The Poetry Marathon

What Lies Above

Spoilers for the beginning of Portal 2.

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I had one last view of the sky
Before She dragged me back down
Underground, and into storage.

There was Art in my room to view
And experience spiritual refreshment
As only an A.I. could dream up.

When at last he woke me up
That cheerful ball of chattiness,
Even the Art was in darkness

And so I go around again, on
Paths familiar and unfamiliar
But this time in company

Whatever lies ahead, behind or beneath
And however far we need to go,
The sky remains, above.

FOR MICHELLE

The child sucked on the orange,
then said a word it heard elsewhere
– ‘sucksink’!
‘Don’t talk with your mouth
full!’ admonished the mother,
‘Swallow your food first!’,
preached the father,
and then forgot about it,
but the child did not
forget the word, because that
was the most important part,
the word the man in the park
said to the woman, the word
that sounded like a sneeze,
which made the child laugh,
its mouth filled with orange giggles.

Lover’s Bay(Prompt 5)

allow me to take you to lovers bay,

the map is inscribed in our love,

and the compass directions in the wind,

allow me to take you to lover’s bay,

a night times boat drift from the shore,

we’ll have packed dinner that took to prepare,

a huge fluffy blanket,

ours to share,

and sunglasses that i’ll teach you the function of during the night ride,

we’ll stargaze like we sunbathe,

and when dawn approaches,

you’ll hear me bellow,

LAND AHOY!!!!

allow me to take you to lover’s bay

-Ropa

Snaphots-Hour 5

I see you

On a hilltop

Your arms spread

To touch the sky

The milky way above you

Stars misting around you

 

I  see you

 

Melting above the sun

Clamoring for brilliance and riches

Defying reality, denying it

A swirling dichotomy

Of delusion and dreamer

Soft

Silky

Spun by stars

 

I  see you

 

Soaking up the moonlight

Moonbeams exploding from your fingertips

Shimmering

In the brilliant night sky

Caressing my soul

With your invisible hands

 

I  see you

 

Disappearing

A spirit soaring above the trees

Gliding on the gentlest breeze

A memory

A vapor

That never existed

 

I see you

Prompt 5: image haikus

Light galaxy breaks
Sparkling stillness of the lake
Come drift past the gap

 

Octagons of dry
Repelling cold from the sky
Raise your colors high

 

Singed through the bark
Love exposed striations
Sap seeps. Heart revealed

Hour 4, prompt 4 Epistolary

Dear Cotton Candy Princess,

Who knew that with shaking hands,
you’d kill your captors,
no prince needed.

Who knew that with trembling eyes,
you’d challenge your suitors to
listen,
understand,
trust.

Do you have to answer to each other for
every dragon slayed?
every witch enraged?
every promise broken?
every heart stolen?

Who knew that with aching intentions you’d devour yourself.
Eat yourself whole, to examine each part.

Did you really take a knife and preform your own autopsy?

Here was where you created your own tourniquet and filed for divorce.
Here was where, in your desperation to be loved,
you went bobbing for love in acid, and came away with cavities and raw skin.
Here was where the gun was cold on your temple and the restraining order was paper in your hands,
and the man was horrible monster.
Here was where you whittled away as much of the rot as you could.
Here is where the scars shine
-soft pink and kissable.

Who knew that when love finally arrived,
he’d be every wish you ever made
– to your stuffed animals
– to falling stars
– to the moon
– to yourself.

Every wish, every promise, every pray –
made flesh and bone, almost two years before you were born,
before you ever even knew what you wanted,

He was there.

Motorcycle speeds, slick kisses, and stability – a potent potion for learning to love yourself again.
Who knew that with machinery, patience, and absolute tenderness, he’d heal you.

He knew.
He knew so that you could too.
He knew until you both did.

Best regards,

Cotton Candy Queen

Sunny Daydream

Hot spring-nearly-summer golden hours,

the slow heat under your skin, soft,

child-like time spent as sweat skims down

your back, your arms damp with it and yet,

slow wind stirs and we rest. Eyes up,

trees creak and whisper, long white birch arms

drape, ruffled with leaves, and if you still yourself

to childhood dreaming, you can see white dryads

and nymphs, lazing in summer heat,

their long white limbs burning with warmth

as the slow wind stirs up ancient memory

with a long, unyielding heat.

One True Path (Prompt 5)

There’s only one true path.

Merely peer through the tree tops to find it,

encircled in the highest branches,

not the rain forest’s emergent stems and leaves, a promise

of fresh air, nourishing humanity’s lungful laments,

but the sun-baked, burnt autumn decay

of political scrum,

the aftermath of billions of steps on a trodden trail.

I look up through the turmoil and treason,

and see the sun, dying brilliantly before eternity,

held in a heart’s center,

divine cell of my own making.

 

Heart

“I heart you.” She says,
as he carves into the branch with his dull-bladed pocket knife.

His was the kind of knife a Boy Scout would have.

Only he wasn’t a Boy Scout.

The blade peeled away the bark in small flakes, eroding the trust and innocence of the protective layers.

She remembers,

”I heart you.” She whispers to herself.

Joy in her heart that the tree is thriving even though it is permanently scarred.

 

 

Poem Hour Five

The Day it Rained Umbrellas

One day the sky opened,
And poured down umbrellas.
No rain in which to use them,
Just thousands of umbrellas.
Different colours, different sizes,
All styles and shapes and shades.

They hurdled down towards us,
Handles first, fully open,
Before suddenly slowing
And letting a gentle breeze guide them down,
Into waiting hands, one per person,
Choosing their new owners one by one.

People reached out and found
Their favourite colour waiting,
Or an animal shape,
Patterns, stripes, spots,
Handles of wood or plastic or metal,
Just what they would have chosen.

Small girls had pink umbrellas with unicorns on,
Disney princesses and kittens,
Or maybe a Star Wars figure,
Space rockets or spiderwebs.
Men in suits reached for rainbow stripes,
Women for bold red or rich purple.

The day the umbrellas rained down,
Magically, mysteriously.
We reached out and held on,
As the day saw not a drop of rain
But an outpouring of love
And understanding.