The Poetry Marathon

In the wee hours of the night the standstill can be deafening

The others on the way have the same

work to keep up with

knowing they are there, makes the final hour worth heading toward.

Lonely in the quiet of the creative night  there is no alone and the sun doesn’t set on creativity.

Let it flow forth in all of its bumbling beauty

Sleep sneaks up from behind

my closed eyelids

my soft snoring startling myself awake

I can’t sleep yet!

My tasks are incomplete

But sleep doesn’t care

It tries to dig it’s claws into me

Drags me down to dreamland

My body is crashing.

Every day I notice that more is gone
more and more my thoughts get drawn
my thoughts they soar, and my brain is at war
when it arrives i will be bygone.

this deep and wicked loves

(inspired by phrased found in “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock” by T. S. Eliot.  These phrases will be in italics in the new poem)

we fell into this love

deep and wicked

piled high with sharp-sided facets

we chose not to feel.

let us go, you and I

to those places we long to be

and hide our intentions

when we meet the faces that you meet,

for shame of wagging tongues and fingers.

do I dare disturb the universe,

with my wicked love

for your beautiful face?

and how should I presume

that your youth and beauty

could ever make space for

my dusty ways, when it malingers.

you gaze upon me,

awe-filled,

but I am no prophet;

yet I see all kinds of trouble

if some talk of you and me

lands in the wrong ears.

if we lose everything…

your beauty…

would it have been worthwhile

to live this love at such a cost?

in these days without you,

I grow old

in these dark days,

I have heard the Mermaids singing

but I don’t think they sing for me;”

they see your face and fall in love with you –

like I have.

For me,

I will close my eyes

to dream of our lives together –

till human voices wake us.

(c) r.l.elke

my heart walks thee down by the shore

our hands barley meet as in the evening we stroll

following lines discarded by sea, shells, weeds, broken knees

I wonder why, we go so slow, in this lonely hopeless space.

the shanty’s stench flows down in rivers golden brown

to meet the waters and kill the fish,

the miasma is quite remis,

save me ,save me. from this stench

take me, take me, to the tavern,

let us drown in your poison,

in your poison, let us sink

for we are an awkward match

gifted by aristocracy, cousins

by one parent and an uncle by the other

a repulsive discourse,

making us shudder.

I greet darkness as an old acquaintance while its shadows

dance around me as if pretending to know me for who I was. Those cobblestone roads permeate

every aspect of your essence. When the light accosts your very being, it’s time for the night to take its final bow.

Through the shadows, I witnessed the atrocities of everyday life: people conceding to the worst in themselves as they pretend their perceptions are somehow superior to countless centuries of human(e) existence. Those who cannot see watch us with judgement engrossing their skin and those who cannot hear listen to the sounds of silence coupled with the silent anguish of the millions of injustices beneath the surface of your own denial.

Your words can metastasize to levels not seen since the world tried to inhibit your own sense of freedom. I looked up at the subway walls and all that stared back at me was the warnings of those who failed the past to ensure a better future. Most won’t listen to the prophets because they can’t admit they were wrong

but we know you’ll never be able to improve until you’ve made peace with all the ways you’ve lost sight of yourself over the countless decades of moral ambiguity.

Bonfires and camping

Road trips, sweet drinks, and first dates

We all crave summer.

I slept under the stars

And travelled with strangers

I finished a 10K race

I’ve lived dangerous.

I loved reckless

Had my heart broken

Picked up the pieces

And just kept on moving.

I’ve trusted the wrong person

Learned from my lessons

Sang in front of an audience

I still leave myself open.

I know pain and suffering

Is just part of being human

I refuse to breakdown

I refuse to relinguish my power.

I’m resilient.

I’m strong.

I’m wiser.

I’m surviving.

Dear Fire Within,

You only seem to activate when my buttons

are pressed and a rage resurfaces from deep within.

It is when you appear, I feel the people-pleasing subside.

The need to run and hide.

There is a power you possess that I need to obtain instead of contain.

You make this life less mundane.

When the burning starts and flames erupt.

I fight to control the outcome of your wrath.

When I really should take a moment and laugh.

Fire within, you and I could become great friends.

There are days I need to see through your lens.

Your instinct to right a wrong.

The raw emotion you release awakens the beast I long to see.

Fire within, stay silent no more.

Speak even if your flame trembles

to tear down this façade of galore.