The Poetry Marathon

Limerick

There once was a man named Mack
who said he must hit the sack.
Now he needs a shower
Cause he’s covered in flour
Knowledge of idioms he surely lacks

ballooning dreams in
a basket full of wishes
do we have to land?

Everyone seems to crave
that return to normalcy.
But what does that even look like anymore?
I’ve been wearing masks
before the CDC recommended it.
Mine just happen to look like smiles.
Anxiety is my social distancing.
Depression, my quarantine.
So that abnormal that you
are so desperately trying
to get away from?
That’s my everyday.
There’s no return to normal
for people like me.

Free-write

My hair has a mind if it’s own most days.
Unruly and hard to tame.
We’re a lot alike, my hair and I.
But I think we both look our best
wrapped in your fingers.

Spade digs into soil,
I strike a tiny metal box
labeled time capsule.
and wonder what’s inside.
Could it be a letter?
Polaroid memories?
A favorite toy?
Maybe even treasure?!
It could be anything.
Next to the box
is a small gray stone
that simply says
Baby Jane.
With shaking hands
I open the tiny metal box
labeled time capsule,

Empty.

Cloaked in fog
I wander through the woods
where time seems to slow down
and almost reverse.
I feel young again.
I feel free at last.
The weight of city lights
just melts away.
I can breathe.
I wonder if I should even go back.
The city didn’t call to me
like the woods do.
The city screams.
The forest whispers.
I only have ears for one
and yet, I hear both.
So, I wander and I wonder
in woodland wanderlust.
Trying to find home.

As soon as her pupils glanced me way
Mine dilated to let in her light
With one look
I melted for her

Her fingertips grazed my skin
And the molecules shifted between us
With one touch
I melted for her

She gave me tongued promises
On parted lips
With one kiss
I melted for her

Smoke and ash
Hearts on fire
With one I love you
I burned for her

Coffee and Change

It was a long drive
and I was tired.
Not just physically,
but emotionally too.
My eyes began to droop
with the setting sun.
But like Robert Frost,
I’ve got miles to go
before I sleep.
So I pulled into a diner,
some shitty side of the road place
where the sign out front
and the waitress serving tables
were both burned out,
and I was right there with them.
I put two quarters on the counter
and asked for a large black coffee to go.
I hate black coffee.
I hate having to go go go go.
But, maybe the combination
of caffeine and bitterness
will help keep me awake.
The waitress winked at me
as she handed me my order.
With a grin,
I headed back on the road.
Just me
the smell of coffee and spare change
with a phone number scribbled
on my receipt.

For so long
I lived in the illusion
of our happy ending.
Until I learned that endings
can be found in the middle too.
It took me far too long to see
that my happy was in our ending,
which also became my beginning.
6/26/2021

I
Don’t need
Your presents
Just your
Presence