The Poetry Marathon

Hour 23-Missing

About 4 hours ago

I started missing you

You seemed to desert me

My brain started working in mysterious ways

Not making proper connections

Not making perfect sense

I just knew you were gone

You snuck out the door

Didn’t make a sound

Left, deserted me

I know I didn’t entice you to stay

I didn’t give you reasoning

I didn’t feed you those psychological

questions you love so much

I let you leave

I didn’t try to stop you

But you and me,

We are a team,

Often estranged

I know, I admit

It’s me, not you

But we need each other

My dear, wonderful sanity

Sweet overworked friend

I hope you return in the morning

We can make a fresh start of things

We can find a way through this together.

this is only one night, a temporary setback

Don’t leave angry

Get a good night’s sleep

In the morning you will see

Everything will be fine.

 

20. Money is Light

Money is Light

Pouring all over me

Washing my heart

Soothing my muscles

Clearing my voice

Opening my path

Money is Light

Pouring all over me

Money is Light

Healing all that is

Money is Light

Coming from within

Shining like a bright star

All over me

When I wake up

Up until I go to sleep

And even in my dreams

The bright day Light

Is pouring all over me

And my dreams are full

Of bright white light power

All over me and everything

Money is Light

Blinding me my eyes

To open my Heart

To the power of

Money is Light

I send it all to you

Light Money

All to you

Is all to me

The more I give

The more I take

The more I have

The more I give

Money is Light

And the more that Light

Is given

The brighter it becomes

So much so

That all is love

Money is Light

Enlivening

Enlightening

Everything

Even itself

Money is Light

Pouring all over me

I have to share

Because that is the true

Nature of Money

Money is Light

Spider Lurking

I saw her in the corner of my room

Why had I not noticed her before, she had to have been there for

a great deal of time because her web was intricate

Geez, that says a lot about my cleaning or non-cleaning

I’m appalled by her, I wonder what she thinks of me

Ohhhh for pete’s sake, now the itsy bitsy spider song is stuck in my head

Sooooo, what did I get outta all this

I got that I need to clean my room, and maybe I need more friends

to talk to bcuz I have spent wayyy to much time

wondering about what a spider thinks of me.

 

Hour 23: Summer Days

Summer Days

It used to be
In summertime
We would spend all day in the pond
Diving off the dock
Swimming underwater
Playing in the sand
Not until Mother called
Would we walk, dripping
Up to the house
Sitting in wet bathing suits
To keep cool as long as possible
Even at the dinner table
Where ears of corn steamed in great piles
Outshining whatever meat was served

What a time that was

A Good Bye

Manipulative

Narcissist.

Definitely not good for me

For my independence, my intelligence,

Or my integrity, but

Miss talking about the old times,

Fun times, wild times.

Miss his power, pride, and arrogance.

Miss his charisma and charm.

Shattered my ego and my pride.

Damaging and deceitful.

Painful

Good bye.

22 RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW

I dreaded closing the door

and opening it to the future

But I took a deep breath

I stepped on thru and started,

after so much procrastinating

A new chapter, a new life

And you know what?

There’s no dread, no fear, scaredless,

and no holding back now

A new beginning, a new hope

Starting RIGHT HERE and RIGHT NOW!

 

 

Winter’s Draw (Hour 22)

Her hand ran smooth across the polished table surface,
Turning to hide her face from a direct assault of the camera.

She laughingly tosses her head over her left shoulder,
showing us the elegant profile of her figure,
Draped in flowing folds of ebony.

The sharp cut of her cheeks and nose
Hint of an underlying royalty,
The darkness of the room illuminated by the exposure of her flesh,
Projecting the pale cream of her skin,
crowned in red,
she parts the moment with all the grace of an actress.

Her frail portrait generating an unspoken allure
to the soft skin about her neck and chest,
Her bosom delightfully clear like a frozen pond’s winter surface.

Soft Voice

My heart just melted

With your soft voice

You turn my heart into

love

Questions

Questions

 

Does the moon smile at everything, or only the things that make her happy?

Does the ocean sound different when it cries?

Do the mountains know they have brothers and sisters?

 

Do the deserts have thirst?

Does the jungle have a favorite tune?

Do the trees have growing pains?

 

Does the rain miss the sun?

Is the sun lonely as the brightest star?

Are the rocks exhausted from being ageless?

 

Are earthquakes Earth’s exercise?

Does the bottom of the ocean wish to see daylight?

Do the trees wish to hug each other?

 

The universe speaks no matter who listens.

 

Eve T. Remillard & Mary Gabis

Hour Twenty-Three, someone or something missed

Divided

I never knew you personally,
just as a small, quiet echo
that had briefly moved within me
and just as quickly was gone,
here just long enough
for a recorded heartbeat,
a video in tandem with your sister,
squirms, wriggles, and gentle thumps,
a prayer, a wish, and a hope.

I knew you as a reflection of her,
never as the unit you were meant to be,
never to hear “ohh, they’re so beautiful,”
they, the duality, mirrored and identical.
Here so briefly, and gone.