The Poetry Marathon

it’s all spread out before me

Earth

His footstool

Skies

His Glory

these places I thought I travelled alone

pathways I’ve forged

seas I’ve crossed

the wilderness that tried to claim me…

but He saw it all

He shows me

the limitlessness

of His Kingdom

He tells me

I have access to it all

fingers laced with His

I rest there

my Bridegroom

gives me everything

and I give Him all of me in return

The Gift of Time

Here’s this…oddly familiar cash box,

the sort you use for a yard sale or craft show,

I’ve just dug out of the ground where the roses are strangled.

To say the previous homeowner had a green thumb would be a lie,

so it would also be a lie for me to say

I’m not confused by this cash box,

Which has my initials on it.

I’m tempted to stand here

at the kitchen counter with my brow knit with confusion,

drinking a glass of clover and mint tea

while the tiniest fingertips of fear creep up my spine,

but curiosity is killing me.

Strange, the key to the cash box in the garage is the same…

How in the world…

Did my Aunt Marguerite’s bible end up in here?

I lost that sixteen years ago.

And who took these pictures of me

at age fourteen sitting in the café on the mall in Cape May?

Or this picture of me

reading a book on a Lake Michigan beach when I was twenty?

Where did they get this ring I lost when my ex-husband left that one time?

Or this gold and sapphire bracelet I found at St Alban’s and lost again in Elephant and Castle?

This…is a monogrammed handkerchief my Nan gave me

when I was eight…I cried a lot back then.

What’s most confusing is this envelope full of pictures…of this young man who never seems to age.

He takes a frightful amount of selfies…

He’s got lovely handwriting, though.

Wait, that’s me again.

This was taken yesterday at the eye doctor.

How in the world…?

I hope this notecard gives me some sort of identification the police can use to find this stalker.

Dear Gusha,

You were ninety four years old when I was born.

It was a pretty big deal because you couldn’t see what I looked like;

mom always said that made you incredibly sad.

And I remember describing things to you,

and you telling me about the world before you lost your eyesight.

You always told me anything was possible;

that I could rule and reign over time and space if I set my mind to it.

So, I have, as you’ve guessed by now.

And I’ve collected these things for you, precious things you lost.

I know how much you hate selfies, but I took some with you

so you could see who I am

and how I set my mind to

rule and reign over time and space.

You will be happy in this house…and use this box to leave a time capsule with my dad.

Thanks for everything, Gusha,

Asher

Oh! Canada…

We used to sing with ramrod straight backs and serious brows

of the glorious crown of her majesty

while my friends disappeared in the night.

“All for the glory of God and country…,” we were told.

And yet…

the Spirit flowing through me

couldn’t find peace with it,

wouldn’t settle for a religion that

strangled relationship and fed on the purest of the pure.

Insidious things pranced about in the daytime

so proud

so wicked

blinded by arrogance and insatiable want of power.

Sure they thrived under the cloak of deception.

And yet…

the Saviour walking with me

wouldn’t abandon me to their hands,

couldn’t stand the darkness of their hearts

as He embraced the lost ones to His bosom.

Weeping splits the atmosphere.

Sorrow reaches the Throne room

the blood in the ground has cried out

and Justice is dispatched

in a timing so perfect I can not know it,

but my jubilee gift, the most perfect, splendid present…

True Light pierces the darkness

false light has layered before us for the last thousand years…

Lost little ones found,

Truth like a banner of vindication stretches across the land.

My spirit and my soul rejoice

at this most glorious Round Dance before me.

Beautiful faces in the Cloud

names only Justice has known

languages long thought dead…

all these years they have been safe on the lap of Heaven.

Still, 10-year-old me thinks back to the last page

And I finally understand;

“‘God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world,’ whispered Anne softly.”

Coffee and Change

I’ll have a super European sounding large

half-caf, double oat milk

with a raspberry syrup shot – make that two –

white chocolate and raspberry syrup alternately drizzled down the sides,

so I can see them through the clear plastic single-use cup,

with triple foam

and an extra shot of raspberry drizzled on top

spelling out “Amelia Bloomer” – in cursive –

with a raspberry dotting the “I”.

And I need it quickly

so I can avoid having to take the Northbound #8 in fifteen minutes

when it gets too crowded.

And I’d like that extra hot

so when I eventually

get to the bottom

of the cup, it’s not too cold

to drink.

Maybe the guy over there should do it.

You always get it wrong

and I end up tossing

half of it out because

it’s all syrupy and gross by the time

my lunch break rolls around.

Then I’m wasting my $6.47 again and my day is ruined.

Oh, and I’d like to pay it forward;

a small regular

for anyone who comes in and

looks like they can’t afford it.

Can you break a fifty this early in the morning?

I take in the fragrance of

my Lover

as He steps across time and space.

Drawing closer…

Kicking cornerstones out of His path,

clearing debris from the battlefield,

removing so much death and decay,

serving notice to any lingering enemy.

His movements are sure.

He communicates with the chaos around me

With a vibration,

All the time His eyes set on me.

The way is clear, but Oh! I want more.

I am demanding,

never satisfied.

He smiles at this,

His eyes are full of fire and delight;

a look, a shimmer, that my enemies dread.

I know now that look is only for me

Which terrifies them to their core.

This last whitewashed wall

insolently stands between my lover and me,

and even though I built this false refuge

with clay and rubbish and hair…

it’s become too great for me to raze myself.

The wings of this last prince jut out from the wall

a fly caught in a web.

As my Lover speaks,

just one frequency, one word,

this last prince shrieks something I will never understand

as he crumbles with the wall.

There is no dust, no pebble left;

my Lover completes the task.

He stands before me like fire and water all at once

His fragrance fills my senses.

Though I am filthy He never sees it

He only smiles and takes my hand, leading me

To the garden now overtaking this battlefield.

The windows of Heaven

are open to me,

as I lay down to rest I see them.

He points to each one and tells me what’s inside

and I realise they’ve been open to me the entire time.

He’s been waiting to show this to me

while I have been struggling through an apocalypse

to find true refuge.

Hello, friends!  I’m just making a test post to be sure I’ve sorted things out.

So very excited for this year’s marathon.  This is going to be wonderful!

Hello everyone! I’m a bit nervous looking at some of your accomplishments, but I know we’re all here for the same reason. We love words. We love poetry. Keeping that in mind, I’m becoming less intimidated and more excited as the day draws closer.

So, a little about me… Currently, I’m living in Oklahoma City. We returned here from my little country home in NW PA due to Covid. I’m a mom of four and a grandmother of six who has been writing since I was nine years old. Poetry helped me survive many things, and I now use it with my children and grandchildren. I’m finally completing my BA in English and Creative Writing and have begun to teach workshops and coach writers. There’s just so much to writing, it’s impossible to cover it all!