The Poetry Marathon

There’s a strange cottage in the woods
it lurks just beyond the tree line, out of sight.
Even the heat of summer cannot affect
the cool atmosphere around the cottage.

Sometimes when I’m overheating
I’ll zoom past the treeline to the lake
the cottage rests upon.
Sometimes when I’m overheating
I’ll eat porridge by its shade.

The cottage is old yet doesn’t age
Frozen in time it seems.
Sometimes I imagine light within;
It turns out to be fireflies among the beams.

A mask sits upon the hook
Where hats and coats usually rest
And on the table of the cottage
Lies a bottle full of liquid.

Sometimes when I’m overheating
I feel a little brave and enter
the cottage by the lake.
Sometimes when I’m overheating
I’ll empty that bottle into the earth.

The cottage doesn’t change at all
The liquid returns somehow
If the mask is moved it returns somehow.
I didn’t steal it, Just moved it over one.

The mask is green, with little spots
Up close they look like skulls.
They’re cracked and dusty, old from time
Unlike the cottage the mask is within.

Sometimes when I’m overheating
I put on the mask and grin at
the cottage’s interior
Sometimes when I’m overheating
I pretend I live here in the cottage.

O Pilot! My Pilot! Our spooked wave ship ended to the left

Frosty breathed a tornado ship, prizes and medals and parties
Soon the right ship anchor, ears bell, Dancing twin girls Dancing twin boys
T T Eyes, Ship Equals Meh plus fencer

But O heart! Heart! Heart!
O blood draw stops
ship pilot bed
blow your nose and die

Look, here comes a rumor
full of flavor and oh my!
There’s another little story soaring by.
Here comes a tale that’s sordid,
tart, and full of tricky things
I’m so lucky to have plucked its tiny wings.

Rumors are the Spice of life
Causing stress and Causing strife
And it seems that ’tis the season
For all to be told (within reason)
I’m ready for the flavor,
I’m ready for the spice.

Boy, howdy, here’s a concept
He said, she said, none of it’s true
What’s a poor rumormonger to do?
Give up? Not a chance, there’s always something just…
Make something up and hope that it sticks
Flavor the town with spicy tricks

Rumors are the Spice of life
Under duress and under the knife
And it seems that ’tis the season
For all to be told (without a reason)
I’m ready for the flavor,
I’m ready for the spice.

How ’bout something no one’s never heard!
Lies are alright if nobody’s hurt
Hey did you know? Becky stole her shirt!
(Becky and I know that’s not true, but the rumor’s been spread!)
Faster than lightning, faster than twice
Suddenly Becky’s job is on thin ice! (Whoops!)

Rumors are the Spice of life
Just don’t get caught; it feels nice
To spread rumors during the season
Where all is told, including treason
We’ve got all the flavor
We’ve got all the spice.
All for just doing
Something not nice.
Rumors are the Spice of life.

First, sunlight peeking through the window
A loud tumble out of bed
The smell of sizzling meats
A soft kiss on the cheek
Then later,

The sound of water crashing nearby,
The coolness of it caressing skin
The lightness of weight as we swim
Then later,

The slight rustle of paper,
Click-clack click-clack
Imagination as dice make swords strike true
Laughter pealing through the air
Sorrow as the clicks roll in our disfavor
Then later,

Firelight flicking and flailing,
The smell of smoke and again
The sound of sizzling meat
More dice, glinting in the dim light
Reflecting beneficially as they roll toward victory
Then Later,

Soft blankets wrapped around
Warm bodies gently shifting as
Rumbling breaths lead to snoring and
Dreams confess the past

I have a plan for us.
When the sun sets and all is quiet
We’ll steal a boat and sail upon  the lake
We’ll bring a lantern a blanket, and ourselves
and lay looking up at the stars in its hull.
“I have a plan for us,” I’ll whisper,
and you’ll be none the wiser,
that this plan is already in motion.
“Take my hand, and you can join me in the stars,”
You’ll look over and giggle, but I’ll mean it.
We can go anywhere in the world together,
but we’ll need to do it tonight.
And if the sun rises and the boat is empty
I’ll know that you love me
As much as I love you, the stars, and the universe.
But if it rises and we’re still there, I’ll know
that not all love is the kind I hold in my heart
for you, who makes me want to be human.
And that’s okay.
No matter how you answer,
I have a plan for us.

To my best friend:

Dearest,

I fear I should keep your name out of this else you might identify yourself.
I know that’s kind of the point of letters but as long as I don’t name you it could be anyone.
I miss you every day we’re apart. I haven’t seen you in forever.
I know you work hard every day, and that our relationship is still strong. But I’m not done.
I need you to know that I love you. I know you might consider this taboo.
You’re so much more than a friend to me, I figured it was time to tell you.

Every day I see your posts, my heart feels a little lighter. I regret I cannot be there.
Every time you share your struggles, I hurt alongside you, I tremble and cry when you seem to.
Every beautiful thing you share makes me wonder if you know how special you are to me.
Every moment you post a meme I laugh out loud. And with all these feelings I know not what to do.
Every sad moment you share I beg myself to confess. It took me so long to realize.
Never will I truly explain the pain of loving one who is not mine to love, yet is loved in my eyes.

You’re amazing and skilled and wonderful
You’re powerful and lovely.
You’re a delight to know and know how to be forceful
You’re so far away.
You’re everything I ever wanted and even more than that
I’m unable to express my love, but the next time we meet… I’ll wear a hat.

Best friend, I love you, I have forever.
Best friend, stop loving you? I could never.
Our love might be a crime, not in our cities but in our mind.
Where we once did meet, to share dreams so sweet
I’ll see you there again sometime.

Love, Always,
Your distant friend

I have so much I’m s’posed to do within
a day, within an hour, within a week, a minute
too. I just need to do so much each day,
like get through work and clean things up
a bit, as any adult does. Yet for me, this seems
impossible, a day’s tasks can take three weeks for me.

If I could tell you what time felt like, grains of sand just slipping,
maybe then you’d understand. Maybe you wouldn’t blame me.

In ten minutes it’s been an hour, in 20 it’s
been two, a single thing that matters so much,
and what can I do? I could just let it happen, oh,
it would be so much easier. Let dust to dust
instead of old age and fury run this room,
this studio apartment. If only I could pause a moment
hold it in this time, folded in on itself, unaging and
get things done as expected of me.

If I could tell you what time felt like, grains of sand just slipping,
maybe then you’d understand. Maybe you wouldn’t blame me.

My life’s a blip, I know that well, and what
blips can do I cannot tell you. There’s no
solution, no easy fix, and not only am I stuck like this,
but everyone else moves on so easy as if
blips could cause some major change. Their blips
seem fuller than mine, less transient. Less empty.

If I could tell you what time felt like, grains of sand just slipping,
maybe then you’d understand. Maybe you wouldn’t blame me.

A Recipe for Protection
You will need:

1 contraction of perseverance
2 small rocks – your favorite
1 beetle carapace or chitinous exterior
1 gram of love
1 Large AA Egg

Set the contraction of perseverance aside, it is important to have it ready.

Grabbing a bowl the size of your heart and place the beetle carapace inside
Its interior shell should face the heavens, reflecting hidden colors in the kitchen light
Taking a silver needle, pierce the egg, do not remove the needle. Leaking is okay.
Sprinkle your love over the perseverance and the beetle carapace in equal parts
And sing the song of your heart. It’s okay if it doesn’t make sense.
While you sing grind the shell between two small rocks, preferably ones you like
Let them grind the beetle into dust and then keep grinding them,
Using your perseverance and love grind them into dust.
Let sit 20 minutes and remove the needle from the egg.

Take what remains of the egg, for much has probably leaked out,
Pour it over the dust through the small hole from the needle
Do not break the shell.

Stir well until the mixture has incorporated the egg into a paste
Smear it on the photo of that you wish to protect and bury it somewhere secret.
And deep.
Don’t tell anyone about this, just be there for the one you want to protect
Let them come to you with their troubles
And remember to go to someone with your own.

In times of old, a woman’s worth was quite easy to define
If she was “good” and didn’t speak or step one foot out of line.
If she served her husband or her country that was plenty for the time.
Still, a woman could be famous, sticking out in ways that lead to death.

Then time passed and her worth grew and shrank in ways unexpected
She could be a queen or simple folk who grew to be respected.
Eventually, in cinema, a woman’s worth would often be reflected
by love, not death, and how she stood, against the system cinema erected.

Presidents and principalities became horrified by woman’s plucky positions.
They created rules meant to cage and burned them for any poor dispositions.
And yet the strong could not be made weak by men who made their missions
Destroying woman who just desired the right to have a right.

As worth transformed and work transformed, platforms for women grew,
To the point that I am asked to share a story of one I personally knew.
What do I know of fame or influence? What strength of femme can I do?
I’m not that special on my own but I can feel their power in my bones.

While I’ve never gotten to know a woman cursed with fame,
I’ve seen them throughout history with spirits wreathed in flame.
They never fail to do what’s right, they are impossible to tame.
A woman’s worth goes beyond her station, her influence can shape a nation.
And while I’ve never known one personally, thanks to their power
I can hope to be a woman who sticks out with influence on history.

Once again I come before you, now 23 and happier than you can see
Despite improvements time has not been kind, my laptop does wish for repair
and my sleep schedule has been horrid until now. Even so, I’m here,
I’m ready, and I wait with bated breath for tomorrow.
Coming at you from Mountain View, the first time it’s been sequentially the same as previously,
Your humble servant,
Molly