The Poetry Marathon

Vows made at the altar years before

promises created around rings they wear

a couple together through their golden years

through sickness and in health

they still hold hands

losing children to drug addictions, mental illness and loss

their bond has been tested to its core

they kiss, hug, love

they still hold hands

grey hair, wrinkles, heart attacks, strokes

they still hold hands

anniversaries, birthdays, reunions

hearing loss, blindness, Alzheimer’s, dementia

they still hold hands

There I sit in the middle of the room

remember Montauk two weeks ago.

Quiet and empty like this room

just me, my towel, sunscreen, and my chair.

Then company arrived of an unexpected kind.

Seeing water shooting up from the wakes

spurts of ocean spray above the waves,

there were no boats or barges.

The Atlantic Ocean, a giant fish tank

for the largest mammals of the sea.

This school of whales became my company.

Whales washed up dead along Long Island beach shores in recent days,

struck by boats or confused by sounds

from windmills placed inside their homes.

Not here by Ocean Vista’s desolate beach

seagulls and plovers dip in and out of tides

as spouts like sprinklers spray up like fire hoses.

Huge fins appear like they’re dancing on shimmery waves with the reflective surface of sunlight.

This welcome calmness of an empty space reminisces me back to a Montauk moment.

She stares at an empty wall

visions a ladder lifting her up,

overcome a battle she’s facing.

In Junior High, Jeanine teased

and bullied me to impress friends

until her older cousin asked her to stop.

By Senior year of high school she left

became unimpressive, bullied by her own circumstances.

Jeanine was pregnant.

Now on the receiving end

I never smirked or smiled

at the karma of 1992.

We became acquaintances

in adulthood.

I held her place in line

at Sam Goody

so she could grab one

more record.

I told Jeanine about my job’s

Annual Chinese Auction.

A glow in her eyes

each year winning baskets.

On Facebook she showcased her daughter

with pictures of their resemblance to one another.

Never the son she gave up over thirty years ago.

Standing in MOMA she stares at a bare white wall,

sees the ladder to carry her as she battles cancer for a second time.

Instead of karma, tell Jeanine she’s got this even if life is uncertain

because dark corners

need to see brightness of possibilities

as she embraces a fight with chemo.

“The past draped about us like a cloak.” Diana Khoi Nguyen

I don’t want to fall out of love with you.

A chapter of my life

I don’t want to end.

It’s over

you’re gone

and all I have is this empty page.

My emotions spill across these lines

like blood spewing.

Ooze out my metaphors

as my heart races.

With a syringe of similes

I can express my secret crush

now public.

Your body now disintegrates

inside a box in the ground,

but your spirit is everywhere.

I wake and vision your face

deep eyes and thick hair.

Closing my eyes

hear the sound of your voice

raspy fresh as this morning’s dew.

I don’t want to fall out of love with you.

This letting go chokes me,

I resist tears.

The hardest part of greatness

is it’s ending.

The most difficult ending

is said without a goodbye.

How do I edit my profile pic? When I hit edit profile nothing comes up?

Stardust brought you into my life

on a warm September day.

Hope was the future

I’d see and speak to you again.

Cheese was Italian food,

I tasted, bought, and loved

because of you.

Shoes walked me and put me inside my car

to drive by to catch

a glimpse of you.

Sleep is what you do now

forever.

One day you’ll come visit me

inside my dreams.

Now as a movie ends,

it fades to a black screen.

The music begins

as the names and titles

scroll upwards.

Listening to the music

in silence I’d read

through in search of you.

Those I’s and O’s that

spelled out your name.

The reward in finding it

among the many hundreds before you.

Now you no longer appear,

like a fragment of time

of imagination.

I remember you every morning I wake

look at your pictures and videos

left on your social media.

Endings good and bad are never easy.

You’re a movie I didn’t want to end.

She makes me feel good

seeing butterflies.

Belief that are unexpected blessings

from God.

We should show gratitude

being alive.

She played an angel on television,

some believe she really is one.

Tenderness is her soft whiskers against my skin,

precious is her nose near mine,

She sits as I open two books

read a chapter from each.

Her kisses start my day.

Seagulls overhead

waves crash in the distance

umbrellas as colorful as striped beach balls

bikinis speedos

kites soar in the distance

looking further I see a barge ship,

wonder its cargo.

Sunny Isles has the bluest water

I’ve ever seen,

now New York beaches

look dirty and not as attractive.