The Poetry Marathon

Under the late June sun,

she sits in the cold water,

fish nibble on her toes.

Sea shells surround her.

She stares up at the sky;

clouds shaped like fathers and daughters float along.

Ten years have gone

and her dad hasn’t come back.

Life goes on and she follows.

Around father’s day every year,

her wound hurts so much, she stays in bed.

Yet she is one of the few fatherless daughter’s who understands why he’s gone.

Empathy keeps her from being angry.

Mental illness affects each person differently.

And his chases him away.

He has never had a phone or a social media account.

He is like a lone wolf that doesn’t howl at the moon.

It took her a long time to stop blaming herself.

Sometimes she still revisits that guilt.

But it’s time to let it go.

She dives into the water.

Never lose hope.

There were rainbow fairies that lived in the woods.

At night, they would pick a forest somewhere in the world

and engrave hearts into trees.

Gone before sunrise, they didn’t want to be seen.

People in boats wish under the stars

and can could be heard if they are near a heart engraved tree.

Gold fairy dust emerges and dances above their heads

making their wish come true

in two years and two days.

It’s a secret written in a book

as old as the bible.

A person that has a wish come true

will never meet another person with the same experience.

The fairies are born on spring nights with a full moon.

There is a rumor that one day,

they will be extinct.

In the meantime,

they live for others.

If I could tell you about my night,

I’d start by saying I was so tired

and I went to bed early. The door was cracked

from one of the cats pushing it open.

And I thought I was awake,

staring at the piece of hallway wall that is exposed.

I was frozen, scared, I could hear people talking.

I can’t remember what they were saying.

Then an invisible body ran at me,

I jolted and couldn’t scream.

Then I was awake,

thinking about you;

and how I would stay over at your place.

We would lay in bed together.

I felt so safe.

You were my best friend.

You had a lot of best friends. I don’t know if you knew.

Maybe you have read all my letters. If so, you already know.

I don’t know what number this one is. I lost count.

I miss showing each other our poems.

I was your muse and you were my music man.

I am scared to sleep.

Nobody can replace you.

My husband and I are new to a small town. People are talking.

I watch the world pass me by through the window.

I’m afraid to walk alone yet I can’t stay inside forever.

I would rather hide. I decide to try to wave.

I lift my hand and drop it before anyone notices.

How am I going to fit in when I am too scared to go out?

They say my voice is like a child’s and that I’m as quiet

as a church mouse.

I am sitting on the front porch

in a chair that is like a hug. My cats are sprawled out nearby.

I struggle to wave as a neighbor passes in a red truck.

Being vulnerable is my least favorite thing.

Across the street, the cat hater is mowing her lawn.

I have seen her scare the gray cat away. I read books to pass the time by,

peering over the top to watch. I’m too far away to eavesdrop.

Unlike my husband, I am not the first one to talk.

They say my voice is like a child’s and that I’m as quiet

as a church mouse.

I have my notebook in my lap. I might go for a walk later.

Birds and owls fill my ears. For the first time I am relaxed.

The next door neighbor gave my husband cookies. He said she is a homebody like me.

I am writing poems inspired by prompts. I waved to two people today and I am feeling pumped.

In writing, my voice is clear and strong. I’d rather write than speak.

Here, is where you can hear me.

They say my voice is like a child’s and that I’m as quiet

as a church mouse.

The words

flow from my fingers

like waterfalls;

Clear and fast, loud and  refreshing.

I am setting my mind free of burdens;

guilt and shame that would darken my days.

I am building poems

like homes;

Strong foundation, beauty entwined, complete.

I collect wisdom like seeds

and plant them every step I take.

Weeping Willow trees grow.

Orange flowers bloom.

I visit whenever I feel lost

which is often.

She was there during my darkest days

when I was afraid of my own shadow,

I wouldn’t have left the basement

if she wasn’t a writer.

She gave me advice that I pinned to my mind.

She brought me with her on her walks.

She made me feel like I mattered,

like I could conquer my demons.

Her laugh brightens my days.

She says we can talk on the phone

as if we were still sitting next to each other.

She gave me her cat and said I was meant to have her.

She told me I’m not stupid and somehow knew it was exactly what I needed to hear.

She is strong,

been through so much

and she keeps pressing on.

She is like sunlight.

I’ve always looked up to her.

She has helped many people.

Sometimes reading my poetry to kids in her class

to inspire them.

She would also share my story and say if I could get through this,

YOU can do it, too.

I don’t know what I would do if I lost her.

Hi, my name is Nykki and this is my second poetry half marathon. I’m beyond excited and a little nervous. I recently lost my job because of the pandemic, but on the bright side I’ll have more sleep.

The world fades away.

I am a pair of eyes

until my cats snuggle with me.

I am nestled in a forest of worries

and my failures I am unable to lift from

our shoulders.

Still, he loves me.

I write and rewrite.

Taking notes, placing orange post its all over my desk,

music continues to play. Netflix is heard from the next room.

I stretch my mind and stretch again.

Still, the page always listens.

When the sun rises,

the light house rests.

The mermaid meets him in the waves,

accepting his seashell with a kiss.

They lay together on the dock, intertwined

and drunk on life.

When its time to go,

She holds herself up with her arms

on the dock,

and slips back down into the ocean.

He watches as she swims away; rising and falling within the waves,

her teal tail glittering in the sun.

his heart is reaching out for her like a hand.

He searches for seashells for a few hours

and sleeps until the sun has set.

He returns to the lighthouse,

sending a signal for anyone lost,

while waiting for his own light

to return to him.

The yard had an unmarked grave.

sad flowers, pine trees lined up like soldiers,

And the blue house with treasures.

A ghost lingered.

The sun set too soon, shadows convinced the children there were monsters

And the blue house has no treasure map.

Nobody came back for the dead.