The Poetry Marathon

Her clothes were comfortable, she napped throughout the day.

People came to visit and tried to coax a smile from her delicate lips.

She felt content after feeding time.

There was much joy at what grew inside her.

It was with great anticipation that she waited for delivery.

Her clothes were comfortable, she napped throughout the day.

When her husband passed, friends gathered to celebrate him.

She struggled at night to sleep in the big bed alone.

She felt content after feeding time.

Her room seemed sterile, the objects surrounding her felt foreign.

She recognized faces but no longer remembered the names or details of her relationship to them.

People came to visit and tried to coax a smile from her delicate lips.

Seeking sun and sand and salty water,

wanting all three in reach.

I took a drive to the coast,

to spend a day at the beach.

Wanting time on my own, a desire to be all alone.

I grabbed a towel, took a book, packed a yogurt and a peach.

Had it all for my day at the beach.

I nestled myself in the shade, ate the small lunch I had made.

The towel kept me from the sand, the book distracted me from the water,

the rented umbrella blocked out the sun.

It seemed that life was full of avoidance tactics, choices keeping me from my stated goal.

There I sat wanting to be alone with several hundred others who may have wanted the same.

It can’t be touched or seen,

it has no color or smell.

It’s like a thirst or hunger, though this one can’t be fed.

In youth it may just be a fancy,

though it feels real just the same.

A desire that no words can capture,

a place where a longing still remains.

It’s like a floating bubble as it’s about to burst,

it’s fulfillment might just overwhelm you,

its disappearance even worse.

It’s what you desire,

a craving deep within,

some are stones, while others feathers, they weigh you down or give a lift.

We serve as landlords to these tenants; some move on, others die, yet the most familiar remain as friends in secret confidence behind the door others are unable to enter.

Here I sit  upon the earth, humble homeland of my birth.

Awed by forces old as time, the fire that warms and gathers friends or when pushed by wind has disastrous ends.

Necessary evils that are instrumental, the basis of all, so elemental.