The Poetry Marathon

I Chose Redemption

On my way to heaven I stopped to say hello

You were going the other way

I thought you might be

for a while we traveled together

and you tried to drag me down there with you

astonished at the gates

I saw there were no flames

no broiling heat arose

no wisps of acrid smoke

sulfuric on my tongue

white vapours played like shadows

against the wall dark

reflections of soul-sucking vampires

and cold so deep I felt its pull

and pulled away

let go your hand

before I ventured forth

too close to turn

though you would drag me there

against my will

I chose redemption

safety, a heart full of glory

joy overflowing in the light

 

 

Hour twenty: Ode: gender neutral bathrooms

I have spent my life tapping the bricks

between the two bathrooms, waiting

for some magical world to reveal itself.  

I have avoided eye contact in the mirror

with myself & others, taken off my pronoun

buttons before going into the bathroom.  

Bless this room of requirement turned

mainstream, this place where I am no

different than anyone else, just a person

at a coffeeshop not being asked to choose

between two doors that will never describe me.

Hour 18: Dear Old Age and Dear Jesus

Dear Old Age,

You scare me

You’re the only thing that truly does

Death isn’t the problem

It’s the slow decline on the way there

It’s the decay

The disappointment

The endless letting go

so much work

 

Dear Jesus,

I suspect you’ve been reborn, a lot

That you come here all the time

We’re just too dumb to notice

 

prompt 22: Dear Peddlers of Chocolate,

Dear Peddlers of Chocolate,

I have to take a second to tell you that you are a hazard.

Your wares are worse than crack or flesh or slangers of “happy pills”

made to make us forget ourselves and how we hurt.

 

My beautiful waist has been wasted on your product.

I cannot seem to fit into

my life

as it was before you arrived in our neighborhood.

 

Please, do take your trade

and fuck off.

 

Love Ramona’s once lovely ass.

 

(c) r. l. elke

Realization

I spend all my time

Focusing on them that I

Don’t see her anymore.

Roads

Roads not only take you to destination
They become your companion too
They give you new people
Show you new places
Becomes your confusion
Gives you solution too

The roads not taken
Are best friends
They give you rare gems
A path not only leading to somewhere
but leading to yourself too

Choose the roads
Always…

Dear Butterfly,

Dear butterfly,

 

How are you? It has been many years since we last spoke, time flys. I don’t know why but I have this permanent feeling of “I’mSorry” i have to say it. To you. I say I’m sorry to everyone, everytime I laugh, I try not. Now a reflex.

I miss you, to talk, to hear the air flow bend and break to your every whim. To hear you laugh againwould change my world. I hope you and the kids are happy, so free. I still dream.

Oh, butterfly a childhood dream. I have not forgot you and cant believe I actually caught you, almost. To let you go now. We will meet again some day. A dream is but a dream, Butterfly wings in a breeze, I can still hear you sing.

 

Sincerely yours,

 

Berto

Rain

The last time it rained my heart was perplexed.

As drops land on the windshield,

Your words flood my mind with regret.

I should have left.

Instead, I replied, “let’s give this another try.”

Merely to stay by your side.

A downpour of mixed emotions.

Listening to the erratic behaviors your mind would play.

Imaging the relief and excitement to no longer be attached

to the imbalance in your world.

To stay captive under the umbrella you held onto faithfully was just too much.

You love hard but is it enough?

Stepping into the storm, allowing the drops of water to replenish my soul.

Trusting the rain to bring clarity in the midst of life’s woes.

So What?

Anger spikes for a moment, then fades.
Yes, it’s awful – so what?
Joy floods in like sunshine, then cools.
Yes, it’s lovely – so what?
Fear’s icy grip is powerless, too.
Yes, it’s deadly – so what?
Depression’s letting nothing past
The emptiness of ‘So what?’

Let me feel something again!
Joy or sadness, even pain,
Despair hits for a moment, then:
Yes, it’s hopeless – so what?

prompt 21: pools of colour

 

pools of colour

 

these rainy streets feel like Christmas

when streets are dressed in light

like whores on their days off

waiting for a new date:

all flash

no fantasy.

 

these night bus rides make me sad:

the farther I get from you

the colder it gets

but I can’t see the street for rain on the windshield

and the driver cares less than I do

to see the mess the rain makes of the road

or anything else around us

while the world melts

into pools of coloured light.

 

(c) r.l. elke