The Poetry Marathon

Hour 1, This is Not the End of the World

This is Not the End of the World

after Neil Hilborn

 

I’ve been hearing that the world is ending

Mostly from a voice slightly different from my own

Whispering in my left ear

Right behind the eardrum

I’ve heard it so much these days I can either

Accept the dread or find a way to pay for my medication

There is nothing but endings in both

Of this version of me who stalks their own mind

Who sees their next meal 

And watches it smile back in the reflection

Who wonders what it is like to be calm

To be empty

To live and breathe

Without the future running nails down their back

 

Hour 1: At the end of inspiration

At the tip of my tongue,

It’s a song I’ve sung

A melody that just rung,

In so many ways,

On solitary days,

And now I gaze

At the way it eludes

Oh shrewd!

Wicked muse!

I stand at the end of inspiration

Of wilting aspiration

Who am I if I don’t create?

If I don’t satiate

The hunger in my soul

I spring forth

‘Devour me whole,

O emptiness’,

Where would I land

if not at another beginning?

Hour One

A Tragedy

Once upon a time / you and I / wrote a story / within this story / we were happy / truly / happy / pictures on the wall / white picket fence / kids running around / we had it all / casebound and complete / then one day / you suddenly realized / this wasn’t for you / I / wasn’t for you / what’s the point of love / when the other person / doesn’t feel it back / I still dream of you / what we could have been / now our story sits / unwritten / within my own story / you held a main role / for years and years / how could I have known / you would end up being / my antagonist

Towards the end…

Started the one when things seemed all blue,

Entered the life and moments got decided by you…

Pushing the doors, rusted and were close,

Forcing the feelings to be separated and chose…

Again to live, enjoy the life’s all new song,

Changing ways old, as all, as past and gone…

Soon to realize, probably was a passing cloud and not the illusion sky,

Changed its position and no more things looked as they were high…

The more tried to hold all near,

Less it started feeling, everything as dear…

Laughter soon vanished, and left were only tear,

Thou, tried to change the world, in vain was alone with self over here…

Wasn’t any problem, with life continuing on a pace,

All remained the same; probably Love changed its place…

Thought to still hold back with tightening the grip,

Enforcing to stay, but eventually led everything sooner to slip..

Was tough to digest, if it was towards the end,

Yet left with a last breath, to prolong or rewind memories back from the end…

 

Skay 2021 Hour One

Hour One

 

New endings

 

Weeds, uprooted, 

Wilt in the wheelbarrow

And I clatter it down 

the garden path

To the green waste bin

I know its fate.

 

Every day new weeds 

With a stubborn will 

To survive

Every day I yank them

Out with viciousness

And send them on 

Their journey

 

Is that their new purpose in life?

To become compost

Like most of us,

And sustain new fruits?

 

Every day I weed a bit

Every day I create 

Create new little endings

To feed new fruit

 

Intro

Hi folks!

My name is Alex Aimee Kist and I am thrilled to join the Poetry Marathon for the first time this year. I am joining from SoCal, though I am originally from Salem, MA. The past year and a half, while difficult in an abundance of ways, has given me the freedom and confidence to pursue growth in my writing. This is certainly the type of challenge I need to push myself.

I have a few poems being published soon, I will drop the info in a later post. I cannot wait to see what everyone has to share.

Do you remember.

Do you remember those days

Where we would share a coded gaze

Filled with secrets only we could understand

And others couldn’t comprehend

 

Do you remember a time

When we could read between the lines

And know when the other was feeling down

Through the smile we’d see a frown

 

Do you remember once

When being together would enhance

All the fun and joy we had

Because it was moments we shared

 

Do you remember when

You were my friend

Do you remember those days

Before we went our separate ways

Goodbye

 

Beautiful reasons,

Wondrous mindsets 

Blooming insight

Inducting memorials 

Marking beginnings 

Making territories 

All in attempts and impromptu 

Fast-paced thoughts

Enormous headaches 

Unrelating schemes 

Piercing schedules 

Shedding task 

Managing to dos

Insomic nights 

Weary eyes 

Increasing medications 

Non-stop caffeine

Fizzing sights breaking darkness

The Gift of an Oklahoma Summer Rain

The Gift of an Oklahoma Summer Rain

 

Starts with claps of thunder,

cracks of lightening,

shock and awe at dawn.

Rain in sheets pelts the roof,

water blows sideways at walls and windows.

Easy to pretend we’re vacationing

in Haiti during a brief hurricane.

Niagara Falls on the front porch

from the leaky downspout.

Plants soak up moisture,

cracks in parched dirt absorb liquid

like expensive skin cream,

becoming smooth again.

One lone bird chirps out,

“Can’t take much more of this!”

Raindrops slow, other birds chime in,

“Holy shit! What was that?”

Clouds pass, sky lightens.

Birds shout, “Let’s eat!”

We hear trickling sounds,

intermittent drops hit puddles and leaves.

Storm brings cooler temperatures.

Can sit outside awhile before

sun bakes us again in the summer kiln,

worried our glazes will crack,

risking second degree burns,

from touching the steering wheel,

making grass dry and crispy,

clothes and hair droopy and soggy.

 

Omen

I keep returning my eye to the bare, multi-pronged tree stump,
whose status as a living object is questionable
near where the metal Phoenix is working hard to gain
enough momentum to leave a place
without a lick of greenery to soothe the soul
and where the 12 pane windows still intact reflect
the whiteness of the nearby building and the mostly
dark hues of close by structures while the clouds
without the sharpness of the angled lines below it
are dissolving into the steel grey sky
and making their way stage left before
everything beneath it unravels