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Danny's NaPoWriMo Thread 2021 (1 Viewer)

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#17

Lost Moon:

If ever the saying
so close and yet so far
was to have significance
surely this is the moment.

Imagine circling inside a shell
spinning, cold, wet and unable to land
below the sphere your feet will never
step upon, a chance denied.

How many days, nights, dreams
of that place so close
never to be experienced, your name
lost to that list of feet that did?
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#18

Like passing through a great blizzard and not feeling its cold:


so many did,
names that shaped my first forays into literature
writers of poems and books I still cherish
they were all influenced by you,
paid homage to you
and yet political views are what matters
when you choose the wrong side of a battle
and so you were incarcerated for more than a dozen years

yet in that confinement your mind
found space
and The Cantos became a reality – I cannot
in good conscience accept your war efforts
but your words and work with other writers
have filled my world.
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#19

Sighted not discovered:

Through the glass piece
then the crow’s nest
the Land sighted first time
by English eyes
not discovered then
the land was dreaming
relaxed and sated not waiting, not wild
and wasted, calm, inhabited.

Little did the Land know the torment
the lies
the cry across the ocean, “discovered” –
no wonder the water’s of the world
are salty.
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
Beautifully expressed, eloquent end lines... a pleasure to read, nice imagery in your first 2 lines ;) I always loved the phrase "crow's nest" to describe that part of the ship... very poetic...
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#20

he arrived today:


and no one who greeted
could have understood
that with that landing in that bay
a way of life would pass
fields planted with yam would be uprooted
streams plentiful would be dammed
and the Land itself would be gouged and ruined –
progress began that day
with that first boot on the unsuspecting sand.
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#21

The founding of an empire:

In a back yard, undisclosed because it meets
the necessary arrangement for a million such
back yards, two brothers wrestle –
imagine them as the two young R’s
their mother, like a she-wolf, watches
from the window, an ache deep within remembers birth
and the pain before and after, her two hands
submerged in the sink forget the plate they hold, water
turned to blood clasps to her; she grasps these two
will unleash such vehemence upon the world.
The mother wonders should she drown them
and spare the civilized and wild world. She doesn’t.

What mother could? They are fed, grow, not tamed
and the earth in that yard, like mud in the field,
is churned beneath their restless feet.

With prescience, the world shudders
prepares itself for their imminent arrival.
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#22

not breathing but suffocating:

I read the verdict came in today
and many sighed with relief –
while the other side with anger and disbelief
the man who could not breathe had
many hoped, allowed others to find their breath.

I find it a curious that on the same day
495 years ago in the same country, though
before it was so, the first revolt of slaves
who cried out to be allowed to fill and empty
their lungs however they should so choose.
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#23

RINSE AND REPEAT:

while we fight this virus
it is good to recall
on this day of April
SARS began that spread

things run in cycles
until the end, it’s not a whimper
that ends the world, it’s a cough.
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#24

That’s why they call it:

The streets filled with rejoicing, hands clasped
backs slapped, the end of the siege,
freedom fell like rose petals, voices
called not cried

and the giant horse wheeled in
sat and watched, bemused as the large are
with small interests, inside the stomach
rumbled – there are so many types of feasts, Horatio

and look now in early dawn, red of course,
and the satisfied lie sleeping, dreaming,
and children imagine, brief though they know not,
a future of safe keeping.

The belly pugnaciously opens
hell armed and furious creeps forth, red
sings the saddest songs so sad we refrain
from naming, call it the blues instead.
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#25

why do we:

we can hollow out
the bones of our youth
place shining medals
upon their closed eyes,
let the wind and sand
strip them of their flesh,
allow thousands of metal helmets,
abandoned shells littering shores
a million years from home,
create a beautiful collection of notes
played through a fashioned chalice of brass
stand for the minutes silence
and walk the streets
the boys and girls of today
holding precious banners
and celebrate the acts
performed in horror
and call it honour?
 

-xXx-

Financial Supporter
#24

That’s why they call it:

The streets filled with rejoicing, hands clasped
backs slapped, the end of the siege,
freedom fell like rose petals, voices
called not cried

and the giant horse wheeled in
sat and watched, bemused as the large are
with small interests
, inside the stomach
rumbled – there are so many types of feasts, Horatio

and look now in early dawn, red of course,
and the satisfied lie sleeping, dreaming,
and children imagine, brief though they know not,
a future of safe keeping.

The belly pugnaciously opens
hell armed and furious creeps forth, red
sings the saddest songs so sad we refrain
from naming, call it the blues instead.

there are some days remaining,
so there is some change possibility,
but - as of this day-time stamp in this virtual space -
this is the danny napo2021 image
stamped firmly within this poet's frame.

strong showing throughout the challenge, imho.
many thanks,
and
kudos!
;)
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#26

Tell Copernicus:

The trick diminishes us all
how something so distant held in the eye
a mote and a god
causes envy to conspire with absence
the heart captures the breeze
of a million butterfly wings
to send thoughts into a spiral;

looking at Saturn I hear
the Minotaur’s footsteps pounding deep below
and know
we must revolve around the sun
as the rings spin around Saturn and my memories
shine brighter now than they ever did
when I held you.
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#27

belatedly:


Today you composed the sweet tune
yet unsatisfied it lay unheralded,
unpublished until many years after you had ceased
and nearing deafness it is a marvel
it was composed at all, but it was
and, eventually, published and I
one of many, thank you, and confess

as I am sure others may too
it is the moonlight that almost breaks me
sets my two arms forth like a zombie
to seek those elusive notes and feed
briefly on the blood they hold,
your blood; your heart
that captured moonlight on a clear cold night,
the breeze coming off a distant mountain
tinged with ice and the lonely call of an owl.

I sleep tonight in moonlight
but in spring, in light
that sweet tune rises again
and every year sets my heart at ease.
 

dannyboy

Friends of WF
#28

The Siren:

A sun-stroked island seduced you, Christian
speckled light, languid sound through palm leaves
Eden scent of tropical flowers, ripe fruit
falling into hands and open mouths
distant waves calling to rest, to dream…

no wonder, what defenses did you have,
mutiny, perhaps and foreseeable
to any who had a heart and ventured
as you did, into that Paradise, no Orpheus then
no heroic stride back towards the dreary world
for you the fruit plucked, tasted, could not be forsaken.

Your flesh surrendered and willingness gained
rested in her thighs, her fingers
lapping at your ear canals
as her scent calmed the heaving within.
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
#25

why do we:

we can hollow out
the bones of our youth
place shining medals
upon their closed eyes,
let the wind and sand
strip them of their flesh,
allow thousands of metal helmets,
abandoned shells littering shores
a million years from home,
create a beautiful collection of notes
played through a fashioned chalice of brass
stand for the minutes silence
and walk the streets
the boys and girls of today
holding precious banners
and celebrate the acts
performed in horror
and call it honour?

This is a lovely poem with a cool poignant vibe that a lot of your poetry has, and that is one thing that I am drawn to, when I read your work...

One thing that kinda tripped me, is the over use of the word "of"... I have had my knuckles rapped many times for doing that ;)

2nd line" the bones* of* our youth"... could be "our youthful bones"...
line 6... "strip them *of* their flesh"... could be " strip their flesh"
line 7... allow thousands *of* metal helmets"...maybe.. "metal helmets by the thousands'...
line 10... "create a beautiful collection *of* notes".. maybe " create beautiful notes"... or something more descriptive than "beautiful"... haunting, joyful, eerie....
line 11... "played through a fashioned chalice *of* brass"... maybe "brass chalice"
"fashioned" could be "engraved", "bejeweled" ... just for sharper imagery ;)
line 15...The boys and girls *of* today.......

Of course it is not possible to eliminate every *of* ;) see what I did? I am addicted to the word "of" ... but it is too predictable....
 

Firemajic

Poetry Mentor
Staff member
Senior Mentor
#27

belatedly:


Today you composed the sweet tune
yet unsatisfied it lay unheralded,
unpublished until many years after you had ceased
and nearing deafness it is a marvel
it was composed at all, but it was
and, eventually, published and I
one of many, thank you, and confess

as I am sure others may too
it is the moonlight that almost breaks me
sets my two arms forth like a zombie
to seek those elusive notes and feed
briefly on the blood they hold,
your blood; your heart
that captured moonlight on a clear cold night,
the breeze coming off a distant mountain
tinged with ice and the lonely call of an owl.

I sleep tonight in moonlight
but in spring, in light
that sweet tune rises again
and every year sets my heart at ease.


ahhh... lovely... Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata.... this is a beautiful Ode to his powerful music...bravo...so cool that you did not use his name.... er.... maybe I should not have either....;) " it is the moonlight that almost breaks me".... fabulous line...makes this poem intimate and personal...
 

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