The Poetry Marathon

Keys to Your Car

Keys to Your Car

 

You handed coveted car keys to your teenagers,

swallowed gnawing fears & worst-case scenarios

 

gave pieces of control to a god of independence

that deity empowered with coming of age.

 

Bumps along the road have softened with time,

speeding tickets of sixteen year olds racing to LA.

 

You didn’t need details, flat tires on interstates,

near miss passes over double yellow lines.

 

Somehow a familiar conversation lands in your

living room & email box, not so subtle, fifty years later:

 

Suggestions that it might be time to hand over 

your coveted set of car keys, swallow headstrong pride,

 

throw away your freedom, but make it your decision…

How is coming of age, joyous, but aging simply sucks?

 

June 26, 2021

Hour 5: Chest

Roosevelt dimes

Wheat pennies

One gold piece from the Four Queens

Chanel #5 scented letters never sent

A 22-short bullet from an unknown pistol

Faded photographs of fake smiles

Postcards across land and time

Bright costume jewelry

Hairpins

Lipstick and rogue

Love, loss, hope, regret

Packed away in Grandma’s chest

hour 9 – (image woman in infinity pool) up to my tits in infinity

up to my tits in infinity

I am up to my tits in infinity

whipping my head around to face the future in the sun set

like it actually mattered

here on top of the world

looking down on creation

like that song karen carpenter cobbled together

to keep herself from not eating

or whatever

while i float in liquid amethyst

soaking in it

up to my tits

in infinity.

(c) r. l. elke

Hour 8

Love is in the air,

balloons are rising

and my deepest thoughts fly

to a certain pair of blue eyes.

Hour 1 – Story-teller’s lament

Spend your life telling stories to folks,
and you start to believe a Lie.
That each story arc shall denoument,
before a character is allowed to Die.

I believed the myths we told ourselves:
used this to ignore every single sign.
And before I said what needed to be said,
the stroke cut out his mind.

You get one last conversation.
With everyone you know.
My last one with him I gave rejection,
and am now reaping what I sowed.

9. This too shall pass

Often we are told that life is a roller coaster ride.

The anticipation and elation of the upward climb!

The breathtaking view of the crest of the peak!

And the heartwrenching free fall!

 

As you close your eyes  midway of the descent,

with a silent prayer that

” This too will pass!”

These four words is what

gives impetus to the vehicle of life,

to propel you to the next acsent!

 

” This too shall pass! ”

When life hits rock-bottom,

and also when you reach great heights,

be not ignorant,  egotistical and proud.

Appreciate your position with humbleness and humility,  because

” This too shall pass”

[Hour Nine]Breathe

Slip under surface,

cool blue gently lifting.

I glide, float, imagine

wings through the tide,

diving in, slipping out,

turn to the sky, a breath,

before slipping under again.

Irreconcilable Desire

I woke in the night

at 2 a.m. and it’s hot

from a wave of heat

that makes it hard to sleep

so I sip on a glass of wine

while listening to my heart

beating to the rhythm of music

thinking of Blue and Both Sides Now

And I ask myself why

I still feel a loss of balance

I must be mad; I must be blind

questioning these feelings

of irreconcilable desire 

that still hold fast

that still pull at my heart

back to the water’s edge

and those distant voices

still alive within every fibre

of my body and soul.

What Matters

You can’t stop
Stop the thoughts in your head
Head up in the clouds
Clouds so thick and lush
Lush and long like your lashes
Lashes out with anger
Anger feeding his soul
Soul food to feed me
Me, and me alone
Alone in my thoughts
Thoughts of forgetting the past
Past the time of now
Now is all that matters.

Hour 9 – Card Game

I sat down at the table,
Folded hands in front.
It was time to play a game,
Though I did not know which one.

There were no other players,
Just a figure dealing cards
To the empty spaces ‘side me
I remember it was odd.

I was dealt to, also,
A small paper stack.
The cards were normal sized
With royal purple backs.

When the deck was empty,
With my cards in hand,
I took a careful look
At the vibrant span.

The cards were not numbered,
But instead each bore a sign
Words, I was sure,
But none I recognized.

The dealer looked expectant,
Which was quite the feat
Since they had no features
Like those that see and eat.

I looked again to my cards,
Every line and curve.
If there were rules to play,
I had to quickly learn.

But no signal was given,
No other player played,
So I took a gamble
And selected one to lay.

I placed the card face-up
On the table top.
The faceless dealer grinned,
And vanished with a pop.