The Poetry Marathon

Prompt 21 (Half Marathon 2 Hour 9)

I cannot remember what day it is anymore.
In this timeless existence we have led of late
Days blend into months and years, and maybe more
Work and home, home and work, I can no longer differentiate

Wake up. Lemon water. Yoga. Exercise. Shower. Walk
In this new state, my morning routine does not exist
With my office at my fingertips, there is no stop
The late night emails I cannot resist

Home. What was once a source of respite
Now seems like a benign prison
As my worlds disturbingly collide
In this existence, beyond time, beyond reason

Prompt 20 (Half Marathon 2 Hour 8) 

I look outside and I see pitch black
But inside, my office is on a metaphorical fire
Keys clicking, screen shining bright
Not just mine, but his too
“Side!” I say
We peer over our monitors
Eye contact and a smile
Back to our clicking keyboards
And screens shining bright
Frantically working
Expressing our individuality, but in sync

I look outside and I see pitch black
Inside, electricity makes sure I can see
But there’s something else filling me with light

Prompt 19 (Half Marathon 2 Hour 7)

I stare up at the night sky, dotted with stars
And I am no longer in my body
I float upward till I see what they are
Balls of fire, orange and gaudy

I see Earth in all its blue and green
A contrast to its unfriendly looking neighbors
Then I speed through the entirety of the galaxy
Past planets, moons with massive craters

Now I’m in a galaxy far far away
I see a new planet from afar
With sentient beings going about their day
A planet not too different from ours

But as I move closer, lo and behold
There exists nothing but dust
What I saw was a snapshot that was as old
As the light from it that I now touch

And then I am back in my backyard
Staring up at the night sky
When I departed, I felt tall, strong, and sharp
I return, but a humble fly

Prompt 18 (Half Marathon 2 Hour 6)

Eighteen months later, I was back
I walked through the deceptively thick forest
A smile on my face for what was to come
As we emerged onto the stunning blue coast
I turned to him
And his face mimicked what I had first felt
Eighteen months ago

Eighteen months ago, I came on my own
Not alone, but on my own
Now, I tug at his sleeve to go faster
As I try to catch up with my memories
Everything is the same
The sky. The sea. The trees. The cliffs.
The horizontal branch extending into the sky that I had posed on
Eighteen months ago

Eighteen months later, we reach the coastal rocks
A pair of seals frolicking in the distance
Not unlike their human counterparts
As we dip our feet in the lagoon
I realize we have reached the end of the trail
I had ended eighteen months ago
Little did I know I would be back
I look up at the coast, and then, down, at our hands, intertwined
Same same but different

Prompt 17 (Half Marathon 2 Hour 5) 

As I write this poem in a Google Doc

My thoughts turn to Mesopotamia

To scribes meticulously carving each letter on stone

Laying the foundation of centuries of literature

So far, I have used backspace at least five times

But for them, there was no scope for error

I move forward in time to ten years before now

A young girl opening a diary on New Year’s eve

Penning her thoughts on the page dated 1 Jan

Scratching out words that no longer fit

Reading through those diaries is like

Reading a history of thought itself

Regrets, impulses, afterthoughts, all frozen for posterity to see

Words on stone, papyrus, paper

The pressure of a moving pen

Sensations that will soon be forgotten…

One and a half years later, we have moved from
Frocks and button downs
…to PJs and messy hair
Not sleeping all night
…to falling asleep in each other’s arms
Hiding our flaws
…to embracing them, together
Thinking all the time
…to never having to think
Hearts that flutter
…to hearts that glow
From what is loud
…to what is soft, subtle, but stronger
And I would not have it any other way

Prompt 15 (Half Marathon 2 Hour 3)

Fourteen hours every six months, I braced myself for a journey
To go back home and rest after a semester of learning
Nothing made me happier than leaving New York snow
And arriving in the warm environs of my home
I would put up with the leg cramps and the cries of young ones
For I knew I awaited three weeks of immense fun
Six years on, I am no longer at school
The journey back and forth, I still do not find cool
But even as planes remain unchanged
I do not think of New Delhi the same way
Now, the direction of home has reversed
It will always be San Francisco, first

Prompt 14 (Half Marathon 2 Hour 2)

The fog rolls out over the Berkeley hills
From my aunt’s kitchen, I can now see her garden
Hungry and curious, I step outside

I work my way down the slopes, shivering a bit,
Marvelling at how these plants took root
They are resilient, way more resilient than I
Growing through sun, rain, and fog
All to ensure others get fed
They are lower in the evolutionary chain
But there is so much we can learn from them

The garden is a riot of color
Crimson tomatoes of varying sizes
Flames of squash right beside
Sweet blueberries overpowering the green of their bushes
Green herbs, each with a scent of its own

Back inside, I chop and mix furiously
The first bite is as fresh as the crack of dawn
I’ve been to the best restaurants in the city
But this nourishes my body in a way no other can

Prompt 13 (Half Marathon 2 Hour 1)

One. Two.
One and two.
One and two.
One. Two.

I move my legs, weary from the week
Matching my partner, foot to foot
At work and at home, I like to be independent
Determining my actions, resenting hierarchy
But here, I follow
It’s Wednesday night, the end of a long day
And there is nothing more comforting than letting my partner guide me
Tonight, I leave my fate in their hands

Freeze. Turn. Under the arm.
Anchor in place. Keep your core tight.

The instructor’s sharp voice jolts me into attention
I’m following but I cannot be complacent
I straighten my back and look my partner in the eye
And as we glide down the long hall
For the remaining few moments of the song, we move as one

We anchor back in close contact
As the clock strikes midnight, the tiredness leaves my body
One and two. We anchor in close position.
This dance has ended
But I feel energized for the next

Growing up, I was a storyteller, a writer, a poet. As a child, I read voraciously, encouraged by a mother who was an avid reader, and a house filled with myriad books. In the absence of siblings who I could play with, I spent hours reading, and dreaming up make-believe lands and imaginary friends. By the time I developed basic language skills, I began penning my thoughts on paper. It started with poems, then stories and articles, and then, finally an entire novel, published just as I graduated high school.

In college, my academic interests shifted to economics, and I now work in corporate strategy at a F500 company in San Francisco. I have found time off and on to feed my passion for writing. I was the Chief Online Editor for the Yale Globalist, a magazine covering international travel and politics, and at work, I use writing every day to build narratives using information. I am working on a second book on the side, but I often find it hard to find time.

Poetry was where I started writing, and it has always had a special place for me. I really enjoyed the Poetry Marathon when I did it in 2016, and I am looking forward to doing it again. My boyfriend and I are planning to do the second half marathon (we were not up in time for the first!), using the quiet of the night and several glutinous treats to keep us going. We can’t wait to get started in T+6.