The Poetry Marathon

I Am-Hour 1

I am a lost poet

Singing poems in darkness

Trepidation coursing through my tired body

Doubt hanging around like my own personal ghost

I am an unsung hero

In my own nightmares

I am the villain in my own life’s play

I am struggling, suffocating, stimulated and swallowed

Imbittered, insane,

I am the song

Crumbled up on a piece of paper

Forgotten in the corner collecting cobwebs

I am a poet

Singing poems in the darkness

Seeking the light

Seeking the truth

Seeking my soul

With words my only weapon

And darkness my only friend

 

 

 

Existential Crises

I am a picture
Painted to be perfect
I am!
A poem… To be told
When nothing comes to mind
I am…
A story always ending
But on a happy note
I am,
A song that is sung
Inconsequential times
I am-
A doll broken to be
Like other
I am.
Just there but
Am I?

(p.s. Punctuation is crying seeing this… Artistic liberty??)

I Am?

Yes, you are.
You’re a poet.
Oh, I know I am.
I’ve been that since the first time Mama smiled
at my scribbles,
my rhymes,
my seven-year-old genius
that only she could see.

Yes, you are.
You are a cook.
Oh, I know I am.
I’ve been one since I realized
no one else is going to feed me.
After a few decades,
and more than a few disasters,
I am a fine cook,
but today is leftovers day.

Yes, you are.
You are a friend.
I try to be, but sometimes I am needy,
sometimes I am distant,
sometimes wrapped up in a story,
but sometimes I am there
when you need me.

The Girl Next Door

Let the wind take me

Last night I stood on a corner
I closed my eyes
And felt the wind rush around me
In it’s the pre-storm fury
I thought it could take me away
Far from the longest day of the year
Far from the music I have heard
Far from the people I saw
Far from the things I know
Far from myself
Far from here

I Am A Poet (Hour 1, Prompt1)

I am not who I thought I would be,

When I was young, when I was carefree.

Maybe a teacher, a journalist, or more,

A family of two or a family of four.

 

I am not a mom or a wife,

I am blessed nevertheless with a happy life.

I am a daughter, a sister, a friend.

A neighbor, an employee, not one in trend.

 

The dreams of youth did pass away,

I am thankful yet for this very day.

I am a poet , I love to encourage my friends.

I am glad for this gift of a poetry weekend.

 

 

“I am” – H.J ©️

2019: Response to Prompt 1
H.J ©️ https://official-authorhj.yolasite.com/media-gallery.php

 

I am Queen of the Throne;
Ancient rival to lovers unknown.

I am the song of your Heart;
Keeping your dreams and nightmares apart.

I am your own,
I call you to roam,
In search of peace and strife –

As the light in your heart,
I am why you start
to feel;

I am everything you’ve questioned,
And I am everything you’ve beckoned;

Every prayer you hoped to be real.

I am Queen of the Throne;
Keeper of histories
and truths, alone.

Today’s The Day!

Today’s the day

I write 24 poems

Today’s the day

I won’t coward

Today’s the day

I rise to the challenge

Today’s the day

I put pen to paper

Today’s the day

I make it happen

 

Today’s the day.

In the Headlights

A bad actor
always
looks down
then bluffs the idea
of what he’s supposed to say
while
everyone
scrambles
to catch up to something
they never
rehearsed

Like a student
who has written
the wrong answers
in the palm
of his hand,
the actor
smiles wide
behind his desk,
thinking himself
the victor
where
none
are
to
be
found.

#1 I am

While others are
gathering their snacks –
dark strong chocolate,
pots of coffee,
piles of prompts
books, pictures, memories
I am gathering
memories just lost
seeking my center
trying to look
out, up, ahead.

While others are
organizing their space,
choosing their view,
piling up references,
contemplating the virtues –
chips vs candy? –
I am clearing
my space, tossing
everything I can
in order to
move small, light.

While others are
juggling joy, nerves
and anticipation, I
am juggling agents
lawyers, buyers, tradesmen,
plans, timelines, loss.

While others are
imagining poems, I
am recalling them.

While others are
filled with energy,
I am struggling
to regain mine.

While others are
reaching out, eager
to share, excited,
I am pulled
into my shell
to nurture, conserve
what little reserve
I have rebuilt.

While others are
writing with me
and yet apart
I am grateful
to be part
of something beyond
the four walls
of my pain,
grateful for openings
to explore yet
another adventure ahead.

sarahw