NaPoWriMo 2022 Afterthoughts

This year I have more self-imposed deadlines than ever before. 

NaPoWriMo Epilogue

Haiku

The challenge is done.

Survey the piles of your words,

ask yourself, Now what?

NaPoWriMo, Day Thirty, Poem Thirty

In Bed

 

Last words

will be

written off,

 

guttural sigh

from blinding

sunbeam 

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Nine, Poem Twenty-Nine

Last Laps

 

At this point,

everyone's past.

I'm only in it

for the spectacle,

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Eight, Poem Twenty-Eight

Where I Came From

 

I know I'll be back again.

An indoor parade to greet me.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Seven, Poem Twenty-Seven

Dispatch

 

At the front

I dig latrines

and my grave

in same spot.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Six, Poem Twenty-Six

Post-Game

 

Let the one day 

you won

Wow

What the hell do I write for NaPoWriMo after the writing streak I've had over the last three days? 

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Five, Poem Twenty-Five

Pre-Morn

 

The winners

have another

three hours

to wake up.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Four, Poem Twenty-Four

The End Again

 

My onus

is in

the mud. 

String on

finger

snapped.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Three, Poem Twenty-Three

Home Life

 

On Sunday

I try to write

anything.

That's when

Heaven

turns black,

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-Two, Poem Twenty-Two

Early Epilogue

 

I hide revenge

in poems 

no one will

keep or read,

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty-One, Poem Twenty-One

Update: Taken down to submit.

NaPoWriMo, Day Twenty, Poem Twenty

Wednesdays

 

Reliably

thrown to 

the wolves,

who tell me

I'm stronger

every time,

NaPoWriMo, Day Nineteen, Poem Nineteen

Profile

 

Your name

becomes

a target

NaPoWriMo, Day Eighteen, Poem Eighteen

Shush

 

I'm alive.

Don't tell

anyone.

NaPoWriMo, Day Eighteen, Poem Seventeen

Sect Talk

 

If you're truly

underground,

why do you

still find ways

NaPoWriMo, Day Sixteen, Poem Sixteen

Tap

 

This moment

not yours

ever,

NaPoWriMo Haiku

Halfway through challenge,

emergency haiku glass

remains unbroken. 

NaPoWriMo, Day Fifteen, Poem Fifteen

Strung Out

 

I first witnessed one

of journalism's 

many deaths

on the floor 

of my college's

student newspaper

when I peeked in

to a closed door

meeting, left ajar,