The Poetry Marathon

Aqua Poem 10 The Importance

The importance of a shoulder to cry on is

very real.

The power of true admiration.

Not just someone to follow at your heel.

As we grow older, some souls continue this

search.

Pure magic,

pure joy,

It’s just not right to learn to play with a soul,

to accidentally  torture,

a soul,

as if they are your  toy.

When one light recognizes the light in

another,

Whether an amazing friendship, a partner, or

a lover.

Keep expressing yourself, communicate it

all,

We just have to be sure to hold on and not to

fall,

In too deep amongst the ruins of your mind,

Keep on searching for that you wish to find.

Aqua PMC 6/26/20

 

 

 

Prompt 12, Hour 12

This prompt has steps, and you have to do them in order. Don’t look ahead to the next step before completing the previous one.

1. Grab a book off a shelf at random.

2. Read the first line of the book and the last line of the book.

3. Pick one of them.

4. You have to use every single word in this line in a poem. Those words can be used at any point in the poem.

 

 

Depth away from home

Depth away from home

My mother fell from a height into despair
and I cried. She is still there as I write.
She gives a description of the walls
as thick dark bricks, eighteen feet deep
into grief, thrice the depth for mortals.
Could that be the prize of being a fighter?
I’ve never been into a home of grief
this deep and long distance away from here.
There’s a scar behind me for my offshoots
to learn how to survive a fall into grief.
I had my first scar at eight.
The other came no distance afterward.
Mother has so many already;
I have an album made from them.
But she’s in another abyss for being alive.
Mother, what chases us should desist
after a long unfruitful chase. There are
balls of waters in my eyes as I write this.
I can only imagine how grief scourges
a body away from home.

Ciudad Victoria Infancy

When I was younger than my brain can remember,

I was embraces by walnut trees, they became my ceiling,

so when I was there my breath feel like oil from all that nuts falling,

my head chocked with the creepling and echoing sound of the skull,

they didn’t got squirrels, but smelled like soap and iron,

my blood tasted the same as that tree before me,

someone in the background will tought me not to be there,

at the ground were buried the bodies of revolutionaries, and some witches,

abuelita will said that her dad will visit some relatives near the aisle,

because nobody get flowers to the cemetary away from town,

Ciudad Victoria keep all that rumbling in my soul,

remembering how the sound of locked lions was heard from a furthest place

turn off some of mi biggest fears, but those are the ones that serve as seeds

so when the time pass by become something from growth,

my memory needs to buy that place and save it in this words.

Hapiness is fake if you standarize it, but for our own

could or should or must work, dunno

The Crow’s Nest — Hour 11

It would require a contraption I would build

a see-saw like structure

very long on one end and very short and adjustably heavy on the other

after dark I would mount the swivel seat at the long end

and turn on the water valve

filling the stubby end with water

slowly slowly

my seat would rise

lift above the house

above the streetlights and treetops

towering above all notice

into to the high-up dark of night

where I could sit and dangle

recline under the stars

count moonbeams

visit with nightbirds

be king in

my own kingdom for a time

peaceful

unnoticed

until I tug the string and pull the plug tiny

let the water escape the assemblage slowly

channel happiness to the garden

water unwasted

released

restored to new purpose

as old as old bones

and I touch down

as a visitor to earth

don’t call me crazy

I will do it

I’m doing it now

 

LEGACY – For Anne – Hour #11

I want to be like you when I grow up –

a woman of kindness, of wisdom, of sharing.

You inspire me to be my best self –

to bring forth and develop the gifts I’ve been given.

 

It’s in your random acts of creative generosity

that I see the potential for my giving.

In your messages of encouragement,

that I find strength and endurance.

 

To know you is an honour, a privilege

and though we meet so seldom,

I feel your presence when I reach out

gor a gentle nudge to keep going.

 

You are a woman of affable nature

who many may say is simply “aging gracefully”,

yet, this is not the case.

You are more alive each day than the one before.

 

You continue to create masterpieces of magic

With paper and words and wisdom

And your gifts will live on as a legacy

To your love and your inimitable spirit.

Poem 11 – Hour 11 – Aymen Zaheer

Fantasy Place

My flight of thoughts is ordinary

Like a juicy fruit on tree of cherry

I left the burden once I carried

Self-pity and cowardice to whom I married

 

I want to live in rainbow of flowers

Near the lake, by sitting in water for hours

The buds are kissing my face every moment

Cool breeze aids them this bestowment

 

I wish, I walk on the rainbow

Take a sight to dance on snow

I want to mix with mother nature

As weaving love by a filature

 

hour 4. 12:02 PM.

people like us
don’t get to say goodbye
we don’t have the time to do so
and if we did, i’m sure
we would be doing other things
that we would consider more important
like making memories on balconies
and watching sunsets on beaches
and dancing in the dark.
and we did do those things,
until we ran out of time
and ended up back at square one
in algebra II honors,
learning about how to add imaginary numbers and
how to make the boy two tables over
on the corner seat facing the board
fall in love with you without
breaking your heart to pieces
like when I swung the bat too hard
in fourth grade and did that exact thing,
but with your window.
looking back, i guess
i never really learned anything in that class
other than the fact that
a distance of two tables
could really feel like two light years sometimes.

Here We Are – golden shovel

after Victoria Chang

Time has shifted around my city of I
and its reliability to be always
steady and constant is in doubt though I knew
this welcomed distortion was a happening that
pushed many cities of I into profound grief
over the long overdue resolution of an ongoing crime that was
and continues to be done by humans against other humans as something
fundamentally evil that needs a mind meld in all of the cities of I
to view the world as cities of we which could
in time remove the stench of racism’s smell

hour 3. 11:32 AM.

I would’ve traded my heart
for highway flowers
and endless summer.

I wanted us to just
lie with sunflowers
and waste all our hours.

You didn’t need to do everything that you did.
I never liked grandiose gestures.
For your next girl,
I hope that you love her.
If you do, just remember:
it’s the small things that count.