The Poetry Marathon

The Empty Wall

The empty wall stands witness

A space engraved within to fit the mirror,

Of mirror, which her beauty abound

Has asked numerously …

The empty wall stands witness

Reflection died a long time ago

Of time, which the senescent wall

Has passed amorously…

The empty wall stands witness

My lady in sparkling hues

Of hues, that surrounds love

Has danced gaily…

The empty wall stands witness

Her wait is on for centuries

Of centuries, when mirrors ruled the empty walls

Curiously and curiously…

Hour 4

@varenyas

She ran as fast as her legs would carry
To the safety of her little room
Even his words felt like they were chasing her
Running was her only option

It wasn’t often she gets called for coffee
But he seemed intriguing
And she let her guard down but now
Running was her only option

He was calm when he proposed the unfathomable
She could accompany him on his ‘field’ trips
As his whore; he said friend.
Running was her only option

She thought he was different
She thought he really cared
With the proposal, his outer skin came off and
Running was her only option

A romantic, she was
In love with thunderstorms,
spring rains, music, trees and
pastel sunsets

Pastel sunsets
colored the sky as she
walked slowly, listening
as the trees’ leaves sing to the wind

Walked slowly, listening
as the spring rain
pelted the leaves
whispering in the breeze

Whispering in the breeze
her lips mouthed silently
words of love and romance
no one but the trees could hear

“The prompt for this hour is to write a four stanza poem. The stanzas can be as long or short as you want them to be. In each of the stanzas, you most repeat one of the lines in the first stanza. It can be the same line repeated in each stanza or a different line in each stanza.  This can have a dramatically different effect, depending on the length of the line and the length of the stanza.”

Four stanza poem?

Why not just ask for the moon?

Easier than this.

Demons cry on mouths so dry

Bottle fed in nightmare

Hiding in the shadow sly

Forgetting those who care

Bottle fed in nightmare

Waking thirst is high

Under covers eyes will stare

As you attempt a sigh

Hiding in the shadow sly

Tears return to scare

Fear now stopping every try

The bottle calms the glare

Forgetting those who care

You reach for another rye

Bottle fed in nightmare

This is your way to cry

Weigh In

Start a race.

Start a race for freedom, others cannot understand, the embrace is pounds of flesh.

The cut was deep inside, no way to hide, from what will come, I am undone.

No place to run.

No place to run.

No place to hide, from what was inside, it buried me.

Security is lost, seeking thoughts unspoken, that wound is open.

No one can see.

No one can see.

The secrets are biased, screaming for solace from the storm, it is a norm.

Society ignores, we feel like whores, they refuse to get it.

It melts away.

It melts away.

A new day born, the swollen growth is torn, no more to morn.

More than imagined, victory is bright, it shines and can be seen from a distance.

The race is done.

– Mary-Jeanne Smith

Keep facing

One fine day you will.

Keep facing.

Boldly blatantly , fear gnawing at your innards

But keep facing.

Keep staring into his eyes

Even if you’re shit scared.

Even if its dark.

Keep facing.

One fine day you will be across.

You will be past it

Look there , look beyond.

There you are all done with it.

This awesome time sits behind you.

Clapping and applauding your glorious guts.

Keep facing out.

One fine day it will stand beside you.

One fine day it will behind you.

One fine day .

Just like this fine day.

_narinder.

Memorable        toilet                recriminations
Flowering          rectangular      ministries
Rippling and      dribbling          through time
Yes                     to the day        with a fork
Memorable rectangular dribbling with a fork.

Flowering          rectangular      ministries
Rippling and      dribbling          through time
Yes                     to the day        with a fork
Memorable        toilet                recriminations
Flowering dribbling to the day recriminations.

Rippling and      dribbling          through time
Yes                     to the day        with a fork
Memorable        toilet                recriminations
Flowering          rectangular      ministries
Rippling and to the day toilet ministries.

Yes                     to the day       with a fork
Memorable        toilet               recriminations
Flowering          rectangular     ministries
Rippling and      dribbling         through time
Yes toilet rectangular through time.

Eight pounds of ferocious,
ears perked into fleecy triangles,
tail wound into a clenched fist,
he howls at the monsters outside.

He howls at the monsters outside
as they creak and stomp through the world.
only the shrillness of his war charge
keeps his charges safe inside.

His charges safe inside,
voices low and growly,
unaware, unappreciative,
their fingers not yet crooked into combs.

Not yet crooked into combs,
but soon. Soon, they will rub soft ears,
scratch happy belly, safe, content,
and tell him what a good, good boy he is.