Motherhood began in an ER in Florida I took a day to trek from the keys up to Miami My reward Was two flashing hearts. That wasn’t the beginning. Confirmation. It was the confirmation. The belly jabs Vaginal ultrasounds Like robot sex with witnesses That…
Category: Marathon Poem
Ghosted, Hour Thirteen
I was ghosted. Spent the second day of the new year alone, crying, downing an IHOP sundae. Dressed in my finest. Swearing off men. But the next day, a ping. A note from another man, but wanting friendship. A slow time, counting moments, minutes, hours,…
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Last night I Dreamt A dream that I cannot Live Awake My days are the Same And I await Change
Laughter
Laughter Fathoms the mysteries of life the lonely traveller walks the countryside with a ha ha and a ha ha… Hour 11 @varenyas
#12- Countdown
Loud music bouncing off the walls Happiness radiating from each person Contagious laughter and genuine smiles Everyone she loved gathered in a room As she stood on the sidelines and watched Her smile only grew wider Her face lighting up with glee The sun had…
A Different Kind of Muse (Hour 12)
The muse is the sound of the drums, the reflection of the paintings on the walls, the monotones of the sculptures on the tables. The muse is the art that screams in hushed voices around the podium of expressions, the voice of the rehearsing wordsmith,…
Another Lookback
Secret relatives New additions Divorce Marriage Renewed Vows Old year New Year Time is slow Time is fast Now what?
Hour 12 : Sitting
As I sit there Getting a glance of the outside world Thoughts and emotions at peak Strangers come and go I sit as my mind wanders Observing things around My mind travelling to othe places Physically here, but not in spirit I remember flying freely…
In Loving Memory
When I heard evil tidings suddenly he vacated his life I thought this word was a lie How bitter it is to believe the truth. Every day many beings Life becomes a cipher. One day every life remains as an empty vase But, the mind…
Convincing
Taking a step back from family, I choose to accept myself for me. Years of biting my tongue, taking the high road, or just plain hiding myself, all culminate in one text exchange: “Please support your family, come to your grandson’s memorial service, even if…