The Poetry Marathon

warm air
feeds a wretched mind
longing for better
as rain greets the day

(Poem 5 of Half Marathon)

I look at the boys,
asleep, unconscious to be exact,
and plead silently with them
to tell me the truth.*

I was only
an hour or so away.
Non-existent memory
of what brought them here.

My prime suspect:
their mother, also unconscious,
in the next room over.

My mind wanders
through the past week
spent here with them
on their perfect little cottage
right on the lake.
It matches their perfect,
much bigger, house.
Perfect faces
and their perfect jobs n’ schools
are also seen every time
they step out into this world.

I tuned out the fights
and the screams.
No family can truly be perfect.
This is just how they were
when the lights went out,
I would calmly say to myself.

The quiet boys
were very well-behaved,
too well behaved
I realize now.

Narcissistic father and husband
eyes black with no desire
but modern world success.
Never truly there
but to unleash fits of rage.

Too much to bear for them, I suppose.
Even with with “perfection”.

*”Women Talking” by Miriam Toews

(Poem 4 of Half Marathon)

grey sky shines
humid air
seeping through the skin
gentle on the body

this day demands rest
even the birds are few
above the cityscape
seeking sustenance
and leisure
as the earth offers
its bounties
to all
who take this moment
in stillness

(Poem 3 of Half-Marathon)

Mornings are a lull,
going through the motions
of a bright new day.

Sensitive eyes burn,
escaping beneath
the warm cotton sheets
for an extra moment
of solace.
Waiting until
the last moment
to rise up,
to be brave.

(Poem 2 of 2021 Half-Marathon)

In my seashell I lie.
Packaged in a nice neat ball
like the fetus I am.

Needs are met
could ask for more
but I’ll save that.

Content and fed
will do for now.
Daydreams consumed
with running away.
Yet here I remain.

Caged out of my own freewill.
I’m scared.
Won’t bother elaborating
about my achy chest.

To be free
is to be vulnerable.
And each day
I still remain like so.

As seasons fade by
I grow against
my own freewill.
One day my home
will crack to pieces.

Maybe I should
just break free myself…
Nah.

Letting something else
write my story
brings me an eerie comfort.
Fate does all the work.

(Poem 1 of 2021 Half-Marathon)

Hi Everyone!

My name’s Maxine and I’m from Ottawa, Canada. I’ve been writing poetry for about a decade and am super excited for next Saturday. 🙂 Doing the half marathon and this will be my first time doing any challenge of this sort. Can’t wait to read all of your work and share my own. My poems tend to focus on Geography – the world and our relationships with it. So ready to challenge myself!