The Poetry Marathon

At night when I cry you are there for me
You listen and take it all in.

In the morn’ when you cry, I am there for you.
I listen and take it all in.

We each take turns patching holes in the seams,
of our cute little boat on the seas.

Our boat is messy and half-sunk most times,
but it is entirely the boat of my dreams.

When grass is green,
and buds line the trees,

When flowers bloom,
and rain falls in the meadow

So shall be born,
the once and future king.

First son of the first Pendragon king,
shall unite and bring peace to all Brits.

Demons and darkness will try to stop him,
but the stone sword will show him to be true.

(Written to potentially be included in the King Arthur reimagined novel that I am currently writing)

Dear my body,

First of all, thank you for carting my brain around. I do appreciate that.

Secondly, thank you for having strong legs and strong arms for lifting and carrying. Thank you for having a nice strong rib cage to keep my organs safe and pale, but thick, skin to keep the germs out.

Thirdly, thank you for continuing on even after being fed a diet of mostly junk food for so many years.

Finally, thank you for existing. I often feel down about you and how we look, but you are truly the only reason that I am alive.

With all my love,
Your brain.

As time passes,
New leaves sprout on my English Ivy.
New growth stretches towards the window.
Towards the sun.

As time passes,
New truths are shared in my family.
with my friends.
More people know who I am now.
But not enough

As time passes,
My kitten matures into a cat.
He grows closer with our dog, his sister.
They care for each other.

As time passes,
I get more fed up with my body.
The things it does each month,
The fat placement,
The mammary glands.

As time passes,
My siblings turn into adults.
Once toddlers, now teenagers
Almost mature.

As time passes,
I wish for a full beard
and wonder how long it will take to grow one
once I start testosterone.
I hope it comes quickly.

As time passes,
my “transition” progresses,
but I am not the only one,
the only thing
in transition.

Skinned knees and loud voices
Constant movement
Constant yelling
Everything is a game
And everything is funny

So full of emotion and love,
Told to tamp it down and keep it in.

Forced into dresses and skirts.
Unsure about why their body is changing
Unsure about what it means to be a “woman.”
Don’t really want to be a woman.

Little goblin boys grew into princesses
and now must learn how to be men.

(written for the 11am hour on my phone in a Dunkin Donuts.)

Shoulders back, chin out, neck long.
Breasts out shouting to the world,
“I am here. Look at me!”
Long neck highlighting a feminine jaw and cheekbones

So instead,

Shoulders hunched and chin down.
Breasts hidden among the folds of fabric,
“I’m hiding. Shhh.”
Neck hunched over. Eyes looking at the ground.

But men do not walk like that,

So instead,

Shoulders back, chin out, neck long.

I am
          a man.
          a boy.
          a person.

I am
          a writer,
          designer,
          saxophone player.

I am
          the one who argues about ethics.
          the one who knows too much about mathematics.
          the one who appears arrogant despite low self-esteem.

I am
          a twenty-one year old who has no idea what he is doing.
          halfway to feeling like an adult, but already acting like one.
          unsure of myself, my intentions, or my own mind.

I am
          growing up.

Excited to get started this morning! Good luck everyone. I wish you all good poems and plenty of inspiration.

I’m doing the marathon after a long week of work, so *fingers crossed* that I can stay up all night.

We seem to be at the end.
But don’t they say the end is just another beginning?
So much talk concerns ending.
Beginnings get their fair share too.

But the middles are truly left out.
The great parts that are perfect as they happen
But just aren’t well remembered.
Middles are everywhere.

The middle kisses, done in passing
or the safety of long-term relationship.
The middle chapters,
Where characters are still growing and learning.
The middle years, where life is just going
And will be much the same for a time.

Too much focus on the end and the start.
But we have no way to refocus on the middle.
We just aren’t wired that way.

First shadows appear against the sky.
Before everything was the same shade of dark.
The shadows are just the trees,
And soon enough they are easier to see than the stars.

Then color slowly bleeds into the world.
The sky turns first to a deep dark blue or maybe purple.
The as the light grows, the trees and world gains color too.
Bit by bit, over hours, the world gets slowly more colorful.

Until finally, the big finale.
The sun rises up over the horizon
Shooting the clouds through with color
And fully illuminating the world.