The Poetry Marathon

Radar Love

Sitting alone in a bar
Miles away from anywhere
I feel nails on the back of my neck
And the murmurs of a sultry voice
Whispering in my ear
I turn, but there is no one there

I look at the clock, half past midnight
I look at my phone, no service
I survey the weather scrolling by me, it is clear
I calculate the distance from here to home

I finish my beer
I get in the car
I’m redlining it all the way back
Back to my front porch and my front steps

I’m in the house by 2 am
Back for the first time in two weeks
I walk into my bedroom
She’s lying under the covers and curled on her side

I slip in with her
She’s surprised
Then relieved
Then kisses me on the mouth
I feel her nails in my hair
I hear her whisper in my ear

“I just knew you needed me baby,” I reply

Prompt 29/Childhood, Four -18

1. At four, I am nearly stepped on by my mother, who finds me camped on the floor under her side of the bed each morning. I have no recall of this, but I do remember hiding all my toys under my bed and then taking over my sister’s to her chagrin.

2. From five to seven, I learn I can’t have everything when I accompany my mother to the store, that she won’t tolerate tantrums, that I eat too slow, and that I love to read.

3. From eight to 12, I pretended many things. I pretended to be a movie star, both popular and faded varieties. On the property adjoining our duplex, there was a stone well; here I pretended to be a gypsy. My gypsy phase fed my notion that there was a witches coven behind the wall in my and my sister’s room. My mother later painted the walls light purple to hide the scratches I’d made looking for the secret doorway to the coven. By the time I’m 11, I begin to take back my hair from my mother’s machinations. Finally free of braids, pony tails and foam curlers, I next stand up to my father when I inform him I plan to be a vegetarian.

4. From 13 to 16, I watched my parents’ marriage dissolve. The first unraveling began when we moved to a suburb. My mother would turn their fights into a spectator sport, that, in retrospect, I think probably made her feel safer about raising her voice if my sister or I were in the room. When I entered junior high, my father moved out and began living with the first of two girlfriends, who became wives 2 and 3. Both of whom are with men who make them happier now.

5. 16 to 18, I begin investigating my pop culture options. I have become a fan of the Beatles and the Clash, and the first concert tickets I buy are the Police. Later I cut my hair short, like Sting, whose name I draw in block letters on my notebooks. At 18, I still had not lost my virginity, I still had not had my first heartbreak (though I felt differently at the time) and I had years yet to accumulate the scars that received when I was old enough to value them.

22. The Messenger XXII

The spectacle is in the eye of the beholder

No matter how you look

If you can’t see,

Your eyes will be of little help

It’s not about how you look,

It’s about how you see

Changing your eyes won’t make you see

It’s you who can see, not your eyes

If you can’t see this,

You’ll take for true

What your eyes see

24 – rebel yell

she ran when others walked,

she danced alone, a storm on the dance floor

she was more than rebel, she was the wind

a wild flower, expelling her seeds to roam the earth

an ocean wrapped in skin

let the world try to define her,

to box her

civilisation was a prison

she walked out of.

Another one bites the dust

been to this juncture three times before.

Never with the boost of so many prompts

my friends think I’m crazy but I love to write

poetry is never as good as when completely spontaneous.

But I love this time every year.

Bleary eyed and wiped I roll over one more time on the alarm clock

this time, knowing it’s the last one this 24 hours, I struggle to find any inspiration

missed a couple in the middle of the night hours

had to catch up

falling asleep as I typed

words come words go but hearts stay open

Caitlin and Jacob hold us in a perfect container

And another one down and another one down

we did it

21. Dear Future Love

Dear Future Love,

 

I can’t believe I have finally met you. 

You came into my life in a flash of ultraviolet light.

As fresh and as fine as I can imagine. 

 

You are kinder than I envisioned.

Smart and funny on the outside and deep on the inside.

Just how I like it.

 

Your patience is grounding.

Yet, I know it may be growing thinner with me.

It is more than a gift that your interest never wanes.

 

Two balls of energy that reinvigorate each other.

Your sense of humor is like a badge you wear for all to share.

It is as open and as inviting you make everyone feel.

 

You evoke a sense of home no matter where we go.

Your heart and your chest call me home to rest.

Even when I may not know the place.

 

You make everyone feel at home, not just me.

You came into my life out of the blue. 

If I I had not invited you in to help me move my books before the rain,

I don’t know if I would’ve ever be the same. 

 

On that rainy day,I found fresh fruit to share with you. 

My shoulders were bare and my heart was open. 

Unbeknownst to me, my heart was shifting too.

 

You changed everything I believed in about love.

I knew not how to “think”, all I could do was “feel”.

I felt your heart, and I was not ever the same.

 

You sing without regret.

Spit lyrics and their meanings without hesitation.

With or without music when I’m near

I feel the rhythm of your vibe.

 

You pull me close, showing me what it’s like to be alive.

Every day and every night you bless me with more than a kiss.

We pray we cook, we dance, we play, and we continue to grow.

 

I’m so grateful you are no longer just a dream.

 

All rights reserved copyright (c) 2019 Natasha Vanover

Roots

Seeds were planted deep beneath the surface.

Created to produce the bitter with sweet.

Flourishing while nourishing our bodies from the heat.

Sometimes its strange fruit was wonderful and unique.

But the blackness in their eyes would not let it be.

 

Dollars were created to systemize the poor from the wealthy.

Paper used to produce a new pair of shoes or remind us of the cost of food.

Sometimes its strange fruit was impactful and full of greed.

The blackness in their eyes became blind and numb

to what our president has become.

 

Prophets and gods were idolized to determine the value of human worth.

Manifesting a life and immortalizing a death all in the same breath.

Sometimes its strange fruit was full of awe and fear.

The blackness in their eyes kept the truth hidden for thousands of years.

Marathon’s End- a Haiku

Birdsong and first light 
announce morning’s arrival.
But I choose to sleep.

Full basket

Full basket

 

September puppy

Waiting to be born

 

All my eggs

In this basket

 

Morning

Wags and kisses

 

Coming home

Greetings

 

Leaning in to

My sad stories

 

Laughing at

The same jokes

 

Big pressure

For a little guy

 

 

TobeTT  #23

My Mystery

Meeting you was a joy.
A heart, a smile, laughter,
And peace.
Loneliness,
Pushed away,
By you.

You understood my dark
Moments
And sent me joy to
Help me survive.

We weren’t what we could be
But we what we needed to be.

One day, we can be more
But for now, we are memes,
Gifs, videos, and pics.
We are more than the texts and
Calls.
We are vast,
Like the universe.
A mystery.