The Poetry Marathon

A crack in the sky

lets sunlight seep

through the logy muck

of morning and mourning

making this one moment

peculiar, enough to reach

up and tear open

the heart of the orb

that sustains us

while pulling us under

into the distant keening.

Barely breaking daylight,

doggies on the bank,

and a broken line knotted

over, under, and again

to hold the slippery catch.

I wade deeply into the center

where there is no calm,

casting an offering; an alm

for the fish gods.

Fingers twirl her hair

soothing scalp, shoulders, and soul.

Rinse away all ails.

It wasn’t until the middle

of morning coffee, awakening,

I learned of it’s arrival.

On the drumming bus of sleep,

and mangled dreams the meaning

budded, bloomed, and withered

leaving broken stem,

memory, and lingering aroma.

Gathering strewn petals greedily

along the path, I breathe

bits of poems, answers, lies.

All equal, and

just as easily left behind.

This is where I am.

This 24 hour poetry marathon is a prompt to activate my seriously dormant writing practice and act as a creativity stimulant.

I didn’t realize until several days after signing up that I also work at my regular job for the first 7 hours of this marathon. I have decided to not let that be an excuse not to participate. I like challenges. I committed. There it is.

Use what you have.

I have plenty. It’s just scattered in a million tiny neurons I seem unable to access at times. Time to activate those neurons into new patterns of word groups……..poetry to the rescue!

Do what you can.

24 hours. 24 poems. I can.