The Poetry Marathon

Bury It (Brandy Goodman Poem #1)

Bury It (Brandy Goodman Poem #1)

Buried beneath the Hate

Lies the root of it all

All the Hurt and Pain

It’s where the tears fall

The Hurt is just too much,

The Pain sharp as a knife

Bury it, bury it all

Hate and anger become life

Turn from Insecurity

Hide away from Guilt

None of it can get you

Behind the wall you’ve built

Dig a little deeper

Just a bit further down

Hide it all away

Before it makes you drown

Build up the Anger

Feed fire to the Hate

Bury those week emotions

Before it’s too late

Loving the ghost. (1/2 Marathon, Hour One)

Loving the ghost.

Always.

With me.

Never here

But in my blood, through my bones (when they creak and when they cry).

There is no moment without you. I cannot reach you.

Never have I wanted to feel something on my skin as much as yours.

I am grateful. Your spirit is not sufficient.

Your voice haunts me.

(You used to sing to me everyday . . .)

Your love passes through me. Like a dream.

I cannot love like this.

Never here

With me.

Always.

Selene (1st Hour 2020)

Selene, the first of her name

The first to be blamed

to go down in history in flames

The men alter her story

when they falter in their own glory

Like many, they paint this Goddess

with Godless gossip

and tell the tales of her legacy

to define her life as heresy

Selene, the first to be gaslit

but a society that was male dominant

where Gods grant you desires

all the while setting them on fire

For her love for a mortal was set ablaze

By the very same who would scorch her name

Zeus set upon her the love of her life

And gave me him a choice on how he should die

The all-knowing knew what would transpire

As her lover chose to sleep forever by the pyre

Selene, the first of her name

forever bounded to her immortal shame

by Gods and men who marked her with the blame

because of their jealousies and covetousness

they tell her tale to be the first succubus

 

 

2020 – 1

Taking your voice
And giving it – but not away
To others
Who are less fortunate
And can’t afford
To have their own

Yours will be heard
Will echo – far
Carrying their lives
That some of them
Live not by choice

Never more

The early morning fog
was like thin milk hanging over the cliffs
And the cold air
filled my lungs
like breathing
through a cloud.

I always liked the early morrning
stillness
like a gift
the world was giving
for the early birds

But that morning,
the quiet was interrupted by
the sound of deep breathing behind me
which awakened all every muscles in my body
and my skin tingled like it could hear

Fight or flight?
fight or flight?

I ran faster away from the sound
but saw the dark figure emerging from the fog
a creature so large
its breath filled my fear
with each breath.

Its beak looked large enough
to peck my eyes out
and though it was bigger than any bird
I’d ever seen in my life
we both stared at each other in relief

“Nevermore, Mr. Poe,”
I said
as I tipped my imaginary hat at him.

He just looked at me and laughed.

 

00:00 Birth

(more…)

The 1st Hour

My eyes are still groggy looking

And my head is promising that today is probably gonna be a foggy one.

Ooh, the joys of post traumatic head injury migraine.

I had a perfect plan and good intentions aplenty…

For a great night’s rest and a day filled with inspirational witty(ness)

I had delusions of writing perfect little diddies

Or entertaining folks with tales of the sweat from underneath my titties.

But all that will have to wait til I can properly communicate with my brain.

I guess it don’t help much that I’ve been wake and starin at the clock since just before it turned 4-

But that fault lies at the feet of my lover-

For twas he that busted in the door at such a wee hour,

Promptly fell into bed and began to snore…

Leaving me wide awake with the book o Faces to keep me company.

I wander if that’s enough for some kind of plea

Cause as I watch him sleep, I’ve nothing but murderous thoughts for he…

Then again, orange or black or grey or blue or khaki

Has never looked good on me from inside a prison

Not to say I’ve ever spent nights within them walls

But eventually all giants fall, right?

Wait. Let me assure you I’m no conceited uptight little gal,

So before this goes any more astray-

Allow me to wish everyone a very merry happy Poetry Day!

I will see you at the finish line, indeed, I shall.

Mother

She is mad at me;
even together we are apart.

I am three and screaming
I am seven and terrified
I am thirteen and suicidal
I am sixteen and at my breaking point
I am twenty two and an alcoholic
I am twenty five and getting my shit together.

I am twenty nine and sober.
I am a deer in headlights.

She is six inches away but we do not speak.

She is terrified I won’t return because that is the mantra

We run until our shoes fall off.

Cold Southern gasoline.

I’m throwing fuel on the fire.

Seeds of Power

She was there to smash through a dismal wall
A soul determined to push through it all
When the vice of despair reached everywhere
She threw me a lifeline out of a nightmare
A positive attitude to soothe the fearsome beast
A joyful spark to make the most out of least
But her devotion shined too, to help those in need
To share their heartache, the wounds that bleed
So together we’ll march determined into that vast gloom
Armed with mindful seeds of power to flower and bloom

Taking Leia to the Vet

She is skittish.

Frightened in the car, in her cage.

In her language, she cries out:

“Why are you torturing me?

What have I done to deserve this?

I give you only love, and what do I get in return?

An endless drive to see the witch doctor

who will probe my orifices with sharp weapons.”

And as I feel her terror, I call to her,

“Fear not, it will soon be over and you will be

safe and healthy again, my love!”