The Poetry Marathon

Something was Missing in
Our house for 1.
It was like the first snowfall of winter:
Cold
And Silent.

There was nothing but
The music from our hearts.
Falling like rain,
Our tears fell.
We were alone
Together.

We kept him in
A corner of our minds
Never forgetting
The love that he gave us,
His smile, his soul
Of an adored cat.
This noir Feline.
We called him our son,
A piece of our hearts that we lost,
That we wanted to keep with us;

He was our missing piece.
Our one thing we called “Home”.
When we felt alone.
Something was missing from our bed,
On our covers,

From our house built for one.
We looked everywhere,
We thought like him,
Then like his eyes on cat nip:
Round and golden like the moon,
We thought, we uttered the taboo possibility:
He’s gone.

There like our bodies,
Our sanity fell,
Plummeted to the floor, our
Hearts hit the floor.

We knew then
that we were going to be
Missing everything:
Home.
Son.
And family.

For as long as I can remember,
my mom braided my hair,
Her fingers take my hair in three parts
at the top of my head, she starts
with a glass full of water.
In that I sat, shifting to the right
then to the left; a cup of water
she dips her fingers in and continues.

10 years later I stare at my own eyes:
“Mom was right.”
I grab my hair, look at the comb.
“Should’ve learned. . .”
My hands reach for my phone, my fingers glide as they type
“How to braid your own hair”
ENTER.

“One day you will have to learn this.”
I say nothing,
In those days I wasn’t into braids.
I thought of it being too girly
That went with bright pink dresses
Tight skin tights that matched the hair ties.
“I don’t like braids.” I pouted.
Arms crossed and eyes wandering. Impatient.

Three sections is what I remembered:
One over the other and I repeat,
My first braid loose and messy.
I lowered my head. My first try
Hanging down my back.
Proud that I did it, I stood straight.
Next time:

I took the three sections:
Tipping my head back to help me
With the weaving.
One over the other
I lay over with my fingers tighten as I go.
Careful not to let any strands free or left out.
I continue until my hair runs out.
I get up with a better braid….
Better than the last, the first messy braid.

My lips slip into a smile
“I finally learned how to braid.”

A newb and
a pro
facing hordes of
rotting corpses
with hell fire fur
and snarling teeth.

The newb trying to keep her cool
as the pro sweeps down the dead
and the hounds explodes,
both being sent back
to their makers.

Items spring forth like flowers
from the lifeless bodies.
The pro lets the neb pick the best
as he keeps watch
for new enemies.

He takes what’s left.

New finds and points ring up,
the neb shoots and prays
as they’re being chased
mounds living dead,
enhanced dead soldiers.

Back-to-back they take on the Zombies,
hop into a buggy.

Again, the pro lets the newb take what she needs”
ammo
armor
and armor plates.
In modesty, he takes what’s left.

Together they take in the dismal world
of zombies and hellhounds.

You are the Captain Price
To my Kalem:
#1 called to action
When your family or I
Are held hostage by
Our griefs and worries.
You sneak up and take them down
In one fell swoop.

When I am cornered by
The ugly faces of shame
Loneliness,
The sky breaks open as you
Land by my side
Kill it all with a nade.
And for that,
I’m glad you came, my Master Chief.

But to me
What’s more than Prices conciseness
And Master Chief’s head shots
Is

That you are my Sub-zero.
Cold when need be,
you freeze
All those that oppose me
with Your will
and that is what
Makes you my sub-zero.

A quiet love that feels me
to the core.
This I haven’t experienced before.
A love that lifts my spirit
like wind does
for the eagle on its first flight.

A new view in my own eyes,
to hear words of pure belief
that have lost meaning over time.
It was brought back
through whispers and
telepathic eyes
that sparked my fire.

It’s a strong love,
that never wavers
when growled at by
jealous daggers and spells
and yet this love
can be just as deadly as a
sharpened sword.

A shield and a sword.
A patient and kind love
that will is also a ward to
fend off anything negative.

That is how my Aquarius loves.

Death has always been

a constant thought

which brought fear

to my heart.

It wavered my faith

in what I thought was righteous,

but it still felt off.

Your voice softly saying

“Death has a deeper meaning,

let me show you.”

Young and blind,

I followed everyone else’s words

and ignored yours.

“Death is nothing what Christianity

taught you.”

“Be reborn, rid yourself

of doubt,

of fear.

Let Death show you the courage you’re missing.”

“Let me, God of peaceful Deaths

guide you to your true self.”

Yet, I still evaded your calls.

You continued with signs with:

Moths appeared as

tiny Phoenixes when

I was surrounded by negativity.

Poppy flowers bloomed

in the midst of random bushes.

All telling me

that I was never alone.

You, Thanatos, is always by my side.

Persistent in

Her ways, my mom

Yields to no one. She

Lovingly helped us

Like any mother, she

Inspired us to

Stay focused on our dreams.

Because . . .

Bad things can happen

And she reminded us to kneel

Down & pray to the

One above for strength but to

Never give up.

I will always look up to her for that.

Do not fear the Grim Reaper,

The cloaked one.

He is only doing what needs to be done.

He is the one to greet you

when you leave.

Don’t let the stories frighten you.

He is all but evil.

His aura, his presence

is light, soft

and comforting like a duvet.

He’s the one to hold

you hand

when you think,

“I can’t take another step.”

His torch and

sheathed sword

signifies peace

not hatred.

His soul is Lavendar incarnate:

Calming, protecting, and sooting.

Let the master of

Peaceful Death

guide you to your next journey.

Purple

Any shade of purple

will have her glee like a little

girl again.

As long as I can remember

she always wore purple.

Butterflies

Moth opposite cousin.

She adored the unique

symmetrical patterns.

Anything with Butterflies

sends her flying and fluttering

with happiness.

Flamingos

Standing on one leg

not losing balance

in the still lakes

that reflect

the bright pink feathers.

They would always catch her attention,

she would wish that she could pet them.

Butterfingers

The candy of The Simpsons

The famous saying

“Don’t lay a finger on my Butterfinger.”

She would laugh at the commercials

then crave that buttery crunch.

Her favorite of favorites.

Butter Pecan Ice cream

The pecans.

the buttery flavor

in

the ice cream

brought out the kid in her.

Her smile became 10yrs younger.

With each bite, her eyes once again twinkled.

Most of all

Her kids 

are her favorite

nieces and nephews,

and grandkids.

She treasures each and every one of them.

“You need to learn to make dough.”

She would say this

as she gathered the needed ingredients and supplies.

Flour

Salt

Baking powder and

Lukewarm water.

“This is how you make dough.”

Adding flour by handfuls to a bowl,

then palm fulls of baking powder,

keeping it a 1:1 ratio,

then a pinch of salt.

Her hand carefully sifted

and mixed the ingredients together,

making sure they’re well combined.

Once mixed,

she heads to the sink,

toggles with the facet

until she gets the desired temperature.

Adding the water little by little,

with her free hand, she begins

to mix the ingredients,

all the while making sure it’s forming a ball.

Turning the bowl,

adding water,

combining flour mix and water,

until all the flour is gone

and all that’s left is a ball of dough.

“clean your hands.

Cover your dough to let it rest.”

She takes a plate and covers the dough.