The Poetry Marathon

I couldn’t help but feel the pull

The moon, the stars

You see

The universe was made for me

And in its arms

I was free

Cloud Mountain

I tried to climb

To reach the top

Out of my comfort zone

No one told me how hard it was

When you start at the ocean floor

Drowning a bit in realization

I continue to rise

Getting to the surface

I struggle with the steps

Oh, wait I am swimming

Drowning a little

But I see my mountain

The clouds have left

One last leg

Just as I have it in my view

The clouds they come again

Hiding the cracks I need

For how am I to grasp

My heart, my breath

My cloud mountain

I stare into the mirror

Afraid of what I might find

The angel on one shoulder

Or the devil in my mind

When the devil shows her heart

I find it hard to look

Because I know the angel quit

An easy loss she took

She fought for a minute

To keep good graces

Lazy angel

The devil wins again

But what do we expect

Its Saturday night

The bar isn’t closed quite yet

I hate living in this shoe!

The tongue is leaking

And the stupid brats are everywhere!

I have lost my mind

At least four times

And that is only since noon!

The laces are worn

There is no room

I can’t catch a break!

Is it naptime soon?

Some may say fire was invented by man. But everything was now wasn’t it. What you know has been told by tongues you understand. To resonate deep inside. But what if I told you the true story of fire. When the dinosaur roamed and the world was lush. There were no humans. Not yet anyway.

It was one very long day when the sun had been up for at least 20 hours. All the animals hot and all very exhausted. A tiny little bird only 3cm wide flew into the sky. Much higher than before. As its wings began to slow he perched on a cloud. So small he was the cloud naturally obliged. He rested a moment and went on his way.

Up and up he flew, he had a message to give to the sun, the sun he hardly knew. He had a plan to sing the sun to sleep. A sweet little lullaby. He got to the sun and boy was he tired. He could not muster a single note. The sun felt for the little birds journey and blew him a kiss, a sign of love for his scurry. Little bird burst into flames and fell to the earth. Ashes sprinkled like rain.

Oh little bird, oh little bird

His plan had failed. But the sun could not stop crying. Darkness came and the rains they poured. Little birds ashes pooled in a puddle. When enough tears had been shed the sun shone again. And out of the ashes on flaming wings he came

little bird little bird

A Phoenix he was now. On wings of fire he graced the sky.

Man just stole a feather. That’s how man lies.

There was mystery in her raincoat

The one meant for evening

The shade of tomatoes in full summer sun

Yet in darkness it took on a different hue

One of steam and passion

As if fire was escaping every seam

Thank god it was raining

I sat with the moon by my side

Hanging words on stars

We sang songs to the sun

In laughter unbound

Although the sun hid his swoon

He lets us feel his warm glow

The moon stayed close enough to touch

Close enough to whisper all my secrets

And she whispered back

When night loved day

And day loved night

The moon sang a special tune

The sun he grew bright

But it was in the eclipse

They found the perfect light

I took a long walk

Down this old road

The one that curves left

Then right

And ultimately disappears

If only for a moment

But in that moment

Was it despair or delight?

Feeling lost

No boundaries

Exhilarating

Terrifying

My breath escaping me

Yet my eyes entranced

Partly wanting direction

Mostly needing adventure

Walking slower the further I travel

Enjoying this moment

Time was released

Dusk was coming quick

But I had no worry

My hands explored the new-found foliage

As my heart grew in bounds

My breath returned to me ten-fold

I was never really lost

My heart now found

No map was needed

To find this moment

Just a long walk

An old road

And eyes that could see

What an old soul

Desperately needs

Rivers

Rivers flow

Through green meadow

Looking for a heart

It wasn’t lost merely misplaced

Where did it land?

Where does it flow?

Where is this man

He holds it in his breast pocket

I gave it to him but a moment ago

When he gave me his smile

As he ran out the door

I was to chase him

But I know not where to seek

I land in the green meadow

Of his smile I reek

I am sure he will find me

For my heart has a home

Its within his smile

No need to roam

I have been tainted

By the colors

Yes, tainted not painted

That would be preferred

That could be removed

But you stole ink

It wasn’t yours

Poured it down my throat

Till all the color

Bled black

Black

Tainted

In stolen words

I would prefer to be painted

An imperfect rainbow would do

Even a shade of grey

But tainted

And bled from a black heart

That was the extent of it