Hour 5

In this 5th hour

I feel the need to say

I am a black woman

With black children

Who matter to me.

In this, the 5th hour…

It is important that you see

My black family is just as important as all you have produced from your belly.

In this the 5th hour, I want to scream…

Stand with me

Reassure me that I am worthy of the very breath I breathe.

In this 5th hour, please I beg of thee…

Hour 4, Prompt 2

1 a swing

2 oil

3 a man or a woman or two or three of each

4 candles

5 a house to one’s self, with absolutely zero kids running about

This is the place for which one could jump off

For an afternoon of great bedroom sport

But there’s no need to rush things, indeed you are encouraged to take it slow

This is one frolic that deserves a great big show.

Rinse. Repeat. And do it again.

A word to the wise, though-

This recipe can be cause for a great raucous and noise.

And some cautionary thoughts, 9 months later babies can result.

Three Hours In

It is the 3rd Hour

The sun is shining

And I am already talking to myself about powering through

It isn’t that I don’t want to finish this great race

But really, I’d rather be out and about having the sun shine and splash all in my face.

Perhaps a walk will suffice-

Then cool down with a drink filled with ice.

Yes, that really would be quite nice.

Hour 2…. The Revolution Has Begun

Patrick Henry said give me liberty or give me death

Harriot Tubman said she would shoot anyone who made a sound or dared turn around

There is a price to be paid to be free.

I do not know who said ignorance is bliss

But I do know this…

Stockholm syndrome is a real thing.

That is not to say I live happily every day under my oppressors thumb-

Only that sometimes the beat of my ancestors drum goes dim

And I wonder if the rhythm is done

The sound drowned out by the incessant noise of the same old wheel

There is a price to be paid to be free.

Can the spirits of my long dead relatives feel

That the revolution has begun?

The 1st Hour

My eyes are still groggy looking

And my head is promising that today is probably gonna be a foggy one.

Ooh, the joys of post traumatic head injury migraine.

I had a perfect plan and good intentions aplenty…

For a great night’s rest and a day filled with inspirational witty(ness)

I had delusions of writing perfect little diddies

Or entertaining folks with tales of the sweat from underneath my titties.

But all that will have to wait til I can properly communicate with my brain.

I guess it don’t help much that I’ve been wake and starin at the clock since just before it turned 4-

But that fault lies at the feet of my lover-

For twas he that busted in the door at such a wee hour,

Promptly fell into bed and began to snore…

Leaving me wide awake with the book o Faces to keep me company.

I wander if that’s enough for some kind of plea

Cause as I watch him sleep, I’ve nothing but murderous thoughts for he…

Then again, orange or black or grey or blue or khaki

Has never looked good on me from inside a prison

Not to say I’ve ever spent nights within them walls

But eventually all giants fall, right?

Wait. Let me assure you I’m no conceited uptight little gal,

So before this goes any more astray-

Allow me to wish everyone a very merry happy Poetry Day!

I will see you at the finish line, indeed, I shall.


Hey everyone! Gah. It is a little more than 5 hours before the marathon starts and I’m wide awake….

And… I’ve only just realized, I have neither created an introduction post or joined the Facebook group.

I hope this isn’t a foretelling of how this year’s marathon experience will go for me…

Anywho… I am a second year returning marathonist and I am called Kim. I perform my poetry in art form, under the name of Special K  and thanks to the world closing, I have been able to perform all over the world, via the wonderfully fabulous Zoom.

I’m a mom to kids, who have a tad bit more attitude than I care for at the moment (yay… teenagers) and to a 4 year old who still thinks I’m the greatest thing ever to walk this earth.

I do other things, but I should probably save those things for possible poem topics later.

Wishing everyone the best of luck and see you all at the finish line!

Drug induced

My brain is mush

Muddled with thoughts of yesterday and the tomorrow that hasn’t quite made it to the day’s rays of sunlight .

My mind is clouded with sleep- the cobwebs outstretched their tentacles and I know it won’t be long til I close my eyes

The drugs take over and sleep I gloriously find.

I have no idea what this I’ve written

But. We will say sixteen has been submitted


And tomorrow when I wake

I can only imagine my dismay

As I revisit this poem I wrote

About sleep filled antidotes.


Call it what you want

I am done.

I think this marathon has one.

I accomplished what I set out to do

12 hours of poetry

In that I have succeeded

Soon, I will be fast asleep

Maybe i will wake early and play catch up during that little bit

Maybe I won’t.

And you are welcome to call that whatever you want.

The Cinderella Hour

It is normally midnight

When everything shuts down

If you’re in the club, this doesn’t happen til damn near two.

But not tonight.

That isn’t what happened at all.

I got all gussied up,

Over my face, I made an extreme fuss.

I put on these heels- the kind that demand sex in the bedroom

Whew. I’m telling you…

I looked like I had been hand dipped in sin.

And that’s when the police came in-

Silly me, I thought them a part of the show-

Imagined some Magic Mike type of action.

But that isn’t how this story was to go.

With very little discussion and thankfully no guns drawn-

Though of them, they had plenty-

They shut the place down and escorted everyone out.

And that is why, tonight-

The hour of which I must call it quits

Came at ten-

Where not a drop, not even one had entered my system.


Finally. The pitter patter of little feet are heard only in the echo of my memory.

I am an entertainer and it is time to put on the mask that hides Kim and creates Special K.

This is what I long for during those hours spent with him practically attached at my hip.

Be careful what you ask for. Isn’t that what the old folks say?

As much as I crave the attention; the fame; the spotlight and the stage

I really don’t want to be alone as much as I say.