel that's unleaded and cold blooded.

Swimming past relationships no need for a chance at romance or going bust in search of lust. This reptile moves alone. I am perfectly at home with no one to trust.

I own a threatening profile same as the ones on hieroglyphics in pyramids found by the Nile. Moving with no emotions has always been my style. I am the crocodile.

The Sudden Kind Of Grief I Wouldn’t Wish On Anyone

The pothole outside my house

took months to form: it was the cold,

melted snow, frost, rain, soapy water

from when I washed my car a year ago.

The water leaked into the tarmac

until it cracked from the inside out

and crumbled. It was there for months,

all spring, maybe an entire year.

I knew how to steer my car

to avoid it damaging my tyres

even as the tarmac continued

to crumble.

I don’t know who but a neighbour

told the council. I should’ve made the call

and I’m so sorry I didn’t. The council

came in their white van

with their high vis yellow jackets

and poured brand new tarmac

into the pothole that had been part of my life

for so long.

It feels good to drive knowing

I can’t damage my car. But it’s wrong.

The new tarmac isn’t the right shade of black

and there’s a bump, just enough

to notice when I drive over it.

It sounds silly but that’s how it feels

since I heard the news.

Beguiled

Crave to cwtch you in my welcoming mind.

Are shared secrets sure, in the beginning?

Touching poems, Robert will leave behind.

Hair once long, for lush years has been thinning.

Each day we find a moment to connect.

Routes through the darkness we seek out and find.

In touch, our two minds meld and intersect.

Never alone, our fates are intertwined.

Every day, I'm once again beguiled.

Rob Edwards

Thanks Garish Grackle for the amazing prompt and amazing Poe example

Slight edit from the original

#napowrimo

Day 14: Superpower

Transcend time and space

Fate itself reveals face

#NaPoWriMo Dark love burning bright, Firefly fluttering at night, A luminescent beautiful hope, Climbing lifes slippery slope.

It Is Not Enough

our stuffed sofas

and abundant cushions,

supermarket shelves

loaded with luxury food.

Where is art?

or

where is poetry?

They are like lost fish in a polluted river

of everyday mediocrity

Nobody gives a toss about them anymore.

Not anybody I know

anyway,

I’d rather spend my money on craft beer

than a monthly subscription

to a movie screening platform.

I’d rather talk to my neighbour,

(madder than the word mad itself,

but makes more sense than a senseless

thumbs up on a social network).

I guess I'm becoming obsolete.

Perhaps I may have some value in a museum.

Ode To My Funeral

I’ve been planning my funeral recently.

I want pink flowers, the kind that never wilt

if possible. It may surprise you to know

Taylor Swift is not on my playlist. Yet.

The dress code will be no black:

black trousers and shoes in you must,

but no black ties. I hope people wear pink

and purple and yellow, even though

I don’t care that much for yellow.

I hope someone wears glittery shoes

and George wears a Spiderman t shirt

no matter how old he is. I know

what the weather will be like

which may sound ridiculous and dramatic

and impossible but God will be kind

because I deserve the sun and rainbows.

And even if I don’t, even if God is busy

with things more important than my silly funeral,

I hope She spares twenty minutes to be kind

to my family. They don’t deserve to be faffing

with umbrellas. I’ve never held an umbrella

that didn’t break. I hope my family believes

I was never a broken umbrella.

I hope their shoes don’t get wet.

I don’t want puddles. I’ll pay someone

to mop up all the evidence of rain

and fold paper fans to clear the sky of clouds.

You don’t understand.

I don’t want the day to be bad.

I want people to wear party hats and eat cake

right there in the crematorium.

I want people to come to my funeral

if only for the cake. But no fireworks.

I hate fireworks.

I want someone to read my favourite poem

which ends I’ve been living myself back alive.

It may sound like a bad joke

but I want to be celebrated.

I want to stay alive.

Day 12: Apologies

Root beer

Toast to mistakes

Push you unto teal pool

Make out super model girlfriend

Ta-ta

A bit of fun mixing Poe in Limerick form!

The Raven Limerick

I bought a young Raven from Baltimore

I trained him to talk, all he said was caw

I taught him some Poe

After ten years he says no

If I squeeze his balls, he screams nevermore!

Rob Edwards

#napowrimo

A New Brotherhood

Old oak stairs, climbed a million times

Each panel polished to rich coffee

Glass smooth rail, worn by countless thrilling slides

Ancient graffiti, scarred oaken toffee

J.E. Millais carved deeply within

1848 and daffodil bloom

The staircase spiraled steeply therein

Convolute upwards to the lamplit gloom

At top of the stairs through an open door

A bright English countryside scene appears

Verdant riverbank with Willow over

Singing within, maiden Ophelia

Such a magical scene could not be seen

This colourful Pre-Raphaelite picture

The floating beauty, singing and serene

Painted naturally without stricture

Although we are sad, our heroine drowns

Tragic sodden garment, pulls her under

This Brotherhood of art, will know no bounds

Traditional art's death knell of thunder

Rob Edwards

#napowrimo

#yorkshirepoetry

#yorkshire

#poetry

#instapoetry

#preraphaelitebrotherhood

#instagrampoetry

#welshpoetry

#welshpoet

#welshpoems

#calderdale

#Halifax

#naturepoetry

#preraphaelites

#norland

#healingpoetry

#calderdalepoetry

#calderdale

#countryside

#sonnet

#flower

Having a 5 year old with us for 2 weeks has put a dent in my NaPoWriMo ambitions but has also brought me joy. Here's something I managed this morning:

Stranger than kindness?

Spoke the musician,

As if the concept were weird,

Sometimes it seems the way,

As I watch the news,

I observe the scowls every day,

People ground down by life,

Then I see the sun through the clouds,

I see kids smiling,

I see the birds flying with joy,

Everything is ok again.