The Poetry Marathon

In Bitter Darkness

In bitter darkness dwells a troubled mind.
While longing for a true love to adore,
Deep loneliness is all that it can find.

Sweet fantasies play brief and then rewind,
Deep midnight dreams upon a rocky shore,
In bitter darkness dwells a troubled mind.

The darkling madness never far behind,
Like rotten fruit, ebony at its core,
Deep loneliness is all that it can find.

Pain floats like foam upon the churning brine;
Emotions on a sea without support,
In bitter darkness dwells a troubled mind.

Magnetically, anger becomes aligned
With memories, strewn vast upon the floor,
Deep loneliness is all that it can find.

To bitter fate, its soul becomes resigned;
Blindly slamming shut the iron door,
In bitter darkness dwells a troubled mind,
Deep loneliness is all that it can find.

A Special Place

There is a place where dreams can all be found;
Hope and despair both dwell within its walls.
Enduring fear screams loud without a sound,
Love is alive inside its magic halls,
In fact, in here, the world’s not always round.

Brave heroes can be found here by the score
Race cars and rocket-ships are all here too
And visiting is free, through open doors,
Reading is encouraged – that’s one clue –
You could just read the letters down for more.

The Night is for Sleeping

“Come to my window tonight.”
These were her words.
An invitation offered,
But declined.

The night is for sleeping.

She laughed the first time,
Then cried at the second.
By three she was angry;
There was no fourth.

The night is for sleeping.

Was I wrong?
Maybe but I prefer
To find out in the daylight.
After all,

The night is for sleeping.

Dear Monster

Dear Monster Girl, let nothing hold you back;
with hard work, you can realize your dreams.
Sometimes the best defense is to attack,
and many times you’ll paddle hard upstream.

True love’s a mystery (a well known fact).
Remember human hearts are not machines
and broken hearts are actually still intact,
so please, don’t let another steal that gleam.

Try not to let regret invade your soul –
a bigger waste of time you’ll never know.
When life throws you a curve, just tuck and roll,
and if your muse calls to you, you follow.

My love is yours, if life is good or bad,
I’m always here for you. I love you, Dad.

The Places You Can Go

The strangest sight you ever saw
Was on Main Street today
It made the people stop and stare
And not know what to say.

Parading her way though the town
Was little Nora Knox
Marching with a big black bear,
And following a fox.

They marched across the city park,
Right past the candy shop,
And when they reached the library,
Nora yelled out “STOP!”

The marched in place, the fox and bear,
With Nora smiling wide.
When Miss Mung the librarian
Peeked out, they went inside.

Nora stepped out all alone
And gave us all a look,
“To have adventures just like mine,
Come in and grab a book!”

Welcome Back Home

‘Welcome Back Home’ exclaims the sign that hangs above the door.
The house sits darkly mocking me, as I stand in the street.
Twelve years at least since I was here; it feels like it’s been more;
I feel the old familiar rage begin to build, so sweet.

The house sits blindly brooding here, amid the cracked concrete.
“Of course, there can be no sign here,” I tell myself once more,
“There’s no one left here anyway, for this foul meet and greet.”
‘Welcome Back Home’ exclaims the sign that hangs above the door.

The doctors warned me not to come, I guess they knew the score.
I try to move, but just stand here – I’m frozen on my feet.
I hear incessant laughter now, and know I must explore;
The house sits darkly mocking me, as I stand in the street.

I tread the path most forcefully; there will be no retreat!
My fingers tremble shakily as I reach for the door.
It opens wide as if to say “Come get a bite to eat!”
Twelve years at least since I was here; it feels like it’s been more.

Stepping through the portal, I am rocked right to my core;
The door slams shut behind me and I feel desirous heat.
Now from the walls the voices start, and hate begins to pour.
I feel the old familiar rage begin to build, so sweet.

As memories of death return, I start to feel complete.
I’ve spent twelve years forgetting, now it’s time to recall more.
The memories of blood and pain bring a smile of conceit
I know now why it waited, and it need wait no more.

‘Welcome Back Home’

The Heart of a Hunter

Proud feline heritage
in a very tiny package.

She stalks the moth as if it were her dinner;
catching it, she spits it out and mewls.

Her need for love is balanced
by her desire to be ferocious,
and every cuddle session
can become a pouncing war.

Raised with dogs, she knows no fear,
but when you only weigh two pounds,
it’s easy to get hurt.

Someday she’ll be a tiger,
if only in her dreams.

First Kiss

I floated home on clouds the day we met;
that first great kiss changed everything and more.
My life was full of “Haven’t done that yet,”
(I’d never tasted someone’s tongue before).

That first great kiss changed everything and more;
you taught me what it was to fall in love.
I’d never tasted someone’s tongue before,
but kissing, for you, just wasn’t enough.

You taught me what it was to fall in love.
My virgin hands were unsure what to do,
but kissing, for you, just wasn’t enough.
You made me want to learn the rest from you.

My virgin hands were unsure what to do –
my life was full of “Haven’t done that yet.”
You made me want to learn the rest from you;
I floated home on clouds the day we met.

Within The Silver Glass

Within the silver glass I spy
the mask I wear, this perfect lie.
A happy face, but it’s not me.
I show them what they want to see
while deep inside I slowly die.

I cannot let them see me cry,
so I just smile and wave goodbye
then check for signs of pain, set free
within the silver glass.

“With broken wings I’ll never fly.”
I turn away and softly sigh.
My world consists of tragedy;
a scream that echoes silently.
The fools can’t see, it is not I
within the silver glass.

The Hidden Heart

I look around me every day and marvel at the thought
That everyone you’ve ever met is riding a thin line.
The big and small, the old and young, the ugly and the hot,
We all live out our human lives one heartbeat at a time.

A hundred thousand times each day, our hearts constrict with force,
An organic hydraulic pump designed in such a way,
That sixty thousand miles of tubes are laid out on it’s course
And blood is sent to each of them and ushered on its way.

An engineering marvel lives in every human breast,
yet sometimes we must help it out, for blood is tricky stuff.
Through history the heart attack has stilled many a chest,
But doctors with balloons and stents have helped to make us tough.

So be aware the pulse you feel or hear “lub-dub” away,
Is there because your sleepless heart’s on duty night and day.