We accept poetry only.
There are four folders set up, one for each of the weeks of April. Please submit your poem according to the day it was intended for (consecutively), not the day you posted it. Also, we do not accept entry to later weeks. Those folders will remain closed until that week arrives.
In accordance with the above, please indicate in your author's description and/or the title that the poem was written for NaPoWriMo (you can simply put the group's icon if you like) and which day the poem was written for - i.e. "day 5" or "April 5th". If you're not writing one poem per day, you can simply put "poem #5" and we will consider it as written for day five.
There is a limit of three deviations per day.
While we do accept multiple poems in one deviation, we will accept no more than 7 at a time. So PLEASE have them in this format: Week 1 (poems 1-7), Week 2(8-14) etc. You naturally can have less than 7 in one deviation, but no more than that. So no 17 deviations in one single shot.
No old deviations. All pieces must be new as of April 1st. Nothing before. No exceptions.
Your task: write thirty poems in thirty days.
You don't have to write one per day, but it's highly recommended.
They can be as short or as long as you want.
They can also be any form you want, or free-verse! It's up to you.
They don't have to be your best. Take the month of May to fix them up if you like (National Poetry Editing Month, anyone?)
You don't have to finish - but if you do, there may be prizes to be won!
Weekly Challenge Winners
morning light falling on a cold, red apple(i did not expect it.)when the flesh closed over the wound,leaving behind red strech marks(i did not intend it to happen.) yetpain breaks through the surface, leaving ripplescrashing across the skinthey would fade, with time, still(i have not intended it) a crash, the fallends up confined, swallow the pill. with each remedythe accumulation persists.it will come for me, certainlythe monster underneath my bed, a decade afterit will hunt me down.apologies cluster around my throatpassing through as strained whispers(i'm sorry) is not enough, my sad brittle heartis sent away for nursinga bit of care, some distance, and it will returnbright and supple as an apple, waiting for the dawn breaking over the morning, after the war
Postage Paid (NaPo#12)Say what you will About the atrocities of manAgainst his gods,But shooting the messengerSends the mostPowerful of messages
Embracing Sui GenerisTrauma and tears have left the largest wounds,Something to show for what has happenedAnd something, something to scarOver and leave behind my marksOf which I remain oddly proud;For this is something, something I have survived,And I remain proud even if it might be scorned upon,Because it is part of who I am and have become;There is no shame in being yourselfAs you embrace your differences and experiences,And flaws that become our greatest strengthsMust never be underestimated.Heartfriends, gather round my table!Feast on the offerings that I give you in love,All I ask is that you swallow in the name of peace.With all our idiosyncratic marksI ask you to remember:When you reach for the stars, you-You hold them to your heart,And know that they belong.
only meI had brought you something,as is polite,but it was a shitty gift -so I took a shovel,and buried it on a barren fieldnext to the interstateon my way here.I had brought you something,not only to be polite,I promise. It was supposed to not beabout money,but then I got embarrassed I didn't spend much -you may have thought that meantI didn't value you (enough).it's been a while.I do not want to bepolite;I buried your gift,I ended upjust bringing myself,with dirt under my fingernails.I could be yours,for a little while;that ought to be enough.
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