The Poetry Marathon

Stardust Realized

Celestial reasoning

resounding madness of a childhood

abstaining from living and thinking

except for that which is ingrained,

not taught, not learned

ingrained into your being

it is what you are

a vessel, a servant, a slave

because heaven is a hierarchy

there can be no other way

spiraling

unspooling

unbecoming what you are

when a like meets a like

the unstoppable potential

energy realized

more than the mean or the mode

far beyond the median

the whole of symbiosis

stardust realized

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

four

i know i’ll still fly
even when you clip my wings
i’ve got safety
pins

Sparkle

Sparkle

5 Small Sparkles

7 Falling from the deep blue sky

5 Turned down to stand

7 Conveying love, peace and hope

7 to couples around the globe

(Tanka, hour 4 @Mejia2019)

Death of an Artist

In the end, will these words
of mine consume me?
Or will it be the worms?

When I go I hope
it’s through my own creation.
My final work
my final gift to the world.

No one
can take it away from me
I’ll use my last warm breath
on a rhyme, if need be.

Mourn not me but instead
what came of my fingers.
We all know it’s what outlives us
fucking alphabet soup.

Across the river Styx

I met Death when I was only a young girl

His hands were very cold and his eyes were a dark blue, speckled

Like a sky full of stars on a summer night

He was on his way to Maya’s house

Where he would take her brother, the funny one

Who taught us songs with words in them that we weren’t supposed to say

When they took him to the coroner – was it murder or suicide, your honor? –

They cut him open, so that his insides

Would become his outsides

They pulled the layers back, one by one,

And the coroner nodded, as he knew

He would be done for the rest of the day

Before him lay a boy, still and quiet like a bloody angel,

His hands cold, and his eyes wide open: they were a dark blue, speckled

Like a sky full of stars on a summer night

 

Six-Word Story

 

 

“What’s a nice girl…”

 

“Bug off!”

Waiting, soon

Waiting, soon
Virginia Carraway Stark

On this summer day

the day slowly brightening
from a constenance of gloom
to one of brightness

hope that I’ve cherished
holding swaddled and tight
so that it can’t spread it’s wings
fly away
leaving me bereft

that sweet butterfly has grown
from a dream
to a hope
to a frightening reality

Not everything has to be so hard
even when it becomes clear
that a madman is writing the story of your life

Only then is it safe
to let it fly away safely
my hope born on strong wings
known that My faith is resting strong
Where once I knew only fear
And thought the story of life
Was in the epilogue or over

Now I know
I’m still drying my wings
like that butterfly
free of my chrysalis
but not airborne yet
soon
I hear it in the air
I hear it in the sunbeam
That dries my colorful wings
I hear it in my heart
That we’ll fly away together
Our story is barely begun
I can hardly way
To turn the page
And read our next adventure
So long as we’re together

Prompt 5 (hour 4) star image ~

 

The nights you call to me

you have to see this

your face as bright as Venus

that star we know is love

and here: in the garden

on the patio     outside the door

not laying on a table for discovery

by some medical student

promised your remains

‘just in case it all goes wrong’

 

The stars almost as bright as fireflies

which cluster like incandescent grapes

within the sheltering branches

of the tulip poplar next door

or those: the fireflies Morse coding

some unfathomable message I know

only because you are here

beckoning me to join you

alive    breathing

as bright as starlight

but closer

The Copper Bar

The copper bar
When polished correctly
Could reflect your face

The copper bar
Held up
Our drinks, food, sleepy heads and dreams

The copper bar
Was neutral ground
Where we were all equal

The copper bar
Was where I sat
As I watched the storm roll in

The copper bar
Was where I learned
Certain friends will always stop to help

The copper bar
Was where I first saw
A body shot off of a beautiful blond

The copper bar
I swore on
To never try coke or meth

The copper bar
That’s no longer there
Just a scar in the floor

The copper bar
And it’s brassy glow
Shines still on the memory of my 20s

Mystified

Each day I look around me, searching
for those little things that lend
a burst of joy,
a feeling of refreshment
to a stale day.

Like a moth on an orange slice, I am captivated
by those small things that
too often go unnoticed.
I may feel small, but I am surrounded
by things bigger than myself,
I become that moth

I feel the sticky wedge beneath my legs,
I smell the citrus in the air, overpowering.
I see my wings, gargantuan next to my small frame
but more beautiful than anything I’ve seen before
I taste the tart juice, and savor this moment of clarity

We are surrounded by adventure and amazement
though it is not always our own.
How often do you stop to absorb it?
To really appreciate it?