cloudy sunrises painted with billowing birdsong

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Image

nobody seems to be grateful for the sun.
we will forget the warm rays one day,
brush it off like a dust-coated box.

I cannot forget it.
I have been poisoned by figments of ice and snow,
inconsequentially carving my nails into the ice, making
no sculpture,
no shape.

everyone remembers the sun
at sunrise.
there have been moments in the morning
as the darkness
cascades into light, and
I am stagnant, the light being the only movement.
the shift from dark to light is never a moment,
as a moment is a slip, a trip, a breath,
but it is time.

I’ve always
felt the resonance of the birds chirping,
like a flame in the back of my mind.
one day I will hear its full song,
and it will be beautiful,
or it will be
blinding.


Goals:
Write at least 30 poems, one poem per day
Read peoples' poetry
Subscribe to threads
Comment actual things in peoples' threads
Attempt to write good poetry and have fun

Previously on Ant's NaPos...
wilting flowers watered with melted icicles - NaPo 2025
screams brewed in the mind's boiling cauldron - NaPoWeek 2024
obsession inspired by wisps of real and imagined laughter - NaPo 2024
Last edited by LuminescentAnt on Sun Mar 22, 2026 3:46 am, edited 1 time in total.
Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.
- Ms. Marvel

LuminescentAnt ~ Lum ~ Ant
(she/her)




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~ april 1st ~

1. parched terrain

this land has always been dry to my eyes.
i toss frail tumbleweeds across a sandy plain.

you
tell me there is flowering between the grains of sand,
water, sustenance beneath the prickly cactus.
i never believed you,
or any of them.
i only thought of the carcasses beneath the vultures,
not the miracles of their flight.

i imagine the desert is tranquil
when the blaring sun plunges beneath the horizon.
i imagine the endless starry sky,
untouchable by any tree or animal,
reaching from one end of the earth to another.
i imagine the cool ground,
the distant howl of hyenas,
how i could set my bare feet in the sand.

i want to lay in the dunes one day with you,
and see how your hair and
your fingertips meld with the sand,
if your light is smothered by the merciless heat.

i would feel safe,
knowing if the sandstorm rolled in,
we would be pulled away together.
Last edited by LuminescentAnt on Fri Apr 03, 2026 4:27 am, edited 2 times in total.
Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.
- Ms. Marvel

LuminescentAnt ~ Lum ~ Ant
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~ april 1st ~

2. when life seemed like a coloring page

my second grade diary sits on my bookshelf
with a pink spine, among my other childhood dreams.
i leaf through the pretty, sea-green pages,
searching for some fragments of an epitome
of who i once was.

i notice the dramatic quips,
the push for an exciting, television life
at the age of eight.
the bitter self-loathing i kept
in the corner of my mass of crimson organs like a tumor,
until this day.

her face was far too blue,
like a sea awash with the reflection of the spring sky.
she longed for time,
to laugh, to forget, to run,
something she would never get as long as
the terrain was skyscrapers and tightly city roads.
so perhaps it was space she wanted.

her eyes were covered in white streaks of clouds.
i cannot promise that i will fulfill her dreams,
or that i will ever be stronger
than that girl coloring the sky gray.

i can only be glad of the muted hues she has shed,
and the luminous ones she let shine.
Last edited by LuminescentAnt on Fri Apr 03, 2026 4:27 am, edited 1 time in total.
Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.
- Ms. Marvel

LuminescentAnt ~ Lum ~ Ant
(she/her)




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~ april 2nd ~

3. butterfly

Image

Spoiler
Text:

you are pretty
in delicate drapes of flight.
you carry your color in flashes, the
ones who get to see your beauty, find
fleeting flits of hue. yet your terrifying
mimicry is beautiful; you see, but not by
the eyes. no, painters use your back as muse.
forget your past now and fly into your rebirthed self.
when you crawled in your hunger for more life, for a future.
you have it all now. the beauty, the gift to spread life,
to frolic among the fields and to simply
g l i d e to maintain vitality and birth at the
touch of a flower. fe ed the home you cherish,
it is yours, and all the petals will swoon at
your feet. protect your wings, the ones
that carry you and define you,
do not let them leave
you behind.


P.S. Credit to Canva for the butterfly outline image I used to make this (I unfortunately did not freehand it :( )
Last edited by LuminescentAnt on Wed Apr 08, 2026 9:52 pm, edited 5 times in total.
Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.
- Ms. Marvel

LuminescentAnt ~ Lum ~ Ant
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~ april 2nd ~ (I wrote this yesterday but I'm posting it now)

4. until a meteor strikes this earth

i do not flinch at the brush of his hand.
i long to be in his arms again,
the rise and fall of his chest beneath my head,
as we are anchored to the earth together.
our hearts follow with the fluctuation of seasons,
blooming in the wake of spring.

i am afraid of the day when my
actions make his love break;
but as far as i can see,
he sustains it like his drawn-out exhales.

i am unending for him.
we keep in the back of out minds
the reality of our unknowing, young
foolishness.
but while the sun still shines,
we will hold each other,

until a meteor strikes this earth.
Last edited by LuminescentAnt on Fri Apr 03, 2026 5:08 am, edited 3 times in total.
Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.
- Ms. Marvel

LuminescentAnt ~ Lum ~ Ant
(she/her)




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~ april 3rd ~

5. mors ridet

death
laughs

at our hysteria.

we always imagine
a man

at the gates with his scythe,
cloaked
and melancholy.

perhaps death is a goddess
with a manic laughter,
her eyes of moonlight,
her skin of dark tides,

watching cities
burn

and blood
spill

as humans
fall
for her amusing games.

but she knows
they will tear each other apart

with or without her,
and to her we will
return in the

end.
Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.
- Ms. Marvel

LuminescentAnt ~ Lum ~ Ant
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~ april 4th ~

6. inside out

TW: gore kinda

she has always been this way.

they wonder why she lets them
throw her around like newly blown glass,
like a starving parasite.

why she has always been this weak,
like the wind, strong enough to scatter seeds,
yet she hushes her gusts to the naked ear.

and why did she never care?
did she care that the thunderclouds loomed
to strike her, vast in the sky over her head?

she has never known.
she drew herself inward
until she flipped inside out,
her guts on the outside,
and her skin tucked away.

[i have always been this way.]

[they toss me around in knots,
i bite my tongue,
it has no place here.]

[i never wanted to be this weak,
but i am tired,
power is a fatiguing responsibility.]

[i have lost the will to care enough,
i want to care about what matters,
and i have pushed this out of my centricity.]

[i have never known why.
i say i am cold,
i say i am overheated,
i say i am a cloud,
with no lightning within.]

she is [shifting].
Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.
- Ms. Marvel

LuminescentAnt ~ Lum ~ Ant
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~ april 4th ~

7. apocalypse

this earth has never had
an embrace as big as yours.

i want you to
leave me behind.

the radiation disintegrates,
you will see who is
in fate's favor.

you are built on strength,
your eyes are steel nets.

the dust settles on the ground,
smear it under your eyes.

i will be there too.
Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.
- Ms. Marvel

LuminescentAnt ~ Lum ~ Ant
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~ april 4th ~

8. meaningless

i toss my spools of words at you;
you blush,
you have never felt such
tapestry towards your heart.

i cough up pangs of grief,
i hang on to grievances
as fuel for my drive.

these words mean nothing.
i have spun no gold thread,
when i die they will fade,
into a shadow of those before and after me.

when my lungs have shriveled,
you will never hear my breath in the wind.
this fragmented eloquence
cannot satiate the lack of oxygen.

i will return to the smell of petrichor
and dry bones and paper.
Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.
- Ms. Marvel

LuminescentAnt ~ Lum ~ Ant
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ant all your poems are so creative!! i absolutely love butterfly--it is so pleasing to look at. also, all these love poems are so beautiful. i do think the juxtaposition between "until a meteor strikes this earth" and "meaningless" is interesting-- one is a declaration of unending love, and the other says all those written declarations will be lost to time, eventually. i do love them both, though. just some food for thought, i suppose.

this fragmented eloquence
cannot satiate the lack of oxygen.

i will return to the smell of petrichor
and dry bones and paper.

absolutely love this ending line. can't wait to read what else you have for this napo!
it is always another hand that guides me.




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@Avian thank you so much!


~ april 5th ~

9. hurtling to infinity
Image
Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.
- Ms. Marvel

LuminescentAnt ~ Lum ~ Ant
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~ april 6th ~

10. Dear duckling

Dear duckling,
I am sorry I am drifting away.
My time with you feels fleeting and
neglectful.

Like a precious pond,
I am afraid I am poisoning
the little water you have.
You are beautiful with your feathers
gliding aquatically like effervescent bubbles.
All I wish is for you to remain
in waters of soft turquoise,
rippling gently across the surface.

I remember once when an old woman said,
"children are our future,"
even though she would see
children in pain and dying
every day at work.

Yet I worry.
I worry about little eyebags on your soft skin,
the warbling wails you whisk the walls with.
I wonder if I should question
mother and father,
but you are too young to see
how they row against the rushing current
to return to our waters.
they push the water, even when it has
the strength of a thousand fists.

Dear duckling,
your brightness is so beautifully constant.
So I keep in my heart
to see to your buoyancy.
And while my raft may be drifting,

I promise
I will return.
Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.
- Ms. Marvel

LuminescentAnt ~ Lum ~ Ant
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~ april 6th ~

11. the prairie

we all return to the prairie.

it is a refuge of
sunlight mitigated by dusts of cloud.
it is the remembrance of
fields of poppies, tulips,
and the grass billowing
with the tranquil spring breeze.

we all began at the prairie.

we colored it with lime crayon,
lighted by hues white as clouds.
we were picking flowers,
as if they would never die,
as if they would simply sprout anew
forever.

i am constantly returning to the prairie,
ripping flowers until they dye my hands.
i never learned how to make daisy chains.

there is so much life and energy within it,
like how the sun contains all its radiance.
but it is so peaceful, so peaceful
it feels
ignorant.

i wish i could leave this prairie.
Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.
- Ms. Marvel

LuminescentAnt ~ Lum ~ Ant
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~ april 7th ~

12. december clawing back

today the april grass was dusted with snow.
winter is still clinging to her time on earth.
her nails, gripping, are no longer sharp.
she blows her wind through her bare trees,
as a reminder.

i cling to objects of the past like winter does
to its privilege on the ground and the sky.
i am raining down my sorrowful grievances,
the cold clouds bursting with precipitation.

i want to be under the sun.
i want to feel the grass where the ground
moves beneath my feet, the trees and the
earth not stagnating.

perhaps the seasons don't know better,
and it is up to us to decide when the
air will be warm.
Last edited by LuminescentAnt on Wed Apr 08, 2026 9:44 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Good is not a thing you are. It's a thing you do.
- Ms. Marvel

LuminescentAnt ~ Lum ~ Ant
(she/her)



I'll make sure nobody unauthorized runs off with the chamber pot, sir.
— Kaladin (Words of Radiance by Brandon Sanderson)