The Poetry Marathon

I don’t want to be alone,

I don’t want to be afraid,

I just want you standing here,

I want to see you smile.

I want you to understand,

we haven’t talked this long while.

I loved you, I loved you,

those words that haunt me still.

But now I’m all alone,

with emptiness that will not fill.

she’s taking off her dress

he’s watching it slide

she stands there, alone,

no reason to hide

she’s down to her skin

can’t hide the state that she’s in

the lonely goddess in the glade,

where he’ll watch from his cool shade

the sleazy king of leisurely sin

watching her guileless skin she’s in

I’m

fucking

dying

not enough

air

I can’t

fucking

breathe

five steps

heart

pounding

heart attack?

no,

too much

hands shaking

cold

legs going numb

help me

I’m dying

To feel the falling
rain, slender chain of silver
and you, my own love.

I can count to ten in Latin

and speak prose in French,

I can debate in fluid Italian

have people laugh at my Czech.

I can curse in Romanian

and grumble in Russian,

I can sing to Japanese,

cry to Chinese haiku,

dance to Deutch,

scream in Afrikaans,

well honey didn’t you know?

Google Translate’s not the place to go!

Not if you want to speak proper diction,

there’s plenty of books if you have the itch to speak ’em!

There is nothing more soothing than waters’ sweet flow

as it rushes down chilled skin.

There is nothing more calming than lavender balming

the cracks and tears within.

I am

flowing, flowing, down the drain

slipping sliding to unknown terrain

I’m dripping, slipping, sliding between cracks

I am the water, old and fresh

slowly taking and rebuilding sacred self.

The maudlin in me is brought up, dredged from

the many consumptions that plague us,

honey-sweet or bitter, burning slow down sliding

through my throat like a blessed ague.

I’m sick, baby, didn’t you know,

I’m tormented by demons you’ve never met.

Give me that bottle and you’ll see

I was never Heaven-sent.

I have my share of scars too,

I’ve been bruised black and blue.

I’ve crawled up from the depths

and I won’t be turning back.

You try to push me back

but I’m not going nowhere,

you gave me that bottle, baby,

and now you gotta sit down and listen

why I’ve done myself wrong

and how you can’t put it right.

Before darkness, there’s no fixing

we’ve got a hint of magic,

a taste of tragedy,

and a whisper of the forbidden

amongst the many living

and innumerable resting dead.

The devil called me in a voice so true

I could have sworn to hell it was you,

you left me here encased in flames

and the devil came and called me by name.

I’m lost, I’m lost, I don’t know where,

there are screams, everywhere.

I’m scared, I’m scared, what did I do?

What did I do to be abandoned by you?

The devil called and I replied,

it isn’t hard to imagine I died

a little death that pinned me down

with leather and lace and the crop’s harsh sound.

Oh baby, do it again,

leave me in Hell; I’ll crawl back up again.

There was one last communion

stretched thin between us, razor-fine

tightwire which when severed,

would crumble whole cities of dreams.

Hot salty tears tracked peach cheeks

and words frozen in my heart,

unable to speak for fear of saying the wrong words

at the right time.

And we offered meager excuses

why this abrupt slice of pain

would be a healing gash,

but we knew the scar would knit

and knot to a complicated infectious

poisoning of the blood,

fever of the soul,

even as now I still tap

that agonizing wire of

fractured human connection.

Greetings, salutations, and for those of you across the world! Bienvenidos/buenas dias, bien joue, ciao, and many other greetings!

My name is Sara, and I was a participant of the 2015 24-Hour Poetry Marathon. Now, sadly, due to work and other beastlies, I have deduced my time to 12 hours, however I will gladly give out free constructive criticism and free reviews! (such a deal, amiright?)

Er… a bit about myself, huh?

I’m a proud single mum to one furless toddler, and part-time Momma to two furred, four-legged ones. I live and contrive mischief with my own mom, Tracy, and we often consort of world dominion plans over tea and crisps. I am an intense lover of all things related to Britain(called anglophilia), am obsessed with all things weird and wonderful and drink my coffee black. As my soul.

I’m a happy ball of sunshine in a crazy packet, so don’t mind me when I ramble! Might I say hello to you all, and I can’t wait to see the turnout of the 2016 24-Hour Poetry Marathon!

Much love,

Sara <3