The Poetry Marathon

My hands holding the rim of the pool,

My feet swaying in the blue depths,

The water lapping against me,

My eyes kissing the horizon.

Stories above the rest,

Looking at the city from my vantage,

A sense of satisfaction engulfing me,

As I look back at all I’ve done.

Proud of all the hard work,

And the energy I put in,

Proud of all I’ve achieved,

And the levels I’ve reached.

So important to take a deep breath,

And appreciate all you have,

Show your gratitude,

For all the good things in life.

A smile smoothens on my features,

As I take in the view around me,

Feeling at peace with who I am,

With who I one day hope to be…

~thryaksha

Cupboards and spiders,

Screaming and fighting,

All of a sudden, I’m eleven,

There’s magic.

A big scary man and a secret train station,

A red headed boy and a little know it all.

Four houses to belong to,

A talking hat that decides my way,

My history unfolding,

My name, a symbol.

The wind in my hair,

As I take flight on my broom,

A teacher who hates me,

A little more than a little hate?

A secret door with a guard dog,

Many attempts to break in.

Saving the school,

Saving the world,

Little Harry Potter,

Saving since forever.

~thryaksha

Her whole life,

Every breath she takes,

She wants to change what’s normal,

She wants to change what’s accepted.

She wants people to feel like home,

No matter who they love,

No matter who they want to be,

No matter who they are.

She wants a world where she can be herself,

And have no one question her twice,

She wants a world where she can be herself,

Out in glory and in pride.

She wants a world where is love is wild,

Hate not quite so normal,

She wants a world where the ‘most superior species’,

Accept nature for who she is.

She wants people to be themselves,

She wants happiness in the air,

She wants the world to love her,

As much as she loves the world back

~thryaksha

Cold and warm at the same time,

My blankets heating the ice in me,

Seeing only the black behind my eyes,

As I pull the hoodie closer to me.

The car my little home,

Like a tortoise carrying my home around,

The comfort of it soothing me,

Like a warm bear hug.

My sleeve stretched to my palm,

I wipe the glass before me,

I lie back down in my cocoon,

My eyes unfocused on the scene before me.

The whole city in front of me,

Whispered in my ear conspiratorially,

Unravelling itself in front of me,

Telling me all of its secrets.

The thermos in my hand,

As I sip my hot chocolate,

I whisper back to the city,

Telling it all my secrets…

~thryaksha

A new house,

A new beginning, I think.

New memories to make,

New stories to tell.

My toe hits an uprooted tile,

Bending down, I look to see what that is.

A little hiding place,

From when the house was someone else’s home.

A tin can,

My hand closes upon the lid,

The rust brushing onto my fingers,

As the tin sits opened again.

A little locket,

A little note,

A little knife,

A little vial.

My heart skips a beat,

As I take in what was someone else’s memories,

A smile stretching across my face,

I roll open the note.

“I did it”, it reads,

“I killed him.”, he confessed.

“My little secret”

Now not just yours I thought.

A little locket that was around someone’s neck,

A little knife that was around their neck,

A little vial filled with the blood from their neck,

I stand shook with the tin in my hand…

~thryaksha

TRIGGER WARNING: DEATH

SPOILER WARNING: LORD OF SHADOWS- CASSANDRA CLARE

High above the Council Hall,

The golden clock began to chime the hour.

As if the world didn’t care for her,

As if the world didn’t ache for her loss.

My eyes brimming with tears,

As my heart tries to cope with what I’d seen,

A small whimper as my hand reaches my face,

Trying to push the sobs inside me.

I hold her in my arms,

Her head heavy in my lap,

Heavier than she’d been,

Like the soul leaving her had burdened her.

I brush her hair away from her face,

Willing her to come back to me,

Can’t imagine a life without her,

A life without my dear little sister.

The anger bubbling inside me,

Shaking my ever steady hand,

I pray and I pray and I pray,

But I feel my prayers going up in smoke.

I plead her to open her eyes again,

I beg her to stay by my side,

I feel the light go out of me,

I’m alive but I’m dead inside…

~thryaksha

FIRST LINE TAKEN FROM THE LAST LINE OF “Lord of Shadows” by “Cassandra Clare”.

I write a story,

My mind coming up with thoughts,

Stitching them all together,

Putting together the individual sheets.

I write the story,

Finally giving a home,

To all the orphaned objects in my mind,

Binding the papers into signatures.

I write the story,

My mind reaching far and wide,

Connecting distant ports,

Binding the signatures with thread.

Or does the story write me?

Each word I write,

Changing the lattice of my mind,

Binding the finished book with a hard cover

~thryaksha

She didn’t think twice,

If I deserved all the love,

That she was sending my way,

That she was spending so generously.

She loved me for who I was,

Why do I need a mirror when I have her,

Her eyes reflecting my face in the sunshine,

My mind wondering who shone better,

Her or the sun.

Put me above herself,

Her joy when she saw me,

Convincing me I was worth more than I was.

The best face to look at,

After a long day of waiting.

Her,

In all of her glory,

Tail wagging,

Heart soaring,

Mind brimming with thoughts,

Of her and her alone.

~thryaksha

IS IT THE DOGGO’S THOUGHTS OR THE HOOMAN’S? Who’s the poet?

Endings.

Peace and quiet.

They’re anything but,

The raging storm that breaks through a ship.

They’re the grand culmination that completes your journey.

I would be lying if I ever dared to say to you that,

I hate them with my whole heart.

I adore them so.

I look in the mirror as I lie that,

Endings are just chaos and fire reigning the town,

Bringing the circle to a close.

But a circle does not end,

But a circle does not begin,

Sketching the first dot of the circle.

Mishaps and everyone finding their footing.

I’d be lying if I say that beginnings are only,

Small gasps of surprise and happiness.

They’re taxing and eating through your soul.

They aren’t just the first thing that comes to mind that,

They’re the adrenaline keeping you young.

Leaving your comfort space you call home.

They’re anything but,

Peace and quiet.

Beginnings.

NOW READ IT BACKWARDS! It’s a reverse poem.

~thryaksha 

Hello!!

This is Thryaksha. I’m a first time poetry marathoner! Really excited. I made a playlist for this event, so I’m just posting this here, and if someone wants to collaborate on the playlist with me, just hit me up!