The Poetry Marathon

How can I give you truth

When I don’t understand the question

Or myself

Or this rotten, toxic world

Truth scares me

Truth eats at me

Truth makes me want to vomit

If I give you truth

You will just reject it anyway

So I sit here

Wallowing in facts

Wasting words no one will read

Wondering how to tell you the truth

Answering your questions

That make no sense

Spilling my truth all over the place

My brain scampers

I drift in and out of consciousness

How many poems

Are written half asleep

Or half aware

My brain swirls

Dancing with words

Little partners

That drift in and out

Of my private seduction

My brain tries to focus

I am at it’s mercy

It drifts, sways, swirls

It scampers

It seduces

I am at the mercy of the poem

The sun is not quite ready to come up

The world is black

I hear the ocean out my window

I cannot see it

I trust the sound

It is soft, rolling, waning

Not tumultuous

Not violent

Just lazy, constant

The birds aren’t up yet

Except the one lone rooster

Somewhere

Breaking the quiet

The neighbors sleep

My husband makes old man noises

As he rustles about

The cat forages for food

His full bowl unsatisfactory

I type lonely words onto a blank screen

The joy of unseen things

And poetry

Congratulations

Its a poem

24 of them actually

Its a time for words

Phrases

Tumble down terror

I shall write

I shall eat

I shall poet

I shall bring these little snippets

Into the world

This cold harsh world

I shall pull it out

I shall put it down

I shall offer it up

I will slap it silly

Slimy, brilliant

Bold and brittle

Congratulations

Its a poem

23 more to go

Hi all. Decided I should make a quick test to make sure WordPress isn’t going to be weird. Looking forward to the weekend!

I have been blessed

Words have been my friends

They have taken me on journeys

Helped me solve my problems

They have served me

Insulted me

Carried me into the clouds

The words are my gifts

I rearrange them and give them back

I call myself writer

My tools are the simplest of all

I have found my place

I have found my story

I have offered myself

To the power of words

Every grateful I heeded the call

I am what is left of your inner strength

Your late hour motivational therapist

My name is Margaret, Maggie for short

I live on the bridge of your nose

I walk up and down, eyes to mouth

Searching for ways to keep you going

I would like to recommend some yoga

Maybe pushups, Sit ups perhaps

When was the last time you walked?

I know the answer to that

We need to talk about that too.

Write this thing already.

This and one more hour

Leave the junk-food alone

Keep your eyes open

Stay motivated to complete the task at hand

There will be rewards

Not the physical ones you like

Inner ones

Ones that will keep you strong

Don’t throw that pillow at me

We will do this, we are doing this

One word on top of another

Fit them, stack them

make them bleed

That’s the way

Poem, poem, poem

Now doesn’t that feel better?

Hour 22

Where intelligence goes to die

Words don’t make sense

What are words?

A poem? You want a poem?

You don’t want anything coherent I’m sure

I am here, I am typing

I am drifting in and out of consciousness

I cannot spell, I cannot think

I cannot conceive of why I agree to this

Year after year

I am older

Weaker

I have chemo brain

But I keep typing

One word after another

A sentence is our friend

Beat it brilliance

We can’t do that here

Disjointed

Disillusioned

Discombooberated

I am sleep deprived

Word weary

I speak gibberish now

There is only one place

I want to be

My cozy bed

With soft sheets

And plump pillow

My jammies on

and my curled up cat at my side

I want to crawl in

Turn off the light

Fluff my pillow

Around my tired head

I want to fall into dreamland

Take my place in the land of Nod

And never write another poem

Candlelight

Shadows flickering

Spirits hover

Drowning the voices of the day

With the laments of the night

Firelight

Flames and shadows dance

The voices in the darkness

Brush my neck

Whispering somber secrets