April 30 NaPoMo 2021
Rules: Write a poem for national poetry month on the topic or form described. Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. The goal is to, at the end of the month have written 30 poems for National Poetry Month.

NaPM April 30, 2021

Topic: write a poem using one line from any NaPM 2021 poem by any author

Form: any

Line Requirement: at least 8
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches
Goodbye April Goodbye

The end of April comes calling
none too soon for this minstrel boy:
I began the month writing Sung poems
amid red poppies by a green river,
then was carpet bombed with NapoM.
Now I can’t write without a prompt
from CRNDLSM.  O, and I got my heart
broke and the poppies have lost their petals.
“All persons, living or dead, are entirely coincidental.”  Kurt Vonnegut
A bit unstable, I might
Fall and.. oof!  There's no such thing
as goof proof.  Even climbing
the roof, Or changing a light,
Can be a catastrophe.
Whether alert or aloof,
You don't have to be a doof-
us to win the dumb-ass trophy
Peanut butter honey banana sandwiches

As the dog barked amid birdsong
we wondered where the smoke went.
With flesh too weak to squeeze a pen
our life was sour beneath its sugared rim

We've surfed at Christmas
as dry lightening jumped
from cloud to cloud, while
a lobster quadrilled with a clam.

We looked into the void
and created an avalanche but
that was just my age erupting
a gnome apart among ape art.

We put on pyjamas and thine favorite hat
You shouted get out demons
to scare the house with good reason
to find geometry in a swish basement.

Your comfort, your hope and is this
just a chair and is this just a rope?
the cough escapes tiny, a dry little
sound I freeze, brought an old oak to his knees.

Not last is an eyeless art and finally
we're left with just a fart.

Well done to one and all and if I missed someone I'm sorry.

If your undies fer you've been smoking through em, don't peg em out
Sorry, Tranquil

The end of April comes calling
none too soon for this minstrel boy:
I hope there would an April, firstly.
Then I would frolic in the pouring rain
and play the drums with a curious child.
Losing Your Mind Over Matter

And they lean, and they lean, and they lean-
some people can’t make up their minds.

They’ll sit on the fence, and ask what you mean
and they’ll sit til they run out of time.

They’ll wonder what else, what if, or what for-
and no doubt, they’ll waffle some more.

In the middle, always caught in between-
where they lean, and they lean, and they lean.

(With a nod to Leaf)
Thanks, Mark (nod); thanks to Keith too; congrats to us all for getting through it  Thumbsup

sun beaming through trees
alights on my laptop screen
where I am typing
my final NaPoMo poem...

Curtains are courtesans, made to reveal:
internet handles don’t really conceal.
In anonymity timid find space
for bold expressions too true, face-to-face.

Mask of the nudist, poison-pen raised;
names for the nameless, tough, flamewar-braised–
if any knew, they despair, all would jeer;
hidden, they wail from backstage draped in fear.

"Curtains are courtesans, made to reveal,"

(TranquilityBase 4/13)
feedback award Non-practicing atheist

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