The Poetry Marathon

Captured memories
Made-up moments
Crafted and created
For all to see
A virtual world
A bizarre parallel universe

Who’s watching?
taking notes?
Making plans?
Stolen times and places
A puzzle of strangeness and happenstance

Shut it down
Shut it all down
It matters not
or does it?

The most luxurious candle
Scented with red rose and neroli
hinting of china musk and smoky cedar

Soft and silken to the touch
Swirling designs in sunset colors
Sparkles of golden dust

A single cotton wick
Braided to burn and curl
Begging for flame; ready for the dance

In a Turkish brass lantern it lives
Intricate ancient patterns,
illuminate the walls
Spilling onto the mirrored silk and velvet cushions

Intoxicating in it’s form and function
You are trapped for hours
For days
Staring, inhaling, waiting.

Time moves in a different way and dimension here

It happens so slowly
Surreal in it’s progression
Bit by bit it dissipates
Desperate flickers fight and scream
Twist and tango to their death
The smoke lingers and embers wink
Then there is nothingness.

Sometimes I sleep in
Silence the alarm
Shut out the endless droning nothing news

Burrow deep in the sheets
Beneath the blanket
Beneath the quilt
There I breathe
The scent of your skin
Deep slow breaths
Matching mine to yours

The world outside disappears
Sounds become soft
Are we lost?
That is ok
It’s a good place to be.

Crushed copper scented breath
The final drops drying fast
Early morning mist, kissing my gossamer face
The perfect precipice for soaking in the sights and sounds
of the raging rocky river below
My familiar dark sky starting it’s journey into softness and light
For time eternal I dreamed of this

And then she comes
with golden arms
An embrace I learned to fear; but so missed and desired
Tiny blisters quickly decorate my skin
Toes tingling with anticipation
Arms outstretched
It’s time.

A leap
Falling floating flying
Smiling as I wither and melt
Freedom and Peace
Release

Greetings Fellow Poets, Writers and Dreamers,

And here it is, my third Poetry Marathon. What is it about the number three that lures us in? In literature, in fairy tales, in mythology, in science, and in religion; the number three, shows up again and again, and again. It holds us tight, fast, steady. Signaling adventure, mystery, and unforgettable experiences. And so it shall be in my third Poetry Marathon. As I embark on my third year in California, I realized the Poetry Marathon has become a welcome journey for creative expression, wayward writing, and a little bit of magic. I am now going to go enjoy my third cup of coffee. Welcome all! ♥

Down deep dark dreary pathways I follow
The pounding pulse, twisting violent turbulent turns
Gothic rhythms of your nightmares
Spilling spinning screaming
On aging pages
Hold me hostage

I dare not look away
I dare not leave
My blood pounding bruised beating heart
Pleads for peace and reprieve
Yet still I read
Captive to your craft

A dance with death
In velvet gowns and stolen souls
Deceptive dreams, fantastic fears
This wild madness flows
Like morphine for my writer’s soul
May I have some more?

Farmers Markets are the best when I go with you
I know they smile when they see you approaching
“pick me, pick me”
They plead for your attention.

Stone fruits and strawberries
Dino kale and daikon
Bok choy and blueberries
lemongrass and tomatoes

Your touch is tender and careful
you respect their flavors and protect their souls

Infused with passion & love
Your farmers market finds,
Become farmers market treasures.

Been to a festival lately?
Forget the main attractions
No one is there for the music
It’s all about the bacon

There was a time when it could be ignored
Now, bacon is in your face!
In your artisan beer
In your candy
In your ice cream
In your tater tots
I’m sure someone somewhere has created a bacon flavored soda
or, *shudder*, coffee!

It may even be in your music
In fact, I’m convinced, bacon and Taylor Swift have the same publicist
They are both everywhere all the time.
Beware the Bacon Swift Burger

Known by so many names

Netflix queue of conundrums
Netflix choice purgatory
Netflix spiral of despair
The queue grows and grows
Then there comes a day

So many choices
Genres, actors, directors,
Reviews and synopses
Stories to be explored
Dialogues to be experienced

So much time spent scrolling assessing reading reflecting
4 stars 3 stars half stars
Well reviewed, well received
Known actors, known directors
Most popular trending tasty treat of a film

My finger hovers over the select option, but
Next to it, another film
Unassuming, similar in genre, style
Possibly concept
Yet less reviewed, barely viewed
Almost forgotten

Let’s see what happens
Press play
The queue will remain
but I will change
Each choice leads to another.

Tattoos are living prompts
Etched on skin
Each has a story
Each has a life

Living breathing canvas with touchable art
Meant to be read
Meant to be heard
Ask the question
Hear the tales
Share the journey