The Poetry Marathon

Observed at preschool:

Four children play “House” together

In the wooden and plastic “House” designated corner of the classroom

Of the littlest students with the brightest of futures.

‘Mom’ sits at the round wooden table, looking at the plastic toy cell phone.

‘Dad’ sits on the bench (named “the couch”), watching a plastic TV.

‘Child’s head is in the little wooden refrigerator as he looks at wooden food.

‘Baby’ crawls on the carpet and ‘cries’ as his role dictates.

No one speaks, listens or pays attention.

Yesterday

Or maybe the day before

That email from you

SHIFTED

What is important to me

To what is important to you.

I can see it in your face!

I can hear it in the words you use:

Poweless; helpless; hopeless; disgraced.

Unsolicited ranting

Viewing yourself through distorted perceptions.

Blaming others for your hurt.

Downshifts my mood

This happens every time there is a break – don’t you see that?

I know I’m emotional.  That’s not the point!

I need someone else to say it for me and to have my back.

Dramatic ultimatums

When your circular thinking

I’m a victim; I’m not!

Becomes my own.

Before darkness creeps into the garden,

Before the mosquitos begin to dine,

We settle into our lounge chairs,

To breathe and enjoy the time.

Fragrant bouquets of summer,

Mix with the nearby herbs.

Sounds of children laughing,

Playing undisturbed.

Leaf-filtered sunset hues,

Cloudless blue above,

Frame the guilded birds in flight,

Singing songs of love.

Entwining fingers, holding hands,

Love connects and courses through.

As the twilight turns into night,

The day lives past its due.

For God’s sake, why are you so sad?

It’s 10 o’clock in the morning!

Did you hear what I said?

My head is filled with words to sort out.

I need time to hear you and to understand.

Likes, tries, attempts

Turn into patterns, routines and ruts.

Don’t say it; I already know the words you will use.

You’ve used them in a previous life –

Over and over like the needle that bumps the end of the record.

The song is done.

Do the words mean something different in our 25th, 26th 28th year?

We speak from separate places and hear from separate rooms.

Past hurts are louder than your smile.

Pen to paper,

It begins.

Words flow.

Mind seeks.

Doodles sprout.

Perfected phrase

And rhythm found.

The marathon begins.

The blank pages

End.

Hello! My name is Laurie McKay. I have 5 brothers and 4 sisters. My mother is 92 this year. My dad, two brothers and one sister have passed. After a tremultuous and promiscuous era in my 20’s, I was fortunate to find my soul mate and I married him. We have a blended family: John’s older son is the center of the universe; my daughter is the Princess of the family; and John’s younger son is the Golden Child.

My bread and butter job is as a special education supervisor. I am in my 33rd year of working in special education, and I couldn’t imagine my life without this vocation.

I have enjoyed writing as long as I can remember. The writer’s bug really made its home in my heart about six years ago when I unsuccessfully attempted my first novel through the NaNoWriMo contest. Since then, I have written two novels that need serious editing and revision work.

Last year, I signed up for the poetry marathon and successfully met my goal of 24 poems in 24 hours. This opportunity catapulted me into a fantastic world of poetry! I joined the Some Poets group. We have one anthology and two chapbooks self-published.

Some Poets challenges and encourages me to write better each and every time I write. I plan to continue to write and to seek publishing when I retire. I am so grateful to Caitlin and Jacobs Jan’s for being the catalyst that had allowed me to develop my writing talents.

Sleep on a silver-lined cloud.
I relax against John’s back.

Fall asleep facing that way. After I fall asleep, we can move.
Staying awake from snoring is possible.

Bandit climbs his stairs to my cloud. He noses his way under the covers and presses into my lower back.

Growling and barking if anyone moves to disturb his sleep.

Breathing yoga breaths, falling into my cocoon of floating clouds, I dream and still renewing and nourishing my mind before waking early.

Endurance and fortitude
Tested by the hour, on the hour.
Body aches. Bleared-eyed
Sleep deprived thoughts drop on infertile soil
Sounding judgemental , I am not.
Not my best work, but I did it.
Some of the poems are close to my worst work.
Gained more than I’ve lost. Learned some new, applying it where I could.

The end is in sight!

There once was a good boy from Japan.

He wanted to grow up to be a man.

He was kind and strong.

Knowing right from wrong.

By his wife, he was loved all life long.

Surrounded by worried, exhausted love, she comes in the world.
She’s calm and wide-eyed.
I love her realness.
She looks at me expectantly, trustingly.
I want to hold her close.
Already I feel the loss.
We are now separate, no longer dependent on us.

It isn’t long before they take her away.
Mostly happy, guilt and judgment are gnawing at the first minutes of my motherhood. Did I need to check fingers and toes, I wonder.
Is this a concern a trial for new mothership? They judge and criticize.
The few minutes take hours to endure. In my room our room , sleeping in her plastic bed.
I cuddle her and she keeps sleeping. I make a point of looking at her fingers and toes in front of the nurse. I really want the all clear on that test.
I have a physical craving for her to open her eyes and look at me again. We connect visually, telepathically, spiritually.
I accept she needs sleep, as do I.
Love too much, too deep and so very worth it.