The Poetry Marathon

Run(hour 1) by Mrs. J

Has anyone ever paid attention to how Forest Gump run?

One may say in the beginning he was trained to run out of fear to to protect himself and stay out of trouble

Another may say but by time he got older he ran with perseverance

In the end many may say everything he did in running paid off in double

I say he ran in faith

he never knew what the end results was going to be

But he always built up that confidence to run prior to what he could see

I never once had a dream to run like he did

But my challenges started like him as a kid

I use to run for fun

But then one day I went from being able to move freely to a wheelchair quickly learning how to walk all over again

that seemed to slow me down

Not knowing that I already had someone training me too

A friend.. I found out His name is Jesus who wears the crown

To help me be the influential woman I know personally

Through faith

I run with confidence and perseverance with fear at times I face

But through it all His power and glory I still can embrace

All the running which will help me leave my troubles behind

So I can be one of the walking, talking encouraging, influential woman of human kind

 

Hour 2. 10:23 AM

CJ,

I will miss the taste
of your grape sugar and
the soft touch of your fingers
brushing over my skin
to adjust the camera
as the middle-aged uber driver
watches us vlogging “NY with Claire”
with a frown on his face
in the rearview mirror
while the city blurs
into a van Gogh painting
outside of the window and
the starry, starry night
falls upon higher grounds
which eventually will lay the stars
at our feet and we will be bigger
than the entire state of New York
to the point where
when you reach for my hand
the streets will hold their ground
against a northerly wind
but before soon you will be gone and
the likely chances that we will meet again
will be a million to one and until then
I will wait until I can steal your gum again and
draw inside the wrapper
a little doodle of the two of us
but then I will scrunch it up and
throw it out behind your back
because it reminds me too much
of a love I once had
because I want to have
a unique space in my heart for you and
not for you to fill the unique space
that someone else once left behind
so I will hold tight to the polaroid
until the day fate brings up the idea
that we should meet again
under the lights of the Empire State
or the stairs in front of the Met
and if we met again today
I would have taken you out
on a proper date
even though you probably would have
preferred to drag me to
your brother’s friend’s sister’s gallery
and suggest that we
make out in the bathroom
and I would have had to politely decline
because my lips would be chapped
from the cold
but however, I would gladly
take up the offer to hang out with you
and occasionally share some kisses
even though that would leave my lips
swollen when we leave
but how fun it would be
to explore the streets of New York
with you again.
Plus, I owe you one pack of fruit gum,
six hugs, and exactly one proper date.

All Love,

SL

Shakti

If you are not famous, it is the fault of an ignorant social order,
You are the primordial, the all-pervasive and omnipotent;

Revered and respected, worshipped and venerated,
I have known you closely.

Acquaintance is more a matter of experience than of proximal, tangible contact

Awake!

I’m sitting here at three in the morning,
Clock’s ticking and the house is sleeping ,
Three hours until the sun will rise ,
Three hours until my sons will slide, With slippered feet downstairs
And ask me to make pancakes.

And still my sleep eludes me.

There was that drink I had at ten
What was it? Tea? It had caffeine!
And then of course there’s work to do, To plan, to plan, and then to worry: Three more shows, and all that travel, All that baking (!)
Can’t be right…Let’s do the math again.
Again.
Be safe and do the math again.

And still my sleep eludes me.

I’ve taken time, I’ve taken baths, I’ve taken pills,
Yet here I am, sweat soaked and hazy, Wondering what will happen come tomorrow,
I’m counting sheep and counting stars ,
And counting ticks and tocks of clocks, I’m counting down the next three hours

And still my sleep eludes me.

A SINGLE GRAIN

If we can’t
fill tiny stomach,
let us try
to save one single grain
that made tiny stomach drain.

If we can’t
make tiny face happy,
let us try
to be a clown
that will make their sadness down.

If we can’t
take care of tiny
let us try
to pray for small hand
that they soon become grand.

Grammy C

Reaching into the cookie jar as soon as you walk in the door,
Always a freshly baked chocolate chip cookie inside,
The sounds of the organ,
You’re dancing, knees slapping,
Singing along to your favourite show tune,
Life of the party,
Hair in your classic curls,
Your face turns bright red when you’re angry, crazy kids,
Creating the perfect family Christmas in your 1970s basement,
Plastic tree, shag rug, psychedelic pictures on the wall,
A funny little Leprechaun greets you as you walk by,
Proud Irish girl

You

You

are gone.
I know this
accept this
but sometimes
when I wake up
at 3 in the morning
I think it is noon
and that it was all
a dream
a nightmare
a Hollywood script
read line by line
the knife gun chainsaw
just a prop
the pool of blood
watered-down ketchup
the closing notes
a familiar top 10 hit.

Still awake at 4
I realize
there was no blood
no weapon
no music
no dream
just the nightmare truth
that you are gone.

~ J R Turek
June 27, 2020
Hour 3

First Impressions

First Impressions

To tell you the truth

Have to tell you our story

Sometimes we fight

Sometimes we cry

That is because you always taught me to fight for what I want

Wanted you to see me for who I thought I was

Leave it up to you

Mommy

From the very first impression

You knew me

You knew who am I

You know who I will be

You didn’t even guess

You saw it in my eyes

When you first held me

What you don’t know is

You left an impression

Your first impression on me

That day you gave me your name

You showed me the woman that I wanted to be

Yet you pushed everyday for me to be better

Yet still til this day

Still working on being like the impression you left on me

The very first day

That impression fit for a queen

That impression…

2020 Poetry Marathon, Hour 3

Prompt 3: The Bop. (more…)

Just Before Dawn-Hour 3

My senses

Overloaded by this dark night

Dawn approaching

I can smell it in the sea air

The sweet sounds of quiet

The sweet air of isolation

The birds haven’t woken up yet

The world is still waiting for it’s alarms

I sit transfixed

The dark night sculpted

By a maker I will never understand

For a purpose that awaits me

The Silence whispers

The Quiet sooths

Motionless

Awaiting daylight’s resplendence

and it’s quieting

This crescendo of silence