we are the champions

we are the champions

we poets of the night

 

words filled with magic

written in form

rhythmically metered

 

lyrically dancing

from fingertips and brain

spewed across the page

 

we are the champions

yes champions my friend

Another marathon, has come to an end

 

words forever engraved

the laughter , the bonds

and memories made

 

Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

Tragic Childhood Psalm: Hour 23

1: my only memory of them together

mom and dad

i was sick and pretending

 

5: I remember her screaming. oh the lament for her abusive father

forbidden touches. Did they start here?

 

7: they were fighting, me struggling

dad disbelieving – family ties burn

Crystals welcomed, angels watching over me

 

9: fire so fascinating

 

13:runic cards passed to me

 

23: answers from within

 

42:Increased psychic abilities

 

Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

pantoum #3 into hour 23

Pantoum #3 hour 23

 

lost words- ancient symbols
hag stones, wave through the veil
light breaking, heart beating
night retreating, birds tweeting

hag stones, wave through the veil
all the magic, begins within
night retreating, birds tweeting
lost, in a moment of art

all the magic, begins within
candles burning through out the night
lost, in a moment of art
moments captured, never shared

candles burning through out the night
lost words- ancient symbols
moments captured, never shared
light breaking, heart beating

 

Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

2019 lryical pantoum 2 : Iron and wine “Pagan Angel”

 

love was a promise
slowly floating in the sea
tight against her hollows
among the angry cemetery leaves

slowly floating in the sea
a beautiful feather floating down
among the angry cemetery leaves
My love is one made to break every bended knee”

a beautiful feather floating down
pagan angel, of iron and wine
My love is one made to break every bended knee”
I’d hint to her every possibility

pagan angel, of iron and wine
love was a promise
I’d hint to her every possibility
tight against her hollows

 

Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

You Can’t Rescue Me: 2019 lyrical pantoum 1:

you cant rescue me
i’d say to you
well i can show you love
if i knew how to separate

i’d say to you
i dont wanna drag you down
if i knew how to separate
i just wanna keep you safe

i dont wanna drag you down
you cant rescue me
i just wanna keep you safe
well i can show you love

 

Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

nymphomaniac

touch me

please me

my happy ever after

 

lust sinner

dripping wet

blood~

 

crying for love

soft and swollen

 

heart broken

never felt this high

screaming

through the night

 

Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

love song ~erasure

Let us go then, you and I,

evening is spread upon a table;

Let us go,

muttering retreats, Of restless nights

in cheap hotels with oyster-shells:

a tedious argument Of insidious intent

 

To lead

overwhelming question …

Oh, do not ask, “What is it?”

 

Let us go

and make the women come

 

rubs its back upon the -panes,

rubs its muzzle

Licked its tongue

into the corners

the evening, Lingered upon

the pools that fall upon its back

that falls Slipped

 

the sudden leap,

And seeing

it was a soft October night,

Curled, and fell asleep. indeed

 

Time: smoke that slides along

Rubbing upon the -panes;

There will be time, there will be time

 

To face. To meet: the faces

There will be time

to murder and create,

time: for all the works

 

and days. That lift and drop

a question

Time for you and me,

time for a hundred indecisions,

for visions and revisions,

Before the taking toast and tea.

 

In the room, women come

indeed

time To wonder, “Do I dare?”

 

“Do I dare?”

 

Time turn back and descend the stair,

My morning , mounting firmly

My rich and modest, asserted by a simple pin —

Do I dare

 

Universe,

In a minute, is there time?

decisions and revisions

a minute will reverse.

 

I have known

all already, known them all:

the evenings, mornings, afternoons,

measured out my life with coffee spoons;

the voices dying with dying

Beneath the music

should I presume?

 

I have known the eyes already, known them all—

eyes that fix a formulated phrase,

And when formulated, sprawling on a pin,

pinned and wriggling on the wall,

Then how should I begin

To spit out all the butt-ends of my ways?

And how should I presume?

 

I have known the arms already, known them all—

Arms white and bare in the lamplight, downed with light brown hair!)

Is it perfume from a dress Arms that lie, or wrap about

And should I then presume?

And how should I begin?

 

gone at dusk

narrow And watched

the smoke that rises

lonely leaning out of windows? …

 

I should have a pair , ragged claws

Scuttling across silent seas.

 

And the afternoon, the evening,

Smoothed by long fingers,

Asleep … tired … or it malingers,

Stretched on the floor,

here you and me.

Should I Have the strength to

force the moment ,its crisis?

 

I have wept , fasted, prayed,

I have seen my head

brought in upon a platter,

I am no prophet —no great matter;

 

I have seen the moment

my greatness flicker,

I have seen the eternal hold my coat, and snicker,

And in short, afraid.

 

would it have been worth it,

you and me,

Would it have been worth while,

bitten off the matter with a smile,

To have squeezed the ball

some overwhelming question,

 

To say: Come back to tell you, I shall tell all”—

If one, settling her head

“That is not what I meant at all;

not it, at all.”

 

And would after all,

have been worth while,

After the sunsets the dooryards sprinkled streets,

After the novels, , after the skirts that trail along the floor—

this, and so much more?—

impossible to say just what I mean! as if a magic

threw patterns on a screen:worth while

one, settling And turning

“That is not it at all,

That is not what I meant, at all.”

 

No! I am not nor meant to be;

attendant lord, will do

To swell, start a scene or two,

the prince; no doubt, an easy tool,

Deferential, be of use,

Politic, cautious, and meticulous;

high but a bit obtuse;

At times, indeed, ridiculous—

Almost, at times, the Fool.

Do I dare to eat a peach?

wear white, and walk upon the beach.

the mermaids singing, sing to me.

 

I have seen them riding

the waves white

of the waves blown back

 

the wind blows

white and black.

We lingered, in chambers of sea-girls

red and brown

Till voices wake us, and we drown.

 

Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

Palindrome, Madam? : Response poem for “A Question for Anna” Micheal Faudet; Dirty Pretty Things

Dirty pretty things, madam.

the poestess’ “Top spot”

 

Madam, in Eden I’m Adam.

Now Eve, we’re here.  We’ve won.

wow-

Hey Anna, Take a bite.

refer, mom

moon seen at noon

eye for an eye, maybe a boob?

 

level – under radar

Naomi, did I moan?

tenet of solos

Did I? I Did!

 

Not so, Boston.

no word, no bond, row on

sagas made of words

 

hagigah

live evil by Sabbath plays

Satan oscillate my metallic sonatas

evil live by the misfits

Did I? I did!

 

never odd or even

ho-oh or the wizarding world

red rum, red rum

 

are we not drawn onward we few drawn onward to new era?

Did I? I did.

 

 

Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

schitzo-espistolary

Dear Death,

Fuck you.

Dear Cancer,

Fuck you too!

Dear Addiction,

I’m hunting you down.  It is the end my friend.

 

Dear Guilt,

Keep trying.

Dear Anger,

Please go. Fade away.

Dear Shame,

Not Today!

 

Dear Body,

Please stop fucking hurting.

 

Dear Heart,

I am sorry. Please don’t miss a beat

Dear Mind,

Don’t worry.

Dear Soul,

Keep growing.  Seek the light.

 

Dear Voice,

Sing softly through the night.

Dear Hands.

Get down the words, take time for drawing.

 

Dear Children,

I love you.  To infinity and beyond.

Dear Memories,

Be Kind.

 

Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

Dandelion ~ an Ode: RIP Momma

Many call you names

 

I see your wishes, where all they see

are weeds

 

I know all your uses, replanting

tender seed

 

Dan de Lion ~ forever blow your horn

 

Endless possibilities

blown into space and time

 

Petals soft and yellow

with roots to calm

and Bitter greens

 

Dan de Lion ~ forever blow your horn

 

Forever in resin

“As you wish”

Means, I love you

 

Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

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