The Poetry Marathon

They’ve always been there.

Each and every one of them.

The Olympians.

They’ve been watching

my every step

guiding me with

divine interventions

of life-long messages

through animals,

songs stuck in my head,

poetry that flows freely,

favorite colors,

and unexplained deja vus.

They’ve been

that small, still voice

of encouragement.

warming,

and foreboding dreams.

Each one telling me

that I am

more

than I think I am.

Apollon,

You are my inspiration.

Like your sister’s love of Nature,

I love your mythos.

My dearest Apollon,

You brought light

into my darkest hours

through divine musical messages

of encouragement.

Notes paired with lyrics

that always hold a caring touch.

I see now,

when I fell silent

you helped me find my voice

through poetry,

stories, and more.

You helped me

when I was bedridden with sickness

and healed me

when I thought I was going to die.

You came with warmth

and healed me in so many ways

and still, continue to do so.

My dearest Apollon,

How can I thank You enough?

All I can do is write these poems for you

and heed you and your sisters’ words.

Many Poems have been dedicated to you

written in your honor

for poetry

and anchoring the sun across the sky.

Many poems have been written

comparing

the music of nature to your

lyre and voice

of classical tunes that we know of today.

Where are the poems of your compassion?

Of your love for mankind

that blazes as bright as the sun.

Where are the songs that last

lifetimes

of your undying love for your spouses?

Dearest Apollon,

You are music.

You are the morning, noon and afternoon.

You are divine punshiment,

and yet you are poetry in motion.

Dear Lord in Heaven,

Please watch over my daughter

and her boyfriend, Trenton

as they go to work.

Please Lord,

Give them the strength

to get through the day

and

to face the battles that they may face today.

Be there for them when they need it.

Protect them from things that may want to harm them.

I thank you, Lord, for giving us another day to live.

We thank you, Lord, for all that you provide us.

Thank you.

Amen.

Fruit

Lifes natural source of endorphins.

She hands me a bowl of assorted fruit

Food is her love language.

Oreos

Black and white sandwich cookies,

cream-filled and delicious with milk.

(Even though I’m lactose intolerant).

She knows that’s my favorite.

Sour and gummy candies.

Small boxes of candy

one dollar each

left on the dining table.

No note, but

the lingering care and affection from her.

Each snack she chooses

she chooses carefully.

Thinking, wondering

if I am still the same girl who loves each of those.

In the forest,

there is a soul,

a calm, caring presence that envelopes me.

I call her mother.

She is my mother

when my mom wasn’t there.

In her shades of green

and earth tones,

she sent Doe’s to guide me.

On days of unbearable grief,

I heard her call

to walk the trails of her creatures.

I felt her embrace in the wind

when I sat and cried

asking “why”

to a boulder that supported me.

To me, she is my mother.

She was there as the moon

when I felt alone in depression.

Urging me to go on and take strength

from her silver light.

To learn from her cycles,

everything has a turn,

everything will come full circle.

That is why I call her mom,

which is why I heed her.

She is the path I know

that I can’t get lost on.

She is Artemis.

Goddess of the Hunt.

Protector of Girls, young women, and women.

Goddess of chastity and childbirth.

She is what I call mom.

Her hair falls to her frail shoulders

in natural streaks of grey and white.

She complains of having too many greys

and heeds her sister’s words about using coconut oil.

Wrinkles start to show on her

suntanned  hands

and painted nails.

Her dark chocolate eyes

reflect mine in turn as

she smiles in joy

just to see me emerge

from my cave of isolation.

She’s small and frail-looking

as she navigates around the apartment.

Her will,

her faith,

and her love

are strong.

Strong as the bunk bed

that holds a family of 3 at night.

Her faith is like spider webs

holding the family together

as she prays each morning and night.

Her love is Venus as it rises each morning

and when it greets the evening.

Oh, great bean of energy,

lend me your spirit

to help me write out the next 24 hours.

I offer my body as a tribute

to your faux sense of accomplishment.

Let your essence invigorate my mind.

Give me the needed drive

to concent….. concent….

(takes a sip of coffee)

I plead with you to give me

the concentration

to dedicate my creativity

to flow endlessly.

Oh, great coffee,

let thy will be done.

With care
she holds
my hands in hers
as a smile slowly appears
accompanied by a pair crow’s feet.

She recites a prayer
to give me strength for a new day,
and to keep me safe.

With care
her arms wrap around me
as she whispers
“I love you.”
and
” Have a good day at work.”

Always with care
she’ll embrace me
and lets me go
with a soft smile
that warms my heart.

With care
I will remember these actions for a lifetime.

My name is Vivian, I am 37 yrs old. I live in the state of Arizona. I hail from the Navajo tribe and look forward to this year’s challenge. This year I have requested the weekend off to be able to focus on the event and write to my heart’s content. Along with prayers to the poetry Gods, Redbull/coffee, and encouragement from both family and friends I plan on finishing the marathon.