The Poetry Marathon

drifting off to a dream like state

somewhere between sleeping

and being awake

drifting off

 images cross my mind

and I can no longer tell

what is real and what is fake

By: KMH 2015

doubt

has quite a few synonyms,

uncertainty, disbelief, skepticism, and misgiving

in different forms

it creeps up,

when you least expect

By: KMH 2015

what is the right way to love?

and who are we to interfere?

who should decide?

who is permitted, to love without fear?

woman and man

two women

or

two men

it is not for you, for we or for us to say

By: KMH 2015

The Story ISABEL ALLENDE

is a tale of two unfortunate lovers

they lived in another time;

another place,

in a small Chilean town

two brothers battled each other

fighting for Eleanor’s favor and love

one brother, proud an jealous

and the other, pure of heart

one day the jealous brother told Eleanor a nefarious lie

that his brother had run off with another

Eleanor felt as if she would die

she ran away,

to another town

to live out the rest of her years,

where she could roam

and make a home,

to be left alone with her tears

then one day she returned

to the house her family owned,

and the haughty brother summoned her

for he was ill and near death

he wanted to make wrong a right

and finally confessed

he told poor Eleanor that everything was a lie

his brother too, pined for her

and had spent his years in wait

only sorrow and a broken heart to pass the days

then she ran out into the garden

and there the second brother was

they ran toward another

with tears filling their eyes

By: KMH 2015

all you see are shooting stars

in the midnight blue sky

 you close your eyes

feel a soft breeze running its fingers

and playing with your hair

for a while…

you are all alone, but feel at home

in the darkness;

then quite suddenly,

you hear the trees, the leaves are dancing

you stay in place

your turned up face

you breathe in

the delightful smell

of the rain that is coming

By: KMH 2015

AS THE ALARM CLOCK on the chest of drawers exploded like a horrid little bomb of bell metal, Dorothy, wrenched from the depths of some complex, troubling dream, awoke with a start and lay on her back looking into the darkness in extreme exhaustion.

Her head was pounding, and for a moment, she wondered why someone would use a hammer on her head. She realized quickly that she was all alone in her room; alone in her bed. She inhaled deeply, the cold air in her frigid room. Suddenly, Dorothy remembered what had occurred and what, and she felt as if she would swoon.

She reached for her robe and struggled trying to get up. Dorothy finally managed to make it out of bed, and make it to the sink. The water was icy cold, instantly freezing her naked skin. She could not believe that she was in her current state.

After taking a drink Dorothy slowly walked away and back to her bed.Before lying down she took medicine to calm her head. She almost felt relieved that she was in some pain, because it was better, than what faced her the next day.

Stanza 1 : A Clergyman’s Daughter;

Author: George Orwell

Harcourt Brace & Company

Copyright 1936

By: KMH 2015

.

not everything that shines is gold

we tend to get distracted,

 by bulky packages and shiny things

because we think it makes us happy

there is a price

which others pay

for our bulky, shiny things;

with their life

they sacrifice

for our finery

By: KMH 2015

pages stuffed with old photos

of those who entered and left my life

painful and beautiful memories

of years past, and happy times

pictures of smiling faces

images of those who came before

some sitting, and some standing

with their feet flat on the floor

if the day came to pass,

and I had to flee

I would take my most prized possession

and keep it

 always with me…

By: KMH 2015

…you have to work within the system sometimes
… and learn how to play
… work to change the system
… for a time,staying in it
… and realize, things may get far worse
…before they get better

… perhaps we would fare better
…if we sacrificed a little of ourselves; sometimes
… to learn how to beat it
… to learn how to play the system
… the only way out is to play
…even if at first things appear to get worse

… life has been worse
…life can be better
… life is unbearable, sometimes
… you cannot avoid it
…if you cannot work within the system
… you will find, that you will go nowhere, without knowing how to play

… life works that way; we are all characters taking part in a play
… if we do not learn our parts, life can get worse,
… before it can get better,
… sometimes;
… you can fight to change it
… but you have nothing, if you cannot work the system

… sometimes you can try and break free from the system
… once you learn how to play
… you manage to break free; sometimes
… and once you know better
… you will know, how not to make things worse
… only then will you be able to escape, and be free of it

… only when you can work within the system, you can work to break it
… the oppression, and the fixed system
… the games we must all play
… for worse
… and for better
… we don’t have a choice, sometimes

…you must sacrifice sometimes … play in hopes to win it
…it is the game you must play  … for your freedom, by shattering the system
… but remember, it may get worse …before it gets better

          By: KMH 2015

did I ever tell you,

how proud you have made me,

for a time

you seemed to lose your way;

and how could you not

after life treated you in such a way;

yet, here you stand

bruised and battered,

once again

you have picked yourself up;

one thing

you must remember

when life is coming,

always stand tall

By: KMH 2015