The Poetry Marathon

if i allow you access to my all
then where would i go once you
have consumed me?
when you have eaten all the flesh off
of these muted bones
and sucked every ounce of breath
from these stagnant lungs?
who would i run to for air in the middle of the night?
who would sing me lullabyes while my head gently explodes?
if i allow you access to my all
then where would i go once you have consumed me?

stretching
kicking
feeling his way through
yet untouched by human hands
but dirty still
born and shaped in iniquity
yearning to be born
then born again

lots of love everywhere
some love there
a few pieces over here
but everywhere there is love

hiding in the tall grass and under rocks
flowing through the rivers and streams
surrounding us in trees and hills

God has graciously capped off the earth
with wondrous clouds overhead
reminding us that we are loved

poem#5
this old house

I used to know every crack in this old house
the way the basement floor felt on my bare feet in the winter
and how the bathroom stayed so cold
the flashbacks of us piled up on the stairs
so that we could all fit in the pictures

lots of memories of family dinners
and how the smell of breakfast waffled through this house
on saturday mornings
just mindful recollections now
as boxes line the walls
as pictures and mirrors come down
and furniture sold

a sort of ending
a sort of beginning again
all just phases in the end

poem#4
why didn’t I love you enough?

pushed past the hurt
pushed past the lies
saw an empty soul catching on fire
why didn’t I love you enough?

came out of the darkness
gave him all my light
exchanged a perfect fit for irregular
why, didn’t I love you enough?

you turned a deaf ear
when I needed you most
left me in tears, alone and hurt
why, didn’t I love you enough?

now I see what I feared so I stare at this same face
this me looking back in the mirror
and I’m asking the same question again
why didn’t I love YOU enough?

poem#3

truth and discovery
we are all just pushing along-
struggling to be deliberate and independent,
determined to find joy where we can-
love in any form;
trust more,
hate less-
hope for satisfaction in what life has to offer;
making every effort to be grateful
to not complain-
to be accepting of all men
not be judgemental
not too loud
to stay woke and yet
get enough rest when our minds are tired
bodies stressed out.
here we all are
going along blindly
but claiming purpose
hoping for some sign-
some gift-
some light-
some brilliant epiphany-
when all we can really do
any one of us
is just be the best you that you can be.

poem #2
yearning for you

we reached for the paper cup at the same time
our hands slightly brushing against each other
nicely apologizing
I noticed your full smile right away
smooth brown skin and full lips and I smiled too

then several minutes later we were easily conversing
I remember picking up a fork but not really needing it at all
and realizing quickly that I was spun-
mindlessly letting the world fade away
while I stood lost in your eyes.

what is happening? I thought to myself
but the wave had begun.
now so many years later, I realize it can still engulf me-
that wave of yearning
fall over me like chocolate explodes in my mouth-
takes me instantly to some happy place in my head,
my heart-
my soul;
no matter how hard I tried, I could never quite fully
wash away the yearning for you.

the elements of you

you grew me from a seed
and with kind words, soft touches, smiles and casual conversations
I sprouted out of the earth
out of love’s good soil

you watered me with may showers and warm baths
and walks in the rain
and my heart ignited like wild fires in a dry brush

your words carried me like dust in the wind
allowed me to see things in my mind’s eye
that I didn’t have vision for before you came along

now-
dry once again,
I am desperate to be submerged in black earth-
thirsty for your cooling rain-
hard pressed for the fire that only you can bring
I am waiting for the wind of your love
to blow again

what sweet victory do my eyes behold?
the sweetest story ever told;
how strangers came from every hand-
and wrote themselves a promised land;
and tainted not one single sound
but did indeed make love abound.
then in the final hour, spent-
gave their souls to words without repent;
and as their eyes did sleep pursue-
their brains turned off, just to renew-
to come back strong some other day-
to the poetry marathon and have their say.

don’t know if this can last
if there is enough to spread across the pages
until a love story suddenly emerges
you have been quite masterful
the way you weave in and out of lives
like some magical houdini
and every woman seems to hang onto your every word
like you were e.f. hutton himself
but i scratch my head trying to see what they see
and while i must admit
you are quite charming
i see the fear in your eyes
and how the insecurity crops up in the tone of your voice
anytime the conversation shifts to real
and the part of me that enjoys a good challenge
always jumps to ignite
but the part of me that lives in reality
is very doubtful
that this fire will ever light.