The Poetry Marathon

16. First Moon

11:58
it starts in my stomach. Something bad at lunch. Shouldn’t have had sushi. But then that sensation creeps away. Giving way to a flood of endorphins. Like a dam broke somewhere inside. A delicious head rush I’ve only ever experienced when that one girl let me fuck her tits twice in a row. Almost as good as getting sucked off. Almost.
Again. Heavier this time. Burns more. But I almost cream myself in the flood afterwards. I laugh.
The bite on my wrist starts to burn. But the burn you get from putting on too much relieving muscle cream.
11:59
All at once, I’m thrown to the ground of my bedroom. The neighbors think what I would hope. Rough sex. That’s what it feels like. So good. S-s-s-ooo goood. All over. Tense. Stretching. My bones crack. And blue-black energy flows through out my fingertips. Out my open mouth. Through my eyes. Something in the canines. She might’ve said. Two lifetimes ago.
00:00
my hands, stretch, fur, my feet, sharpen, digging, my back, the power, raw, feral, the best, my laugh, my laugh, I’ve heard it before, from my neighbor’s husky, my eyes. I can see everything. Supremacy.
00:01
howl with me

#14

Walking my path

is tricky

It’s not straight

nor is it smooth

Lots of bumps

and curves

Adventures and lessons

to be learned

and endured

Hour Sixteen

Have you stopped to look closely
at the rolled-out insides of a crushed squirrel?
I did the other day. They were pale red, a mess, mundane.
I would have lingered longer,
but for my companion.
She was impatient for lunch.

Anne with an E

Anne with an E

 

I stepped off of the train,

carpet bag in hand,

to the beatific face of that glorious man!

Matthew Cuthbert of the angelic, golden halo –

or so it seemed as he sat under the blossoming cherry bough.

 

Nearly,

nearly I was passed over because all for want of a boy

to help Matthew with the chores.

Nearly,

nearly was I passed over.

Marilla nearly sent me back

but for Matthew, my saviour!

 

They came to love me,

through my mis-steps

and mistakes:

the missing brooch, as the Lady of Shallot

getting Diana drunk on cordial

instead of giving her cider for our tea party

and breaking that slate over Gilbert’s head

when he called me “Carrots.”

 

I became their pride and joy,

long after my Matthew passed –

Marilla said she was glad I wasn’t a boy.

I gave sons to the Great War, you know?

Jem came home –

lost and changed –

but my sweet poet Walter remains in Courcelette where he fell.

No DCM[1] could bring him back:

hero or no hero.

 

So I mourned,

two babies,

my first and my soldier-poet son.

I tried to be strong for the others but it wore on me…

those ghosts.

 

Without Gilbert,

my rock,

I would have surely succumbed to despair and melancholy.

But here we are,

lost in the reverie of memory from the dusty shelves of the library.

Kept alive in the cozy bed time reading time

or dozy summer beach time.

 

For that, I heartily thank thee,

kind readers, all.

R. L. Elke

© Aug 5/17 prompt 16

[1]DCM= Distinguished Conduct Medal

heart blown away

Random Prompt 2016 Poetry Marathon Hour Seventeen Heart broken poem

 

Neoidealism meeting INFJ

ideology in its embargo

looking for cause

attainable feasible concept

 

adhering in the light of matters

enlivening in the world living

enchanting tale sensing

out of cornerstone growing

 

pathway departs

always moving forward

engaging at all time

loves rules all

 

The separation in 13 parts, 16

1. the announcement

I broadcasted the departure – as you
and you on boats,
ferried away from
our resting place,
your funeral
our bed.

2. the revokation

I limited the exposure I had to the sun – as you,
and you on beaches,
scurried away from
the glances,
my funeral,
your hands.

3. the eviction

Simple. One day.
A remedy, a removal.
Clothes and cleavers stacked into
the back of an unforgettable buggy,
skunked up
in my absence.

4. the rekindle

All stubborn flames try to re-light
in the wrong exposure,
but I smelled another smoke on your breath,
and I choked us out

5. the sizing

I will never fit into a wedding dress – as you,
and you at weddings
danced away
from my eight attempts at an August proposal.

 

6. the engagement

Now void.

7. both parts of a narcissist

there is the cause and the effect
for every violent word –
my screaming pinned you to the ground,
your ignorance kept me puking.
you were the c a u s e
and I was the abuse.

8. richocet

I got back
every pin head I put under your foot.
coated them with chocolate
and swallowed them for dessert.
I kept you kept;
you hated your keeper,
not every caged animal
bites the feeder.

9. record

screenshots.
poems.

10. you said…

“don’t write me as a monster in every poem, I really do love you.”

“You think terrible things about me, and I don’t think I can forgive you for that.”

“I don’t have to listen to you. You aren’t my mother.”

11. i said…

“I won’t. You aren’t a monster, I love you too much.”

“I don’t.”

“I’m sorry.”

12. i thought…

“Stop haunting me. I am living in fear.”

“You did terrible things to me, and I don’t think I can forgive you for that.”

“I wanted to be heard, but who could talk over your anger? I only screamed because your hate was too loud.”

 

13. the survival

I’ll only say I did. (more…)

Prompt# 14, Frog-who

 

Transparent rain-coat worn

Green frogs perched on strawberries

A jar of tomatoes or children

#13 connections

a phone

a camera

a clock

a calendar

a notepad

voicemail

text alert

news and weather

traffic report

entertainment

one device

does it all

and more

I’m sure

Noble

“Sir Lancelot! Please

don’t put your ale upon the

round table. Leaves rings.”

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2017
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Modern Dracula-16

Darkness rising

I am the night

They fear me greatly

but know not my plight

I would have left them alone

Had they left mine the same

Instead they burned the one I loved

And I became their bane.