The Poetry Marathon

I grew up in a house where art and laughter

were rationed and metered out and never

supposed to be shared together. Art was a

privilege and laughter was a reward of

the highest order. Growing up paint splattered

was never a lesson I  thought I needed nor

does it actually seem to benefit from. I have

colors from moments and memories that will

never fade or get sunbleached or water damage –

I have colors I put there intentionally to remember

who I want be as time goes on and the poems

extend from pages and screens to trees

and gardens and songs carried on stormy skies.

This was a lifestyle that no one should ever

relate to – but I know people will and that’s

a shame. So let’s turn the paint-splattered ache

into wonder and typewriter prints and poetry

that will indeed make the world a bit brighter

.-M. Rene’

The boy who gave me cloth oragami hearts

and engraved sheet music and silk black roses

didn’t last though he put in all the right moves.

He was here for the lesson that you should really

appreciate what you’ve got while you have it.

Then there was the one who brought me postcards

from all around the world and tried to write all

the things he thought I needed to hear – that was

my fault I wasn’t in the right place for that kind of

genuine sweetness. And now he’s got someone who

can recipricate and keep better track of memories.

There were some poets resting at the bottom oft

heir ink wells making skeletons out of nothing and

storms out of a single cloud. They all had potential

to be incredible – but took the craft too far for their

own good. And like can find like but it’s truly opposites

that attract when it comes to the heart.

And now I know what my voice sounds like – I’m not

afraid to speak and my honey, he makes mistakes

so do I, but we always come back from them with

the help of each other. Plus he can always make me

laugh at the end of days that have me in tears.

There’s something to be said for the way we carry

trinkets through our lives and the mementos of the

chapters that just didn’t need to expand –

but the silk flowers, the postcards, the poetry

I still have it all.

-M. Rene’

By the time you reach the last page here

what do you want to remember and

who do you want to be because

that’s the beauty of the Hummingbird

Lounge – no one ever stays the same after

a visit here. You are never alone

in anything you feel or experience and

that’s one thing you’ll find comfort in

every time you visit. And as the poet

I hope you’ll be inspired to make

the most of whatever you have

but YOU determine your own journey.

Not Me.

-M. Rene’

Hour 11: Exploring Wonder – I have no idea what I planned when I was writing out these prompts – it made sense for linear progression at the time, but I have no idea what I was doing there or how this was the right place for this one, but I gave it my best and I’m being super stubborn (because I can be). And anyway here we are with prompts and poems and new subscribers and food and things – like actually showing up and being smart about it!

There really is magic

everywhere

you turn and exploring

wonder

is far more impressive than

which major cities you have

photos in.

You’re allowed to feel

whatever

you need to feel

always

but I don’t want to

die

and we have far too few

memories

for me to lose you so

soon

so you’re gonna have to keep

trying.

Because I am too

really.

-M. Rene’

Hour 10: Away with the butterflies

We used to go to the art gallery

with the gorgeous garden

and all the famous to us

statues to watch the frogs,

listen to the birds, and cover

ourselves in sharpie poetry –

We used to go to concerts for charity

singing along to songs we didn’t r

ealize we even knew the words to

and danced with strangers who were

so good at reminding us to

stay kind. Stay gentle. Stay wild.

We used to go to each others houses

coated in things we’d rather not

remember weighed down by problems

that were not ours to solve.

These  days you’re out soaring

away with the butterflies and

none of those places have been

the same since you went away.

-M. Rene’

Hour 9: Nicknames Outlive You

It’s true you know –

if you’re not careful

the nicknames out live you

the art changes the future

&

the memories morph into

beings of thier own with

thoughts, beating hearts

&

an appetite for adventure.

There is nothing wrong with this

but if Life came with an

instruction manual I truly believe

that would be on the first page

.-M. Rene’

Hour 8: Crumpled Pages

The pages have been crumpled,

kicked, forgotten – maybe a few

have even been burned

alongside the blankets tha

tliving in a desert deems “unnecessary”.

We could spread

them out and create maps –

pick anywhere else in the world

and just go. Away with the ideas flowing

in time with the artistry

coursing through our veins.

This hour went by really quickly because I started it off with snack time and drawing some pastel ghosts. I also had wayyy too many ideas going into this hour so I was taking the time to take note of all of them before i lost any. Then my twitch chat blew up which I appreciate – I got two new bulk subscriptions too which was incredible and I was not expecting that! I am really loving the way my community is coming together. However a tiny piece of me is wishing they would have given their money to the charity instead of to me. But to each their own right? and cyn should be back soon and ro should be getting up soon and hello how are you?

I have been haunted by things/ I did not do/ but should have/ I was plagued by/chamomile/ the very thing/ I was promised/ could heal me/ and I have been tortured by potential.// The pastel ghosts/ came from me/ trying to give a face/ to my demons/  and evolved into/ a comfort unlike/ any other.// Similar to the/ sunflower girlies/ curling their hair/ pressing on their nails/ razor sharp/ and crying in their cars.// But do not worry/ we all grow from/ uncomfortable pasts/ and mistakes/ are great lessons.// Sometimes you just/ make your best friends/ in the most/ unlikely places/ and at the/ worst times.// There is still/ beauty/ here.// -M. Rene’

The pastel ghosts are a trend in my personal notebooks that bled into my latest chap book release: How Many Drafts to Home and if you don’t already have a copy you can find it on Amazon or www.sincerelybluejay.com

It’s the time of year where

the ghosts will begin haunting

my hot tea and leaving

the full glasses of orange juice

           alone.

It’s time for lingering transition from

lemonades and iced teas to

apple ciders and salted caramels;

for jazz festivals and art walks —

movement

is a good thing I promise.

And inspiration can come from

new places if only you’ll let it.

It’s time for pictures that won’t

fade.

This is a time to remember

Embracing change is so beautiful.

-M. Rene’

P.S. I feel very very loved this hour my mom made encouragement cards for everyone marathoning (albeit in different ways) with me today and they are so fitting for each of us despite being picked randomly!

Hour 5: Sip on Summer – thank you Starbucks – this was your slogan for summer of 2017 or 2018 and it is living in my brain rent free every summer since then. Also Pumpkin spice came out way too early this year – or if you’re gonna release it don’t call it fall call it a transition or end of summer or something else. Clearly I’ve got big opinions and they needed to be known for this poem to land. or my brain wants you to have the context – you may not need it.

Everyone is ready for autumn –

they think a cup of coffee

can turn the seasons and

set the stage for colorful leaves –

I am certain there are still

a few weeks of sipping on summer

and I don’t mind the heat

the way everyone else seems to.

But I’m embracing my iced tea

time on the patio, and

long walks remembering you in

that place with wild mint

and too many memories to keep.

Can’t we just appreciate what

we have for a while longer?

-M. Rene’