The Poetry Marathon

to be stewards of this planet and her inhabitants…

of easy wind and downy flake[1]
that is my hope for our world’s sake
to face a winter we can take
and in its promise, a future make

where all the words that glitter, are gold;
no need for goods to be bought and sold.
where we move beyond rules and states of old
and in our hands gather the gifts of this globe –

to hold each other, no matter our colour
to raise up our hearts, not flags, as honour
to listen and hear the earth’s faintest murmur
so that we can protect our greatest curator

to be stewards of this planet and her inhabitants

[1] From Robert Frost’s poem, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening

and the waters run deeply

the price of meat and milk is skyrocketing,
partly due to images that still haunt my sleep—
the cattle paddling frantically, eyes swollen
like bulbous fish, their panic palpable, even
through the tv screen. the smoky grey fraser
becoming a lake, consuming the valley

and the dreams of farmers, still drowning,
though the waters have now receded. a cold
dampness sits in our hearts as we reel
from the past two years of sequestering
from one other. how easy to pass along this
crowned pestilence. how easy to let feelings

of hatred and anger fester and then pass them
onto others through memes and eighty-word
posts. how easy to vacation and suntan and
drink from coconuts with small umbrellas
while across the continents an unjust war
rages. how easy to turn our eyes away from

the truth and let our bonds fray and unravel.
perhaps the waters rose to help us cleanse.
maybe we have to drown in our own backyards
before we can surface and make a clear path
forward. the water flows from the shower head
and warms my neck. shouldn’t we be glad for this?

So I just used the Random Prompt button and this came up:
From the 2015 Poetry Marathon
Prompt for Hour Nine
Set a timer. Write whatever comes in to your head for 5 minutes as fast as you can. Don’t delete anything you type, and don’t bother to spell check. It is all about getting the words down on the paper.

After the 5 minutes are up start editing what you have. Feel free to cut and add material as needed. Try to spend at least 15 minutes, if not longer, editing the piece.

I love how this prompt gives us space to create, such a big part of the Poetry Marathon, but how it also reminds us that editing is an equal part of the process. Though we have little time during the contest, I do try to edit each poem every hour before pressing send (if time allows) and then I return to edit my work before submitting to the anthology. During the hour, when finished a poem, I often stretch, get some fresh air, refill my water or brew some tea and then return to the piece I just wrote and change the font and colour so that it looks different on the page. It is amazing what I notice that I didn’t see before, so I can make the poem stronger!

Hello to all the wonderful participants from around the globe! Happy to be creating alongside you tomorrow! Remember to let the process just happen and the words will flow! Enjoy the day! Just prepping for tomorrow with one more practice poem from the handy Random Prompt generator on the main page and then I will use the Random Poem button to read the work of other poets over the past years to get me motivated and be inspired! I am participating in the half-marathon, so I added this same message there to see that I have got my settings reading for posting! ‘See’ you soon! #Poets

One of the things that sustained me through the pandemic was knowing there was a community of poets worldwide, sharing their dreams and their words of hope. The Poetry Marathon brings people together and helps us to create beautiful and poignant words that uplift and connect us. I am happy to be participating again this year in the Half Marathon. As always, I begin preparing ahead of time by baking so I have snacks during the day, by practicing, using the random prompt generator on the main page and by clearing my schedule for the day so I have the time to write freely. Wishing everyone good luck as we meet together on June 25th!

Ode to Signs

Cancer caused me to take stock of my
soul: discover what was missing…
Gave myself permission to
dream in poetry. See
my life in stanzas,
rhyming couplets;
lyrical
love of
words.

(Cristy Watson, 2021)

For How Long?

Pricked by the needle of a pandemic,
society sequestered – periwinkle
skies above each skyscraper, like
salient exclamation marks, signalling
just how much our air needed purifying

Fewer cars, to none, meant the earth
could inhale, could beat her heart loudly –
could watch the cloud of consumption
dissipate, if only for a moment

To spread her mountain wings in their full
glory, and holler to the seas and back again:
“I am here!”

But how long will we listen?
How long will we see?
How long will we care?

(Cristy Watson, 2021)

New Year’s Day, 2021

Still sequestered
no hope on the horizon –
like living in the Yukon
in the deep of winter

night bleeds into days
and days
and days

two
hundred
and
seventy
five
days

of zooming into other
people’s homes –
virtual embraces

outside –
the half-masked smiles
of strangers

sanity, barely threading
its way through our minds
barely hanging on
barely breathing

but

July promises possibilities,
a summer festival –
a veritable feast for those
hungry for contact

forage on from the
summer solstice
of the Yukon’s
midnight sun –
banish darkness
to the outer realms

touch hope
again, and again
and again
to be sure
it’s real

‘Should old acquaintance be forgot
and never brought to mind…’

(Cristy Watson, 2021)