The Poetry Marathon

Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today at this aisle

Just one narrow aisle

25 short steps, 25 footfalls

One foot in front of the other

The longest aisle you will ever walk

A pathway of laughter, tears

A journey through years

Together

Good, bad, sickness, health

First steps, last breaths

And all that lies in between

To join

Join, intertwine

Yoke together, tether, bind

This man and this woman

Adam and Eve

Venus and Mars

Opposite attraction

Chemical reaction

Passions burning

From the birth of the flame

To the dying of the embers

The first kiss, the last dance

And everything in between

Dearly beloved we are gathered here today at this aisle

Just one narrow aisle

Her voice was a cry through the chambers of a full heart

Pumping rhythmically its 8 pints of blood

The sound smooth, soft, gossamer

Scraping the ears of all those who would listen

Releasing a tale from the mouths of those she trusted

A tale many had heard

Those who heard, all thought they understood

An epic saga of good versus evil

Where all that was good was stripped from her

A tale where she was left the villain

A thundering scream, ripped from her heaving chest

An unanswered question, “Why?”

Starting over…

Her voice was an echo through the chambers of an empty heart

Devoid of its 8 pints of blood

The sound sharp, cutting, angular

Caressing the ears of those who cared to listen

Unfolding a story trapped within the depths of her soul

A story few had heard

Those who heard, few understood

A story with no hero, only villains

No epic tale of good versus evil

For only evil had left its mark on her

A soundless scream racking her heaving chest

An unanswered question, “Why?”

The art of empty walls, blank pages

Intimidating, enticing, the artist, poet

What colors, lines, words, beauty will honor the sacrifices made to create this place?

What a blessing, a curse, it is to wield such power through brush, pen

A tapestry of time

Woven from the remnants of nursery rhymes, fairy tales, and broken promises of youth

Stitched together with wishing stars and skinned knee tears

Adorned with baby teeth, skipping stones, fishing line, a handful of jacks and one lost playing card

There is so much that I’d like to say

To paint a picture just for you

But the colors turn muddy

My voice comes unsteady

What can I do when

Words are useless,

Colors dull,

But sit

Mute?

I thought I saw you in a storefront today

Just a glance from my periphery

Side-eyed as I walked by

My heart stopped and I froze

A familiar pang leapt to my chest

Needle-sharp, straight to my heart

Memories of that day in the sun

My periwinkle dress discarded on the ground

Entwined together in the grass as we watched the clouds

“You can’t see the sky in the city,” you said.

The busy city, littered with skyscrapers and idle gossip

We were the only two souls in the world that day

I turned and looked again into the storefront window

And you were not there

I smiled sadly and walked away

Reflections always frighten me

Silly, I know

They say the mirror never lies

So maybe it’s the truth I fear

Truth- a powerful word

A subjective word

Everyone has their own version

He said- she said

It all becomes a matter of believability

Wouldn’t it be so much easier to just hold up a mirror?

Like Dorian’s portrait, every hideous detail could be put on display

No questions, no doubt, no misinterpretation

No twisted words and innuendos

All intentions clear, all truths revealed

Maybe that’s what frightens me

My truth lain bare for all to see

Every sharp, ugly, grotesque imperfection marked on this body and soul

Maybe I’m not scared of reflections after all….

It’s always darkest before the dawn

When the stars have all burned out

The moon has sunk low and sun has stubbornly refused to rise

The world is blanketed in the blackest of blacks

And everything is still

Voices are silenced

Breath is held

The world waits

Waits to see if the promise of dawn will be fulfilled

And for one excruciating moment

It seems that it never will

Then a faint glow appears on the horizon

And the shadows slowly recede

The dawn breaks

The world breathes

And life goes on

Paul Newman and a ride home

Orphaned boy looking at sunsets

Sharks circle, surround, hold him down

Choking, gasping, water runs red

One boy left with the blood, another left dead

Runaways- Outlaws- Gone with the Wind

Blonde disguise- Bologna sandwiches and cigarettes to pass the time

Church and innocence consumed by flame

Smoke filled lungs strangled

Burnt fleshed heroes

A light extinguished from gentle eyes- too soon

Denial, acceptance, a letter slips free

“Stay gold, Ponyboy. Do it for me….”

Define normal:

Cookie-cutter

Carbon copy

Boxed in

Polite, smile, nod

Cross your legs

Stand up Straight

Sit down

Shut up

Know your place

Do as you’re told

Don’t talk back

Do not question

Do not think

Accept, Resign, Submit

I do not fit that mold

I ooze across the baking sheet

Spill out of that box

I argue, cry, shake my head

I slouch and lean

I am not silent

I rebel, (did I mention I argue?)

I think lovely and radical thoughts

I question everything

Including your idea of “normalcy”

So please accept my apology if I do not resign myself to your definition

I submit to no one