The Poetry Marathon

BREAK NECK SPEED

Life moves at break neck speed,
full throttle, balls to the wall, waiting for no one.
So why should I?
I’ve spent most of my life putting others first, silencing my heart,
dying to the dreams coursing through my blood, pouring out of my soul,
so that they could live and embrace their dreams.
Always out of love, never out of obligation.
But how quickly they forget and move on, though I never forget them.

Full throttle, balls to the wall, waiting for no one, I am a train.
A train leaving and entering each station,
slowing down only to allow people to jump on board.
If you’re going my way, what are you waiting for? Jump!
If you want to be a part of my journey, my life,
then find the courage and take a leap of faith!
The invitation is sent, but I can’t stop, I can’t brake, I can’t wait,
for those who don’t know what they want.

Find the courage and take a leap of faith, I’m not as scary as you think.
Tell your insecurities to shut up! You’re good enough just as you are!
We can run the same race, as friends, not competitors.
If I spend time with you, or if I want to, I already think you’re amazing.
I’ve already said enough goodbyes for a thousand lifetimes. No more.
But I am no fool – I read between the lines and silence says everything.
I see the truth and will not accept fickle behavior.
You are free to stay and free to go.

Life moves at break neck speed, so I’m making up for lost time.
But don’t just believe the highlight reel of my smile,
there’s always more to every life, a thousand facets like a diamond.
I dare you to see my eyes, my soul, the abyss that is my mind.
I dare you to see the darkness that lies within me, without running away.
I can see in the dark and help you find your way,
I can light up the darkness with a single word, or sit in it for awhile.
Just remember, I am always free to stay and free to go.

— Saskia Lynge / Hour 4

A decade ago, we were like lightning crackling across the darkest sky,
lighting it up with feral ecstasy.
We were raw electricity that hummed and buzzed wildly and blissfully through every dawn,
birthing jealousy within every sunrise.
We were that bright, fiery, meteorite plummeting through the atmosphere,
in a glorious trail of fire and ice.

Who says the stars that burn the brightest must die the fastest?
We burned so brightly, the flames of our passion lingering for years,
across continents and oceans, time and space.
An invisible cord binding us together, while I held eternity within my hands.
I could feel that rubber band like cord stretch within me and snap back
every time you left and came back.
I always knew, without knowing, when you were near.
The cord brought its own kind of sorrow, but I did not loathe it at the time.
I was too young and naive to truly understand
the visceral depths of soul ties and the perils of my own empath nature.

I remember the beginning of our fall all too well.
A bitter cold winter night, when the truth of your heart was finally revealed
in messages not meant for me.
I tried to let you go, but couldn’t.
The electricity between us always pulling me back,
craving your arms, your kiss, your breath, your smile.
So foolish, so hopeful, eternity around my neck bidding me to fight.
A hope that could never be.

Two years and my fight was gone. Back to one. Left alone.
I wanted to prove reality wrong,
clinging to the delusion that we were meant to be,
when there’s no such thing as “the one”.
But you couldn’t ever just let me be free, as I grieved you.
Flying in and out of the sunset,
six more years of you coming in and out of my life, for just days at a time.

Friendship was supposed to reign,
I could accept that I lost you… to her, to the world,
that you were never mine.
But we were lightning, we were electricity, and you never turned it off,
the spark igniting every time we were in the same room,
confusing an already broken heart.
Perhaps you loved my tears after all.

And then the finality of that fall, the impact of flesh and bone
as my left jab blackened your eye, severing the spark forever.
You never had a negative or nasty thing to say, until that day.
You were punishing me for having loved you instead of staying away.
It took years, but I forgave you for that cruelty.
Forgave – not forgot.

I healed, I learned, I grew, and I moved forward.
I wiped my mind, my soul, my heart of you.
The eternity of now solely mine, you just a faded memory.
But I don’t wish you ill. I wish you love. And kindness.
I wish you a happy eternity of your own.

— Saskia Lynge / Hour 3

NOT MINE

I felt your hands once, but not as a friend or lover.
I felt your body pressed against mine, in a game of moves
and counter moves.
Silently, secretly… I wanted you to stay there forever.
To embrace you, to feel the warmth and the rightness of you.
I cursed the mocking hands of time as your comforting presence left mine,
reminding me of the void within that I had forgotten so long ago.

I felt your arms around me once or twice,
feeling slightly more than a cordial embrace.
I closed my eyes and breathed you in, not wanting to say goodbye.
I couldn’t tell you that my arms didn’t want to let you go,
I couldn’t tell you that my heart hoped you didn’t want to let go of me, too.
So I smiled and laughed, a carefully constructed mask put in place.
You could see me, but not the tearing of what I felt underneath.
The need to protect you was a compelling force, so a facade went up,
and every handkerchief of interest I could drop stayed within my pockets.

I think of you every day, though I shouldn’t.
Nothing inappropriate or improper, but even so…
You are not mine, so I cannot be yours.
Not even in my dreams.
The truth of that ringing the bluest of tunes through the hollows of my soul.
Though love does not truly hold your heart,
I do not wish it to ever be broken.
Stand tall and strong, man of the earth, for you are.
You are like the Oak tree who has learned to bend as a Willow.
What draws me to you, if not this kind of strength?

I do not know if you see me from afar, or if you even think of me.
Selfishly, I could hope for that.
But I am not selfish, nor can I make you see me if you do not already.
I do not have a halo of light surrounding me,
nor an air of superficiality pouring from my being.
Just because I yearn for you – though I can never tell you –
doesn’t mean I’m the kind of woman you would ever yearn for in return.

These feelings are irrational and illogical, I know.
I do not know you or your depths, nor do you know me or mine.
And yet I wish… I wish I could know you and all the secrets you hide.
I would guard them with my heart, with my life.
I wish you could know me and the abyss of secrets I hold,
but only if you would guard me with your heart and your life.
I wish for the opportunity to discover what could’ve been,
if time and circumstance had been on my side.
Insanely, impossibly, I feel as though you are my missing piece.

No… it is not a delusion, nor am I insane. I feel the impossible truth of it.
Somehow, you could complete the puzzle that is me.
If you should ever find yourself free, think of me.
If you were mine, I could be yours.
Together, we could discover the worlds that lay at our feet,
and we could know an all consuming love,
that not even eternity could quench.

— Saskia Lynge / Hour 2

SPEAK

Rolling thunder beats against the heavens,
a blanket of darkening clouds promising to tear back the
supernatural veil.
as the wind violently whips through the towering treetops,
holding us back.
Breathe. Speak to the Sky.
The storms that wage within and without have no power to bind us with fear.
Call forth peace, and peace will be.

Moving from one world to another, the earth tilts, its axis flipping upside down.
Its hard shell cracking as it breaks open to the forbidden depths of Sheol.
Brimstone and searing lava flow through the crags of our known world
as fire ignites street after street.
Breathe. Speak to the Earth.
Call forth the waters of life, and the burning of worlds will cease to be.
Fire may consume all it touches in the earthly realm,
but it will not singe our feet as we walk upon the flames of disappointment and loss.

Destruction has no power, except that which we give it.
In every storm, in every turmoil, when our shoulders fall from the weight of the world,
look up and see the sun’s light peaking through.
A promise of another day.

— Saskia Lynge

Just making sure I can post. Yay!

Five years, light and laughter fill my eyes.
Airy and breathy, like feathers floating upon the wind.
Hope swells like cresting ocean waves
and dreams rise higher than the desert mountain tops of memory.
The stars and moon never out of reach for the innocent dreamer within me.
Dazzling lights shinning down, head over feet, feet over head,
flying high, tumbling down, landing solid on legs of steel,
while dreaming of weighted gold around my neck.
Can feel it, taste it, long for it,
but some dreams are never meant to be.
Fireworks exploding high into the sky,
bursting brilliant and magical colors just for me.
But things aren’t always what they seem to be.

Ten years, sorrow and suspicion fill my eyes.
Unrelenting and shadowy, like trees moving in the wind on a moonless night.
Escaping reality in front of moving images that fuel more dreams,
and treading upon demon heads as all of heaven looked down.
The stars and moon waiting to be explored for the relentless dreamer within me.
Zero gravity calling down, wanting so much to fly,
leaving Earth’s atmosphere behind.
A rocket jet set as my permanent backpack, hope set on a cosmic summer adventure.
Can feel it, taste it, long for it,
but some dreams can never be.
Prayers and signs, signs and prayers abounded all around,
but things aren’t always what they seem to be.

Twenty years, forgiveness and freedom fill my eyes.
Clear-eyed and glowing, like luminous skin bathed in the balm of Gilead.
New faith and hope blooming, new paths and journeys forged,
grasping and ever reaching for viridescent light.
The stars and moon becoming the eyes of heaven for the impossible dreamer within me.
A thousand lives to live within one heart, demanding thousands of voices to call my name,
seeking paths of crimson silk in every land I walk.
Though every mission I take leads me further away from my deepest dream.
Can feel it, taste it, long for it,
but some dreams are told to wait.
Die to self, die to dreams, awaiting their resurrection,
but things aren’t always what they seem to be.

Thirty years, heartbreak and rejection fill my eyes.
Confused and grieving, like a widow’s child.
Unconditional love searing my heart in two, the husband of my heart forbidden to me,
speaking words of unrequited love and infidelity.
The stars and moon hidden by a celestial cloak from the romantic dreamer within me.
Rejecting his rejection I moved forward, living in a land fixed between two worlds,
embraced by some, unseen by others.
Though love is still unknown, it’s far from a mystery.
Want to feel it, taste it, long for it,
but some dreams are meant to die.
All the why’s parade in a mocking line, “Why wasn’t I good enough?”
but things aren’t always what they seem to be.

Forty years, new hope and longing fill my eyes.
Determined and wise, like ancient fiery flint.
The echoes of every goodbye and every loss sing as a chorus, cheering me on,
reminding me there is no failure, for I do and do and do, never just try.
The stars and moon shine down, reigniting the impossible dreamer within me.
Setting sail to a familiar land, I break free from every blinding shackle,
seasons of abundance and providence awaiting me.
Long dead dreams beckon with resurrected fingers, while new dreams are born.
Can feel it, taste it, long for it,
though some dreams may tarry, not all stay dead.
Though sacrifices were made and all feels lost,
things aren’t always what they seem to be.

12th out 12

Clarity rings through the darkness of induced sleep.
The fog of yesterday clinging to the present day.
It has no hold, it has no sway, just a whiff of ancient smells.
See, hear, feel, know what has changed,
know what has always been.

Searching for that phantom portal,
a wormhole beyond a black hole’s horizon.
Change course to something better,
change course to something deeper.
Find crushed destiny in the midst of rubble,
in tendrils of chaos that never should have been.
Cannot argue with reality and win.
I must find the peace in the midst of what is now.

11th out of 12

Life within the flame, a life of ash,
revealing the marrow of our bones.
Our character forged and tested by fire,
until we shine like the purest of silver.
Rain will come, wash all the ash away,
and polish our reddened eyes.

Pain extinguished,
the dying embers of a shattered being stitched together,
with the threads of celestial hope.
All things must burn to prove their worth.
Sightless, I must now see only through the eyes of faith.

Thudding, pounding, drowning,
the delicate silk of my heart’s desire.
The need of a single moment, the desperate need of forever.
A lover’s embrace, and his burning heart.
I beg you, wings of time, stop beating,
and let me catch my breath.

10th out of 12

When the moon rises high, like a celestial eye
a voice rides upon the whipping wind, saying,
“Let go, let go…change is coming.
“Bend, bend…be like the wise Willow and not the stubborn Oak.”

Before the witching hour,
every heart and mind drifts to the ruminations of the past.
All the what-if’s, the regrets, the should’s and could have been’s
cycle within the heart, like a clock upon the wall.
With every ticking of its hand,
hearts church with the fears and unknowns of tomorrow.
But indeed this is to be human.

But oh, to be wise…
To be self-aware…
One must allow themselves to ponder each emotion and every fear,
to journey the emotional gauntlet without shame,
so that their soul’s myriad of questions may be answered.
Answers that vary as vastly as the sands within the seas,
answers that already lie within every heart –
if one only has the courage to see them.

Hate wickedness, but do not hate your humanity.
Hate complacency, but do not hate the seasons of your preparation.
You will soar, but first you must run  – light and free.
Leave the burdens you bear behind you.
Memories are a beautiful gift, but they cannot hold you,
or embrace your tear streaked face.
Let go of all that swallows you, and look up.
Change is coming.

And in these hours of pensive thought, the gentle voice whispers again,
“Let go…  let go… be like the Willow.
“Bend with the wind that would break you.
“And you will stand stronger than the oldest of Oak’s.”

9th out of 12

Land and sea, I traveled.
Three lifetimes of laying foundations among the clay,
with clay covered hands, far from shifting sands and tidal waves.
My hand to the plow,
my heart intent to see the bloom of change among the walking dead.
But all efforts were in vain. 

My eyes lifted high, seeing beyond all stars and moons,
the One whose hand holds all things,
wondering when it would be my turn?
When would the stars shine for me?
When would the moon glow so brightly just for me?
I knew the answer before I asked.
And yet, I hope, and work, slowly moving forward.
But with legs of concrete, I can never fly. 

Trapped between earth and sky,
no permission to ascend above or descend below.
Broken wings take too long to heal.
With the blur of red and white lights spiraling in the night,
with the speed of wild cats, a different freedom found –
the freedom to do or die, to disappear or to let go.
Motivation has waned, while I covet sleep,
and the strange battle-filled dreams that come. 

Societal dictates have cut me down,
thrown me under the murky line I once lived above.
No time for confabulations, no time for blatant lies.
Time to rise and prove all slanderous words empty and false.
I move through every storm, dragging weary legs through mud filled streets.
There is no quitting, only getting across the finish line.

So I cut the cord of connection, pull it out by its roots,
and toss it into the flames.
Don’t want to want something that can never be.
Dreams lived are lives fulfilled, dreams lost are a bitch to hold,
and yet the spark still tries, like a severed spinal cord. 

But don’t you know, it’s better to let go, than to suffer to loss.
Far worse things in this life than the darkness that tries to swallow us.
No monsters or ghouls shadow us tonight,
only the demons in our head whispering lies.
So I’m walking out, looking to heaven for that miracle.
I’ll hang by a thread over the ledge of reality,
with the strength of a thousand men.
Weightless and free.

8th out of 12