Hour 4: The Old Piano

The old, dusty piano
Sits in the corner
Tucked away amidst
Spirits and vines
Its keys are lackluster
The sound off tune
Yet it only needs
A slight brush of fingers
To hum back to life
It’s resilient
With age, it grew more so
Refusing to give up
Even in face of modern keyboard
The old broken piano
The old bent piano
The old nostalgic piano
The old friend… piano.

Hour 3: Settle

The mountain mist settles
Revealing winding paths with no end

The lofty winds carries
Our wishes up these paths

Towards the lonesome tree
Of red and pink

Under the clear blue skies
Where life meets eternity

The wish is simple
It’s doesn’t want much

Just a simple touch
Of that flower which blooms

But once
Up those winding paths with no end

Hidden in the mountain mist
That never really settles.

Hour 2: The Darkest Evening of the Year

(Title line taken from Robert Frost’s poem “Stopping by Woods”)

The darkest evening of the year
Didn’t fall in December
Or even one of the colder months
No, it came in suddenly
One bright May day
Stricken with grief and loss

The darkest evening of the year
Has nothing to do with sun or weather
It has nothing to do with presence of light
Just the absence of hope
And life and dreams
And you and me

The darkest evening of the year
Is the one where we lost
Our home, our safety, our peace
The one where I lost you
The one where you lost me
And we both lost a part of ourselves

The darkest evening of the year
Didn’t fall in dreary December
But on a bright May day
Full of warmth and fall sense of comfort
That one bright May Day
When the light of love disappeared.

Hour 1: Drowning

Down,
Down we go
Struggling
Losing
Losing hope
Down,
Down we stay
Still
At peace
At peace with fate.
Down.
Down the hand
reaches
Taking hold
It won’t let go
Up,
Up we go
Towards life
With hope
Hope to endure.

Hour 24: A Small Space

A room with purple walls
Decorated with childish hand-made posters
Exactly three anime mugs
And various knick-knacks
Of all colors…
The mis-match, the chaos, to me
Is what feels like home…
A small space to exist
And just breathe
Without worrying about
The gazes of others.

Hour 23: Time Loop

(POV: because I read one too many conspiracy theories…. The Poetry Marathon is stuck in a time loop. Even after completing it again and again, the time reverts back to the 23rd hour. The poet’s realise this but the memories reset with each time loop… Disorientation, delusion and chaos ensues)

Time Loop

I am not sure how much time has passed
It always comes back to the 23rd hour
This endless loop, of thinking, writing, realising…
Realising — I have done this before
Not a deja vu, I assure
The time, it’s strange and we were just caught
In a mischief it planned
Or was it someone else?
A Halfer?
A Quitter?
Who can say?
Just a single fact remains…
It always comes back to the 23rd hour
This endless loop, of thinking, writing, realising…
Realising —
???

22.5: Tired

Wake up
Or not
There is no meaning to life
After all
It’s an illusion
The choice
Destiny itself
Nothing more than a rigged game
Wake up
Or not
It’s not your choice
After all
Because you are alive
You will need to get up and move
Sooner than later
Living is suffering…
After all.

Hour 22: Home

A dirt road by the green fields
A lone car, traversing through puddles
The only remaining proof
Of last night’s shower
Apart from the vibrant green
Standing out even more in
The dreary weather…
It’s going to be a long drive home.

Hour 21: The House by the Sea

It was just there
Atop the old hill
A little, cozy abode
With windows facing the sea

The doors creaked
So did the floorboards
The smell of old wood
Lingering in the air

And when you looked to the side
You could see paintings, pictures
All of sea, the scenery from the window
Remain forever unchanged, after all.

Hour 20: Nightlife

The night in the city
Isn’t much different from the day
Less people and less cars
But the bustling still remains
Because it’s at this time
Under the stars
That they begin their day
Looking like any other passer by
You can’t tell them apart
From people you may see during the day
But for the eyes
Those reflect what they are truly within
Full of stars and just as dark
As the night sky, they dwell under
Never look at them in the eyes though
It’s easy to lose your way home
Once you do
For when you gaze at the abyss
It gazes right back at you.

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