The Poetry Marathon

The Calm Before The Storm

Hey guys! This is my second year of the marathon, this year tackling the full marathon. I’m excited and nervous and thrilled and so many other emotions all in one. I know things will be great, though. I hope you all enjoy the poetry that my heart bleeds. God bless <3

I Am, Am I?

I am here.

Raging waters, roaring rapids, currents flood me, but I am solid and do not move.

Am I the strongest, the most resilient? I’d hate to think so.

Trees tower overhead, leaves fall in circles around me, I am at but a speck in the grand scheme of it all.

Am I important, important in the slightest bit? I’d hate to think so.

The sun cascades through the clouds, stinging my skin in a nostalgic kind of way, but I am unphased.

Am I fearful of the repercussions of my actions? I’d hate to think so.

With each breath, I think about where to go next, where to venture, I am fleeting, just like time.

Am I letting life pass me by without stopping and appreciating it? I’d hate to think so.

 

Now, I am gone.

Flowers and I dance the synchronized dance of decay. I am returning to earth.

Am I the soil squished between your toes? I like to think so.

Every Sunday the swarm of mourning families flood in. I am left alone.

Am I alone because my children are out in the world living beautiful lives? I like to think so.

The stone identifying me is cleaned regularly, so as not to cover me up. I am still being taken care of.

Am I still important in some peoples eyes? I like to think so.

Time passes by and the visits stop altogether. I am forgotten.

Am I still on their minds? I like to hope so.

Gentle Beginning

Once restless in youth, taking on the world in brave freedom and bold joy,

I am peaceful now in watching, guarding, guiding, and loving.

Morning’s raindrops fall softly,

music lilts through my five rooms,

bird chirps sail to the silver-gray clouds,

and I am at home.

Tea’s rosebuds and lavender linger on my tongue

while scents of mowed summer grass sneak through window shades,

this first morning after the first night after summer’s solstice

I am calmed and waiting.

I quiet myself as I wait and wonder.

Am I ready for this next journey in life?

Am I prepared to gracefully let go of who I once was?

I am still the dancer within these wobbling strides now.

Grown wiser, I am searching for a lesson to teach.

Like a horse galloping in wild abandon in red, gold, bronze fields then,

I am now a sea horse floating and flying among coral, blue, green reeds.

I am

Daughter, Sister, Woman

I am all of these things

with out choice, designations from life

 

Teacher, Mentor, Leader

I am all of these things

because of need, others views of me

 

Poet, Artist, Creator

I am all of these things

by drive, instincts too strong to ignore

 

Tired, Lost, Alone

I am all of these things

in my spirit, deeply aching pain

 

Seeking, Pushing, Enduring

I am all of these things

as I peer into the mist of a future unplanned

 

Here… Still… Here

I am… through perseverance,

a strength intertwined with all the things I am

sj luellen

I am

I’m gunnery the 8th, I am.
Gunnery the 8th, I am, I am.

He’s buried in the ditch, he is.
Buried in the ditch he is, he is.

And every time I think about him there,
I recall that we’ve done this before.

There’s always another friend to take that place,
And this is all one big mistake.

I’m gunnery the 8th, I am.
Gunnery the 8th, I am, I am.

The Home

It trickled down slowly
Then got united
Made a line
Started flowing
It passed through the dressing table
Where she combed her hair
It got out of the closed door
No one was outside
No one waiting for her
No one to ask
No one to hear
At last it reached the garden,
The soil hugged it
The soul of the dead girl sighed in relief
At least her blood found a home.

– Hardika Sharma

Thoughts and Prayers

So much is left
to “thoughts and prayers.”
It's become meaningless
like no one really cares.

Empty words
won’t stem the tide
of mass shootings
or suicides.

What we need
are better laws
and bolder leaders
to take up the cause.
 
Gun reform.
The time has come.
No one lives free 
while in fear of guns. 

While the lobby that holds
the purse strings of change 
keeps choking out progress 
and leaving blood stains.
 
But the blood on their hands 
hasn’t troubled them yet. 
So we’re left with these feelings
of despair and regret. 

We’re left feeling hopeless 
and helpless inside. 
So we send “thoughts and prayers”
each time someone else dies. 

Hour 1

We do this I am convinced I am not the only one who wakes with a stiff shoulder From restless sleep on the bathroom floor And a refrain in my head pounding in rhythm with my panicked heart I am so sorry I am so sorry I am so sorry I am so sorry And I am always convinced I will die But it is just the world spinning Daring me to prove I really am what I say

Hour 1: Post 1: Unwavering

I am everything I said I would never be

I am anger

I am pain

I am revenge

I am cold

I am vindictive

I am the new me

No one ever said that would be what happens

Once your world is torn apart and broken

Truths are shattered and lying on the ground

Everything you are becomes everything you were

I am me….

Middle of The Pond Musings, Hour 1

I am not what I write
No, these words do not define my thoughts
These little characters do not define who I am

But I am what I incite
A re-reflection of all I’ve been taught
An inspiration for those that give a damn

I am the owner of nothing
Protector of land and sea
Spinning filagree figments of imagination,
Heyduke ressurected

Head lacking chemicals
Boiling water by buttery moonlight
Grinding coffee in the still night
Like Mikey said, it’s not all good
But it’s good enough to know I am all right

At least well enough to write
Or should I say expunge
This ordeal I am embarking on begins,

An icy plunge into the depths of my subconscious, my unconscious, the infinite beyond…

Aloha from the middle of the pond