The Poetry Marathon

just packed up my entire place
cleared out every room
folded it all neatly into brown cardboard boxes
bubble-wrapped every piece of china and all my asian art
tucked it into a giant storage bin
no place in particular
that it needs to be just yet
but i sense that every single thing
is somehow missing me.

Withered from time
I can trace every line
Skin not as supple as when we were kids
But then again, neither is mine
There is a certain tone to her face
That looks like a royal tan
And lays on her cheeks like Ethiopian dust.
She is still that royal heir.
Her laugh lines tell a story
Whether you know her or not.
They say she has smiled a million times,
Easily, the exact same way but
The narrow thin lines at the corner of her eyes make me wonder
About the real pains that she has endured;
About the years she spent down on the farm;
The years that can sometimes bring tears to her eyes-
But still….
She is royalty…..
A queen-
Especially to me.

You keep loving me year after year
No strange veil to shield your eyes
and heart
Just unfailing
Unadulterated love
Over and over again

just write whatever comes out
any words that choose to gather and
find themselves on the page
that rhyme or irritate
that sound pretty or crass
that look good in between the lines
just write.
write for 5 minutes or 10 if you’d like
about mice or men
moats or flies
about rainbows and fairies
or toothpicks and hoes
just write.
don’t think that hard about syntax and prose
about rhythm or syllables at all
just write.
tell stories. tell lies.
be real or fake.
just create whatever you’d like.
and when this exercise in words is said and done
everything ends up
just perfectly right.

we need streamers and balloons
we need paper cups and plates
we need bright plastic forks
don’t forget the knives and spoons
we need cute tablecloths
maybe with flowers and hearts
we need music and favors
we need candy and tarts
everything we need is in this place
let’s just remember
there’s no money to waste.

just one more month
to wait for ten new fingers to be wrapped around two of mine-
for plump little cheeks
and dimpled chin
for burps and poops and spit up all over again-
always worth the wait
worth every second every pain
waiting to be your grandma
so not waiting in vain.

the world awaits you
with arms open wide-
blue skies above and
forest green earth under your feet;
the world is wide open
there’s room for all your frivolous thoughts-
if you can but step through the door to the other side-
someone whose thoughts align with yours
will always be waiting there.

time is money or so they say
so i stay on the grind…..becoming….
9 shows a week where i get to shine
make-up and wardrobe-
hustle then flow-
blocking, then lights-
tech rehearsals all go!
stay on the grind….becoming-
one show to the next
i do what i love-
fly through scripts-
rehearse out loud makes people wonder if you’ve lost your mind-
always becoming…..
peering into the depths of every character’s mind-
step onto the stage and make the audience mine-
always becoming…..
and whoever I am it always becomes me.

there will always be words for you
long after the credits roll and the lights are off
long after the gate is closed and locked;
way after midnight but just before the dew
there will always be words left just for you.

amazing adverbs
nascent nouns
haphazard hyperboles
pretentious prepositions
annoying adverbs
painstaking pronouns
vacuous verbs
i will always have something to say about you.

you are light when darkness begins
you are my joy whenever my sorrow ends,
you are the pick-me-up on my heaviest day-
my constant pursuer, my closest friend-
yes….
i will always have words for you.

i remember going fishing with you
of all the childhood things that I’ve retained-
how you would bait my hook
knowing i would never actually touch a worm
and even though you would growl and bark about most other things
you did that without word or sigh-
then hand me the pole and help me cast it off.
I would wait with baited breath
and though no conversation was ever exchanged
(at least that I can recall)-
there was something just between us that I’ve always held dear.
You would talk to other adults that were near
giving your expertise on any subject
and i would listen-half hearing, half not-
waiting simply for the pole to bend
to show the sign of something caught.
I’d wait for the rush, for the look in your eyes
just for those moments-
though i never ever said it out loud nor under breath-
i was proud that you were my dad.