enspiting you with NaPoWriMo

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trying to figure this out while also posting poetry let's see if this works

ocean waves crash against my cranium,
i'm at peace staring into the brown, grainy sand,
i refrain from indulgence,
so i stare

so many ways to enjoy the sea,
others take pictures for memory,
some recreate what they see in art,
i just gaze

i believe the ocean sees me too,
i want it to

i feel harmonious in this fragment of time,
i've come all together

i came to watch you




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so excited to see you made a thread! happy poeting, nick!
In a shadow there is the blessing of a shadow.
— Kuki Shūzō




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(sorry for the wait if you were)

hands clasped underneath my skull
wrists bound by pain
hands shackled to my own confines
i'm blankly dull,

roll me down a lost knoll
buy me flowers first
you'll get anything you want
first, pay my hearts toll,

yank my chain relentlessly,
all snotty, disgusting, sorta wrecked
i beg you to say my name
that and your hate powers me

it sets me free.




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so far your poems has been lovely to read! this tenderness of the first, introductory poem is so endearing! the idea that even when the speaker chooses to not possess a physical long-term memory of the sea--such as a photograph or a drawing--they are still able to hold a deep connection and memory by just *seeing* the sea, is a relishing moment that even transcends the love a physical memory holds into intimacy. to end the poem by humanizing the sea, "i came to watch you", stands out so much by giving the most emphasis on the speaker's love for the sea. it's beautiful, and a lovely reminder to just enjoy a moment!

the second poem is just as great as the first, while being drastically different. it describes a power struggle very well and an unusual relationship the speaker has with hate *through* a person, which is very interesting! these tone shifts, such as the second stanza in contrast with the overall poem being more cheeky, adds to the these feelings of the speaker who seems to interact with their pain & body as an observer, while also identifying with the pain deeply. it's really interesting, while also being written in an engaging way!!

i will look out for more of your poetry! more importantly, have fun writing on your own time & speed!!
sunny




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Keep going nick, you've got this!

hands clasped underneath my skull
wrists bound by pain
hands shackled to my own confines
i'm blankly dull,


What a vivid + painful description this is! and it just goes on from there! I wasn't expecting the final line.

Looking forward to seeing what you write next - keep going!
you should know i am a time traveler &
there is no season as achingly temporary as now
but i have promised to return




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update:

good evening friends! first and foremost thank you for reading and indulging in everything i've written so far. biggest thanks to those who have left comments, (particularly lalalucky; i never thought my writing could be viewed and described in such a way). i've been so inconsistent, but you guys have lit a fire under me to write more for napowrimo. this next piece won't be a poem rather a depiction i wrote between poetry.

thank you guys,

- nick




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tw// a bit gruesome and visually potent

my only thoughts are escaping. this huge, steel-interwoven cage encases my bones. it’s tight, it doesn’t fit right, but it grows and stretches to match my movements as if i’m doing nothing. this malleable and rusted material, suspending me in the air creates a bubble-like atmosphere around me. i push my bony hands forward and dig deep into this substance.

my bones crack, shatter, fracture. if they could, i’m sure they’d bleed, but as this husk of a human, i can’t do anything. i continue to dig deeper, my jaws stiffening to mask the pain. i rip apart, tearing at this substance to free me. yet, it’s so integrated within me that i hardly can. i’m pulling myself apart too. but, i’d give anything, including my own life to leave this hellscape.




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payne talk

i'm an outsider
this isn't within my jurisdiction,
yet i hate what i see
you invite me in correspondingly
i can attempt to be a missionary,

except every time i read the word
there's like a point i'm missing
now i'm upset
we both seethe
these are uphill battles,

but i have frail knees
i have brittle bones
aching muscles
you're one of my one million
sure it's my problem,

making it one million and one,

but i don't mind
early on i told you "i'm here to help,"
yet there's needles in my arms
draining me
until they wane thin to kelp,

i did it though, it's me
i want to centrifuge it to you
i don't need it more than happiness
that starts with feeding you

these arms make the number
one million and two




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April 9's poem is SO visceral! Ouch! The metal-cage metaphor for the body? mind? works really well - and then you keep layering the visual elements on top of it- nice work!
you should know i am a time traveler &
there is no season as achingly temporary as now
but i have promised to return



When she transformed into a butterfly, the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty, but of her weirdness. They wanted her to change back into what she always had been. But she had wings.
— Dean Jackson