<da:thumb id="245163228"/>

 chess with Death by Pailei 

Honorable Mention

tanka you for the flowersi leave my pansies
in the pantry, alone, and
new flowers burst forth:
their presence a reminder
we are still here, we still live
 tanka you for the flowers by camelopardalisinblue 

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And now we begin with the daily feature!

Day Fifteen

distortion (15/30)memories lead strange lives
in our skulls
lead us to deeper desire
for a distorted image.
Marylin -- Mary -- was everything
to her
but now is just a name
scrawled on a last birthday card.
and over time, every nuance
is cherished,
while reality is left
to that seething anthill
that is the city, a faceless horror
forever swallowing
the lost Mother, and her name, and turning away
from the Daughter’s widening
Eyes.<da:thumb id="527019848"/> These Melted YearsIn Tribute to Blacksand459
We gaze in silent reverie
While seasons fled the haunted skies:
How do you capture eternity?
As I peered out from out a copse of trees,
Between two wandering souls (you and I)
We gaze in silent reverie.
Once I knew the words to speak
The trifling events of my life:
How do you capture eternity?
Where a trillion stars sang free,
Fiery sparks rise into an Autumn night:
We gaze in silent reverie.
Broken in humility,
I look back now from years gone by:
How do you capture eternity?
Venture not to the wine-dark sea,
Strength and vigor ebbs with the tides.
We gaze in silent reverie:
How do you capture eternity?
The power of words melded the half way mark where scripted-silence explores the nature of symbolism in Distortion, Daghrgenzeen examines the way we speak to each other in Possession and Parsat creates a wonderful tribute to the words of Blacksand459 in These Melted Years

Day Sixteen

Halcyon daysthese were our halcyon days, adrift in purple-laced waves,
an empress and a prince tangling tales in a knot of kelp forests,
the dappled light refracting through our sky, their sea; painting
your skin like a mottled portrait. and a crown beckons you, a
calling echoes from the depths, your fate unwinds like a long
fishing reel into the distance. and I am driftwood, seeking
thunderstorms and shipwrecks, searching for treasures that
could replace you when you breach and leap upstream, leaving
me in shallow pools that hold no hope. but no gold and no rings
could replace you and I have learned to stifle hope, have taught
myself to stop wishing on falling stars and praying on every 11:11
because magic isn’t real and anyway it wouldn’t make a difference.
so I seek solace in the creaking rafters of sunken galleons and picture
you as a ruler and me as ruled, there is no friendship in bowing and
I will be just another white-wash wave breaking at your feet, one in
a tide and no single tablature (#16)u.
sharpest note
on sheet music,
eyeing half-steps
with displeasure,
you ring the toll
with vibrating thunder,
storm iris
and electric ticks.
you said i quit:
those words weaved
into the slits
of my digits
and i quivered,
wavered
because i fear you
because i adore you
because i love you.
i wanted to blanket
every lie i ever told
myself and stitch
the quilt around my neck;
knitted lace
ties together
the part i want to be;
and the part that i am.
living to die
and floating
in purgatory;
your touch
the eve of heaven;
the wait,
corrupted monsters
roaming the monasteries,
the hellhole of my
flawed continuation.

i.
feudalism of the mind,
again(st) an uncharted heart;
personal saga two.
but this is the second part
of the third time.
articulation is a siren,
unable to pull the trigger for,
fearing she'll do it willingly,
however
you are still
the light bulb
in my skull.
turn me on
and keep it pulled
until the buzz 
fizzles into
summer attics.
some are addicts
and lamen
Time dominated, whether it was Jade-Pandora explores materialism of the future "void" in Trading post(age) comatose-comet's reminscing over (un?)idealized time in Halcyon Days or chromeantennae dissecting musical time in tablature

Day Seventeen

GenerosityThough you never asked, I gave you everything.
The least you can do is thank me.
Because before I even knew you
I approached you with a smile;
I brought you adventure and art and
unconditional love;
I entered your conversations, your home,
your life,
all without you having to do a thing.
And I treasured us more than anyone will ever treasure you;
My pencils have only scratched out your portraits,
my songs have only echoed your words.
I have thought about nothing but you since the day we met,
to the point that I could not be more filled with you
if you crawled into my skin.
My thoughts grew with such tremendous power
that they ate me alive,
and I have screamed so loudly that my teeth trembled inside my mouth.
Look how much energy I put into loving you,
and the only thing you did to earn it
was smile.
See how powerful my devotion is--
isn't it incredible?
You never did anything to deserve this kind of worship--
doesn't that make me generous?
Love, look what I have done:
You never NaPoWriMo Day 17 DiscombobulatedAt the moment,
I'm overloading
I'm overdosing
((on words))
I'm drowning
 to be heard
(onwards)
I'm a panchromatic picture
I'm a picture perfect prism (prison)
I'm no pedantic
My words are messy, muddled
Don't disturb my diatribe
when it's already deranged
I'm all alone, estranged
My verses flow freely
because format feels like chains
My verses are vendettas with pain
My verses are vinegar, bitter, vain
But poetry is in my veins
There is no shame in the blood I bleed
But there is a change in me when I release words
I think I feel strange
I think I may be spurting words too rapidly
verses
vacant
vapid
i feel disconnected from the story
  am
I feel distant from myself
The Power of the Present was explored in it is only this by peaseblossoms  the nature of giving and instantaneous search for gratification in BeItLacking's Generosity  and the decay of a person in a second in Discombobulated  by lunaticofsilence

Day Eighteen

going homeshe dropped her pack at the door
and stood still on the threshold
crowned in dust and
limned in afternoon light,
heavier burdens written in the crease
of her pale brow.
a breath only, and then she flew
into her mother's arms,
a sparrow springing back to the nest,
smoothing feathers and the new
furrows on her mother's face,
finding comfort in the familiar
clean-linen scent of her.
sounds that were not words,
and then solemn words
murmured slowly in a hushed house
that had never been so silent,
and then, though the journey here
dragged at her feet, she pressed
her mother's palm
and went upstairs
alone.
quietly--she remembered
where the creaks were, where
every crack in the wall snaked,
and she traced each one with
a reverence for the time
she'd spent here, and the childhood
she could never get back.
the door was open--
as it had always been, as she
would've known if she'd ever
bothered to look back
in all the breaking--
and in the frame she stayed fixed
until the room stopped clouding
an What Would The World Say?I thirst for you, the tree exclaimed,  
Please do not leave me in arid plains,
wilting for want of you!
I have nothing left, the sky cried to the sun,
but the tears had already dried,
evaporated before they could begin.
I need your cooling embrace, sang the bird to the tree.
But all your leaves have fallen leaving no
respite for me.
And the indifferent sun, glared down on them, as it always has,
and said not a word. LullabyLay down your sweet, and weary head.
It’s time for you to go to bed.
Close your heavy, exhausted eyes –
let your soul rest as the day dies.
You have done all that you have said.
Let your worries fade away, dead
into Night’s dark, silent bed.
You don’t need their deceptive lies.
Let peace reign as you rest your eyes.
Lay down your head.
Sleep now, my world worn beloved,
come use my bosom as your bed.
Listen to my voice as it tried
to sooth your sleepy, weary cries.
I’ll sing you to sleep, beloved,
lay down your head.
The illusion or delusion of simple comfort was introduced, with the wonder of going home by Pailei, the exploration of comfort the world supplies in What Would the World Say? by Dysprosium162 and the faint refrains of a lullaby in Sleep, My Love by MysticalPoet

Day Nineteen

EbonyEver changing hues of Death and Mystery,
Bewitching me into your starless
Ocean, and drowning in your fathomless soul.
Nonetheless, I am but enthralled by your beauty;
You trap me in your obsidian heart. Chameleon(kəˈmēlyən)
/noun/
I decided being
like you was easier
than being myself.<da:thumb id="527971102"/>
Birth and Death and everything inbetween became the subjects of Day 19, with the exploration of Death symbolism in the acrostic poem  Ebony by CherryBerry545, the constant shifting metamorphoses that makes life so confusing in Chameleon by Medoriko and the transformative power of birth in  Ori, Kami by Kiefer115

Day Twenty

Throw shadeThey're feeding you to the piranhas of their souls
(if they have any)
They're picking you apart, piece by piece
(you're ragged in their arms)
People like you are eaten away by their abuse
(they think they have the right)
Get out of the water, they warn
(but you're headfirst, losing breath)
Kindness and respect are your oxygen
(you have to make your own)
Ambition and compassion are your fins 
(stronger and sturdier than theirs)
You'll swim deeper
(your success will light the way)
So encourage them to keep throwing shade
                           They're gonna need it when you shine. Brighter StillThe road is paved with light which welcomes dreamers
Out of deserts, into gardens
Only to remember
In the desert
The stars shone brighter still. Letter-Writing (20/30)Countless bottled thoughts
My pen flies with eager love
And letters fly to you
The qualities of light were explored by two poets on this day with Throw Shade by ViPOP and Brighter Still by LaBruyere, with Emily-Byrd providing a retrospective look at writing in her short haiku Letter-Writing

Day Twenty-One

BicyclesKay dreams of bicycles,
the old kind with tassles
and a basket; the fancy kind
with racing stripes; the
grown-up kind she imagines
a mother would ride,
and Kay dreams of things
that could never happen:
riding her new bike beside
the mother Kay buried,
aged five and one quarter. 4-21-15we lived,
we tried,
we lied,
we died
and now stories of
what we were will
collapse amongst
piles of text
mounted upon each
other, but it doesn't
mean anything,
really;</i>
because we can always try
again and being miles
away from another person can drive
you ccccrrrraaazzzyyy
darling, give me rock and roll;
i'm a [profanity] animal, who's lived and lost
and learned nothing over these past years-
there's nothing you can do,
trust
me</i>
the emergency room doesn't have a vacancy,
but somehow, i feel like i'm free
if you wanna leave the party with
me, we can be killjoys on our own; maybe
we'll actually be within a few feet of
each other
(maybe we can press ) NaPo #21Amen
21-4-15
Give me this day my daily grace;
Enough to survive in this fastlypacing
Coldofheart world.
Give me this day, this hour, this second
My daily dose of humanity;
Enough to know that fastlypacing hurts my health
And being coldofheart stops love.
Give me this day my daily grace;
Send forgiveness as backup
And take these trespassers from me
So I can live.
Nostalgia and past reminisces encapsulated this day with childhood memories of Bicycles by camelopardalisinblue storytelling in 4-21-15 by skullhips and a reinterpretation of the Lord's Prayer in Amen by MagicalJoey

The Final Week is upon us! Good luck everyone as you breach the final stretch!