The Poetry Marathon

Chilled icicles fall,

shattering near the ground they

Wound a small child.

I have never been in love

So I believe, but I am charmed

with anyone that loves me.

I live happy and alone,

So I believe. But I am charmed

If someone goes out of their way to ask.

“I live happy and alone,”

I hear myself repeat.

If someone goes out of their way to ask

Why I do not have a love

I hear myself repeat,

The lies I have programmed.

Why I do not have a love

Are not the reasons I give. The truth is,

I have never been in love

With anyone that loves me.

I am programmed

With words that I say

Over and over.

You are programmed

With questions that you ask

Again and again.

Sometimes she doesn’t get it.

She’ll get in the way,

and mess up my work,

and she’ll yell for more food

when her plate is half full,

and she’ll rub against my elbow

as I’m typing something important.

Then she’ll sit on my papers

that I’m trying to review,

and once I move her over,

she’ll crawl right back to the same spot.

Sometimes she doesn’t get it,

but when she purrs

I do.

I finally get it.

Laugh lines of paint

dance upon canvas

Twirling in blues, yellows, and reds

Combining into something whole,

and telling a story

that only the viewer

can know.

Treetops sway slightly

As winds trickle through branches

bringing flames closer.

I hear him roar

in the skies outside,

the rain dances a beat

and I know this is it.

In the skies outside

the lightening lights up,

and I know this it,

this is where it ends.

The lightening lights up

the darkened skies.

This is where it ends,

With the trumpets blaring.

The darkened skies

Awaken the slumber

with the trumpets blaring

and with a swirling of winds.

“Awaken the slumber!”

I hear him roar.

And with a swirling of winds,

the reign dances a beat.

There’s a wall

I create

and build up

around me.

People sometimes make

weak spots, and almost

tear it down,

but then

snide comments

words spoken behind

stiff shoulders,

and the wall is then covered

and repaired,

built up with steel.

Arms wrap around your middle,

lips caress your neck

Whispers turn your hair erect.

You melt into a soft body

and hands run up your back,

but they’re not mine,

not anymore.

A mighty blue castle

looms amongst the dark skies,

And children scream

as the thunder rolls in,

and a blinding flash

of lightning cracks the sky in two.

And there is waiting,

much waiting, for something

we are told to love.

It’s magic—We’re told

but sometimes I miss the simplicity

of home.