2026 NaPM 14 April
#1
Write a poem for National Poetry Month based on the topic described....rather, write a poem set in, pertaining to, or inspired by the given region, whether its entirety or just some part of it, as this year's prompts are going to be unified by the theme "Around the World" like last year's prompts were unified by the theme "Esoterica". Each poem should appear as a separate reply to this thread. There are three levels of participation:

Bronze. Participated at least once.

Silver. Participated every day.

Gold. Participated every day, with all entries either being the same form (e.g., every one a sonnet) or being distinct forms (e.g., no two haiku).


Today's region is Turkic-speaking Central Asia, including Xinjiang.
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#2
return to the moon

Even as we return to the moon
in 2026, l read back to 1956
when the Soviet Cosmodrome

was being built in a desolate area
we now know as Kazakhstan.
In 2019 my son did closeout

of a satellite in a capsule 190 feet
above the launchpad in Baikonur
and I asked him to imagine

Yuri Gagarin sitting in the same place
in 1961, waiting to blast us
into the age of human spaceflight
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#3
Unhinged


One night at a lecture about his travels
justly famous paleontologist spoke
of his months-long dinosaur-hunting trip to
blistering Sinkiang

where the land consisted of pretty greenish
pebbles rolling ocean-like, endless, seeming
cool, relaxing but when you touched, hot as the
hinges of Hades

as he put it. Dinosaur empires - China,
Russia, Persia - bled into Central Asia.
Now except for China they’ve gone:  bound Sinkiang,
tortured by Han.
feedback award Non-practicing atheist
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#4
(04-14-2026, 09:04 AM)dukealien Wrote:  bound Sinkiang,
tortured by Han.

Now had the Han been American, he’d have murdered all the natives a long time ago…
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#5
Tomyris


One person's freedom is another's bondage.
Cyrus from Babylon released God's chosen
only to point his spear towards the nomad

peoples of Massagetae when their chieftain
refused his hand in marriage. Hosts of horsemen
led by her son Spargapis rode against

Persia's Immortals, routing them, until
a banquet was prepared with cups of red
offered to ones accustomed to milder drink.

Beyond besotted, the riders proved easy prey,
and with Spargapis dead, his mournful mother
swore that his homicide should have beyond

his fill of a saltier drink, of a brighter red.
Now with herself at the helm, her hosts were renewed
and fought with much greater vigor: past the reserve

to Cyrus's seat they pushed---at Cyrus's neck
Tomyris swung her blade---and the royal head,
which with a nod had freed all Israel,
met its end in a sack full of royal blood.
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