The Poetry Marathon

Up against it.
It moved, as I stood still.
I fight it-
It’s haunting hands
hold what it will.

Up against it.
Stronger, stronger than I.
My back rests-
It is holding me
like time.

Up against it.
A reflection, unrecognized.
Fight my demons-
Adversaries stronger than
brick and Father Time.

In my grandma’s kitchen
was a jar of chocolate kisses
grandpa filled it every week
then gave a real one to the Mrs.

When grandma had to stay in bed
grandpa and I cooked together
In my grandma’s kitchen
we experimented to her displeasure

I learned to mop
In my grandma’s kitchen
and bake and answer phones
Grandma always had a mission
I do too it’s in my bones

When I’m all alone at home
I snack on chocolate kisses
and just like grandpa
turn the radio to NPR to listen
Even though I am all grown
And grandpa has his own headstone
I know I’ll always feel at home
In my grandma’s kitchen

If you ask me a place where I could return
I would tell you my room with the memories I own
With the windows wide open I stare at the moon
And build my dreams there in every toss and turn

In my room when I was young I could puff endlessly
While I enjoy the night,and the whole scenery
While the puffing occurs I scribble my mute friend
Write my poems crazily from beginning to end

In that room I could see my every misery
And I write every line down in my diary
I write poems I write thoughts that keep coming out
In that room my writing is where it came about

I want my room back by the window open wide
Where I planned how my life would be mystified
Right there in that room-my secret hideaway
My heart yearns until now forever it will stay.

my son calls me Madre
not because I speak Spanish
or he speaks Spanish
but to distinguish himself from his sisters
and make our relationship unique
with a word
a name:
Madre

to name is sacred
holy
gives substance and connection
to the one who names
the one who first breathes life
into another, through naming
creating a tether, a ground tie
longer than an umbilical cord
with roots and wings

I never named another
who did not first find my body to be home
but I named a son
who is bold enough
to name me
to name us
not because he’s a Momma’s boy
but because
he knows Madre when he sees her
a forever home
with roots and wings

I am stuck, and the shackles held tight
Disbelief followed by worry at the situation
With self-pity closing its deadly claws

I am stuck, and the shackles held tight
I looked around, taking a deep breath
Acknowledging the beauty of my surroundings

I am stuck, and the shackles held tight
Acceptance is one factor, yet dreams don’t die
I plan and start working towards freeing myself

I am stuck, and the shackles don’t seem so tight
As I inch towards my goals, with belief as my anchor
Life loves to create knots, and I learn to work with them

(c) Vijaya Gowrisankar

Somewhere
Far away from here
Another place, another time
A place of safety and refuge
A place of quiet
A place of love

Something
In the back of my mind
A house, a home
Windows and doors
To shut out the world
And keep you all to myself

Someone
Stranger, friend, lover
Together to live and grow
Together to conquer it all
Together until the end

End
The end of everything
Everything we worked for
For our happiness
For our ambitions
For our independence

Love
So easily forgotten
Forgotten and tossed aside
It meant nothing
It meant something
It doesn’t matter now

My Shine

It’s shining, good morning, another day.

Before I saw you, I was in the dark, another night.

It is so bright, how did I miss this before, the glow embraces my very being.

Glaring optimism, so warm and inviting, never leave my side.

Why do I fight your presence, run away from the delightful joy of your warmth?

No more, I am here to stay, you are my shine.

– Mary-Jeanne Smith

I don’t like clocks

Or structure

Or focusing on one thing

For any length of time

I like fingers to use all the keyboard

And Pandas to pop the way I want

The chessmen to move the way I prefer

I like to be told I am beautiful

Not issued a magazine how-to

I stand alone in the focal point of my life

I am center stage

Belting out my own song

Of rhythm and blues and grandiosity

I will be off key

I will trip as I dance

But that’s OK

Don’t tell me how to spend my minutes

My hours

My platitudes and attitudes

Just sit back and watch

Participate if you want

But I am the director

I run the show

No one tells me what to do

Time inefficient
Reads regularly
at intervaled moments
Totality engulfing the seas
and reckoning yells
often perpetuated
by the wells
Reading

Meadowless fleet
Wrapped about in rapt perception
Towardinating the origins
onto trusses and bushels
The orbs are dropped
Fallen out of basket weavers’
hands.
Today is the manipulation
Today the soldiers are soiling their toil

Trepidation is rampant now
that the streets have torn open.
Tomorrow is no longer a mystery
there’s a boiling underground,
the soil is foul and
our meteors shower.
Today I have none left,
not less than the rest.
Now I knew this
or know this
did see this
or sow this…