The Poetry Marathon

I am enormous and majestic. People wear my image as a symbol of wisdom. In Hinduism I am divine. Often mistreated by man. Kidnapped by from my homeland to be used for the amusement of humans in the circus. Abused. My habitat being infiltrated by man.
Poached for my ivory. Becoming an endangered species. My memory is long. I get angry and I am able to kill. Very intelligent am I, and strong. We have a matriarchal society, and have an emotional bond with one another. I am magnificent. I am the elephant

Not good enough
was planted in my mind
when attention needed
I could not find
In the one man who was
supposed to be there
He left and created
A new family elsewhere
He allowed his wife
To treat us bad
The first man to break
my heart was dad

Scatter-brained I am
the poems are getting harder and harder
to write
My brain
is scrambled eggs
this is my brain on
poetry
sleep deprivation
creativity torturer
one 5-hour energy down
one to go
eight poems left
will I survive?
scatter-brained I am

Within us there is
a highway,
its epicenter, the heart.
A natural pump,
made of cardiac muscle.
Blood, the nutrient supplier
zips along this interstate of
arteries and veins.
As the cargo is emptied,
it returns to the heart,
entering the right atrium, where
it is pushed into the right ventricle,
then it is hurried into the lungs
to be resupplied.
From the lungs, it is rushed
into the left atrium, scurries
into the left ventricle, where
it is then rocketed through the aorta,
to zip along the highway
for the cargo to be emptied.
If there is a traffic jam,
the backup could affect the epicenter
and life can be lost

A concrete windowsill
on a house
a place where the caterpillar chose
to create its cocoon
on this day, breaks open
birthing a butterfly
which dries its wings, shaded,
by the brick house

Twilight enters the city
on the south side of St. Louis,
a street lined
with brick structures
overhead, a bat, smaller than
the chimney sweeps,
flies along, gobbling up
unsuspecting insects

At the office, outside the entryway
lies a bird, on concrete
black and white stripes,
along its breast, a yellow crown
on his head, dead,
the ants have begun to dine
killed by colliding
with tempered glass

Dragonflies, of majestic colors
in different sizes
slice through the parking lot
on silent wings
hovering,
over the cars
mesmerized

Her cries go unheard
she wails to the night sky,
alone and cold
Where’s mama?
Too small to bear witness
Too young to talk
left to fend for herself
against the elements
she wails at the moon
no one hears
a barren land, she’s left
helpless
Where’s mama?

Baby? Baby where are you?
I can’t hear you! make a sound, please
I can’t find you, though I too am lost
Baby?! Where’s my baby? I am breathless
No one can find me, I can’t find her.
It was to be a short trip, a few days away
a break from life, some relaxation
What happened to me? What happened to her?
Where’s my little girl?! Where are you?
Where am I?
Silent screams
no one hears
her voice carried off into the nothing, on the wind

the moon loomed overhead,
full and bursting in a sorta pale glory
our jeep crept towards the lake’s shore
we admired the horizon.
the lake and sky could not be separated,
we were cloaked in a blanket of the deepest, darkest blue.
it was a still night, silent
and peaceful.
a band of trees created a canopy of shadows, off the lakeshore,
the moonlight could not penetrate.
crickets sang a chorus, as the leaves rustled softly.
we shared a whispered conversation,
not wanting to disturb the night’s stillness.
An owl hooted from the treetops,
we loved nights like this, enjoying one another’s company,
savoring the moon’s reflection on the lake

Slowly
She packs her belongings into a plastic,
trash bag
Her children’s belongings were packed into
an additional two plastic bags

Three bags of belongings,
all she could take with her of her former life
She placed the littlest one into the baby carrier,
the oldest one followed her out

She sat on the stoop, awaiting the cab
Homeless again, this time with two babies
She had no idea
How to keep her head above water
She always felt like she was
drowning,
Fighting the current for control,
fighting against poverty.
It seemed she lost the battle
everytime

The cab pulls to the curb
The oldest child she takes by the hand,
leads her to the car.
She walks back to get her trash bags full of belongings,
takes another look around
To the shelter they will go,
Hopefully for the last time.

He is a wonderful Father
A forgiving Father
He has kept his hands on my life,
Protecting me
He has loved me through all my bad decisions,
all my failings as a mere human
He has covered me with His grace
even though I am a disobedient child
I am thankful for my Father
He allows me to learn the hard way
I know he shakes His head from time to time,
and clucks his tongue
But He knows my heart,
And I have faith in Him
And I am eternally grateful for His grace
and for His love
He is deserving of all praise
And I praise you my Heavenly Father

Before me lies a path
Stretching for miles
Leading to parts unknown
Should I take it?
Should I wander from its presumed safety?
Robert Frost said he took the path least traveled,
Shall I do the same?
A river runs peacefully beside me
Should I swim across?
Take a chance on what may lurk just below its surface?
The mountains’ icy peaks look inviting
Shall I take my chances there?
I zip my jacket
Adjust my pack
And continue down the path
God laid out for me