The Poetry Marathon

The empty classroom echoed,

books boxed, papers filed, shelves clean,

awaiting the new year.

The busy classroom echoed,

papers shared, problems discussed, bodies in motion,

energized by the new day.

I yearn for both.

I have a small gripe

It’s not much

Just a little snipe.

It is not a matter of

Pota-TOE vs Po-TAH-to

that’s just a bunch of clatter

Music is personal

there is emotion attached

its connections are special

It is ironic sometimes

that the ones playing it the loudest

are the first to whine

So, play whatever you want to

but turn it down, wear plugs,

I don’t hear music the same as you

Squish!

The mud pulled on my Keds,

each step stretching tired muscles.

Slurp!

Moisture began skipping up my jeans;

the cuffs slowly becoming bricks of clay.

OOMPH!

The septic marsh was winning.

My legs no longer willing to even try.

Sigh!

Strong arms tug me twice and

I leave behind a beloved red shoe…

The price paid for a journey attempted.

Stairs leading up…

no wait, down…

OH! sideways.

a door to …

a door to…

a window?

tendrils of song

undulating salsa

capitulate through hookah fog

specters swim close..

touch and slide away

Calliope murmurs pronouncements

tempered in undertone

meanings only suggested

through collusion of imagery

Apples, Berries, Roses, herbs

bound with string and ribbon,

hide the hint of decay.

Satin, Velvet, Cotton, oak

tucked in and around a box

made to take love away.

Sobbing, Whispers, Tip-toe, grief

made all pretty for those

forced to deal with the day.

Ritual, Habits, Ceremony

humane acts, over time, muting truth

and the reason for the nosegay.

Winds are pushing the trees around,

whipping flags into a frenzy.

Immature dust monsters grow and swarm,

dancing to the tune.

But I daren’t open the windows,

as flower blossum’s offspring would attack

So, shut away from the sun, another

beautiful day passes, without me, in June

There are high pitched giggles of youth

combining with swirling motion, a never ending energy

There are colorful walls filled with impressionistic art

as fictional characters dance across the floor.

A light streams in from a hidden door

as an invisible wand…

oak, supple, dragon heart string center…

weaves a spell on the minds with in this room

A gentle witch walks through the throng,

prodding, supporting, encouraging

Suddenly, fist bumps and hugs abound as

the magic takes hold and

believers are made of the doubtful

Daughter, Sister, Woman

I am all of these things

with out choice, designations from life

Teacher, Mentor, Leader

I am all of these things

because of need, others views of me

Poet, Artist, Creator

I am all of these things

by drive, instincts too strong to ignore

Tired, Lost, Alone

I am all of these things

in my spirit, deeply aching pain

Seeking, Pushing, Enduring

I am all of these things

as I peer into the mist of a future unplanned

Here… Still… Here

I am… through perseverance,

a strength intertwined with all the things I am

sj luellen

Excited to be doing my third full marathon. I made so many friends through the last two years and hope to make a few more. The support offered here has led to my being ready to really put myself out there. Can’t wait to see what is in store for us this year.

and so it begins…

cliche, but apropos as

we await the start

Lue

Writing,

Pencil on the finger tips

Ink on the hands

This has been my life

Telling

Stories to entertain

Stories to amaze

This has been my life

Sharing

With my friends and family

With students and co-workers

This has been my life

Publishing

Was always a dream

Was always something someone else did

And now this is my life

Writing

Lue

August 14, 2016