The Poetry Marathon

Hour Fourteen: Walls

You could be facing puke brown walls,

back to the cage bars and booted key holders,

envisioning apertures,

sunlight piercing the dank air,

and dirty, fluorescent, flickering dying light.

 

And you might lie in a meadow,

floating atop a bed of purple coneflower, fireweed, buttercup, and chicory,

rehearsing scenes,

screams and fists,

behind closed eyes, reliving it all in an acid-gut and brimstone mind.

 

Or you can sit among urban blight,

cracked walls, concrete barriers, painted baby blue hope,

hooded against daylight,

slumped over a sucking screen,

missing signs, like a diamond in an addiction wall.

 

 

hour 10

this is the same barnes & noble 

that i loved growing up

i would always beeline to the back 

to the young adult section

spend what felt like hours

but was likely only 1 

reading the back of every book

whose cover grabbed my eye

 

i won’t lie

i judge books by their covers

still do to this day

and i also won’t lie

there are a lot of good books with bad covers

that i would have missed out on 

if not personally recommended to me 

 

the young adult section isn’t in the back anymore

i’m always surprised to pass its’ new location,

by the romance section

where the cds used to live

now i explore a bit more then i did back in the day 

make pit stops in world history, new releases,

romance, and social sciences 

i still end my trip right back 

where it used to begin 

hour 9

what is love if it’s not scary 

in the way that unfamiliar things often are

not in the way that’s it a wolf draped in a sheep’s skin

hate and anger and disrespect masquerading as love

 

what’s with the wolf/sheep binary?

what about the violent sheep? and the wolves

that mind their business?

 

who does it do good to act like good & evil are fixed? 

are stagnant and unchanging?

does it benefit the unsuspecting wolf, 

suddenly surrounded by sheep

but not afraid 

no instinct to flee

because sheep are the harmless ones

right?

CLOSET LOVE – #12

I’ve decided not to come out

Jam, cream and scones

are more delicious in the dark

The closet doesnt quite close

I can still see you

 

If there’s a power cut

I won’t be afraid

if it floods

i’m off the floor

its where i meet my monsters

for cups of tea and chat

 

I’m safe here in the closet

hiding the unpleasant parts

of my personality

While here I have decided to bond

with a toothless troll and a large rat

Poem 14

Gas station girl

Wears different earrings each visit

One day she wore gold, the next she wore pearls

 

Such delicate material

In this hidden and dingy 76

Your presence is ethereal

 

I stand among humming machinery

As you walk in, scratching your nose 

Brown eyes flickering over the lottery 

 

“Your earrings are great”

I say in my head

In the silence you smile and ask, “Pump 8?”

 

I hear  the familiar chime as you leave

And watch you do the littler things

And imagine if you’re exactly as you seem

 

Gas station girl

In my isolation at the 76

I wonder what it’s like to be in your world

And wear earrings of gold and earrings of pearls

Hour 14 “A Moment’s Hope…”

Hour 14

9/2/2023

 

“A Moment’s Hope…”

 

Close your eyes

and listen – just listen,

you CAN hear

a heartbeat

…cry, even your own.

 

Eyes stare from tenement windows,

to the dark – beyond AND within,

and Electronic rooms beckon –

so filled with ether whispers.

 

…Whispers that tease and cajole

spirits lost in a moment’s hope

caught up in empty dreams

living empty promises, alone.

 

Is a world of tears that beckons,

a world of fears surround.

We wish so much for so little

to feel so utterly frail –

when we realize

we don’t even know how to reach,

and clues don’t come cheap.

 

Friends matter – tread lightly

hold hands and breathe.

Question, ’cause trust is earned not given.

Know what you risk before you reach

and listen to your gut.

 

Chris

(C) Chris Twyford 9/2/2023

 

 

#2: As Time Moves…

#2: As Time Moves…

It’s a strange thing when you feel your life passing by. The days get shorter and the nights drift. Suddenly, you’re another year older.

But this strange thing happens. Nostalgia. The things you once enjoyed become the same your kids make fads about.

Hipster jeans and slayer dreams. These kids are so funny. They tease us for being old but mirror us just the same.

Yes, time is a strange thing. The way it weaves to and from. Will we ever know where it is in a rush to go?

Time ticks by too fast sometimes. Nevertheless, thank you for the memories.

wrapped around your fingers to please you forever

The body falls again as you try to hold it up
You put your ears to the chest and when you hear nothing,
I see it-
The slow way your face scrunches in pain
Then the tears roll down your face.

We both saw the man walk like he was running away from something, someone
He bumped into you and your cup emptied its content on your shirt
You’d loved the colour mix of the shirt, but now you may never retrieve it
The beer has mixed with his blood

The man walked away after murmuring something, maybe an apology
You go after him and Even if I’m outside, I hear your screams at the other side of the bathroom wall

You rush to the body when the gun goes off quietly
You hug it and save the head from landing with a thud

I want to ask if you know him, you are screaming, not the same way you screamed after the beer poured on you
You are screaming because that is how you are, you feel everyone’s pain
The body falls again and this time you take your hands to your head and walk towards me

“What have you done?”
This is not the first time but you ask me like you do not know I hate when anyone vexes you

Hour 12, Poem 15

When can we get out of here?
When can we breathe?
When can we be not afraid?
When can we be free?

No answers, just a box of darkness—
Meant to be safe, now its what holds you back.

Try, try to get out
knock knock knock

bang bang bang

Try, try to get out
Knock or bang on the door

When would someone hear us?
When can we finally breathe?

please let me be free

Hour 14 – An Address to the Staff