Sweetly sing your song, tug at the strings of my heart, breathe love with your words.
Category: Marathon Poem
Orphans
That’s who we were. Stranded by forces beyond our control. Isolated from all we love. But we were strong, rose up from the ashes and come out the other side. So we should be proud of all we’ve accomplished and continue that strength because…
Keep on Truckin’–Hour 6
I carried the folding chair under my arm ambled down to the stop sign and hung a slow left onto Ukali Street My waddle paused at the grassy shoulder to examine the local color a bookcase offering the odd slipper Da Slippah Library for when…
Fire (Hour 6)
Fire By: LuvMiFreely (Hour 6) Watching you do what you love Got me cheering you on in the background Seeing your face light up All that passion in your eyes Got the fire inside of me burning bright I’m holding the torch for you Just…
You know I love you— anthem for an abuser
That’s not how it happened. I would never. You’re overreacting. Why is this a big deal? It’s in the past— let it go. Why do you hate me? I sacrificed so much for you. You know I love you. It didn’t hurt that bad. Why…
Scent of a Union (a breccbairdne w/ some syllable issues)
We were picking our favorite scent when someone said sweat and peppermint were called Union, but he pent up to recall an accident in which he tore a ligament and swore at the vice president of his chapter. Forms went unanswered and it put a…
Hour 6 – Gravel
Gravel Each footfall brings me farther from you and I know it is cliche to miss you in the length from your doorframe to the front door of my Ford Escape but you’ve closed the sliding glass before I had the chance to look once…
HOUR 7 Somber Samba
Somber Samba Rapturous bodies heave in the lust urgency of becoming one, We were willing witnesses to the scene and grotesque masquerade, The vision of our new unity brought to life as life was undone, Phantoms of the rapacious demise before our collective conscious…
Clichés – 6 of 24
a penny saved is a penny earned so put your money where your mouth is unless the cat’s got your tongue, and he does, until he cries over spilled milk— you run for the hills. time heals all wounds except yours because all is fair…
Indelible
You were a gift unlike any other So special a treasure to discover Now wrapped in gossamer of gold Tied with a ribbon of mauve