NaPoWriMo 2017

Please be forewarned that it is entirely possible for my poetry to cause you to cringe innumerably. 😭😭😭

P.S. The poem for Day 12 consists of an extensive amount of inside jokes. You will most likely not be able to understand them.

P.P.S. The poem for Day 19 is…random, to say the least.

Day One // Love

Love is the snuggle of a teddy bear,

It’s the bleat of a newborn lamb.

It’s the words that pierce into one’s own heart,

And the cheers of an ecstatic fan.

Love is the flow of a calligraphy pen,

It’s the sand of a whitewashed beach.

It’s the glittering of sun upon the swimming pool,

And the smell of an unripe peach.

Love is the scent of lavender soap,

It’s the lovely softness of a bed.

It’s the sunset that shows in brilliant hues,

Of gold, orange, and red.

Love is the joining of two hands,

In an eternal friendship of trust.

It’s the willingness to alter one’s original plans,

To help a neighbor first.

Love is light streaks and bokeh,

And the neverending flowing of a creek.

It’s the spinning of a pinwheel in the blowing wind,

And the happiness that we all seek.

Love is a soft chocolate chip cookie,

And the taste of warm apple pie.

It’s the smell of a newly cut evergreen branch,

And the sound of a happy sigh.

Love is God’s eternal Word,

It’s the Holy Spirit that he sent.

It’s the drive it takes to complete each day,

And the crown of glory at the end.

Day Two // Drowning In Bed

 

I settled into my rock of a bed,

With a sigh and a yawn, and a mumble or two.

Exhausted, I pulled the covers o’er my head,

Forgetting to undress or take off my shoes.

And to my utmost surprise and shock,

The blanket was soft, and so was the sheet.

And the pillow, and the warmer for my feet.

My mattress was plush with the feathers of thrush,

Smelling of cinnamon, thyme, and mincemeat.

It was all so soft that as I sank down,

I fancied that I was about to drown.

And sure enough, it was so very soft,

That as it got softer I began to frown.

And then I started to tremble and fear,

For sure enough, I was sinking deep.

It was really too soft, all too soft for me,

I was almost afraid to fall asleep.

And still I sank, and further I fell,

A million miles and meters and ells.

I drowned and I drowned and I drowned some more,

I couldn’t breathe, or see, or smell.

I kept drowning, and drowning,

And drowning, and drowning,

And drowning, and drowning, like I said.

Until I found that it was morning,

And I was back in my rock of a bed.

Day Three // Baking Day

Dry the dishes and sweep the floor,

Wipe the counters and clear the way.

Open the windows and fix the chairs,

For it’s baking day.

Shuffle through Grandpa’s old recipe book,

Don’t stop till you get to his classic souffle.

Study the recipe with effort and care,

For it’s baking day.

Get out the flour, the butter, the eggs,

The sugar and milk you must not ignore.

Mix them together and give it a stir,

For it’s baking day.

Pop them into the oven to bake,

And when it beeps, run quickly, I say.

Take the pan out and let it cool,

For it’s baking day.

Set the table and get a fork,

Enjoy your treat and eat away.

Savor each bite and enjoy the tastes,

For it’s baking day.

Day Four // The Flame Of My Heart

 

I’ve got a flame in my heart,

That burns away.

Giving neverending fuel,

Each and every day.

It takes me through

Every trial and tear,

And tells me that

There’s nothing to fear.

You can kill my body,

But you can’t put out my flame.

You can destroy my dreams,

But you can’t defy my name.

Because the flame of my heart,

Is ever burning.

The pot of my future,

Is ever churning.

And you can’t make it quit;

It’s not to blame.

It’s just impossible

To put out my flame.

Day Five // My Characters

They can come from a land far away,

Or a castle on a cloud.

I can meet them on a sunwashed bay,

Or in a bustling crowd.

They can live in a mansion on a hill,

Or in a dingy shack.

They can have the greatest talent and skill,

Or common sense they can lack.

They can love mint chocolate ice cream,

They can enjoy traveling the world.

They can live their biggest daydream,

And change the planet, unfurled.

They can work as a filthy pipefitter,

Or be a royal heir.

For as long as they’re my characters,

I’ll develop them with care.

Day 6 // He Did It For Us

They tread the road to Gethsemane,

Hand in hand, that weary night.

Where the garden bled a deep dark red,

Symbolic of His dangerous plight.

And there He prayed, and there He wept,

And there He sweated in distress.

And He prayed some more on his disciples’ behalf,

For three whole hours or more or less.

And the soldiers fell before Him,

In awe of His power and might,

The betrayer quaked and trembled,

In a terrible, horrible fright.

But He gave Himself up so willingly,

Although He could have easily rained

Judgment on the greatest to the least of them.

But He did what His Father ordained.

And they bound Him and arrested Him,

And brought Him before the court.

And the crowd and the mob yelled “Guilty!”

Pilate begged them to see reason,

But they cried “Let Him be crucified!”

Though their plans he tried desperately to thwart.

So he tied Him to the whipping post,

And the soldiers laid it on.

With a whip designed to lacerate the skin,

And the flesh of that Holy One.

He bore the fiery stripes of God,

Which should have been on mankind.

And His blood ran freely, and coursed to the ground,

While the soldiers teased and cursed with malign,

And His flesh was torn,

And His head was shorn,

And they put a prickly crown of thorns,

On top of His noble head.

And then Pilate brought Him out again,

And called “Behold your King!”

And he asked them which one he should release,

Which one he should bring.

And the crowd shouted “Barabbas!”

Because they could not accept the Christ,

And they saw no reason, and Pilate relented,

And thus began the greatest sacrifice.

He bled so we didn’t have to,

He was led as a lamb to the slaughter,

And He took our place and cried “My God!”

So that one day we might cry “My Father.”

Oh the sufferings that he endured!

Oh the blood that poured freely down his face!

But He did it all to save us from doom,

That one day we might rest in his grace.

Oh the darkness of that moment,

Oh the terror that settled upon them all,

When the temple veil was torn in two,

Breaking that fateful wall.

And now He rules with His Father,

Sitting at His glorious right hand.

And now He commands with majesty;

His staff stretches from land to land.

Day Eight // Hunting With Grandpa

We used to traipse down the lane,

My brother and I.

Following our grandpa,

In the heat of July.

Chattering and walking,

As he loaded his gun,

Running off and chasing squirrels,

And having tons of fun.

Until he told us sternly,

That we’d scare off all the game.

So we went back beside him,

Our spots to reclaim.

And he led us through the forest,

Quite silently.

While we traipsed beside him,

With eyes full of glee.

And up went his gun,

With deadly aim.

And down came the squirrel,

Which we hurried to claim.

It went like this,

For two whole hours.

Until three squirrels and two rabbits,

Were all ours.

And so we went home,

And dished up some stew.

And oh, how delicious!

If only you knew!

Day Nine // He Is Good

It doesn’t matter who you are.
It doesn’t matter where you’re going in life.
It doesn’t matter what you’ve done in the past,

Because it’s all about Him.

Run to God, and he’ll fill your heart,

He’ll surpass your wildest dream.

Your empty cup will spill over,

The load will fall off your shoulder,

He’ll bless you to the extreme.

Because He is good.

And nothing can stop Him.

Day Ten // Rejoice, O People!

Rejoice, O people, for your Savior and Lord!

Sing songs of adoration and praise.

For He has died on His own accord,

That we might walk in His ways.

 

Rejoice, O people, for that old rugged tree,

Where His blood freely stained the wood.

Where the soldiers mocked and cursed with glee,

Though He bore it as only He could.

Rejoice, O people, for that silent grave,

In which His body lay.

In which He rose again, to save!

And lead His people to the Way.

Rejoice, O people, for He has conquered Death,

And sits now at His Father’s right hand.

He’s coming back for those in whom He breathed Breath,

Until then, all we must do is stand. 

Day Eleven // What Am I?

I’m filled with lead,

I’m used on paper.

I can live in a can,

At one end, I taper.

I’m straight like a stick,

I’m made of wood.

If you brought me to school,

I’d do you good.

If I become too short,

Then I die.

Now enough of the hints…

What am I?

Day Twelve // What Am I? (Part Two)

I’m the color of cinnamon,

I’m as soft and fluffy as a bun.

I’m a bunny and a piglet and the worst,

Bother, I can’t find a rhyme for bun.

Bother, now I can’t find another one.

OH WAIT ONE RHYMES WITH BUN. Moving on!

I have two ears and a nose,

But I can neither smell nor hear.

My favorite food is chocolate salad,

And I’m an Alaskan Brown Bear.

(well that gave it away)

Sometimes I’m a fat fuzzy wuzzy,

Sometimes I can be quite sly.

Sometimes I’m just plain annoying,

Now place your guess: what am I?

ANSWER: THE ULTIMATE, MOST AMAZING POET EVER: TRUFFLE MCFLUFFY

Day Thirteen // Just Scribble A Stanza

Rousing myself at half past ten,

Because I hadn’t written today’s poem.

Oh well, I guess I’ll just scribble a stanza,

Rather than let my imagination roam.

Day Fourteen // Bankrupt For Food

Scones are flaky and crispy,

They’re chewy, they’re good.

I’d trade you for one,

Five dollars, I would.

Oh, but pie is much better,

It’s warm and it’s filling,

It’s just what I need:

Ten dollars to your billing!

But as it’s almost time to sup,

I suppose it’d be wise.

If I bought pizza, too:

Fifteen if it’s of size!

I’ll opt for something healthier,

Something fresh, not pallid,

So I’ll pay you twenty,

For a huge crock of salad!

But there’s nothing to beat herbed rice,

With fish and broccoli on the side.

If you give me enough to feed my family,

Twenty-five to you I’ll provide!

 

Everybody adores and savors

Freshly buttered bread.

So I’ll give you thirty for five good loaves,

Freshly buttered, like I said!

And it’s not a proper dinner,

Without quality champagne!

If you provide two bottles,

Thirty-five you’ll obtain!

Now spare me a while,

As I add up the sum.

Wait…that grand total of $140…

Where did it come from?

Day Fifteen // Inadequacy

Inadequacy

It’s clumsiness.

It’s when you can’t do things,

And people shun you

Because of that.

It’s when you’re trod on.

It’s when people can’t respect

Your beauty.

It’s when you’re insufficient.

Your talent is insufficient.

Inadequacy is potent.

It can destroy your life.

It can ruin it completely.

But it can save your life.

And rejuvenate it completely.

You can’t deny it.

It happens to everyone.

Everybody’s inadequate,

At varying degrees,

In one way or another.

It’s how you respond

To inadequacy

That really matters.

Because there is

A God who uses

The inadequate.

And He loves you,

And He has a great plan for you,

And He’s willing to lift you

High above the adequate.

Day Sixteen // He’s Coming Back

They laid Him in the tomb,

And left Him to His doom.

They were saddened, and they wept,

For the Son of God had slept.

Mary Magdalene came back.

He was gone–that’s a fact.

But as the woman stared,

The Son of God appeared.

He told her not to fear,

And to spread the word far and near.

And He commended her for her faith,

And she left, reporting “The Lord saith…”

John and Peter came back.

He was gone–that’s a fact.

But in the corner of the tomb,

There was something aside from the gloom.

It was a folded napkin,

That had been a wrapping.

It left the comrades stunned,

For it meant that He wasn’t done.

He is gone–that’s a fact.

But oh–He’s coming back.

Oh the joy, oh the hope,

That fumbling, blinding hope!

For He’s not done with His work,

From it He will never shirk.

And He’s coming back to receive us,

It’s all about JESUS.

Day Seventeen // Fireworks

They burst in spectacular colors,

Of red, orange, and blue.

They seem to sprout bright feathers,

As through the air they spew.

They’re set free by the lick of fire,

And they rise into the sky.

And they pop and they crack and they burst,

Boom! Wham! Pop! Oh, my!

They’re used for celebratory events,

Many are dangerous and not cheap.

But still, they go off in my little world,

For I imagine them burst as I sleep.

Day Eighteen // Imagination

My imagination gets me far and wide,

‘Tis quite a queer thing, I confide.

It makes me happy when I’m sad,

And lifts me up when enough I’ve had.

Together we ride on a soft pink cloud,

Not caring that we left the field unplowed.

It can get me into all sorts of scrapes,

As through lands of dragons and knights we traipse.

It can leave me victor on a battlefield,

Or have me in a coffin sealed.

It can toss me in an adobe hut,

Or leave me in a castle shut.

In robes of richness I can be clad,

As I’m led through the streets of Riyadh.

Or perhaps I can be a filthy slave,

Bearing a load with shoulders brave.

I could command the Seven Seas on a ship,

Or have never been on a single trip.

I might journey to the past and spin a loom,

Or sail to the future and watch the World’s doom.

Because my imagination gets me far and wide,

‘Tis quite a queer thing, I confide.

It’s my life, my dream, my sole program,

It’s the very essence of what I am.

Day Nineteen // There Were Seven Of Us

There were eight of us,

Happy as could be.

Dad and mom, brothers times two,

My three sweet sisters and me.

And then there were seven of us,

For Dad had taken ill.

The pain grew so deadly and strong,

His own body he killed.

And then there were six of us,

For my oldest brother had died.

Attempting to swerve in front of a car…

He shouldn’t have tried.

And then there were five of us,

For my little sister was sick.

Taken by the deadly epidemic,

Which did it’s job quick.

And then there were four of us,

For my other sister took ill.

By the same deadly epidemic,

I nursed her till she went still.

And then there were three of us,

Don’t ask how she met her fate.

I’m still at deep loss over her death:

She was only eight.

And then there were two of us,

For that was the last straw.

For my poor and patient mom,

Who died of grief and sorrow.

And then there was one of us,

My last brother started breaking the law.

He was so reckless and terrorizing,

He was executed in the fall.

There were eight of us,

And now I am alone.

Lying on my deathbed,

Chilled to the bone.

Soon I will see them all,

For my life slips away.

Until then, I won’t rest a bit,

I’ll wait until that day.

Day Twenty // the hope

sometimes you’re feeling down

and you just don’t know

what to do with yourself.

it’s like something has a grasp

on your soul.

and won’t

let go.

it’s when there’s nothing to redeem you,

no one to save you

you’re living in a nightmare

that you can’t wake up from.

nobody cares

nobody sees

your misery.

but through

all that gloom

all that pit of darkness

remember that there’s One

who is the only source

of hope.

it’s hope that you want

and hope He will give.

with hope you will live

all your days

it’s all about hope.

to press you on

to keep you moving

to give you joy

and you’ve got it

because He gives it

and you’ll use it

to its fullness.

it’s there.

though you can’t see it

it will forever be

there for you.

                                             Day Twenty One // Silence

I like to listen for silence,

And hear it’s sound.

Drinking in it’s essence,

Bound by bound.

Silence is like a siren,

That pierces through your brain.

That sears through your head,

Without effort or pain.

Silence is oppressive,

It stifles one’s breath,

Silence weighs down on the air,

Like humidity and death.

Silence can also be light,

With a bouncing tread.

It can be predictably clean,

Though it may fill one with dread.

It’s solely up to you,
If you like silence or not.

But one thing you’ll agree on:

It provokes one’s thought.

Day Twenty Two // stars

i stare

glimmering bodies

full of light

full of hope

i see

golden gems

deeply studded

in the night sky

i touch

hope of my future

bit of my past

that’s been left behind

i dream

glistening fairies

flying on wings

in my sleep.

i reach out

and touch them.

look up

they’re the stars.

Day Twenty Three // Newborn

Newborn

Little ball of warmth

Fuzzy wuzzy head

Come into this world.

Covered with a pink blanket

Eyes open wide

Blinking up

Closing them

In reposed sleep.

Little toes

Little fingers

Stretching

Grabbing

Learning limits

Learning life

It’s a journey

Grasping at my fingers

Holding them tight

Rest and solitude

Sleep in peace, little one.

There’s a long journey

Ahead of you

Day Twenty Four // The Swing

 

It tells me a story of home and heart,

As I swing in sweet repose and peace.

Of hunting days with Dad and my Mom’s famous tarts,

And my sweet-smelling, peppy niece.

It gives me a feeling of freedom and rest,

As I lay my head on it’s arm.

Long gone is yesterday, look for the best,

Put aside your cares and fear no harm.

It grants me the strength to face tomorrow,

As I gaze at the sunset of gold.

It powers me with peace and wipes away my sorrow,

And tells me that God will bless fourfold.

Day Twenty-Five // The Day Is Done

The day is done, the day is done,

And the weary night has begun.

Children undress and mothers chide,

As matters are finished and put aside.

Hues of gold streak the sky,

It’s time for the sun to say bye-bye.

Now he awaits a good night’s sleep,

And tomorrow morning–up he will peek!

The robins sing in their nest,

As they topple out of their Sunday best.

In their burrows, chipmunks chatter,

As their mothers scold and patter.

The village clock bongs out ten.

And silence falls upon the Glen.

The sky darkens and the moon gleams,

Spreading out its radiant beams.

Baby climbs into her downy crib,

Untying her dainty flowery bib.

She pulls her blanket over her head,

And is soon fast asleep on her bed.

Day Twenty-Six // Morning Prayer

Jesus, guide me through this day,

Help me not to go astray.

Put Your peace into my heart,

To me, may your grace impart.

Help me through every trial and tear,

Remind me that there’s naught to fear.

Keep me safe from all evil schemes,

May I spout forth living streams.

Keep a smile on my face,

Help me rest in your secret place.

And when night shadows come upon,

Guard my sleep until the dawn.

Day Twenty-Seven // Waterfall

It crashes down in froth and foam,

Down the pier it’s torrents roam.

It’s salty mists rise in the air,

Spraying my face as I stare.

The waves crash upon the rocks,

I stand glaring, quite flummoxed.

The roar drowns out every sound,

I spot a wreckage running aground.

But even though it’s wild,

And dangerous beyond human measure.

Yet still I feel at home within its grasp,

And I feel a certain pleasure.

It’s waters are running to wherever,

And my heart runs away, bit by bit.

It’s waves are flowing far away,

And somehow, my heart flows with it.

Day Twenty-Eight // A Breather

Sometimes you just need

To sit back and contemplate

You need a breather.

Sometimes you just want

A moment to renovate

To rest and start fresh.

Day Twenty-Nine // raindrops

raindrops splattering

clear gems floating

bursting with humidity

exploding on the windows

the sound lures me

to a deep, drowsy sleep.

it fills me with a peace

drip drop. drip drop.

thunder rumbles

lightning flashes

but all i hear

drip drop. drip drop.

and Deer In The Headlights

i’m a deer in the headlights

paralyzed in fear

i’m being tortured

beyond what I can bear

i’m living in a nightmare

that I can’t wake up from

my life is being torn

every heartstring is numb

i’m skiing down

an endless hill.

they’re pushing me down,

and having their thrill

the soldiers stop me

at every single turn

and push me on

though my very lungs burn

i’m drowning in

a bottomless pool.

surrounded by the water

misty and cool

my lungs gasp for air

they’ll give me none.

i scream for mercy

but i know i’m done

heart wrenching

soul pleading

the world spins around me

i’m dizzy with fear

blades slice my skin

hands sting my face

but hey

it’s okay.

i’m alive.

Day Thirty // A Brother And A Sister

A brother and a sister,

On the foot of a sunny hill.

Sharing packs in silence,

As they trudge the way uphill.

A brother and a sister,

One hand locked in the other.

Prepared to face life’s tidings,

Though they may not be together.

A brother and a sister,

One head rests on a shoulder.

Ready to turn the world upside down,

And to lift the biggest boulder.

A brother and a sister,

God made to be intertwined.

And He made this brother special;

One like you is hard to find.

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