The Poetry Marathon

Dreams that came true

It seems only yesterday
That i was a child
I had everything yet I had nothing
I had people to talk to but no one to understand
It seems only yesterday
I met you at a point I never thought
The point where I hated myself
I lost my original self
Wanting to be how people want to see me
You held my hand, stopped me from going any further
You became the support I ever needed
That was when I found a soulmate
I always wanted a fairytale love
The one we see in movies
The prince xharming every girl dreams of
When you called me a princess
I skipped a heartbeat
You gave me the fairytale
I always needed

In the Library – hour 6

In the library

(like a poem from before

but less rhyming)

production in solitude

no noisy cats or barking dogs

I get the sense that I have not

done what you wanted

 

I think about parts

of some art that don’t

exist in poetry

like sequels

like covers, renditions

like remakes, adaptations.

Think of some for painting

in the library of all art.

 

I remember the light in the library,

sequences of relaxation.

Use your hands to climb the stairs.

These are running together now,

like we did, bad kids

who were fully adult.

I can’t write the sequel poem

but I remember the first time

I wrote this poem

about him in another library, of law

low to the basement ground.

6~17

you cannot stop

the will of a cat

you dare to try

they’ll swipe or they’ll scat

 

you cannot stop

your heart how it flows

you close your eyes

furry kiss on your nose

 

you cannot stop

from soon getting more

you start with just one

find yourself then with four

 

you cannot stop

all the wet on your lawn

you lie on it sobbing

when they are all gone

Perceiving

A powerful way to make a major change

Enthusiastically if you will, show how to look at things are really insane

But, reinventing will cost you nothing

On how you perceive things.

Specifications

I had some crazy requirements:

had to combine Shakespeare and hillbilly

had to have recessive gene pinkies

had to be taller than me

I tried to set myself

up for failure

thought a man with

my specifications

couldn’t possibly exist.

You had Shakespeare’s birthday

and loved tractor pulls.

We had the same

outward turned pinkies

which are supposed to be

extremely rare.

You’re 6’5” to my 5’4”.

You do exist but

now in a world

separate from mine

6 – A LONELY SONG –

I am a song, l dance along, l play inside your head, come chase my lonely tune.

I am a dream , a quiet place to be, in the darkness of the night, a lonely friend to sleep beside until the morning arrives,

I have walked a winding road, from the beginning until the end, a journey that has suited me for l am without a friend, it is a rambling way to go but pretty on the eye, so tip your cat cordially if you pass me by,

– s.j.duncan –

Writer’s Block

Writer’s Block is the absolute worse

it’s like having your creativity under a sudden curse

Your mind is constipated & your thoughts are unable to move

to a place that’s free flowing & on going

That place is called The Writer’s Groove

it doesn’t have an address & can’t be located on a GPS

to get there you have to go thru labor pains & literally give birth

to a piece of your soul for all the world to see

and when your life is over & you’er long gone

future generations will know you because

your words will live on

All because you re-located from Writer’s Block

and took up residence in The Writer’s Groove

 

Alone in the crowd

Amidst all the buzz

Glamor and party animals

Colorful window panes

And the dim lighting

 

This loud music

Force me to bang my head

And thump my feet

Forgetting  the world outside the pub

 

Alone in the crowd

Happens to me all the time

Is it just me

Or is it the crowd

 

 

 

6.

They shouldn’t see our faces. Which is to say, our faces shouldn’t be what brings people to us.

They should want to listen. They should all want to wear their own masks. At our shows with the lights and sounds.

 

I’ll drum. I’ll beat my drums with sticks. I want you to create the beats I play my drums to and I want to see waves and waves of people when looking out from behind that series of cylinders of wood and hide. From behind the shiny metal disks. I want our vibrations to move people. Without our faces. No one should see those. It’s been done before. But not like this. Not like this. Everyone does everything but not the way we will.

 

They don’t have to move with us. We will move them and their bodies will make their own decision. Writhing. Jumping. Shifting. Sliding. Bumping. Banging. Whipping. I want them to be sore from the overdose of sweet endorphins that our music brings.

Me N’ You

What do we have in common, me n’ you?

Me n’ You?

What do we have in common, me n’ you?

Me n’ you?

So much we have in common, me n’ you.

Me n’ you.

So much we have in common, me n’ you.

Me n’ you.

We’re both birthed from Mother Earth,

Me n’ you.

Both human, me n’ you

Me n’ you

We both think, me n’ you,

plan, me n’ you

do, me n’ you.

Create.

Fail.

Experience, me ‘n you.

Me n’ you.

Goals, intentions and beliefs, me n’ you.

Me n’ you.

This is only the tip-top of the iceberg, me n’ you.

We’re so common, me n’ you.

We’re essentially the same, me n’ you.

Me N’ You.

Me N’ You.