The Poetry Marathon

I was asked where
I feel most at home.
The simple answer being
inside of poetry.
The more complicated answer?
Inside of poetry.
And I wouldn’t change a thing.

I like my poetry
like my favorite snack
Cheesy
Satisfying
and sometimes
a little gooey.

A splash of cold water
A slap to the face
Gotta keep going
Pick up the pace!

Just a few more to go
Before we are done
24 poems in 24 hours
So much fun!

Free-write
Haiku

Purple sea urchin
Look but do not touch
She stings

I love the simplicity
of a late night walk.
I just need to remember:
My keys, to hold between my fingers
My pepper spray
A flashlight
My cell phone, fully charged.
Running shoes with tight laces
A knife
And my ID just in case
they need to identify my body.
That’s all.
So simple walking at night
as a woman.

The seaside cliffs
being me peace.
Watching the waves crash
from so far above,
I almost feel powerful.
As if I’m the pull
the ocean feels.
In reality,
it’s always pulling me.
One day it will pull me under completely
and I will be free.

If the water taught me anything,
it’s this:
be still and listen.
Sometimes your answers
will become crystal clear
in the silence.

Shelves packed with books.
In here, I’m safe.
Where pain only comes
from plot twists
and paper cuts.
I’m never lonely.
Besides,
books have always been safer
than people anyway.

“Books were safer than other people anyway.” – Neil Gaiman

Her favorite fruit was pear
Said it reminded her
of the shape of my body
and how she’d like
to split me open
right up the middle
and feast upon me.
Oh, how I’d let her.
My darling clementine.
I’d love to peel each piece
of your clothing off,
and divide you into segments,
letting each juicy piece
roll across my tongue.
You’re the perfect snack
and I’m feeling quite hungry.

I’ve wasted so much time
saying yes to people
who don’t deserve it,
that I’ve been saying no
to myself without
a second thought.
It’s time for a change.