The Poetry Marathon

I’d love to tell you, we did it!

I’d love to tell you, we finished.

These past few years, haven’t been quite the same.

These past few years, we hardly get through it.

Am I unfocused?

Did I get distracted?

Yes, I suppose.

Pulled in too many directions.

It’s hard being a mother.

C’est la vie.

It’s hard sacrificing your wants.

Your needs.

For another.

C’est la vie.

This is the life you chose.

You can’t shake the blame.

Now get up and pull yourself together.

There’s no need to pout.

After-all, there will always be another.

C’est. La. Vie.

(Congrats to all who successfully completed the marathon 🥰)

#15: Redneck Asshole

Curious mind

Untamed hair

Smelly breathe

Caveman beard

Red neck

Tanned arms

Caring heart

Faded clothes

Gentle prick

Deadly calves

Swollen feet

Steel toes

#14: W*rk

Work. Stressing about work. I don’t want to work. But I have no money without work. Which means I can’t buy anything without work. Growl. I guess I’ll go to work.

#13: Sweet Bean

Oh, sweet bean

You smell so sweet

Every goo-goo, every ga-ga

Brings a smile to my face

Every moment we embrace

I am reminded to be grateful

You see, sweet bean

I was never expected to be a mother

The doctors told me so

Yet, here you both are

So every snuggle, every cuddle

Melts the frustration of motherhood

It erases the societal pressure of perfection

And reminds me I’m enough

Holding you in my arms

Swaying side to side

Or rocking back and forth

Centres me in the moment

Oh, sweet bean

I’m so lucky to be your mama.

#12: Half way!

Wow! That went fast.
Twelve poems in two hours.
It’s kind of bittersweet.
It means it’s almost over.

I thought I would struggle more.
I thought it would take me longer.
I’m still behind, but that’s alright.
I want to diddy-dally a little longer.

It’s an event I look forward to every year.
But the last few years, I’ve slacked off.
Forgot about it (like this year-despite my reminders).
I made a goal to finish this year.

But I don’t want to rush
Though it might feel like I am.
I’m just excited to be writing again.
I kept pushing ideas off today thinking I had to wait.

I truly believe that if you’re a poet:
The thought of writing is exciting,
And also, something dreaded.
Because eventually, you have to end the poem.

#11: Blank Space

Ah, a clean canvas for my masterpiece of words.
The careful, strategic placement of words and punctuation.
Together, I strive to create an image.       Sometimes, my art is abstract.
Other times, meticulous.
Often times, it just about the movement. The experience of stringing words together like beaded pearls on a necklace.

But really, it mores than just creating an image.
It’s about the emotion; the feeling!                        The excitement, or the dread; the mourning and maybe even torture.

Yes, poetry is an art form.
And today, I’m the artist.

#10: Space

I wonder how much room there is in space.

I wonder if the vastness ever feels lonely.

I wonder if the airless vacuum ever feels crushing.

I wonder how long it would take to close the gap. How long it would take to explore it’s entirety.

I wonder what you would think of all this.

I wonder if you’re just another star in the sky made up of all the energy and dust of your former life here on earth.

I wonder if you’ve been reborn into another life.

I wonder what being a soul without a body would be like.

I wonder if at that point we could fly.

I wonder if human life is doomed on earth. Will our future generations live elsewhere in our galaxy. Are we already.

I wonder if some of my thoughts are crazy.

I wonder if you’re able to feel my presence when we’re sitting in the same room, not speaking, not touching, but in the presence of one another.

I wonder what our future looks like. Are we going to grow old together.

I wonder why we feel time so linear if it really is multidimensional. Curious.

I wonder how our species got to be so curious when it’s been taught that it’s so dangerous.

I wonder what you’re looking at while I’m typing these words.

I wonder what others will think when they read these words. Will they read these words.

I wonder if my train of thought really is a train and if so what are the stops names and how often is the train scheduled to pass by that spot. Boy, that opens a can of worms: is free thought really a thing.

I wonder how many of my wonders will ever be answered.

I wonder if that’s something that happens in death like 50 questions – all your questions are answered.

I wonder if you only get 50 or if it’s unlimited.

I wonder, I wonder.

#9: Trust

Trust. Isn’t it funny? It requires so much time and energy to get it.

But to ruin it? Seconds!

And I trusted you. I trusted our foundation. And now I just feel like a fool.

You see, the thing about trust is that once it’s been broken, the time and energy getting it back doubles if not more.

And when it’s been broken more than once, it becomes close to impossible.

Just tell me one thing: was it really worth it?

#8: All these questions inside my brain

What if I’m not enough? What is all my fears are true? What if I never measure up to how I’ve always been expected to be?

What if what they want me to be or do isn’t what I want to be or do? Does it matter? Is what they want more important than what I want?

How do I make the right choice? How do I know I’m not making a big mistake? Is it really my choice to make?

What would I do if I make a mistake? How will I respond? Would it be the end of the world? Or would I find the strength to carry on and learn from that mistake? And who gets to determine if it is a mistake?

WHO THE HECK ANSWERS ALL THESE QUESTIONS I HAVE?!

#7: J’aime le français!

Je veux parler français couramment.
J’aime le français.
mais, c’est trop difficile.
parfois.

parfois, c’est facile.

mais, j’étudie le français pour pouvoir parler français couramment.