Blue streaks in my hair for B A mask covering my face I sent this picture to my son During my workday at Pace. The blue is for a precious boy To whom Nanna is my name The mask was to keep safe my kiddos…
Category: Marathon Poem
When it is about you
Hour – 5 when it comes to you They warned me, I am limitless When it comes to you They advised, I am uncontrollable When it about you But all i know is that conveying me a direction inferring me a path Directing me towards…
Hour 7
I want my way down the hill to say more than the way up I want to be closer to someone I want to leave something behind
Precious Princess Paisley (Hour Six, An Acrostic)
Precious Princess Paisley P erfect little princess, A lready I adore you, and though you do not know me, I S till can’t wait to meet you. L ittle girls are precious, and so E asy to love. Y our tiny hands have G…
The clay of us
The clay of us Clay of us are the ground we walk on Soil and rocks are our weary bones Trees are our long our gaplegs and arms Stars are our eyes the moon is our face at night Teeth, our nose and ears our…
HOUR SEVEN ~ Portrait of a Gremlin Child Grown Up
PORTRAIT OF A GREMLIN CHILD GROWN UP ~for Peyton, and the mullberries the adult in me is a color vampire draining the rich greenness out of the woods what I touch I consume what I consume is left listless straining into something like…
Hour 7
I walked on roads of asphalt towards the big great dam, the pool reflecting the clouds in the child’s eyes. Its water the colour of the sky, it reminded me of the lakes in Slovenia that filtered themselves through layers of rock. Remember how you…
Hour 7 – Pinky Promise!
Hour 7 – Pinky Promise! People say pinky promises are childish I say does the inner child ever leave? Nothing is ever worth breaking it Know I’m a man of my word You have my word Pictured as evidence Rosie sends hers too…
Hour 7 (Bleak)
The lights are swirling Round and round inside my head The thoughts and darkness Up my once retired head Sorting through the garbage All the rubbish left behind better poetry writing Is the best thing for me Today I’ve been feeling sightly unlike myself Some…
Fire
She’s a speck A breezy little bit Hummin along. Like an octopus fighting the ocean. She has no problem standin tall Waves crashing Water slipping between boogie board and feet The sea is trying to push her aside None of that for speck. She’s straight,…