The Poetry Marathon

Hour Fifteen: A Listening Point of View

Shouting does not make me hear you better.

Your voice booms naturally, arguing, singing, storytelling…

The boys across the balcony can hear you revving up about the latest political absurdity.

That phrase you repeated to the kids, “indoor voice,” or

the husky-soft wisps that thread through the air vents when you guide meditation,

those voices I can hear, words so calm and clear a megaphone could not silence them.

You want to be heard.

Speak so I can listen.

 

Balance

Hour 3

Oh look! “The best couple”

Completing each other’s words

Helping each other in chores

Being there for each other

 

Holding hands, all lovey-dovey

Always kissing goodbyes

Calling eachother cute names

Always smiling at eachother

 

So, how do they manage?

How is it possible?

When couples are related with fighting.

Doing just the opposite?

 

Life is not always agreeable

To keep up with the up’s and down’s is tough

A lot of understanding and patience is needed

A fine line balance is needed

 

Rashmi S Kurup

 

Rachnoc 15 Hour 15

All the walls tar paved,
Delirium gone awry,
He screws the scared help.

Hour 15: Strange Things

He was walking down his street peacefully
It was just another day
The same old monotonous day
But he liked the sameness, the luxury of normalcy
At his age, he valued a day lacking stress and excitement
He adjusted his walking stick and continued walking
Thud! A bright red football missed his ear by inches
The owner of the football was a chubby four-year old
Who had ‘trouble’ written all over him
” Grandpa, I am your new neighbor,”
The boy announced in a cute sing-song voice
Grandpa felt a tiny wave of anxiety sweep over him
This meant bidding goodbye to a ‘normal, same-old day’ goodbye
The boy kicked the ball to him, Grandpa could smell his adrenaline rush
He remembered himself in his green and yellow school jersey
He sighed. He smiled.
“Let’s go, boy!”

I choose my misery #15

Cook the brown
Fill the syringe
Find a vein
Not on the edge.

Sharp sting
Of anticipation
Keeps self loathing a bay
Time for time to stop
For me to go away.

Caught the dragon
That first time
Man it was good
Now I realise
Syringe ryhmes
With orange
When I add
A little blood.

Press down slow
Feel the itch
And forget for a while
That life’s a bitch.

One misery not chosen
Outside control
Swapped for another
That I can own,
That I can turn
On and off
By taking a hit,
And making
The chosen misery
Fade,
For just a little bit.

You catch the dragon once
That’s his trick
You spend your life
In vain vein misery
Chasing
That first pin pick.

That first rush
The last time
You’ll ever feel
Heaven when you push
The brown inside
But it’s your misery
And yours alone
It lies to you
Because it’s you
Being owned.

Hour 15 – A Phoned In Poem

A Phoned In Poem

 

        Beep, beep, beep, boop, beep, beep, beep…boop.

Brrrng Brrrng                                                       Brrrng Brrrng

Brrrng Brrrng                                                       Brrrng Brrrng

Hello. Your call cannot be completed as dialed. Please check

Your number and try your call again.  If you need help please 

                         press pound for more options. 

               Click. Beep, beep, boop, beep, boop, boop

           Beep. Brrrng. Brrrng. Brrrng. Brrrng. Hello, you

        Have reached the Poetry Marathon Hotline, if this is

     An emergency, hang up and dial 9-1-1. Otherwise, press

1 for more options.            Boop.               You have selected 1 –

More options. Is      this               your      choice? If so, press 1 for 

Yes. Press 2 for         no              or         press 3 for more options.

Beep. Hola! Su              llamada              no se puede completar 

     Tal como se marcó. Por favor cuelgue e intente realizar la 

        llamada nuevamente. CLICK! “And that’s how you get 

             Them to stop calling at every hour of the night.”

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#8: All these questions inside my brain

#8: All these questions inside my brain

What if I’m not enough? What is all my fears are true? What if I never measure up to how I’ve always been expected to be?

What if what they want me to be or do isn’t what I want to be or do? Does it matter? Is what they want more important than what I want?

How do I make the right choice? How do I know I’m not making a big mistake? Is it really my choice to make?

What would I do if I make a mistake? How will I respond? Would it be the end of the world? Or would I find the strength to carry on and learn from that mistake? And who gets to determine if it is a mistake?

WHO THE HECK ANSWERS ALL THESE QUESTIONS I HAVE?!

Prompt 15, No One’s Looking

Oops! I’m caught!
I have to keep walking
I put one foot –
I know, I can tell the way she looks at me,
she doesn’t seem to like me.
I know I’m not stylish.
She was looking at my shoes.
The short lady with the Irish name,
she’s nice.
The manager talks to me in a kind way.
The assistant manager talks to me like I’m slow.
And the tall lady stops me and instructs me how to carry things.
She doesn’t know how much I want to fit in.
I don’t know how to, though.
You can’t ask that.
You can’t.

How to get to work – Hour 9, Prompt 9

A beet hidden in my jacket

home in the bayou, I elbow

the cat sitting below

Cinnamon is her name

she’s scared of the lightbulb, same

as the bucket of veggies

now elk blocks 

my carport

the beet, I use

to get to work.

 

– Sandra Johnson, 9-2-2023