# Danny's NaPoWriMo



## dannyboy (Mar 31, 2019)

**No edits just first writes directly into this thread.*

day 1:

*Lungfish*

In the mud, the muck, the middle ground
between blood and bone, life and death, 
Orpheus fish crawled forth
fins flapping a sound that shook 
the earth's early foundations

Orpheus fish looked back, some followed
not the one he wanted –

should he have returned? 

Gave up the song his thick lips sung
even as he struggled along?

There is a moment for each of us
when we think to return
there is no way back, the curvature
of land and time only leads away

Orpheus fish sings still
about the good old days
covered in mud, flapping his tune
missing her
that never came along for the ride.


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## Pelwrath (Apr 1, 2019)

I like this poem. Parting with a love, a journey to the unknown. A lot of good imagery both visual and auditory references which made it easy to envision this in my mind.


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## Darren White (Apr 1, 2019)

Crawling through their underworld, looking back...
They lost her.
Old fish, breathing memories.

I like your poem, Danny.


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## Gumby (Apr 1, 2019)

I love your first line, danny. All those m's make it music for me.



> In the mud, the muck, the middle ground



Enjoyed the story, danny!


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## Darren White (Apr 3, 2019)

Ahhh, Danny, I only now notice that you add all poems to the OP. It makes it hard to comment that way, maybe better to post new poems as replies in your own thread? Because the first few days are still easy to oversee, but the farther we come into April, the  more difficult for us to comment.

I am commenting on 'Divorce'. It is a great poem, showing all that pain. But I think you can do without the final two lines. The poem ends very strong with: _"it does not go away"._


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## ned (Apr 3, 2019)

really like 'divorce' (sounds odd)

two suggestions-

test authenticity - consider dropping, for those versed it is implicit in the previous line
then break the line - my tongue can lie

enjoyed the honest language here


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## dannyboy (Apr 3, 2019)

day 2:

*stone sucking:*

on the corner he sits,
brown eyes swim with failed meals
leaking nose a cry
his hands hold the dirt
as if the road might leave him behind
his legs rest lightly, he has no perch
in his mouth
a stone placed by his mother.

'suck this, I return
when the stone is no more'

He sucks hard, drinks his spittle
his stomach swells
an inverse volcano
he knows it will erupt
and the agony inside
will find its way outside.

Around people pass,
their eyes never touch him,
remain fixed ahead.


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## dannyboy (Apr 3, 2019)

day 3:

*divorce:*

Place your hand
in the wound...
test authenticity, my tongue
can lie with words that blossom,
weave a scent of surrender
even as they decay but this wound
can only tell the truth –

place your lips to it,
taste the blood, feel the ache;
it does not go away,
has never diminished...


carries me always back –


remember when we bound
with rings –
a circle is only forever
if the wound is healed.


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## dannyboy (Apr 3, 2019)

day 4:


*The Visitation:*


They found the remains
of a visit from hell
in the glass beads residing inside
the guts of a long dead fish

if Orpheus took the bones
and beads
and formed an instrument from that fish
what tales would the music tell?


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## dannyboy (Apr 3, 2019)

All comments - please keep making observations and at the end of this marathon I plan to work through each of the poems and do the editing, taking in your feedback etc. For now I am trying to stick to this poem a day thingy, dealing with 2 deaths in the family and a mother who has just suffered a broken pelvis - and work is mad at the moment!

I do read them and I am reading other poems and will take time out this weekend to respond to some of the great work being shown at the moment.

Danny


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## Darren White (Apr 4, 2019)

That fish, the glass beads, it reminds me of the current hell: that of the fish, filled with plastic that overtakes the oceans, and how it will take all mankind to the Underworld, and how it will not matter we do not look back at all.


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## TL Murphy (Apr 4, 2019)

Dannyboy,  I particularly like the first stanza of 'Visitation'.  I just wonder who 'they' are.  It might behoove you to unpack that preposition somewhat.

Sorry to hear about your troubles.


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## TL Murphy (Apr 4, 2019)

Boy can I ever relate to "divorce".  The first two stanzas nail it.  Well done.  I don't think you need the rest of the poem at all after S2.  Besides, the last stanza is a tell.


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## Sara Ella (Apr 4, 2019)

Hugs to you!  I hope you are doing okay <3 
your poem “the visitation” is a wonderful poem


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## dannyboy (Apr 4, 2019)

day 5:

*Bonnie:*

The last of thirteen
all gone now, bones beneath
stories in the wind
as much as I am unsettled
by her death
I am equally struggling to grasp
my generation is now the oldest.

Born in the back of a cart
the river flooded
the doctor too far and the horse
was never brave
Bonnie survived them all
never wanted to.


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## TL Murphy (Apr 5, 2019)

I'm starting to repeat myself.  The last stanza says it all.  You don't need the first stanza.  S2 is a better poem on its own. In fact, I think it's stunning. Maybe put a period after "all" and start a new sentence for the last line.

Sorry, I don't mean to sound insensitive.  It's a eulogy and perhaps one should not critique eulogies.  I'm just trying to address the poem as a work of art in itself.  Hard times tend to produce great art so write as much as you can.


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## dannyboy (Apr 5, 2019)

its fine,TL

 I wouldn't post if I couldn't see there is work behind/beneath. 

Part of this process is that I seriously mean no edits, I am not thinking at all, I am just starting from a blank page I write and that is the poem. At the ends of this process i will work through each and every poem and search for the gems. Your insights are invaluable. I thak you each time you read and each time you comment, if you feel you are repeating yourself its because I tend to make the same mistakes.


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## TL Murphy (Apr 5, 2019)

I understand and I think it’s a good process.  With such a method we often have to write a kind of preamble to get warmed up before we actually arrive at the poem.  Of course it’s entirely up to you whether you edit at all.  I just call it how I see it.


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## Gumby (Apr 5, 2019)

Danny, you know I'm a fan and I'm enjoying these. Sorry for your rough patch, life never asks us if it's a convenient time or not, but like Tim said hard times do inspire sensitive minds to create. Get it all out there, it can help.


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## dannyboy (Apr 5, 2019)

day 6

*the ride*

Why then, that early
on a skateboard no less –
heading out of town
or heading in,
the sun behind
or not yet risen?

In the dark
a moving black against black –
what chance the driver
or the child overseas
who doesn't even know
she no longer has a father?


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## Darren White (Apr 6, 2019)

This is sad, and frightening...
such a messed up situation, is that why your lines are giving me the feeling they are not completely finished, messed up, either?


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## dannyboy (Apr 6, 2019)

all unresolved...and mad...


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## dannyboy (Apr 6, 2019)

day 7:

*a father to Icarus:*

My brother buys drugs 
for his son –
how else to keep him alive?
Gets told often
to let him fall
even if that means 
he must drown.

My brother will not be Daedalus
will use whatever wings 
are at his command
to keep his son afloat.
I have known him 
to drive interstate
to collect him, 
dry him again,
get those wings back into a state
so he can soar 
for a time in the light
before the drugs
call again.

My brother's love
for his son is boundless,
the voices crying to relinquish
waves in the distance –
I dare say he would venture
through the crack
and drag his son back
if that is what was needed.


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## dannyboy (Apr 6, 2019)

so tempted to cut out the Daedalus line, think I will when I return to edit.


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## Darren White (Apr 6, 2019)

Yeah, this is a beautiful poem, and you do not need Daedalus at all, it's clear enough.
You also do not need the last two lines in S2


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## dannyboy (Apr 7, 2019)

day 8

*away*

If not for you
like a flower I would
close up, even in light
I'd slam shut,
words loose in the thoughts,
emotions a spool
my kitten heart would whack –

these two days
all I have thought is
_come back, come back._

The moment
when the tree tumbles
at its peak.


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## Darren White (Apr 8, 2019)

This is a beautiful, and very sad poem, so heartfelt...


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## dannyboy (Apr 8, 2019)

day 9

*Time travel*

With the sounds of guitars
space stretched outwards
we flew to the stars
walked upon the moon
our minds expanded
and flowers bloomed

we now builds walls
huddle in packs
burn churches
turn our back on the worlds
as we pitch ideologies around
with forked tongues.


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## ned (Apr 8, 2019)

really good 'angst' poem.

To the sounds....
builds - build
worlds - world

maybe drop 'around'?


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## Darren White (Apr 9, 2019)

We do, Danny, turned from a relative open society to one where we even fear our neighbours.


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## dannyboy (Apr 9, 2019)

spelling was always going to get me in the end...I'll remove those damn S's...

and yes, the change saddens me. Thnak you both for reading/commenting.


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## TL Murphy (Apr 9, 2019)

danny, I try to avoid abstract words like “ideologies”.  Make it concrete like “venom” or “mud”.  It’s a matter of showing rather than telling, which makes the lines come alive.  Likewise, line 5 is a tell.  You don’t need it.  “Flowers boomed” says it better


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## TL Murphy (Apr 9, 2019)

The Icarus poem is very strong and poigniant.  I agree about cutting the Daetalus line.  Not needed.  We know what’s going on.


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## TL Murphy (Apr 9, 2019)

_Away,_is another strong poem.  Again, be careful with words like “thoughts” and “emotions” which are vague and ethereal - abstractions in an otherwise grounded poem which pull the reader away from the poem’s immediacy. Keep the concepts relevant by embodying them in objects that are consistent with the other tangible images in the poem. You have already made reference to flowers and doors which are very tangible.  So play on those metaphors:

If not for you
like a flower I would
close up, even in light
I'd slam shut,
words loose in the thoughts doorways
emotions ​petals a spool
my kitten heart would whack –


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## dannyboy (Apr 9, 2019)

yes, thanks for heads up TL. Why are bad habits harder to get rid of than good ones?


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## dannyboy (Apr 9, 2019)

day 10

*Hopper's Crossing*

Thousands of people live 
on that stretch of land
once farmed by Uncle Brian;
made his fortune selling dirt
then plumbing it
for the estate's spread.

People move in,
Brian and Bonnie fled
to Meredith, more dirt than human
more sheep than dialogue.

Back where the new houses huddled
old man Hopper retired
giving the new town a name
though no one knows that now
except Hopper's dying son
and my cousin Bernie
who carries the flame
and me, told the story
at auntie Bonnie's funeral.


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## Darren White (Apr 10, 2019)

I like the poem a lot.
I love these two lines:


> more dirt than human
> more sheep than dialogue.



Funny though, I read them at first as:
_"more dirt than human
more sleep__ than dialogue."_
And, weird enough, that could work as well


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## dannyboy (Apr 10, 2019)

I think I almost like your line more!


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## dannyboy (Apr 10, 2019)

day 11

*Leech:*

paused beside the trail
infinitely patient bedded with their hunger
they wait, unseen mostly, a blur
upon the leaf, on the grass sheath,
no longer bloated, a potential then
for that feast

in my dreams I see soldiers
use their lighted cigarettes
on places no one but a lover or mother
really wants to see

down Lilly Pilly gully where the boy
got lost only meters from the search party
having gone feral swiftly – did he
find them gorging upon his flesh
his blood now theirs to digest?


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## TL Murphy (Apr 10, 2019)

Sounds like a war story.  Good flow and a healthy dose of creepiness.  Just have another look at your rhythm in the last stanza.  It could use a few tweaks, like - "just" instead of "only" - and reverse "feral swiftly" to "swiftly feral" - drop "up" in "upon"


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## dannyboy (Apr 11, 2019)

day 12:



*The Faheys:*

They have gone, one and all
the merry band, the old ones –

I remember when
I would stand noon-shadow small,
watch them in Bid’s backyard,
men holding the clothes line’s wire tight
as if their lives depended on that grip,
a long neck in their calloused hands
saying goodbye to their old ones
echoing theirs and now mine –

all of us standing and sitting in circles
trying to ignore that life
is lived in a direct line
up and down at the same time –

soon we will be gone, one and all,
the merry band, we old ones –

and the young ones will take their turn.


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## Darren White (Apr 12, 2019)

Danny, that is a moving and beautiful poem. For me the real poem is S2 and S3. 
I would understand it without the other stanzas.


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## RHPeat (Apr 12, 2019)

Dan

The ritual is rich as time swallows the lean and old. A strong & powerful poem in that way. There is a native feel about this poem that understands the idea of tribe or klan. As those that share the same blood and bone family union. a strong poem that holds its center as life itself within that circle of beings. 

a poet friend
RH Peat


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## dannyboy (Apr 12, 2019)

thank you both for the feedback, insight and encouragement.


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## dannyboy (Apr 12, 2019)

day 13:

*Lourdes:*

I would come down the dusty trail
to find the water and therein
lay down, let liquid
carry away my violence
my despair, in particular, my shame.

I would lie in that water
submerged, holding my breath
or if I found courage
drink at the same time,
eyes open like a fish
seeing the world through the water's lens

and I would, perhaps, stay
under, until all was washed away,
all the pain, the lies, the errors

and life too in the end

so that I could float,
basket-less, not into the lap
of some Pharaoh's daughter
for I would have no words to speak,
no thoughts, no Fate to cling to,
no burning bush prophesies ringing
in those wet ears,

just a drifting thing,
clean, sailing downstream
towards the ocean where it all began.


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## RHPeat (Apr 13, 2019)

Danny

The set up you have here doesn't work too well for comments. I didn't even find where your poems were until I scrolled down to read the other comments on your first poem and then found a second poem and was wondering what was happening. I think you would have got more comments from everyone If you would have posted the poems separately. I know I would have commented on other poems. But to do it now; my commentary would be 2 -4 pages away. that makes it difficult to find the poems that I commented on. 

a poet friend
RH Peat


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## Sara Ella (Apr 13, 2019)

This poem is powerful to me.  Nice one Danny


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## dannyboy (Apr 13, 2019)

thank you Sara.


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## dannyboy (Apr 13, 2019)

day 14:


*Cycles:*

In the shade
of a decayed leaf
that clings  to the stem
frail plant, most green shoots 
nibbled to the nub,
a husk, gaping hole at one end –

what creature pushed forth,
left part of itself behind
set off, in flight or foot?

What plant waits, terrified
in sap and stem
for the eggs to be laid,
the cycle of destruction again?


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## Darren White (Apr 14, 2019)

That's a good question. At least we humans can break that cycle and preserve our humanity.


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## dannyboy (Apr 14, 2019)

day 15
*
darkling son many years on*

The mist hangs low
like dad's voice, touches deep
into the heart of everything,
drags its feet through leaves
and hidden creatures.

The tips of trees poke forth,
startled to see light
beneath the gloom
thick as winter's soup.

Footsteps surround
as I cross the gravel
in that mist,
the world pleads for quiet.

In the car 
I drive
headlights full,
try to find the road
and not the cliff.

The mist changes time,
I drive back to twenty-five years ago
a similar mist
mirrored with tears down my cheeks;
a child unborn and never to be
news I carry endlessly.


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## dannyboy (Apr 15, 2019)

day 16

*Jen takes a bath:*

I hear her moving
in the bath by the sounds of water,
I am outside the bathroom window
re-planting a lime tree...

will this lime tree
ever produce fruit?

There is a synchronicity between
the spade's sound as it digs
then pauses for her sound
of movement in the water...

I smile, hearing her hum,
some happy ditty.

The roots of the tree covered
with mulch then food
and finally fresh straw,
the way water covers her skin...

I remember all those years ago,
our first shared baths together.

As I stand watering
and hearing the water drain from the bath
I am filled with an inescapable sadness
why I cannot say...

it is almost as if I am jealous of the water
that covered her.


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## dannyboy (Apr 16, 2019)

day 17:

*Smithy died today*

We knew it was coming
all of us who saw him at the reunion, 
death had his arm around Smithy
not that it took Smithy's smile away...

that smile –
ever present
throughout all our years of schooling
all the whacks 
from brothers 
who claimed to be Christian
all the fights and threats
from the wild children then,

tough years
but Smithy smiled throughout

a joker,
a lad

and that last evening
around forty of us now 
all in our sixties
old men
telling old school stories
like men from the trenches

and in the middle
Smithy
laughing even as he said,
_'boys this one'll be my last.'_


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## dannyboy (Apr 17, 2019)

day 18

*lost*

hard as concrete
childhood memories set
the endless time between moments
lost
postcards flicked can never capture
the essence.


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## ned (Apr 18, 2019)

nice shorty

would suggest - that essence


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## dannyboy (Apr 18, 2019)

day 19

*When I once believed I could*

I used to lie on the hot concrete
stare deep into the crack
so close to my eyes
a ravine opened up in the black.

As the heat seeped into my bones
my mind fell
like a startled bird whose wings evaporate
into the abyss of imagination.

Into the place
where futures lurked like cockroaches
scuttling forever
just beyond reach.

I crashed often,
rose up with speckled skin
where the concrete had lingered
like an aunt’s prolonged kiss

waited for the red flashes
to dissipate,
shook myself back into my flesh
and dove into the local pool

sunk down deep
where legs, heads and arms flashed by,
holding my breath in my bursting chest
until death pushed me up,

I burst free, gasping as sound exploded
and others dove, or didn’t,
and the sun hung
as if this summer would never end.


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## TL Murphy (Apr 19, 2019)

In "Jen Takes a Bath"... look at the two words "synchronicity" and "inescapable". I would say to _unpack_ these words... and I don't mean explain them or add a bunch of text but to bring out the _feeling _in a concrete image

There is heart beat between
the spade's sound as it digs
then pauses for her sound
of movement in the water...


As I stand watering
and hearing the water drain from the bath
I am filled with a drowning sadness
why I cannot say...


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## dannyboy (Apr 19, 2019)

I get what you mean TL - there is no emotion to those to words, no binding as it were. I'll search for better words. Thanks as always.


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## dannyboy (Apr 19, 2019)

day 20

*After life*


It is a fact that we will die
regardless of medical sutures
and the white clad doctors’
pretence life will prevail.

If we could hold the fact
uppermost in our mind
the divine could be encountered
in the everyday here and now.

Aware of the possibility the end
could occur at any given moment
leads to acceptance the present 
is the only time worth living for –

to attend hour by hour to each other 
in the tick-tock of each second,
not putting off until tomorrow
what can only happen today.


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## dannyboy (Apr 20, 2019)

day 21

*Janus*

Two heads facing
what has gone 
and what will come;
only one set of eyes
those looking back –
foolish thought that somehow
what lies behind 
will explain what will arrive.

No eyes
on the here and now
where everything happens.


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## Darren White (Apr 20, 2019)

dannyboy said:


> day 20
> 
> *After life*
> 
> ...



That yes, exactly.
This is the life we are leading, and we have to make the most of it, in the best way we know.


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## dannyboy (Apr 21, 2019)

day 22


*
the horned god*

has risen
this Easter Sunday,
bodies strewn in blown apart buildings
as the death toll rises by the minute,
believers smile
as they are arrested
the horned god's thirst cannot be quenched
and reason has no place
in the horned god's realm.

If we look closely
we can see the twin places in the chest
that wait
for the horns to pierce
then string us up like failed sons
on the cross of a god's need.

Blow up another church!
Slaughter another innocent!

The word of god
is gunpowder, faith the match,
the horned gods has no good intentions
only a hunger 
as devouring as any winter.


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## ned (Apr 22, 2019)

"The word of god
is gunpowder, faith the match"

nailed it with these lines


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## TL Murphy (Apr 22, 2019)

Strong poem,  a few suggestions




dannyboy said:


> day 22
> 
> 
> *
> ...


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## dannyboy (Apr 23, 2019)

couldn't it have been in Feb...then I could see the end in sight!

day 23

*Interruption*

At the shore
staring at an ocean larger than mind
forces me to expand into the nothing
drift in peace, breath
and waves find a shared form...

the stretch of sand 
matches all the words said
and unsaid
the intentions present, past and too late...

clouds gather to have a look
drift away, bored, in a gentle way,

then I see in the distance
3 figures walking towards me
and I tumble back into my life
as it is.


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## Darren White (Apr 23, 2019)

Hah Danny, that's funny, but we are almost there, a few more days 
Just see it as an opportunity, by the end of April you have 30 drafts to work with.
I for one love the poem you have for today, it has a lot of potential. I share this feeling for beach, sea, dreaming away with you.


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## dannyboy (Apr 23, 2019)

day 24

*Kuala Lumpur*

sounds, smells thunderous waves of traffic
voices shouting, dust and heat and clouds
gathering like soldiers preparing for war

as I wander the streets
never designed for walking
the fruity smell in the air
tickling my hunger

I carry the burden
that my wealth came
under the yoke tied around your neck
but the Irish in me screams
I was also the body beneath the feet
as the colonialists had their feast.


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## Gumby (Apr 23, 2019)

We're almost there danny.  Is this the first time you've done Napo? If so, you've done exceptionally well.


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## dannyboy (Apr 24, 2019)

yep first time.


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## dannyboy (Apr 24, 2019)

day 25

*
daffodil*

bright yellow, overdressed
with the ruffle for effect
splayed arms of finest green
and that ability to dance
in the slightest breeze

you bring a smile
each time you suddenly burst on to the scene
again and again and again

I am forced to remember
each incarnation
while springing from the same bulb
is unique
it is only my memory
that makes them all the same


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## dannyboy (Apr 25, 2019)

day 26

*Love*

This body –
an ocean bound,
stretches out
then recedes back
to home,
to you.

I have words for waves,
a song as sea-spray
I shout your name at night
in my dreams
even if in light I am quiet
reflective and reactive
in truth
beneath the self-imposed journeying
I think therefore
I return.

No matter how often my currents drag me
make the large, small and distant,
show me patterns different than before,

I will return.


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## TL Murphy (Apr 25, 2019)

I don't know if you are still putting up these NoPo poems raw and unedited or not.  But there is a remarkable difference between the first poems you posted here and the last few.  Not saying one is better that the other, just saying that there is a remarkable change.  So, whatever you're doing, it's working.  Good poem.

You know, one of the great things about this exercise is that after about 20 days into it you're so burned out on worrying out poems that you start to shoot from the hip and that's when interesting things happen.


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## dannyboy (Apr 26, 2019)

yep I think that's whats happening, that an reading a lot of poems by others also writing - exhausting but excellent process.


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## dannyboy (Apr 27, 2019)

day 27

*
elephant palm tree
*
Curious creation
unfolding giant leaves,
elephant ears in the Savannah
of my front yard...

what do you hear
as you stand there
in the garden I created?

If we overcame our differences
and spoke
would we reach agreement –
are you happy with your position?
I did try a spot protected.

Would you understand that I enjoy
how when your green leaves are battered
and ruined by sun or cold
they brown,
wither
and help form the very trunk that carries
you ever towards the sun.

We have something in common
even if we both forget
when the storms break upon us.


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## Darren White (Apr 27, 2019)

TL Murphy said:


> You know, one of the great things about this exercise is that after about 20 days into it you're so burned out on worrying out poems that you start to shoot from the hip and that's when interesting things happen.



I get the feeling that for me it is just the other way around... The further April gets, the worse I write. LOL


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## dannyboy (Apr 27, 2019)

day 28


*Land Ho!*

In this nest of crow's
lurching from one sentence
to the next,
beneath, the world 
shifts constantly in its sleep,
ignoring the squawks
and battering of wings
towards the horizon
my eyes search

the end is in sight!


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## ned (Apr 28, 2019)

love the title - and the crow's nest metaphor

trim the sails and ready the anchor!


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## Darren White (Apr 28, 2019)

Danny, this little poem is fantastic, I love it, and I feel the same


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## dannyboy (Apr 28, 2019)

day 29

*ah youth*

I lay before your feet,
damp thoughts – mildew in veins
beyond repair –
swiftly we grasp the days
without release, pause for sleep
never for rest.

How soon the green 
unfolds into faded memory
as the past slips
into caricature.

If I must spend eternity
redoing what I have done
then I have failed the test –

much rather be the fruit
than the leaf that supplies
the blossom life.


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## Darren White (Apr 29, 2019)

That last stanza, that is a beautiful image. Good poem.


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## dannyboy (Apr 29, 2019)

DAY 30!!!!!!!

*From the clam comes the pearl*

I waited for the lips
of the shell to part
light to enter
when before there had been dark
sound to expand
in the patient silence

shining then
singing then

searching for direction
I emerged
polished by words
others have used in ways
I sometimes fathom

I move forwards
stringing sounds and shapes
to understand
what has happened

to share the utter devastation that can be consoled
with any who decides
to share time
out of time.


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## Darren White (Apr 30, 2019)

You did it, congratulations, you just entered the Hall of Fame 

From the clam comes the pearl yes, and let no one put those pearls on a string, let them shine brightly and fiercely in freedom


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## ned (Apr 30, 2019)

well done Danny -

'stringing sounds and shapes' - summed up this poem.


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## dannyboy (Apr 30, 2019)

Now comes the editing!


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