The Poetry Marathon

I put my hands upon my ears

To block out all the sound.

I couldn’t believe my eyes

At the horror that I found.

I paced around the room

Thought madly what to do

Finally my motion stopped

I needed to decide what was true.

I searched throughout my memory

Was this real or just a dream?

I opened up my listless eyes

“I simply didn’t want to hear her scream.”

Italicized/bolded line taken from:

“I simply didn’t want to hear her scream.”

Black Creek Crossing-John Saul

Beyond the veil of sleepiness,

My eyes they open wide.

I pour myself a cup of coffee

Take the dog outside.

I look around, I listen

To the sounds and sights that I can see

I drowsily smile and stretch my arms

What a beautiful day it will be.

Slowly sipping my coffee

I set up my writing nest

I stumble through feeding the menagerie

Not quite yet feeling my best.

I stop to take a deep breath

Send out a silent plea

Continue my preparations

What a beautiful day it will be.

I sit in contemplation

About the journey about to begin

I think of all the times past

The memories make me grin.

Camaraderie and giddiness

Everyone who is here would agree

A load of anticipation

What a beautiful day it will be.

The time is drawing near

I attempt to gather my thoughts

They scurry around within my mind

My stomach is churning out knots.

I watch the clock and see the time

Silently I give a cheer

The prompt comes up, I now begin

That beautiful day is here!

A sense of accomplishment

Courage in your heart

Reaching the finish line

When you were not sure that you could start.

Faith in what you believe in

Confidence that you will succeed

Humility to admit that you were wrong

Even a touch of greed.

Love that makes your heart explode

Sadness that makes you cry

Happiness that fills your soul

Contentment that causes you to sigh.

So many things are in this life

In the bountiful places in between.

A multitude of feelings

The joy of things unseen.

This morning I opened my eyes.

The end of a crazy year.

Each day when we awaken,

We have been given a gift.

A gift of talent, time, life, and breath

It can give your soul a lift.

Use your gifts wisely

For good and not for bad.

Spread your gifts to others

Make them happy, not sad.

Each gift is something special

Talents are made to share.

Time you need to make the most of

Life and breath, live with flair.

We are only given a certain amount

Of the gifts of which I speak.

Use your own gifts wisely

Using your own special technique.

Imagine, if you will, a tiny little sparkly fairy

If you do, then think of her as I call her, Mary.

Mary likes to flit around and settle on my shoulder

Lacking that, she’ll often sit on an old, lumpy boulder.

Mary and I we like to play, we sing our little songs

Mary is full of mischief, puts things where they don’t belong.

When I am asked by others, why did you put that here?

They don’t understand, it wasn’t me, but Mary has disappeared.

The mist covers the mountain

In colors of pink, silver, and blue

The lazy ripples of the water

Reflecting the mountain too.

I look to the horizon

At the distant silhouettes

Of far off other mountains

I haven’t been there, yet.

Desperate Longing

I long for blessed slumber

The softness of my bed

I long to go to dreamland

And rest my weary head.

I long to snuggle under blankets

Give in to sleep with a sigh

I long to hibernate right now

And close my gritty eyes.

The Streetlamp

The streetlamp it sheds its glow

Across the street from me.

It spreads its light in the darkness

Enables me to see.

The rain it trickles from its top

A misty pretty waterfall.

It drips and falls down to the ground

The sparkles can enthrall.

Thank you streetlamp from my heart

For sharing your bright light.

You help me see in the darkest of times

Even during this forever seeming night.

We gather our wits and utensils

We gather our thoughts gone astray.

We gather together to get through the night

A group of like-minded people

We laugh, we don’t fight.

Instead….we all write.

We write about dreams and foundations

We write about thoughts in our heads.

We write through the night until our eyes cross

Each of us a part of a whole

The prompts we will follow

Even when we feel hollow

We work together to give it all soul.