The Poetry Marathon

Don’t Look Away

Poem 4

Don’t Look Away

 

“This is our life happening, I told her, or would have told her if I could have caught my breath long enough to say it over the clamor of the clarinet and fiddle, and it’s happening right now.”

Michael Chabon, Manhood for Amateurs.

 

This is our life happening, I told her,

or would have told her

if I could have caught my breath

long enough to say it over the clamor

of the clarinet and fiddle,

and it’s happening right now.

 

This is life

catch your breath

dismiss the clamor

play your fiddle

be here now.

 

This is life

it’s all ya got

so play it right

and don’t ever

ever ever ever

think that the future

is more important

than now…

 

because the past

must have shown you

that looking ahead

makes you blind to right now.

 

And the best part of now

 

is that if you do it just right

it becomes the future you’d

been striving so hard to create.

 

21~4

I see through the cracks

Of the ridges inside you

The misty magic beyond

Beckons to me

 

I see through the cracks

Of the ripples inside you

Love infusing the air

It’s mine it surrounds you

 

Fire DeJoy (Acrostic)

Freedom! To Wait is to get know a man in uniform.
Ire is such a pretty word for such dogged labor.
Registered, certified or just unclassified, let’s have it.
Enough with the Notified Delivery and just deliver it.
Delays in service used to be the exception, not the norm.
Every day my mail arrives sometime between 9 pm and the next day.
Just who makes this late night work necessary?
One man whose name sounds like a folly, a 19th century circus act.
You won’t get to mail in a ballot at this rate.

Was it you?

I miss you

I could almost swear
You were the person
Cuddling me in my dreams
Three nights ago

You held me so tight
Arms wrapped around me
I could feel your body pressed against mine
Your legs pulling me tighter

It was the first time in months
That I’ve felt safe
Did you visit me in my dreams
Just because you knew I needed you?

We never will escape each other
Will we?

Second Chances In Life

She, I made it on through.

Trees alive standing there.

A branch from the tree of life.

Clay made so.

Brain, skin, and bones.

Vessels, muscles, fluid

Tissues he wipes the eyes, and serves.

Kindness of Awareness.

Brings public attention.

No more sorrows or pains.

Prayers

To hope for a new beginning.

She, I hold onto the lord desperately.

Keeps us both narrow the straighter the road.

Heart to hearts.

Humble, and persistency.

The,

Cover shoulders to shoulders.

Happiness.

Joyfulness.

She’ll and I’ll keep him first, chances we get.

They all will know.

Just how good he is to us.

She I will except, and it will

Shape up our life’s.

With wings to fly, and on our way.

To be not afraid,

And for he is with us.

Purity,

Second chance in life.

Common truth.

Divine love,

With brown colorful eyes.

Our first and last love.

Joy,

The Evangelist who guides you there.

Made us to see,

And of his ways.

Righteousness right stuff.

To mend on in.

The blue sky and white clouds to see again,

And again.

Its real reality.

The sky is the limit, they told us.

Just when we were,

A little girl.

Second chances.

To fight.

For,

In life.

 

 

 

Deadly Storm – hour 4

A deadly storm is brewing
And only time will tell
Who will still be standing
When the water drains to Hell
Who’ll be struck by lightening
And who’ll just blow away
Who will find their higher ground
Or drown beneath the waves
A deadly storm is brewing
We’ve done it to ourselves
Will humanity survive at all?
Only time will tell.
~Mandy Kocsis©2021~

Inspiration: “A deadly storm is brewing, and only time will tell who survives.” from the back cover of “Shadow Flight” by Christine Feehan.

Stars Shine Down

The stars shine down
Just last night i was in your room
I held your shirts,so very close
I closed my eyes
And imagined you in it
Your usual carefree way of dress
Your Devil may care grin
The love your eyes radiate
And i know though you’re gone
You’re still very near
Trusting and believing in me
Trusting and still believing in us

Half of a Yellow Sun

Hour Four – If Tears Could Talk

I’ve heard astronaut tears are Jell-O.

If this is true, mermaid tears are seashells;

Pirate tears are rotted wood;

Pokemon tears are pixels;

My tears are stardust that was never wished on.

 

I can’t say I cry much.

I teared up at my grandmother’s funeral

Only because my mother begged me not to be next.

 

I have always wanted to be a shooting star.

Maybe someone would find hope in me.

Maybe someone would see me and smile.

I know people claim to care for me,

But I can never discern if they mean it.

 

Another reason I want to be a shooting star is because they are already dead.

Their matter is just spiralling down to Earth.

If my body could slam into the ground,

All limbs and organs bursting,

I would already be gone.

Hour 4 – God’s Book Corner

“Now close this book and remake the world.”
I close my book.
I must remake.
How does one “remake?”
One starts by unmaking.

I unmake my book.
I unmake my room and my house and my street.
I unmake the world bit by bit.
I take every species and mineral and feeling.
I look at them closely and unmake their carefully woven parts.

Now I am left with the unmade.
Pages and stomachs and crystals and fur and support beams.
The word “Microsoft” and the connection between siblings and an unremarkable sunrise.
They float separate in nothingness.
I leave myself made so I can remake.

It’s like taking apart a ballpoint pen and putting it back together.
Only this time, I decide how it gets put back.
Most things I remake the same:
Organs in the body, ink printed on paper and skin, trees growing above their roots.
These all stay the same.

But there would be no point if I did not learn from my unmaking.
I learned that the word “bemused” is confusingly similar to “amused,” so I make them different.
I learned that there is no need for extra qualification of cousins.
They are all just cousins now.
I change many little things like those.

I do not change the ugliness.
It was there when I started, the shadow and the death and the violence.
It frightened me to look at, and I was glad to unmake it.
But it is important, and it is real, so I put it back.
It is what balances this whole worldly contraption, if correctly assembled.

I look over my remade world.
It has a remade room, and a remade house, and a remade street.
My book has been remade exactly as I remember it.
I replace my book upon its shelf.
I watch the remade people out the window, continuing their lives.

– First line from The Runaway Species by David Eagleman and Anthony Brandt