The Poetry Marathon

I watch the night, the last concrete piling aging like a book shelf, telling fisherman’s tales

the fog settling in my bones, I love tis hour, the hush hour, before the world wakes,

though it is damn cold and a warm coffee from the last canteen standing, the

moonbeam its lettering tattered fading from sight, rouses my mind,

the ships rock in their slumber dreaming of the dock, piles of metal rods and

fir trees wait to journey to foreign lands.

your bones hollow, dressed in your prettiest threafds

waiting for the return of the fallen

memories collected around your heart

a soft place to rest

a home hoarded, from other discarded lives

distain at your ramshackle life

but you alone have woven hope from death.

she roamed the mornings alone

over sand and weed and stone

along the lines of the wandering tides

she spent the nights in this arms

for his warm breath on her hear

to protect her from nightmares

as she journeyed between worlds.

jump – wriggle – stretch – run

along overgrown mountain tracks

run down city streets

over an under, but never around

muscles ripple, hunger found

jump – wriggle- stretch – run

like you remember how to be free

like you remember how to see

I roam,

the edges of this small cavern,

my hands running along the damp walls

I sit alone in this crowded room,

the chatter deafening,

words bouncing,

thoughts screaming,

then I forget and all is quiet,

sleeping in my prison..

the rain,

just didn’t stop

water,

surrounding us,

sea and river

joining to lap at my doorstep

we huddled,

seeking warmth,

side by side

wind pounding walls,

the house drowning in its fury

falling,

falling into the darkest night.

she lay, a hill in the half light

an echo of laughter creased her brow

a rag crumpled, against the wooden floor

lips parted

a drop of blood kissing the still soft strands of hair

dressed in the memory of a mothers love, knit one pearl one

a tear stain, left drying on her check

the last thought of a life

rattle, tick, hum, tock.

the air stale, tinged by a hint of decay.

crackle, spit, embers pop.

a chorus of motors hum, my ears cry,

it quietens slowly, softly, ssh.

her wings sing as she hovers by my shoulder.
music dancing on my skin.
our hearts visit the winds memories.
wings beating, air rushing though my hair, tangled.
I float
I am a dream caught in the wrong body.

I am, winters sharp tongue, its Icey stare, full of rain.

I am, springs first kiss, its bloom, its heartbeat.

I am, summers smile, lingering on loves lips, the age of consent.

I am ,autumn crinkling beneath your feet, whispering in shadow, memories.

I am, beginning, blood, cells, lightening

I am, ending, earth, decay, hunger.