The Poetry Marathon

Disconnect

I feel disconnected
Somewhat oddly strange
Locked inside myself
To never feel again

Stars may fall like tears
As Heaven claims the clouds
But voices in my head
Choke, and don’t allow

The silence that it robs
Traitorous dyed grim
Claiming now your flesh
Becoming now your sin

Blending now in dust
Mixed becomes my breath
Pounding heart uncluttered
Fading in my chest

Cascading fire fed
Molten now the earth
Crusted hard beneath
Solid for the lurch

Ground does move in shadow
Binds me to the change
Cannot undo lost time
Cannot erase the frame

THE GREEN VAN

The philosophy of freedom fading as I am hasty,

my body contaminated,

my brain holding forgotten manuscripts.

You shouted terrible, measured things at the islands where the displacement of water meant something.

Demons drive on coffee, wine, gasoline with their sad dimensions of the theatre.

Sailing towards preoccupations of hopeful love as her boat lands in Greece

delivering sanctified saffron robes.

Our western cargo of debts slung in geometric stone patterns leaning to the left of art.

Golden

blue hued hypodermics reflected our poetic destiny.

Nevertheless;

words and comets and revolution and god and lingering lingers…

Driving the curved road we have confused service with orgasm.

The sea is deader than dying

stretched out

too everything for living…

i want to write a poem of all the vans and all their colors and all the places they saw.

i want to write a poem we can climb into as we relive the living, resurrect the theatre, sing revolution,

for the rest of my life…

Fin

On occasion,
Victory
And
Accomplishment
Are represented by items no greater than
A plump pillow
And
A soft mattress.

Mother’s Day

Years had passed

Without a doubt

No card to create

No call to make

 

Mother is one

Mine is not here

But in my heart

She is allays near

 

I cried

I prayed

I hoped

I lost

 

One part of me

When she left…

(Hour Twenty Three-Maritza M. Mejia)

Thanks (2017)

My humblest thanks
For this opportunity
To challenge myself

Eternity

My fountain to my soul

You come into my life

On a star

For one beautiful moment

You change my life

For Eternity

#22 ekphrastic

An exercise in contrasts, contained within a frame.

The dark the light, her hair shown bright, the look upon her face.

Her figure sloping, curving, soft, showed a natural beauty, there’s no doubt.

While the sharp features of her angular face made my mind take a different route.

The table began in nature, rubbed and buffed until it shined,

supports her like she’s a lumber baron’s debutante,

whose tastes are quite refined.

This table and the woman have both been polished, so distant from their former self.

She had wanted to be farm girl,

the tree had hoped to become a simple shelf.

 

Prompt for Hour Twenty Four

Hooray! You are almost there! This is the last prompt!

Write a poem about the view out your window right now, this view can be real or imagined, so if you don’t have a window, you can imagine that too.

 

 

Sandhill Cranes

Majestic creatures

Undertake lengthy ventures

Ready to save earth

(Hour Twenty One-Maritza M. Mejia)

My Thoughts And Poems…

I made it. Thanks for reading. All from a cube at the edge of someone not quite there. Enjoy. Just imagination. Not based on anyone real. Rantings from a Mad Black Woman from Missouri. Who loves her daughter. This is for you kid. Momma loves you more.