2020 – NaPoWriMo Poems

A compilation of all NaPoWriMo 2020 poems appear here.

Happy reading!

Day 1 – Sky Light

Sky light,
Tailored textile
Sewn from
Cerulean warbler feathers,
Glossed in sapphire liquor.

A cloth wrapping &
Dividing
Walking, breathing, sleeping
Cells
From everything else
Galactically.

We are flakes
Of colorful dust,
Maneuvering speckles
Linear, forward
Like satellites.

The smooth
The sleek
The silk.
The far
The distant
The away.

Day 2 – Penny

Millions of copper discs
Not just in cosmos
But in pockets.
Slipping in and out
Of leather wallets,
An afterthought.
Blipping against
Luxuriously nominal
Companions.

The story
She liked to recite
Is that she rolled
Off a ship’s deck
In the Atlantic,
Sliding through
Sea breeze
Dipping into the
Wavy azure.

Riding the tides,
The sand retrieved
Gently coaxing
To dry ground
As twinkle-toed
Children ran past
Her subtle glint.

Picked up
By a salty palm
Fingers drenched
In sunshine,
Gently placed in denim shorts
Tucked into a faded
Blue slot,
Covering the extra of
Tangy lunchtime lemonade
And boardwalk burgers.

Day 3 – Seashell

Sea breeze
Waltzed
Across the freckled
Surface,
The rigid and the smooth.
Beige textile
Like the skin of a
Cantaloupe
Found in
Seaside markets.
Spiraling delicately
Like the ones attached to
Front porch chimes
Clanging below
Periwinkle skies.

Catching sun
And umbrella shade,
Kissing the corners
Of towels,
Squinting above sand
Like alligator eyes,
Crocodile spectacles.

Pieces and
Fragments
Of the ocean,
Whirling in tides
Like globes.

Day 4 – Returning Home

4:05pm
Wednesday,
Parking lot nearly vacant
Daydreaming its own fantasies.
Early evening in
December,
Quiet as leaves
Scrape the cold ground
Brittle then,
Gone now.

4:18pm
Branches quiver
In a light wind against
The changes of night.

4:44pm
Full moon
Rounded pale,
Knocking at my
Rolled up window.

4:55pm
Layered pretty,
White tops and
Pink shine tracing
Cloud’s belly,
My favorite winter type.

4:59pm
Town streetlamps,
Christmas strands coiled in trees,
Traffic lights,
Brake lights, headlights
Flickered, strobed, and glowed.

5:22pm
Hello, home.

Day 5 – Inside & Outside

Your eyes
Like windows,
A marbled universe
I was invited into.

I pulled the shades
Creating a hideaway,
Protecting you everyday.

The blinds flung open
A morning too early.

We walked in the beat
Of autumn,
While you paraded in a false
Summer prance.

We never made it to spring.

Yet, floral daydreams
Are pasted to the
Underneath of eyelids.
I wish upon stars
That they’ll wipe away.

Day 6 – Oasis

Smeared summer,
Foot’s underneath.

Whirling bathtub drain,
Never vanishing
Unlike a shooting star.

Heads tilt back,
Intense neck creases
Pleated with July
Memories.

“All of the people are out tonight.”

All the way in the back
Of the black velvet oasis.

Rounded cul-de-sac,
Neighborhood aglow,
Rings of light shine across
Jade, spinning behind
Sidewalk and streetlamp.
Curtains tossed sideways,
Windows radiate in spectrums
Of the moon.

“Do you think they will be out all night?”

Orbs shuffle,
Language ripples.

All the way in the back
Of the black velvet oasis.

Slumped ground dwellers
Gather around
The sparks and flickers
Of fox fur,
Snapping like sticks
Beneath rhythmic footwork.

“Do you think they can see us tonight?”

“I know they can.”

The navy night roars
With telescopes packed in attics
As twinkling eyes of allure
Admire the darkened kaleidoscope.

All the way in the back
Of the black velvet oasis.

Day 7 – Key

Portal suspended,
Invited elements of
Ambience, darkness
A constellation connects
A key composed of stardust.

Day 8 – Thunder

Harbor morning,
Thunderstorm skies
Stir the ocean,
Seagulls initiate
Daybreak.

The moon
Migrates from the marina
Carrying harbor hues
To galaxy strings.

A new environment
Blows forward.

Seismograph
On the Carolina dock.
Permanent markings
To thunderous vibrations
And sophisticated motions,
Soundtrack of mellow and agitation.

Lines stutter and lunge,
Soft bump like a baby’s heartbeat,
Fierce elevation
Dark like a
Midnight crater.

The wind jolts
Surprising the sea.

Raising higher into
The atmosphere,
Propelling your darkness
For stars to bathe in
And extraterrestrial life
To swim in.

Voltaic streaks
Pollute pupils
And stun the
Piranhas that
Dance beneath your
Charcoal belly.

Seismograph
On the Carolina dock.
Collecting your
Rhythms and beats
In case you never
Return.

Day 9 – Pears

Pretty like Paris

Echoing as far as I can see, but the

Ants only see

Rotten

Stars.

Day 10 – Bi-Polar

“You’ll be okay.”

The ink drips in forever
Thick like paint,
Enduring.

Onyx lettering
Across bones
I try to repaint
White,
Yet the soiled
Words crackle through,
Fast then faster.

“You’re going to be fine.”

I wipe away
Ebony strokes,
Un-dotting, un-crossing,
Hoping my heart
Will chip away the rest
And leave behind
Chromatic stamps.

“Youll survive.”

Cloaked in raven
The ink dries,
I’ll find another way
To live.

Day 11 – Swimming

Water washes over
And bumps against
My collarbone.
Waves scoop into my
Hands,
Swimming with
The stranger things.

Liquid glass
Wallops the coast,
Brisk bands of wind
Emulate,
Skin turns to goosebumps
But this cold feels
Differently.

Bottomless whispers and
Splashes shared,
Retold,
Like conversation
Stuffed in spirals
Of conch.

Water tugs,
We conquer the threshold.
Seaside DNA seeps
From between our toes
And we are pulled out again
Swimming with
The stranger things.

Day 12 – Goodbyes

Grounded in the back

Of my throat, then

Over my tongue and to my lips

Destined to be released

Beyond the universe realms, out

Yonder.

Easier it never becomes to

Say.

Day 13 – Radio

Circular speakers
Large like moons
Glowing in the night,
Silent shimmers by
Pillow case.

Like a warm mouth
In my ear
Verse and chorus
Ring and remain,
Just sitting there.

Static buzzes
And I imagine something
Interstellar.

Turning knobs
Skittering past numbers,
Favorites always ended in
Nines and fives.

New music flung itself
Across my mind,
Illuminating the backs
Of my eyes
And igniting a stream
Of stories untold,
The pronouns referred to
Characters I’d soon know
By heart.

Day 14 – Things That Hang

Things That Hang:

1. The kitchen chandelier
2. The living room curtains
3. The unknown future
4. The foyer painting
5. The bedroom bookshelves
6. The memory of you
7. The front porch lantern
8. The bathroom shower curtain
9. The heavy heart
10. The basement ladder
11. The attic spider webs
12. The lonely pair of hands
13. The shed beehives
14. The garden birdhouses
15. The unsaid words
16. The spoken words
17. The backyard tree house
18. The guest room ceiling fan
19. The idea of us
20. The traffic light at the end of the street

Day 15 – Kiss The Sky

I’ll kiss the sky
Before the artless descend,
You pushed me from your
Solar system.

All ferris wheels stop turning
All coastal winds stiffen
All sunshine disappears
As our hearts stop beating,
But neither of us are dead,
Yet the feeling remains deep.

We plummet
Out of the orbit
You invented
For us to explore
And I lost you in the
Luminous gaze
Of it all.

I thought it was something
And I just wished I reached
The destination.
I’ll just kiss the sky,
Your feelings a secret.

Day 16 – Cloud

The cloud
Peeled away
Like an iridescent
Theatre curtain.

Amorphous pieces
Swaying to the side,
Gliding to the East,
Sliding to the Atlantic.

Overcast observed
Before drifting overhead.

Silently slithering,
Skimming like a toboggan,
Floating to an untouchable horizon.

Day 17 – Atlas

The cells of a
Breathing component
Seen in picturesque movements
And stillness
Where I used to see myself,
A new atlas.

Day 18 – The Size Of A Heart

The night
As dark as caves,
But schizophrenic lights
Still flash.

The night
As dark as ocean pits,
But your voice lathers
Over the pink of my brain
And I wonder what it means.

The night
As dark as the underbelly of eyelids,
But my eyes feel frozen.

The night
As dark as a starless galaxy.

But the size
Of my heart
Could never
Retreat.

Day 19 – Sea Song

I left blue to you
And I kept red just for me,
The color of ink
To the beat of the ocean
Cross-out, realign, add-in.

Day 20 – Space

The glass
Framed your face
Like a polaroid
Pinned to my mind
And through hours of
Awake and sleep
It never slipped away.

Handprints stamped
The window pane
As proof to my
Eyes and mouth
That you once existed
And disappeared like
Morning frost.

Distant hand waves
Swoop
In front of our faces,
But my mind
Might as well have
Imagined them
Because I could never
Be so lucky.

We are as far away
As a spaceship window
And the yellow glow
Of a nook,
Glancing upward
At midnight
And wondering where you are.

Day 21 – Coral Reefs

I want to
Pack the night
Beneath my fingernails
Like sand,
So when I bite them
I can taste the
Navy hours,
Feeling textured memories
Against my tongue.
It’s nights like these
I never want to
End.
Dripping away as
Sunrises like coral reefs
Manifest and unfold.

Day 22 – Rose

I wonder
What part of your mind
I grow in,
Whether in mounds of weeds
Or well-watered gardens.

I want to be your rose,
Lingering like a
Vintage blossom
Tucked in the corner of
Maps
Folded, creased
Used, reused
Always returned to,
As you seemed to be
Somewhere
Yet going nowhere
Making people think
You were well-traveled.

I wonder
What part of your heart
I grow in,
Whether in mounds of winter shrubs
Or well-watered summer flowers.

Day 23 – Footprints

Heartbeat
Uncaged,
It flew into
My ear.

Like a song
Spiraling
In my mind
And I walk
In its memorized
Tempo.

Untamed,
Smoothing over the
Pink in my brain,
Leaving a mark.

Like a footprint.

A footprint
Unique to its
Keeper,
But I wish I was the first
To experience it.

Day 24 – Fog

They say
To let your
Imagination
Run wild.

Wild like
Flowers.

You envision
The contrasts,
Paints and
Puddles of the
World,
In the filter
You wished to
Glance through.

Maybe you didn’t
Know yourself.

They say
To let your
Imagination
Run wild.

Wild like
Egyptian sunsets.

The fog that
Swims and swirls
Like deception
In your mouth
Illuminates in
Gray.

Maybe you didn’t
Know yourself.

They say
To let your
Imagination
Run wild.

Wild like
Blackberries.

The fog that
Swings and sways
Like truth
In my mouth
Illuminates in
Everything.

Sun rays
Send pastel polish
Into the fog
Like fuchsia gold.

I thank the stars
I know myself.

Day 25 – Recess

The sun hovered
Above the pine trees
That sent cones
Tumbling down the hill
And into the street.

Rolling, like bright colored
Kickballs.

Those who excelled
Beneath scoreboards
Claimed the field,
The rest of us clinging
To slides.

I liked recess then,
But the freedom the thirty minutes brought
Makes some minds believe
They can always do
What they want.

Day 26 – Autumn

Rubied polygons
Autumn’s dust sprinkles downward
Crinkled by footprints.

Day 27 – Tomato Soup

What if
Love
Came with
Labels
Like the ones
Slapped on
Soup cans,
Warnings before
Our eyes played
Tricks.

Day 28 – One Lick

The glass mug
Dishwasher glinting
Slid my way.

Fizz foams
Beneath my crescent
Fingernail,
Index dipping into
The solar system
Rippling at the rim.

Stars large like
Vanilla scoops.



Tinges of morning
Scooped, raised
By silver spoons.

Frozen flavors frosting
Tongues and throats
That once soothed
Untamed sleep.



Royally blended sunset
Kissed by coral lips.

Confetti, pale dots
Of pink,
A stirred duo.

Light and bright.

Creamy smears glimmer
Before eyes and bellies
Of chilly appetites.

Day 29 – Waiting

9:58am
Heads bob
Hips sway
Sneakers are in
For another hard day.

10:14am
Entering,
A sea of cells
You try not to
Bump against,
And ignore the ones
Who do it to you.

10:27am
“So what’s on your mind?”
Asks no one’s voice,
Except the one residing
Behind your forehead.

10:30am
You can think of a million and twenty-six
Things.

10:38am
Are the galaxies
Really expanding
Each day
How wide
Can they become?
And how many astronauts
Are just floating out there?

10:43am
If people die
And become ghosts
How many
Are staring me in the face
At this second?

10:51am
How many people
In this park
Know someone
Who knows someone
Who knows someone else
Who knows someone I know
Who knows me?

10:57am
The song
Playing, replaying
Never pausing, quieting
How many other people
Have the same tune
Swimming in their conscience?

11:09am
The front of the line

Day 30 – Seaside

Seaside house
Tiled floor,
Like white lifeguard chairs
Speckled in sand.

Walls
Painted in one thousand shades
Of turquoise
As if ocean waves
Splashed upon them
Magnetically.

Scent of lathered sunscreen
Sits in the corners
And cracks
All summer long,
June to August.

The cooler air
We all forget about
Pushes us away,
Making us run, jolt
Like children toward
Seagull flocks.

We pack up the house,
Salted goodbyes.
Folding the residence into a suitcase
Like a dollhouse.

Summer memories contained,
Shut tight and locked,
Reopened
Next year.

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