The Poetry Marathon

Cottage doors slam behind

A firefly lit treeline illuminates the cobblestones

My bottle of whiskey transported to my belly

Warm, a strange warm

Absent flames give off no heat

I can still taste the damp porridge she tried to feed me

Lethargy settles in me

Zooming through the trunks, trying to find my way

If only she hadn’t taken off her mask

Growls fill the air

Booming, a sign of doom

My blood runs cold

The ghost of simpler times haunts my bones

Waving me off, my final goodbye

Where is it coming from?

A family of trees all shapes and sizes

Protect me from the stars that wish me dead

Shields of armored leaves

Trunks so vast they’d make a giraffe bow before them

Their protection comes at a cost

Something I cannot repay

I have run too far

Too long

I fall to my knees and surrender myself to the earth

Skin falls in sheets

My insides turn to dust

I am returned to the earth

The trees debt is paid

I don’t believe in God

I believe in the Keeper of the Stars

The thought of the conception of the universe

Terrifies me

The unknown

We are constantly being tested

Have come close to failing

But what does that entail?

Doomed to repeat history

Not sure how to create our own

Every little thing makes someone angry

It is not them who I worry about

It’s Him

We were given one task

Survive together

His message warps throughout the years

Everything we do in one day

Will one day come back to us

Unseen consequences

A butterfly flaps its wings

And the world ends

An unbelievable burden to bear

Studying for a class with no test prep

Not even sure when the test will end

I used to believe in good people

But we’re all a villain in someone’s story

A hero in others

Egos too large to leave any room for empathy

The right thing is a blurry abstraction

I am afraid of the unknown

But know that one day the test will end

And we will begin, The Season of Healing

Eyes drift open

Yawns fly from my lips with a buzz

My arms stretch the lengths of the earth

And it’s time to go

Car gulping down gas

My map tattooed into my skin

Icy water ready at a snap

Music swelling and falling

A cast of characters take the stage

My confidants, soldiers at war

The war is a good time

Amazing food in abundance

A woman named Joy stretches my face into a smile

Laughter so true my stomach is rock hard

Glittery rain falling

Warm in the arms of friends

Life becomes a spy movie

Chasing villains that aren’t there

But we feel important

We craft gadgets and gizmos

As the day closes we will not relinquish

There are more jokes

More hijinks

More happiness

We are kids once more.

Misty gold peers over the mountains

The grass cold and glimmering with morning dew

Small details so meaningful and fulfilling

Away from the city

Away from all the pain

Just me and my gold

Watching the sun float through the sky

Dawn break is it’s fastest run

And then it creeps

The days will soon race by me

I will forget the gold

I will forget the dew

When I die

I hope to feel how I feel now

Golden

Dear N,

To this day I don’t know what you think of me at all. We met under life-altering circumstances, for me at least. We didn’t start this dance until about a few months later. It lasts around a year, maybe less, I’ve lost count. They say those who have been traumatized have poor memories.

When I look back at the time I spent with you and all that we were, I’m left with more questions than answers and more pain than before. I was a kid, who really liked you. So much of my heart was poured into you, so many sleepless nights wondering if you liked me back. My hope was severely juvenile and my love was more on the side of lust, but that doesn’t matter now.

We never had a talk, a crescendo, something that made me feel like it was over, said, and done. One day we were the next day… I admit this is my fault. But I’m really only going to take responsibility for that. You really put me through hell. It’s been almost three years. You’ve popped in occasionally, come up in conversation, never lasting too long. It seems to be a theme of yours.

I truly hope you’re doing well. Whatever we were, are, at any given time, you’re still a human who deserves happiness and love. We just couldn’t give one another that. I don’t know whether you liked me or if you just didn’t want to be alone. I don’t know if a single thing you told me is true. And for a while, that really messed me up, but I forgive you. I have a life to live, as do you.

I could say so much more, ask the hard-hitting questions, but I don’t think that would do any good. It would kick the dust-up once more, and it has just now settled. I have found peace in writing this. I aired my grievances and I don’t have to go searching for a stamp! Score!

We’ll always have the summer of 2017.

-Courtney

The country is burning

Brown skin a death sentence

Children locked in cages

No justice for the wronged

Fascists in power

Simple-minded individuals screaming about masks

And you ask me if I’m okay.

Citizens angry for all the wrong reasons

Racism bubbling over

Ignorance is a flavor they’re too comfortable with

Misinterpreting the bible

Highlighting history to justify their hatefulness

Know when to play the victim

Beliefs not their own

Hate in their bones

And you ask me if I’m okay.

In the middle of a pandemic, we fracture and crack

We argue over who is allowed to be murdered

You choose a job over another humans life

You purposefully choose not to save others

Masks are uncomfortable but you’re okay with murder

And you cling onto your hatred colored morals for dear life

And you ask me if I’m okay.

This is my grandmother’s recipe, so bear with me

1 tsp of sheer dumb luck

2 tbsp of a winning smile

1 and 1/2 tbsp nicotine addiction

1 cup of blatant disregard of those around him

2 cups unrelenting visions of grandeur

This recipe takes a while to perfect, so start it as soon as you can.

Once you begin, it will never end.

Alone in a world unfamiliar

Searching for family in a sea of strangers

Jane, her new name, doesn’t sound right in her mouth

Life churning and growing in her

Life in Korea still going, like she never left

8 siblings soon to greet her

4 children

7 grandchildren

Me

The granddaughter of an immigrant

Feeding me cloves of pickled garlic

To help me grow up to be beautiful

I wish I could tell you what your sacrifices would yield

That they were worth it

It isn’t my place to say though

For now it is just

Jane

Hello all! I’m Courtney. I’m 20 years old and have been writing since I could pick up a pen. This is my second time participating in the poetry marathon and I’m super excited. I’m definitely coming in more prepared than I was last year, having an alarm for every hour and designated snack times. I think this is a wonderful exercise and cannot wait to come out of it with 24 new pieces of writing. I’m hoping to submit some pieces to the anthology this year and fulfilling my dream of being a published author.