The Poetry Marathon

I am

I am

The smile that forms

When I hear my favorite song

 

I am

The sparkle in my eye

When I explore uncharted territory

 

I am

The sound of my voice

When I talk about something I love

 

I am

The laughter that comes

When joking with friends

 

I am

The arms embracing my child

When he needs his mother

 

I am

The tears that fall

When I remember heartache

 

I am

More than the sum of my parts

When I forget my self worth

 

I am

More than I think that I am

When self doubt rages inside of me

 

I am

The only one like me

The. Only. One.

And that’s a good thing.

Hour 4 – Nectar

I see you as a butterfly

as a momentary blur of color

a good omen

resting momentarily

coy and stunning

among the silky primrose petals

set off by verdant green

drinking in the bouquet

before bowing and lilting away

 

I see you as a moth

with torn paper wings

full of ambition

to greet the moon at its fullest

dangling in a star-mottled night sky

and settling for the small reading lamp

in my apartment

ricocheting off the walls

and eating my shirts

 

I would give you all my flowers

take my lights

and do what you will with my sweaters

it’s summer

I won’t need them

I see you

I will scoop you gently into my hands

Walk outside with you

And wait 

 

brave thing

beautiful and scattered thing

do not get lost here

in hopeful confusion

dreamily searching

for sweetness

Simply Believe

 

Drawn to His sweetness like a butterfly to nectar or a moth to a flame

Tender compassion meeting eyes holding back tears

Offering genuine Love to cover and supersede pain

His wide-open arms beg, trust me again

Safety and sustenance

Freely offered to me

Simply believe

At last, I have found

Safety and sustenance

His arms open wide, I can trust again

Unconditional Love that paid the price for Sin’s claim

Eyes of my heart, finding blessed redemption, freedom from fears

I cling to His sweetness, my soul spirit burns with His holy flame

Hallelujah!

 

 

 

Your Green is Sullied by the Earth

Your green is sullied by the point of view of birds,
Redeemed in a different angle
That sees you blue.

They hug you and you carry them.
But every so often,
You blacken that which you nurture,
Spit on the face of an adventurer,
Thinking,
Death is a tiresome rotation,
And shipwrecks are a waste of wood.

Silver: Hour 4

These roads were horse tracks once, I hear;
curving slowly into the rising hill
easing the passage of harvest-heavy carts
hauled by teams of horses to each farm –
their sweating heads low, necks taut,
as their hooves spat sound – ice-sharp –
into a darkening sky.

I’m told that highwaymen roamed here too;
their cache remaining in the fields above the farm.
So when I walk these shadowed roads in winter
and the moon is all I have,
my thoughts are now of silver:
the cool wash of moonlight across a sour and empty hedge,
eyes gleaming, wet with fear, at this dark interruption;
the glint of silver at a horse’s foaming mouth.

Waterways

Clear water help me clean my dusty hands
The moon laughs above and the fluorescent bacteria light the world below
The last of the rations have expired long ago
And my only cabin mate, a hermit crab, has found a shell in a distant land

My instincts continue to hatch movie-like plans
But my soul knows that my window of opportunity houses only shattered glass
I feel as though I’m home alone but with no home
The sea occasionally offers me meager signs of hope, only distant bright lights

The anchor tugs onto the boat like a yo-yo
I pace up and down the salt beaten wood thinking of what I would change
The world around me is counting down
Yet I can only think of the mustard laden sandwich we had shared together

When I set out on this cathartic journey, I just wanted to forget every last thought of you
As I now swim fully clothed in the infinitely obscure ocean, I have no idea of who I am

For the Brave Who Believe

You ask me if my magic can save you
And I have to tell you no
Magic is only for those who believe
In the power of we

I cannot conjure something that you will not take to heart
Wrap your soul around
And believe can change the world
It’s not make believe

Enchant you? I cannot open prisons
Magic is not the key
You have the power to do that, not me.
If you do not believe, how can I fool you?

Magic is in your sinews and synapses
If you let it wrap itself in the pulses
Impulses brought to bear
Through powers hidden under layers

Delve deep into the mysteries
Buried in your frightened mind
And you will find that magic
Is only for the brave who believe

Hour Four

This week
I touched it, found it prickly, drew blood
drank, found myself changed, drew blanks
stayed up late with a scab and a buzz,
Woke to force words and conclusions

Today
I drive out, drop anchor, see
Buoyed by open water,
sea green.

(Hour 04) 01.30-02.30am. PROMPT: choose an image/s

types of time

the stars last
the rocks too
only we don’t 

however

if you arrive in time
the water liquifires
into melting gold 

 

 

Darkness Defied

Night
Dark sky
Stark and wide
From the bright city
But bid the lights goodbye,
And see dark skies blossom pretty
Points of light, becoming clouds of bitty
Distant fires, or rocks in space reflecting light
From the hidden sun, behind the gritty
Bulk of Earth, the shadow fitting
A window in the sky
Show the pretty
Lacy shine
Of fine
Light

Form: Diatelle

Prompt: