The Poetry Marathon

Choose

I’m being torn between two roads:

One I’ve worked towards my entire life

The other, a road unknown

One has a goal that aligns with mine

The other could also lead me to prosper

My role in life has changed

I no longer feel I can be selfish

But must sacrifice for everyone else

I no longer feel my life is as important

I feel lost with no direction

A compass unsure which way is North

I want to trust my feet

And where they go

But too afraid they’ll lead me astray

I no longer trust my own judgment

For my vision doesn’t seem to be in focus

I’ve always known where I wanted to go

Now I’m scared I may accomplish it

I’m stalling to give myself more time

As if it’ll mean that I don’t have to decide

Everyone’s depending on me

The pressure is so high

I have to make a decision.

Unequalled

Since we arrived, we rightly rule
As Avlem are best placed to do
The Empire’s soldiers serve our side
We rightly rule, since we arrived.

The natives are a sorry lot
Who can’t make use of what they’ve got
We’re better than them all, by far
A sorry lot the natives are

We’re honour-bound to take the lead
How else can primitives be freed
From savage ignorance all round?
To take the lead, we’re honour-bound.

Form: Swap Quatrain

Note: This is me exploring my fantasy world a bit more. The Avlem are not the leading military nation in this world (that would the the Empire, with the soldiers). They do, however, believe themselves to be the pinnacle of proper civilisation, and as such to have a duty to civilise the rest of the world. Starting with this new land, where the natives are so backward they don’t even have centralised government!

Loves moment

you can’t force moments

you can’t guide love into a crisis

some stories are easier when they come from you

but more difficult to tell

Do I dare? You ask

knowing this question is neurotic in itself

 

Nothing lasts forever (hour 7)

He walked through the cornfields,

His hand grazng the tall crop,

He pulled his cap down, shielding his eyes from the sun,

 

His brother, less than three days young,

Had been born weak and sickly,

He had lived through fifteen winters,

He understood nothing lasts for ever, but that didn’t make him any less distraught,

 

He had woken before his mother,

so that he could clear his mind,

And prepare for the sorrow that was yet to come,

 

He heard a wail come from the house,

He ran towards the stone brick farmhouse,

It was time,

 

He burst through the door to the kitchen,

His whole family was there,

Crowded around their mother,

She crying, craddling the empty shell of his brother,

Maura was comforting her, but the tears were running down her cheeks too,

 

His father lingered in the back,

Purple bags under his eyes,

Shock covered his old, aged face,

 

He felt something ignite inside him,

A deep sense of mourning,

He had been expecting this,

But seeing his brother, Fern, an empty shell,

He would neverr get to talk, or walk, never feel the thrill that was life,

 

Three days old,

Three days of prayers and tears,

Or pain and misery,

He could rest now, Fern could finally breathe easy,

 

He wrapped his arms around Maura,

Trying not to look at the bundle of clothes that covered his brother,

Nothing lasts forever,

Noothing lasts forever

Hour 21

Heart under fire

Am I ready for this yet?

I will take the chance

Sleep Deprived Defiance, Hour 20

No

No, I will not read T.S. Eliot
Nor submit to revisiting the age old themes
Of all the classics

Drives me batshit

A path well worn means safer travels
Means more traffic,
More regulation
More stupid people in the way…

I’m too impatient

Give me a machete and a pickaxe
I’ll blaze my own path,
Channel the Iconoclast

Bombastic self-expression optimized

No rules for the radicals
(Sorry Saul Alinsky)

No boundaries

Crossing every double yellow line

Sleep deprived
Reactionary
When I’m tired I get defiant

Nevermind

Devour the Peach – in answer to T.S. Eliot’s J. Alfred Prufrock

The universe is infinite.
And I am but a speck. 
So if I tip the scales a bit
is there some balance I'll upset? 

Or is it possible perhaps
that if you gave me half a chance
I’d disrupt the status quo 
and challenge what you think you know? 

And if you opened up your mind.
Might it be that you would find
the universe is ever changing
now and always rearranging. 

Becoming new and shedding old. 
In a state of constant growth. 
So come on, join me
if you dare- 
together let’s ascend those stairs. 

Disturb, disrupt, extend our reach. 
And for dessert devour that peach.

(more…)

The Longing

She stood on the street
With a bag full of memories
Here eyes were wet
And brain was dead
She didn’t thought this would happen
Her calculations were perfect
She had figured it all out
But guess no one knows Whats ahead

Her bag was heavy
She was ready
This time she will let the heart lead
Her brain was tired now

The stashed paint brushes
Longed for her to come home…

Hour 20:

Found Poem, from

Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T.S. Eliot

They will sing to me

Etherized Visions and revisions

I have known deserted streets

Squeezed the universe into corners

Each to each

Time to turn back, prepare a face

Almost ridiculous

A magic lantern

Hour 20 – Mermaids

Mermaids

From the line by T. S. Elliot in The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock

I do not think that they will sing to me,
these creatures of desire and love.
Songs of the deep are meant for other ears
in other lands, or in times gone by.
Though, and here’s the vexation,
I still wish to hear the melody, old as I am.
And so, I walk the beaches
at the turning of the day
when misty spray makes distant rocks unclear.
I fancy I see the flip of a tail,
the long hair shining on fish’s scales,
the outline of an upturned breast.
And, listening hard, I seek to tease out notes
from the washing of the waves on shore.
But, no. There is no song there.
Just a silly old man in rolled trousers,
alone, always alone, on the sand.