The Poetry Marathon

Poem #11 From Prompt by Ingrid Exner-“Home-Less”

I wait until the shadows come,

And darkness fills this space.

I venture out into the streets,

To avoid a familiar face.

 

I had a life, I had a job

and even money too!

But life can throw up hurdles

An even for you too!

 

Do not judge me by my look-

My tangled greasy hair!

I once wore a crown with jewels

Holding back my golden hair.

 

My skin was once like butter

Creamy and soft to the touch

My fingers were decorated and painted

But now they do not look like much.

 

I once spoke to many and

Now heard by very few-

My only audience being those

I wish I never knew.

 

I had a life, I had a job

I had more than even you.

Please do not judge me based

On facts you never knew.

 

Ingrid Exner, 2016

Darkness

The darkness of the pain that ‘I felt with in my soul.

Where the light of my soul became dark.

The darkness of the pain surrounded my body.

Like the breeze that capture the winter coldest day.

 

The darkness of the pain left into my soul was like.

The other side of hell.

That fell on my soul.

Alice

Blazin unrest
Holds tired rain
Shattered by colour
Sparkle in flame
Whisper soft herald
Beacons and sings
Carries her mind
Carries her dreams
Knowledge that fills
Luminates from her eyes
Old soul recognized

Prompt for Hour Twelve

Half Poetry Marathoners, this is your last prompt! Congratulations!

Poetry Marathoners, you are almost half way through! Congratulations and Good luck!

This hour your prompt is to write a poem containing at least five of the following eight words:

Moon

Lake

Glory

Jeep

Breastbone

Spare

Canopy

Panic

Kisses

Kissing them is all I need.
Truly! For it is the kiss that bears true love.
Ah, Love! To kiss him at the fleadh,
And take him, in awe of all.

Truly! For it is the kiss that bears true love.
My heart is set to cleave his soul,
And take him, in awe of all.
Yes! Kisses do make me whole!

My heart is set to cleave his soul,
And lie upon his bed.
Yes! Kisses do make me whole!
With kisses I am fed.

And lie upon his bed.
Kissing them is all I need.
With kisses I am fed.
Ah, Love! To kiss him at the fleadh!

Ugh.

am i done?

no not yet.

1 more hour…

yay?

 

Suicide

Death came upon us

When we were least suspect

And left the rest of us

With nothing but regret

Regret we didn’t say the things

We really ought to say

But now it’s all too late

To say them anyway

We miss not having you around

We think of you each day

We just don’t understand

Why you went away

If we had one more chance

To say three simple words

Like “I love you or I need you”

But now it seems absurd

Because you left us in your prime

And chose to end it all

Who said that we were finished

We didn’t make that call

Im hurting deep inside today

The pain won’t go away

Can’t we start all over?

Won’t you choose to stay?

11

“I ran out of time for this one, but I’m curious where it will go when I have a good amount of time to really sit with it and think about the bodies of woman saints. Who knows where it will go.” -Jessica

 

These men found the preserved body of Saint Cecillia in the basement
of a church. Another woman named saint because she managed
not to have sex and not to decompose for eight hundred years. Or maybe

someone else decided she didn’t had sex because if the body is incorruptible
in one way, it must also be uncorrupted in another. And besides,
a woman can only be one or the other, right? Anyway, some other men

found the preserved body of Saint Clare of the Poor Clares and paraded
it to the Pope. Later they found her bones were tied together
with silver wire, cloth, and pitch. Her body corrupted by stranger’s hands.

The skin of woman preserves so much easier than her stories do.

HOUR 11 Travelin’

TRAVELIN’

With pencil and paper in hand

I jot down the name,

I jot down the brand.

 

For other folks

the brand don’t matter

but I write it down

it saves on the chatter.

 

I travel from town to town

aching with pain,

but I like what I do.

 

Of course I’d prefer

for a doc to see

I let my wounds to heal

no docs are  around

 

I don’t trust em barbers

and I never will

I’ve seen what they’ve done

to a cadaver or two.

 

I’m feared by particular men, you see.

Dirty stink’n rotten men, the kind you want to bury.

The kind that steal your horses and cattle

and know, if caught, they’ll be heightened for death.

 

Perhaps it’s the platform,

they desire to speak

most hold their tongue

many of ’em freak..

 

They whine and squeal just like little pigs.

Two more miles to go and I’ll be there by sun-up.

Reckon they’ll be waitin’, for this travelin’ man.

 

I’m the one with the rope,

I’m the one with the plan.

They stretch if I leave em

don’t want no complaints.

 

So they’re down in a day.

The crowd that amasses

boggles my mind

They line up a few men for the day.

 

For I may not return

for months on end.

I’m the hangman

I move from town to town.

 

My horses are tired

they have a right to complain.

I’ll set down me britches

one of these days.

 

For now I’ll keep movin’ and hanging away.

 

 

 

Du30

 

 

My hands are the law

My judgement is my own discretion

I control everything

I am in command

Never Fu*k  with me

Drugs kill lives

Crimes increases due to drugs

Drug lords should be killed

Supporters and protectors should be extinguished

Government remains  vigilant

 

 

7:55 am PST 14/08/2016

© ROY MARK AZANZA CORRALES