The Poetry Marathon

A hard-edge helium balloon,

Home alone, flying soon.

Independent at eighteen,

A no crown queen.

I’m at the precipice,

Tolerable by the wind.

A shriek panic,

A ponder mistake.

I love being a lone spirit,

But that does not mean I hate love.

I can fly alone like a dove,

And still wish forevermore,

A great love isn’t a trap door.

A keen spirit can be a gift,

A partner-like heaven.

Coequal, something even.

I am a hard-edge helium balloon,

Can fly high with you soon.

Independent companion,

A parallel that meet,

Serendipity, a fun circumstance

I’ll take a chance for you.

Hand on hand,

In union.

Text Prompt :

write a poem about the topic of marriage, without ever using the word marriage, and while also ideally avoiding the words spouse, husband, and wife.

#POETRYMARATHON2023 #HOUR04  #24HRSCATEGORY

I’m a black limousine,

A black cat on the window peaking.

I am your shadow who stop you from following.

I am a banter remarks you give up with.

I am your ten year old pink shirt that no longer fits,

I am your hated gap teeth.

I am your grown shoes you once love,

Or a thing you can’t have.

I am your blank page you missed to write,

A dream you fright at night,

I am your anger management issues,

Or your overthinking clues,

I am your past,

forgotten, veer at-last.

(I didn’t follow the text or prompt image for this hour 😉 )

#POETRYMARATHON2023 #HOUR03 #24HRSCATEGORY

I am a missing part of something that’s already lost.

I missed myself the most.

As young as twenty but felt like thirty.

I hope, I am happy at thirty …

I lost father a few weeks back,

My voice still cracks.

I’m back in Manila, the city that I just met.

I’m hoping to meet my old version there yet.

I thought twenty are freedom, fun and adventure,

But I’m lost like a twelve-year-old child,

Who just found out that she’s broken,

Lost and forgotten.

I am a raccoon on a scavenger hunt,

A societal pest, a human mess.

This must be God’s test,

I’m just hoping for this misery be put to rest.

Lacuna : an unfilled space; a gap, a blank space, a missing part. 

Text Prompt : “Write a poem from the point of view of yourself, ten years ago.”

#POETRYMARATHON2023 #HOUR02  #24HRSCATEGORY

Along the quiet, 
Of quite a night... 
I see a light in-between, 
That keeps the two sides of the road alive. 
Somehow, it seems to nod us to go, 
Perhaps, a stranger’s “Hello”. 
It soon becomes clear in a vision, 
A tiny house all alone. 
In the middle of nowhere it stands,
Without a fright, under the moonlight.

The blinking yellow lit just enough, 
To give us fuel for a deep cuff. 
Like climbing a mountain, 
An Upscale terrain.
But we’re not there yet. 
We’re not yet at the beginning,
But sure nearing the end
to start anew.

#PoetryMarathon2023 #HOUR01 #24HRSCATEGORY

Finished?

The last pondering question in this hour.
The clock is ticking to shift eight to nine,
All my energy are now combine,
To write one last time,
And finally drink my lime.

Is it finished?
.
.
.
Writer: M.E. Flores
Hour24, Text Prompt24

Love is a strong gravitational force,
In which we sometimes put out of comprehension.
Not much admiration,
Not much inspiration,
Not much intuition,
On the side of the lovers.

Probably, we read love so mistakenly,
Because it is not worth to be read,
But felt.
.
.
.
Writer: M.E. Flores
Hour23, Text Prompt23

Cars and loads,
Now off we go,
Heading to the place we know,
Or probably don’t know.

A million miles to go,
Do as we were told,
A couple of times, I know.
It’s time to do the things we should do.

Not a lifetime to prepare,
A second snap to stare,
We are all so, so aware.
And now its time, time to dare.
.
.
.
Writer: M.E. Flores
Hour22, Image Prompt22

In this hour of exhaustion,
Unknown expressions keeps coming unplanned.
My face decided it on its own,
Without my knowledge or approval.
That’s probably how it turns out to be,
When a writer don’t write anymore
But letting the subconsciousness do the writing.
.
.
.
Writer: M.E. Flores
Hour21, Image Prompt21

I saw the woman with the top hat,
Along the beach white sand,
Her barefoot feet drags the sand,
And she walks and sways in command,
The ebb of waves coming back to toss,
And touches the her skin that glows,
She’s now grown.
The woman with the top hat the I own.
.
.
.
Writer: M.E. Flores
Hour20, Text Prompt20

Miles and miles away from home,
Pretty lights on the street
There is so much more I need to know.
From the its intricate corner to its jeep.

It can be also scary,
All you see are unfamiliar strangers,
No more silence, life’s in a hurry.
Watch out! Be careful for some dangers.

Manila: The city of dreams as they say,
Yes! We all came from all walks of life.
Dreams as a wheel to drive our way,
And meet all odds just to bring us here.

The side of the road is not safe for play,
But there are some other places to hide,
The hidden part of its place
Are where I found grace.
.
.
.
Writer: M.E. Flores
Hour19, Text Prompt19