The Poetry Marathon

If only we all had do-overs.
We could relive a day again and again,
Finding the best solution to every problem that is produced,
And always come out on top.
Near the end, you would have said everything you needed to say, at the proper time, and in the proper tone.
Who needs supersoldiers,
When all you need is unlimited do-overs?
It would be the end to all regrets,
And safety could be 100% ensured.

I love that sweet oblivion,
That dark pool that I can sink into every night,
Leaving behind what I can of this world,
And diving deep into whatever parts of my own mind is available.
Even though nightmares is a possibility,
It’s worth it for the chance to fly above the clouds under my own power.
As I retreat into mind,
my body recieves the siesta it deserves,
And I get to surf my own, private brainwaves for as long as I wish.

Beneath our storebought clothes,
The smiles we plaster daily on our faces,
And the filters available in Instagram,
It’s getting pretty easy to cover up our real feelings, faces, personalities.
Now, our friends and followers can see ‘who we are’ by just getting online.
They don’t need to talk to you face to face anymore.
It’s easier to send someone a text than pick up a phone and listen to someone else’s voice.
We all prefer our internet personalities to how we deal with problems in real life.
The internet gives us freedom, anonymity, courage.
But sometimes, we take those traits to the next level,
And we don’t see all the pain we leave in our wake.

Flower petals fade,
Bright colors turning dingy and grey,
While clouds tumble down hills and cliffs to bury the lowlands.
Every living creature that is able, flees.
This destruction,
Molten fire running as rivers across continents,
Is unstoppable.
Only the unrelenting seascape can resist its persistent assaults.
If only life could assume that cold unmaleability.

Glistening droplets,
rivers running in the streets,
dark clouds overhead.

Food comas are great on Thanksgiving day
when you are stuffed full of deliciousness.
But when the goal of the day, is to stay
awake, your plans may turn into a mess.
As your eyelids begin to droop, you jerk
yourself back into consciousness again.
And you throw yourself back into your work,
trying to keep your words from being plain.
As now I write, this is my dilemma.
Do I stuff myself with sugary treats,
or buy hot chocolate with extra crema…

The clouds are calling out to each other overhead,
anger flashing between them,
and the remnents of their words coming down to us in a cacaphony.

Sometimes I wonder about what they must be arguing about,
or if some of it is just a show of force to those of us on the ground.
Reasons for us to not taunt those beyond our understanding,
and so far up above our heads.

They must have really high opinions of themselves,
or they wouldn’t be so loud when they choose to be.
I think they like the attention that a bright light or a loud boom gets them.

Or maybe they’re just lonely up there,
and want to be seen again,
since cloudwatching has become such a lost pastime lately.
They miss the admiring eyes of those on the ground looking up,
and seeing amazing shapes and creatures in their midst.

Why do I write?

Well, on paper my st-st-stutter isn’t a problem.

Through text, I can say anything.
And if some people don’t like it,
Then it really doesn’t matter.
I don’t have to worry about their reactions,
Just mine.

I may be as proper as I see fit,
But there ain’t no rules ‘gainst me shortnin’ what I want, neither.

I can create worlds without gravity,
Or where people grow flowers instead of hair.

When I write,
I am unlimited un my imagination, strength, and intelligence.
I can be whoever I want,
And escape from the monotonous everyday.

Writing is paradise,
And I will never give it up!

Are you my guardian angel?
‘Cause I think you’re missing your wings.
I was told you guys have them.
But, I guess I’m not an expert.

You are always there,
Helping, and watching over me,
But not in the creepy Edward and Bella way.

You’re there to hear my ramblings,
About the random tangents my brain goes off on,
My rants,
My odd view of the world,
And the evil schemes of the inanimate objects around us.

When I need a hug,
You’re there to endure it, even when I squeeze too hard, ordon’t want to let go,
And you squeeze back.

You sit with me when I need to cry,
But always know the right time to crack a joke and make me laugh,
Because sometimes,
I just need help with my comic relief.

So, even though you don’t have wings,
Thanks for being my earthly angel <3

How can light take so many forms?
Growing greens beneath our feet,
tanning or burning our skin,
casting shadows that grow as the evening stretches onward.
And there’s always the saying, ‘without light there is no darkness’ and vice versa.
As equals though,
why is it that one can seem so much more powerful than the other?
When you step outside, and your eyes are blinded by the glare.
Or when you’re in your room at night,
and the darkness appears to creep towards you in tendrils,
reaching for your exposed heart and soul,
waiting for the opportunity to crush you into dust.
But with the flick of a switch,
those demons in the corners of your eyes can disappear in an illuminating flash.