The Poetry Marathon

Hair, pinned up tight

Binding, curls unyielding

Like words, bound in dictionaries

Linked chains

Weigh heavy

On weary shoulders

Unabridged; worldly worries

She carries

Herself, with style and grace

No loss for words

Draped in the velvety meaning

Robes of soft, but solid black

Grounding the energy

That attacks

She reaches for stability

From earths, hard grown

Wood lacquered, like her tongue

Turning, slightly slipping

Left, but right

Cleverly hiding falter

In her painted posture

Body tired

Brain stone cold

Wired

Here we are

Longing, dreading

Finish line in sight

Three more to go

High on caffeine

And inspiration

Music blasting, silently

Exhausting, batteries

Running on empty

Living like renegade

Love the underdogs

Parade! Parade!

Did the circus come to town?

We are the  poets of the night

It’s always different

Then when it came before

Exaggeration?

That’s what words are for!

High above

As the world sleeps

She shines her light

Over the human race

In light, and in love

Clouds drape like silk

Over her full bussom

Darkness shrouds

Her lonely heart

Her sun, her love

World’s apart

Evolving through revolutions

In a sky full of stars

Can you, give her your heart

Will you still want her

As space imparts

Even the dark

In all its vastness

Cannot compare

To the beauty

In light

We are the dust

Of the cosmos

Sparkling brought

Leading each other

Through another night

Some crashing

Others thrashing

Where did that gravity go?

Now, I’m laughing

Thinking about

“Space Madness”

Big red buttons pushed

Obsessive genius, OCD’s

The moon was out

The night, planned and set

On the table

All the trimmings

Paired, in candle light

Alone she waits

And contemplates

The evening to transpire

Shouldn’t love, fuel desire

Promises, unkempt

A fool for words

She understood

She sat him down

Adjusted her crown

Proclaiming him

A cheating liar

I’ve lost my books

And my hat

I’ve lost my coat

And my cat

I’ve lost my place

Imagine that

I’ve lost my marbles

One by one

The seventeenth hour has begun

I’ll lose my tenses

As words steep

I’ll lose my senses

As hours creep

I’ll lose my witts

By the end of this, but

I promise you this

I will not lose the marathon

Now, you may carry on.

Through the canvas

Scars and lines

Bleed through

Only to appear

Outwardly

Young and rapturously

I mustn’t gaze

Upon that face

For

Hell will

pull me through

Studying the synchronicity

Reading a lot of lore

I came to believe in mystical beings

Goddesses and unicorns, of yore

Colors, rocks and many a thing

All different in their meaning

Symbolism galore

Yes, I read the ancient runes and tarot

Own a dozen sets or more

Divinity through seeing

A witch’s greatest strength

Opening loves universal door

Children peculating

The tomatoes sacred jars

In the steam, of the hot afternoon rain

Many a raincoat, billowing

Capturing the frogs

In the gathering evening

Both,  resting on their elbows

Staring at each other

Through mystery and glass

Words that form, flowing

Singing, stinging

Stringing you along

Listening, whilst creating

Another poetess song

Writing with others, all over

From glorious prompts

Testing our courage

Stretching my smarts

As day turns to night

Halfway through this

Enjoyable plight

Some stop now, sleeping

Come what may, I say.

Bring the rest on

Witty, cunning, addicted to these things

Inspirational pictures

Plus music galore

Rocking, thirteen hours more

Steadily started

Building, they continually grow

Breaking into, waiting

From the other side

As ink slips from her hands

Pen clutched between fingers

Nouns, verbally pressed

Objectively placed

Inside two blue lines

Leaving white behind