The Poetry Marathon

A haven on earth for way-less wanderers

You steady my unsure steps, ascending the sparkling spiral staircase.

Mirrored mosaic wings of the falling angel catch my eye; make me smile

We exchange knowing glances

You see in me what I don’t see in myself

Meandering through your curvaceous halls and walls

The comfort of a familiar embrace.

http://www.avam.org/stuff-everyone-asks/what-is-visionary-art.shtml

You want to understand me

You want to wipe my tears

But you can’t defend me

Until you taste my fears

Racing with the tempest

Barely catch my breath

But it keeps me laughing

I must confess

I want to catch that thunder

Hold it in my arms

Use it every midnight

For all it’s wicked charms

Come, come inside my soul

Come and see the pain

It’s just like dancing

Dancing in tempest rain

I saw her drowning

She was so small and so scared

We could all see her from above in the murky lake frantically flailing about.

She didn’t know how to swim

Her face grew grim with fear and panic

But she didn’t close her eyes, she didn’t look away, she didn’t give-up

We finally pulled her out of the water; her heart beating louder than that of a caged bird.

There is a certain nightly hour when an eerie hush cushions the earth.

All becomes dormant, all becomes quiet

Except

The little sounds thrive and grow and pulse and move and shake and quiver.

Close your eyes, turn off all the lights and listen to their stories.

The manic march of the wall clock; tick-tock, tick-tock

The determined deep vibrato of the refrigerator

The soft subtle “swooshing” of the ceiling fan; still on a focused mission to drive away the heat

But listen closer; go deeper within

Cup your hands to your ears

Beyond the heavy footsteps of your boldly beating heart, listen for the other rhythms.

The ones you usually ignore.

The cacophony of caffeine cruising through your veins at dangerously high speeds

The brawling beasts in your belly; escapees from a banned mosh-pit

Your long laboring lungs like violent waves crashing.

The longer you listen, the louder they become.

Harder to ignore

Sometimes sneaking into your waking world.

In a world without shoes

My toes are happiest submerged in coastal sand

Tickled by sea foam.

1. Your laughter always sparkles.
2. You make every place, no matter how humble, feel like the most welcoming and comforting home.
3. How charm just naturally flows out of you; mesmerizing entire rooms.
4. Creating magical gardens on simple balconies with wildflowers, roses, jasmine, and fragrant culinary herbs.
5. The way you transform fabric into fantastical costumes; making Halloween dreams come true.
6. Bringing distant places to life in deep, dark, rich water color; I feel like I will never experience the lighted night boats of Rio the way I have from your painting.
7. Teaching me to always look for the answers, seek the truth, and never take anything for granted.
8. Taking me to my first political action; helping me understand the importance of standing up in the face of adversity and conflict, in a peaceful and powerful way.
9. Always embracing a sense of spirit and adventure, without losing your own individuality.
10. Giving me the strength, support, love and guidance, making me the person I am today.

Somedays, the mundane bears down heavy

Memories scented with magnificent pine trees and tall strong redwoods lure me away

Promises of cooler temperatures and cleaner air

A pure crystal lake inspired picnic

Perfection in the getaway.

Come to me my delicious dark magic brew!

My heart races, my senses awaken to your swirling aromas;
reminiscent of late night corner lounges

Van Gogh’s Parisian street scenes

As I lift you to my eager lips, I sense your power.

The steaming heat of the ceramic vessel temporarily housing your essence;
calms my shaking hands.

I drain you dry and beg for more

You are my nighttime companion

The key to inspiration and conversation

You have fueled the poet, the writer, the artist

I am forever in your debt.

Ah, mister cat!

Your secret fondness for sweets and treats did you in!

Your 30 white horses fled the rough red hill.

Would, that you could

Grin without a grin?

Dearest Pippi,

Even though I am older and no longer read your books way past my bedtime with a flashlight under the covers; I often find myself longing for your gift of storytelling.

How goes it in the fantastical world of seafaring?

Pirate ships, lost islands, treasure chests full of wonder.

Did Villa Villekula survive the transformation to full-time houseboat?

I knew you were strong enough to make that happen.

I imagine it’s glorious; the perfect way to embark on wild new adventures on the high seas

With a magnificent horse and a wise monkey; and Captain Pippi.

Please tell me you still wear your hair in messy braids?

Those braids held all the strength and magic in the universe.

On days when I really miss you, on days when I need to feel strong, on days when I need some secret magic momentum;

I braid my hair to look like yours.

Everything works out safe and sound.

Missing you always,

Bia