The Poetry Marathon

It’s 1922, she stands youthful, proud
Staring modernity in the face
A new era, one of hope
The end of a pandemic, and a war
New dresses, new music, new parties, new wealth
But most importantly, the right to vote
Her voice, no longer confined to her home
Heard clearly in the world beyond
Guaranteeing, a better future for her daughters and granddaughters
She thinks of how it’ll be in a century
And the thought brings a smile to her face
Little does she know….

Taking in the dense urban air
Suddenly, I pause
In the distance, I see it, standing tall
Immediately, I knew I wanted to hike
Up this beautiful looking mountain, so close, yet so far removed

As I walk towards it, a first time visitor to LA
I know not where I go
But deep down, I feel content
I scale the mountain, step by step
Each step, lightening me more than the last
As the city beneath me shrinks
I’m excited for what lies ahead

Towards the top, I see the sign
The Griffith Observatory
As I near the summit
A walk becomes a sprint, then a dash

Till I reach, witnessing a world around me
Of minuscule buildings, bathed in the setting sun
I stand for a quiet moment, taking it all in
The sights, the sounds, the light hill air
Slowly and surely, the sun begins to set
Nearby, a crowd mills around a telescope
But I’m too engrossed seeing the stars closest to me
Above in the sky
And below in the city

Whose woods these are I think I know

The same as has been since before

Our kind came and knocked them down

To build timber, cities and towns

They belong to the trees

The animals, birds, and the bees

The collective keeping them alive

So they can nurture you and I

Whose woods these are I think I know

They are not ours, of that I’m sure

And they never ever will be

Bound to persist after humanity

Credit for line 1 and line 9: Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”

As I go through each day, these days, I am greeted by
A flurry of emails, todo lists, errands
I try to tackle each task but then
I pause.

I see the water, all around me, clear and blue
Weighing me down by its heaviness
Slowly, it blocks out the outside world
Till it’s just me and the blue and the water
And silence.

As I sit there, trying my hardest to breathe
I begin to notice
I see the blue in the water, and how it changes to light
I hear the silent whooshing sounds of the underwater
I feel the water, cooling my arms, face, tongue
I taste it, fresh as a spring
I smell the water smell
I breathe.

The water feels heavy no more
I take a deep breath in, and my legs move on will
And to the surface
I rise.

Hour 12, Prompt 20, Year 2021

As I plod through my last poem of the year
I’m thinking a lot about what comes after
A quiet cheer as my love and I leave our easy chairs
The desire to move around, finally in reach
It’s a cool, breezy night out here
The kind that prompts a midnight victory lap
Out into the night, we will step
Walking the length of our backyard
Taking in the fresh air, healing our headaches
Hand in hand, watching the stars
Then slowly, as we sketch out the Dipper
We’ll begin to discuss what we wrote
Light and heavy poetry alike
How we felt, where we faltered, where we grew
Grateful for the ability to write, to imagine
To be human
Then we’ll come back to a warm mug of tea and a shower
Maybe some dark chocolate if we feel indulgent
And as we slowly fade away under our covers
We’ll already be dreaming about the year to come

Hour 11, Prompt 19, Year 2021

Telling stories with data and stimuli
Has always been my jam
Ever since I was a little child

Sitting on my front porch
The thing I love to do the most is
Observe, long and wide and hard
Read data – numerical or abstract
Yield thoughts, then words, then sentences, then prose
Then I exit my mind and find my voice through
English seminars at school
Local or national writing contests
Little, intimate dinner parties
Executive presentations at work
Reaching who I can, through data-driven storytelling

Hour 10, Prompt 18, Year 2021

It’s Friday afternoon but there’s no parties
Such is the story of quarantine
Work is over but it all feels the same
Can’t tell Friday from Monday or Tuesday
As this nightmare drags on and on and on
In someone’s mind, a bright idea takes form
We switch from our work files to Airbnb
And decide to embark on a little journey
We drive a few hundred miles north
Already, we feel reborn
We enter a beautiful vacation home
And forget everything that had happened before
All of our anxiety and fear
And the trauma from the first half of the year
In times like this, the littlest of things
Are unparalleled in the happiness they bring
Next morning, as the sunlight streams in
We wake up in a warm blue cabin
Instead of skyscrapers, we see rolling hills
Little bluebirds on the windowsills
We manage a quick walk outside
Not another soul far and wide
And then we sit by a large window
With hot coffee and warm fresh oats
Ready to start our work for the day
Working, but still partially on holiday
It’s true that quarantine seems the worst at times
So when you see an opening, catch that little ray of light

Hour 9, Prompt 17, Year 2021

It’s lunch break and as always
She sits by herself in the empty classroom
She reaches in her bag for her lunch box, then her book
And then she remembers what she promised her mother
She pauses, panics a bit, then takes a deep breath
“You can do this,” she hears her mother’s voice
She braces herself and exits the room

Outside in the corridor, the students are chattering
Each in a group of their own
The popular girls, the jocks, the math whizzes
A lot to choose from
But simultaneously none
She approaches the closest group to her
Hoping that her courage will be rewarded with welcoming
Instead, she stumbles and falls
The chatter around her stops
Everyone looks up, shocked
Then silence turns into laughter

“Look at her trip!”
“What a klutz!”
“Where’s she from anyway?”
“And what’s up with her clothes? Tatters everywhere.”
“And the oil in her hair? Gross!”
Chatter all around, all directed at her
Tears stream down her face
Hot tears in the summer heat
She brushes the dirt off her knees
Gets up, slowly, unaided
And goes right back to where she came from

Back at her desk, she opens her book
And buries her nose deep, deeper
Not deep enough
All she had promised her mother was to try
She had tried
It was done
For good
She was safe now

Hour 8, Prompt 16, Year 2021

Ding dong!
“The next stop is Embarcadero.”
The cry of a child
Clatter of skin against train
The squeak of the sliding doors
A flood of voices exiting the train
Noise
The rushed chatter of passengers
The call of vendors selling their wares
An announcement: “Blue line is running late.”
And the throbbing of my head
Absolute cacophony

The thud of the house door
A sigh of relief
Heels clattering on the apartment floor
Clatter clatter clatter clatter
Big clatter and they’re off
The sunken cushion sound as I sit and close my eyes
A slight moan

Inhale exhale inhale exhale inhale exhale
Inhale exhale Inhale exhale
Inhale
Exhale
Inhale

Exhale

Inhale

Exhale

The ticking of the clock
The snores of my puppy
The cawing of the crows on the balcony
The rustle of the fan
The dripping of the leaky tap
The evening bells at the nearby church
The sighs of my mind
Of my body
Of my soul
Tiredness turning into relaxation

Hour 7, Prompt 15, Year 2021

It was a dark winter night
The scientist stood in the middle of the woods
Staring at the portal his gun had just created
Beyond, awaited another world
A world just like the one he was in
With towns and cities and McDonalds and sun and rain
But it was not this world where he now stood
Not this world that will soon to turn to nought
Like the many before it
The many before it that he had traveled through
Each world, each civilization, great and grand
Till one day, they were nothing but dust
Dust – natural, nuclear, probably both
He had never turned back to look
But this time, as he walked towards the portal
He made an exception

Back he looked at this world
Which didn’t just have towns and cities and McDonalds and the likes
But had so much more
He saw her again
Not frail like when the cancer had spread
But young, vital, happy
Before the radiation took it all away
And turned her to dust

If he left, he would still exist in another world
But she would not
No, of that he was certain
He looked at the ground, and he saw her in the dust
He was tired
He was sad
He was ready
He stopped

At sunrise, the skies blazed a deep orange
Deeper than he had ever seen
A massive ball of fire moving closer and closer
He had never stayed for this part before
He had never realized how beautiful it was
The last sunrise of this great civilization
And the last thing he would ever see
There was nothing else he wanted or needed
He had been through many worlds
But this one was home

As he closed his eyes, the sadness lifted
As he melted into the ground, he was grateful
He couldn’t have asked for a better end