Category: Marathon Poem
Poem 18 – Just Be Still and Listen
Just be still and listen To the dew on blades of grass To the twinkling of stars above And to the glow of the moon Reflected as it is off the river Listen to the rain falling on leaves And the shuffle of the forest…
Hour 21: Ode to the Marathon
You began with the end When I was prepped and primed You carried me effortless Through your prompts Music and lyrics and images I burned the hours Breezing through barriers, Keeping time Until the half point When some would stop You shoved…
Hour 22 – Secret Place (image prompt)
There’s a secret place I keep With a hammock for me to sleep and some books in a display shelf Protected from the elements and hidden in a crevice in the wood. The hammock net is stored away With the books in the display and…
when the poet is assigned her own wake up call
hey, you, you with the magic, wake up! there’s things to do poems to write verses to spew you’re gonna need to greet the sun pretty soon don’t brew more coffee you’ve had your last call with diet coke wake up! fake up, if you…
Dear Karma
Dear Karma Trust that I believe in you fear your power to know all, define everything I have ever thought, done, expected. I bow to you, Karma. I pray every day that my fate lies safe in your hands, I look for happy rebirths as…
(Hour 14 of 24) “eye espy”
this unblinking oculus unnerves me violates my privacy this all-seeing orb might know me better than I myself this indefatigable globus an unflagging purveyor of secrets the eye that never sleeps © 2021 S Phua
The Knave (it is time) #thepoetrymarathon #prompthourtwentytwo
He has needed you from the moment he first saw you. At first the attention was light and flirtatious and you thought it gave you joy. Then he became more demanding, wanting to walk by your side and watch you while you were sleeping…till he…
[Hour Twenty-Two]Fury
A sharp smack stinging cheek, a print deep red, throbbing, cold shock and hot pulse and my throat closes. I feel it burn, hot and sick and bright in my chest, raging, any words turning to cinder in my mouth, but eyes dry, cold, and…
What Is A Poem?
What is a poem But a four lettered word Structured just so By the poets of the world What is a poem But a beckoning mistress Calling and calling To write words of distress What is a poem But an unstructured sonnet Beckoning young…