The Poetry Marathon

My silky creations
grace doorframes and corners
are seen between tree limbs
intricately woven designs
brilliantly created
for prey

From A Book 1 by Emily Dickinson

Chastened, he
sat silently and ate
slowly, and drank
savoring each drop of the
water, making sure the precious
liquid didn’t spill like jumbled words

Brute force winds
rip leaves from branches
trees bow and sway
and she stands, stoic
strong-faced
proudly, she walks through
the storm
her head held high,
does not bow against the wind

Her bones quake with each thunderclap
her heartbeat jumps with each lightening strike
a war waged within, against herself
hidden beneath the facade
of strength

Lies
pacifiers, fooling infants, soothing
Lies
masterful creations for deceit

Lies
used to blind the truth
Lies
fingers crossed behind my back

Lies
Don’t look at what I’m doing
Lies
Listen to what I’m saying

Lies
That’s not what I meant
Lies
I’m sorry that wasn’t my intent

Lies are
Decorative, artistic craftings of the unworthy
used to blot out the light, the knowing of others

Bullies, stray dogs, our pets
Bandit, Sparkle, Elmo, Jasper, Happy
our pets names from years past
so many buried in the backyard of the old house
Ghosts in the Graveyard, Devil and the Pitchfork
“Buttermilk, Sweet Milk.” “Buttermilk!!”
children playing, tag, laughing, voices from a long lost past
block parties, rollerskates, bike rides
singing with my older sister on endless summer nights
“I swore I’d never get involved, swore I’d never, ever fall in love.”
children grow become teens
gangs, drugs, guns, sex, stolen cars
fun, fun, fun
weed smoking, gun toting, in depth “high” conversations
“Good Enough Diploma” a voice from the past, snuffed out too soon.
Blakc G, Tweety Byrd, the first to die
Poo Deuce, so many more, too many
no not here, not my beloved ‘hood
so hard to let go, the people, the chaos,
the dysfunction, can’t let go
must visit from time to time, see what’s happening,
see what I missed
listening to music, making raps, going on missions
things have changed
but I can’t let go, still gotta see what’s happening
until
a warm day in may
the sound of an AK
death in my face, i left for good
my beloved ‘hood
never to return,
now I just sit back and reminisce
on what was, what could have been and what will never be.

A romantic, she was
In love with thunderstorms,
spring rains, music, trees and
pastel sunsets

Pastel sunsets
colored the sky as she
walked slowly, listening
as the trees’ leaves sing to the wind

Walked slowly, listening
as the spring rain
pelted the leaves
whispering in the breeze

Whispering in the breeze
her lips mouthed silently
words of love and romance
no one but the trees could hear

As she dances to the music of the setting sun,
her shadow plays with fireflies

Respect, the ability to feel ok
with me
the ability for me to feel ok with me
with you
The ceasing of your crazy
that ability you have to make me
not feel ok
an unkind word, a quipped response, click of the call ending
And I’m left behind
not feeling ok with me, with you
trying to make myself feel ok
I rage internally
a seething, unquenchable yearning to be ok
with me, with you
A yearning that cannot be spoken of, that must be contained
within my rage
Your actions swept under the rug
Never to be spoken of, forgotten by you or rewritten in your crazy
which makes me crazy
my rage, red hot, bursting at the seams
pen to paper, writing out the longing,
the need to feel ok
no longer works
I cry, scream, yell at nothing,
at everything, except
you.
Unspoken, the air pregnant
with words left unsaid
hurtful actions perpetuated in your crazy
Leave me unable to feel ok with me,
with you

I am
the wind
a force so fierce
tumultuous like
a summer storm
tossing the seas
like tumbleweeds
water is my plaything
droplets spew off
its surface
saturating the jagged
edges of earth
as she reaches for me
trying to hold on
as she
drowns, drowns, drowns
I am
the wind
deadly during
the fire season
I whip the flames along
they lick at me
the heat churns
within me
smoke, black and thick
curls and swirls
trying to hold on
to dance,
as I blow through
watching them scorch
the earth
which cries out
in horror as she
burns, burns, burns

Hello everyone.

This is my third marathon, 2nd half marathon. I can’t wait to begin this challenge. I absolutely LOVE it and will plan on participating every year. I tried the full marathon last year, but was not successful. My body could not take it and I was out at hour 18. I know I had almost made it. I look forward to reading your writings. See you on fb and at the challenge