The Poetry Marathon

Suspended in the moment between dusk and morning light,

the relentless sun lies peacefully asleep under the sky.

The breaking dawn leaves shadows and takes away silhouettes,

so the faceless forms you painted will soon wake up and forget,

expressions sullen with regret.

The space between the striking match and matchbox finds the spark

The flame compels a memory of springtime meadowlarks

How innocent the fingertips of kids who play with fire;

How quick the flame will burn your funeral pyre

Don’t try to pick the roses from the briar.

Delicate.

The purple flowers along the stream

Shrivel under your step

The wind tearing at my hair makes it impossible to see the hillside path ahead. Soon enough the rain washes away the horizon. I am as water, rushed into the ocean with the stream.

Steadfast.

Our Ocean keeps breath in your lungs

Against all odds, you survive.

It’s a fantastic world; alien and beautiful. Time is not measured here, and everything seems to be a work of art; thoughtfully assembled, priceless and unique. It’s an impossible realm, yet so close to home for those who seek it . . .

Displaced,

You are carried back to shore. You  wake up to the warmth of sun-dried rocks against your skin.

You step onto the unfamiliar land. 

Everything you know, washed away . . .

Return.

Run back to the ocean, with your heart overflowing

Into a River of Joy, which you can follow to your destiny.

In your head, there are endless paths traced with every choice

You see things like an artist

                               Sleep easy, dream boy

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 (more…)

Citizens of protocol

Watch them follow

Let them suffer in peace

The cats in the yard sleep in the sun, stretched out where everyone can see.

The cats in the yard climb on cars and chase bugs across the parking lot, without a second guess.

The cats in the yard move through their world with complete volition. They take up space and they don’t give a damn.

Meanwhile, I can’t even sit down without questioning if I’m even entitled to sit here. I curl myself into corners and hope that no one notices.

Curse the saint who shares with the ungrateful, and damn the monk who gives without reconciliation

While I love all that I have, it is hard to forget that I am poor in many ways.

I am happy and hungry, lonely and loving, and it saddens me that

There are some people who take everything for granted. The same everything that I cherish.

Some people have so many blessings that they forget to keep count.

Give those people love. Don’t give them more things to own.

Her window was lined with glass bottles, filled to the brim with the most whimsical treasures

Potions, tinctures, dead things, growing things, cultivated by the heat of the day and settled with the cool of night

Garden herbs garnish each of her dishes. Beneath the kitchen door seeps the sweet scent of incense; a mask of the steaming porridge grains

Upon her thatched cottage roof, we are lulled into lethargy by the hum of a thousand fireflies

I squint, so that between my lashes, the treeline seems ablaze

What a wonderfully strange life she leads…

A beautiful stranger. A smile.

That is how I lose my balance and stumble like a child in hand-me-down sneakers,

Certainly wanting what isn’t mine and secretly setting you aside to ponder,

So distantly dear… Stir me up with silver-lined sonder

Passing clouds, carry

me to ancient lands, where the

Earth is still and free

Where, in my silence,

I find purity and peace.

That is where I rest.

Waking up to watch the sunrise on the mountain,

With my blanket wrapped around me tight, and a thermos to hold

Playing music for the people gathered ’round to watch the planet turning

Endless reasons to sing

Some moments live as long as my heart beats

I will keep this memory with me

Share a smile, share a story, share your time

We can chase each other through the woods and find a sturdy tree to climb

From up here, my weary world and all it’s problems disappear

Some moments live as long as my heart beats

I will keep this memory with me