The Poetry Marathon

Family

Family is not a tree
With only names to bear
Family is not people in a home
When there’s a lack of care

Family is people brought together With love in their hearts they share
Giving freely without condition
And not a moment to spare

Family is time together
Company each other enjoys
It is not judging one another
Or an image, a decoy

Family is joined by blood given Strengthened in hard times Supporting one another
Never to decline

Time, love and moments
You cannot repeat
Memories to last forever
Family is not a tree.

Nictitating Membrane, anyone?

As the hours push ever on toward our completion

of this word journey,

brain slows, yawns widen,

weary heart wonders why?

Dry eyes leave one to ponder why humans

do not possess a nictitating membrane to moisten the eyeball

of struggling poets as we wander the halls of night,

stumbling toward morning and a full 24 pages of magic.

the buzz

time was too abstract for me back then
I couldn’t measure it well in my head
he came back from sea
and every time I knew he would leave again

that day, he left in a hurry
no goodbyes
no hugs
no kisses

he was angry that we were fighting
my brother and I

so angry he threw his bags in his car
left

I chased after him
to say goodbye to get a kiss or a hug
but he was gone

i stood at the end of the driveway
waiting
hoping he’d turn back

my brother got me and brought me inside
he was sorry about the candy
my pigtails were slick with sweat
my heart ached and a nervous shiver hummed inside me

it never went away
bzzzz bzzzzz bzzzz bzzzzz
always right here under my skin

(xvii) lucubration…..

Love –

“nights in white satin
( never reaching the end….)”

Faith –

“and you want to travel blind.
and you know that she will trust you,
for you’ve touched her perfect body
with your mind…..”

Conflict –

rejection
and the silence beyond words.

‘al di la….’

17 // sun pillar

straight down from the heavens
I swear it! he says as if
we might not believe him

the lightsmith himself
has forged this one
you’ve never seen

anything like it
we follow him outside
and he points to the horizon

whiter than the sun and vertical
as if holding up the sky
the sun pillar against purple

a halo straightened out
like an arm straining
when the hands are clamped

together in prayer
I told you he says
it’s special this one

11pm

A closed front door

A stranger, neighbours

Possibly a friend,

Or a friendly neighbour,

Maybe one who is upon you a task fallen,

A message to deliver,

But whoever is inside,

It is a closed front door.

Possibilities and impossibilities abound,

Infinite stories waiting to unfold,

Or remain unborn, closed forever,

Stories of friends and foes and strangers,

Greetings and rejections,

All waiting for a knock.

We can extrapolate the universe

Of mankind

As we stare at a closed front door.

Shall we dare to step inside?

Crushed 

Poem Seventeen ~ His Name…

His name is Chris.
His lips are poisonous.
His mind is multi-faceted.
His penis is loose.
His hands are corrupt.
His tongue is silver-lined.
His laugh is forged.
His love is betrayal.
His heart was never mine.
His name is Chris.

After Tomorrow

after tomorrow I become another

person unlike who I am tonight.

this person is tired,

tomorrow she is vivid,

revived, without caffeine,

you will see another

butterfly emerge.

 

 

 

Springtime Heartbreak

A force not to be reckoned with,
unpredictable weather changes,
April is a beautiful month,
cherry blossom season,
full of springtime lovers,
quarreling over simple things like,
are you a lesbian?
no of course not,
loving someone who can’t possibly return the intimacy,
lesbian feminism,
not a concept taught in high school,
a continuum of womanly love,
close friendships between two women,
lesbian just not sexual,

we could never be together,

the month passed,
as did the pain,
and now I can’t even remember her name.