The Broken Pact (9th hour)

Dear Daddy Long Legs,

Why are you so intrusive?

You have broken the pact

And now you must meet your demise by my hands

The Rules Read:

Don’t cross into the bedroom

Don’t get on the bed

Never stare me down and jump at me with such conviction

But like your many legs

You are full of daring motives

And now your reign of creepiness must be stopped


The woman who wailed Valhalla as she hit you with her shoe

The Disorder (8th hour)

“Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal has ever dared to dream before” (credit goes to Edgar Allan Poe and his poem The Raven)

No longer certain if my thoughts are burden to significant doubting

But they flourish at night when I just might question if I am dreaming

These nightmares in question have become an obsession of my inner dreams

Have I possessed the powers of transgress while my ghost ventures beyond the shores? I say No

My darkest fears hold the shears that tear at my soul, reminding me that I am a mere mortal

Screams escape from my throat as I shoot up and choke upon black feathers, death is imminent as ever

Who placed such dark lace upon my face and bottomless brain…who dared?

And to choose me as a vessel, as an instrument of turmoil, not knowing where next it will send me to

I spring from my bed with visions of the dead still masquerading in my head in a most harrowing dream

Still fully awake, I just cannot contain the feeling that I have dreamt this nightmare before

House of Tarots (7th Hour)

An opaque full moon filled the indigo sky

And the stars stood still with a glorious outcry

Across the crystal lake

Upon benches of wood and twigs

The body of the King laid

Upon oil infused hay and sticks

An arrow of blazing light shot through the night air

Perfected aim found its way into his breastbone

As they all stood like statues of stone in prayer

If only they premonitions of the gypsy were adhered

The King of Pentacles would have been spared

Nail Salon Humor (6th Hour)

Much like beauty all things are beholden to one’s eye

Words that are used to acquire the imagination of one’s wallet are usually lies

Deluxe Pedicure

This description rang out to me like visions of lotus flowers and foot massages of the ages

Alas the power of truth, my salt has been ingrained:

My wallet and my poor state of economy does away with such fancies


My Mistress (5th Hour)

My Mistress has many names given to her by all those that adore her

My Mistress has many children of all shapes, sizes, and color

She is a great teacher and lover to all

Teaching us all how to sing, dance, cast, and cook

She can hop, sway, and swing

Her dances and songs are better than sin

My Mistress knows how to tempt the devil himself into letting loose and roll with the good times

She’s spicy, sweet, full of rhythm and Congo beats

Her recipes call for several measures of magic and the Holy Trinity

Once I landed on this Creole beauty, I knew my eyes will look for no other

When I tasted her, my soul cried out for more

When her trumpets and drums banged against my skin my heart was rooted in

She does not belong to me but I learned to love her selflessly

My body may not have been borne from her flesh but I am kept

My Mistress of Jazz, my Madam of Gumbo, my Duchess of coffee and beignets and Priestess of all things that go bump in the night

My hips sway to your seductions

My soul sings for your trumpets

My spirit is seasoned by your herbs and spices

My blood is now infused by your second line

My Mistress your name rings out to my being

New Orleans you are tantalizing and freeing

The King of Hurt (4th Hour)

She sat motionless…emotionless

As he spun his wheel of lies

Kneeled before her explaining his senselessness

In a moment the clocks stopped and she wanted to die

A Hero in worn tattered garb of misconceptions

Is what she always saw in him

But that was all a part of his inner deceptions

His heart torn long ago, now only a phantom limb

This man incapable of love and empathy

Took this woman to be the entity

that will suffer for all of his discrepancies

Not a word of protest

Dare cross her lips

For fear of losing

What was left of him

The Accusers (3rd hour)

I donned on my black boots readying myself for war

Tied my hair into knots with twigs and rope

Placing my hands upon the dirt and vowing whispers to my sisters

I will awaken with thee

And open a path of serenity

So mote it be

Floating around a crowd filled demonious hatred, pointing and shouting at me

Stating that my kind is the one in pact with the evil one

While they drown and burn us due to their sanctimonious irony

As I approach the platform they spit upon me

The rope passes my crown and fastened tight upon my neck

The face of God appears to me as she whispers that the Devil drives their souls

Leaving me with my last words before I am hung

Forgive them, for they do not know






An Old Tale (2nd Hour)

Silence is golden

only when spoken

With our hands intertwined

And your lips pressed against mine

But you no longer speak

And I no longer feel you breathe

This calm you protrude has me at unease

You are dark and mute as a grave

Cold and callous as a stone bed

This solemn silence is not ever what we craved

Once at your feet, the grass is now above your head

And this bitter suffering solace

Is because of Death

Like a thief in the night

It has stolen your glances

It has ripped your arms away from mine

Stolen your soul, left you cold and danced its dance upon our chances

This murderous divine will

Incapable of any accord

Had a mission to fulfill

And left me in an inconsolable forlorn

To feel your light brighten my life, once more

Goddess of the Seas (first hour)

Her senses are tied to the roots of the trees

She sways her hips like that of the rolling waters

Her body illuminates the darkness that envelopes me

As I float there in the frozen waters, I watch as she pulls the moon closer to the terra and listen to her stormy songs of the night sea

Every creature of flight, every cricket, every grasshopper and frog adhere to her serenade and sing along in glorious harmony

I fall low into the depths of their song, my body lets go as I sink deeper into the dark blue sea

This mother of Earth, this Goddess of the lake with her golden robes and indigo feathers reaches out to me

Her arms reaches for mine, as we touch I am struck with the strength of my sisters, thousands, pulling me up and out from my briny deep

I was submerged with all of mine and the world’s icy cold tears

Drowning within all of the lands’ murky fears

But this Goddess of the Sea, my sister in arms, with all of her Earthly possessions saved me from inner harm

She gifted me her force

She gifted me her songs

She gifted me her beauty

…her form…her intense silence of the night

Her cries became my cries

Her tears are my sacred waters

Inherently, I am she

the Goddess of the Earthly Seas




Hi Everyone,

My name is Jessica Brynarsky and this is my very first time in participating in the Poetry Marathon. I am quite excited about it and nervous all at once. But I believe that this will help me to finally do some heavy writing. Setting aside time and some quite space is going to be extremely helpful for me. I have several fruits on hand, some protein bars and protein shakes available and my writing desk cleared off of distractions. I have warned several family members & friends that I am going to be unavailable to them for a full day. I have a couple of my own word prompts at the ready and I’ll be writing my stuff via pen and paper and then posting later and sometimes typing on my laptop. Good luck everyone. Here goes everything…

1 3 4 5