The Poetry Marathon

#3 Before Darkness

Just before darkness is best time to walk

The sun is so low

the light does not beat down on you,

tiring you before you start.

 

As the sun sets, the earth holds all the heat of the day.

But carry a sweater,

High, dry air cools fast.

 

Before darkness comes,

find a warm boulder to sit on

or stretch out on

and watch the sky show begin.

 

Just before darkness,

close your eyes to feel the earth turning.

The sky darkens and stars

on top of stars

and more stars

begin to appear.

 

Do you remember their names?

If you don’t, make up your own.

You watched their birth

just before darkness.

#PoemNo3 Before darkness- -j.r.m© 2016

Poem 3: Before the Darkness

Before the darkness
I,
I
used to
imagine myself somewhere
else:
A candy shop,
a swirling, sickly sweet
carousel,
a library with
ceilings that ceilings
that soared
like arias
or unscreamed screams.

No one told me
what to expect.
no one said
it felt stretchy, full,
and lumpy,
like giving birth
in reverse.
No one said.
No one told me.
So I told no one,
too.

And the carousels
kept spinning.

Once I grew silent
and still,
I imagined them,
the colors.
They sparkled, grew,
filled my body
like music,
like shooting stars,
like fairy tale narratives,
like letters that forgot
to form a sentence
with an end.

I don’t,
I mean didn’t,
and I wavered
and drifted far,
far away,
borne aloft by
balloons or grocery lists
or something anything.
I didn’t even need
my face,
my name.

Maybe you know them.

“Apophenia” means finding
patterns
in the chaos:
Cloud animals,
dead loved ones
in a crowd,
landscapes
in a
cobwebby ceiling.

Before the darkness,
I
danced and drifted,
a dandelion fluff
propelled by
sneers and
grunts.
I uncovered colors
in the dark
and
hoped,
hoped,
hoped
I would
remember
to forget.

No Rhyme Nor Reason

I don’t need no rhyme nor reason

For a reason to rhyme

Whether in or out of season

That’s enough reason at this given time

Before Darkness

He stood
Before the darkness of his own mind
Arms folded
Jaw clenched
Wondering how it had gotten to this point

Once he was free-spirited
Joyful
Alive
But somehow
Over time
The darkness closed in

Fear ruled his life now
Anxiety had a stranglehold
Sadness from the loss
Like a weight on his chest

Taking a stand
Willing himself to survive
He keeps his focus
On the dim flickering light
Still alive in his heart

Somehow
Hope still lives within him
It fans the flame
And won’t let it go out
It will not bow down
Before darkness

Hour 3

Darkness looms as he peek
Silence rush in a he seeks
Light illuminates the area
Darkness tries to dim the light

Light will not allow
The darkness to win
Light out shines the dark.

copyright 2016 Roxann A Harvey

Before Darkness

While golden light takes on a grayer tone
The loss of sun the loss of easy sight
Humans were never meant to be alone
In darkest woods strange creatures wake at night
The flashlight hangs from string on his backpack
He takes it in his hands as darkness comes
The woods close in around his lonely track
There are a myriad of strange outcomes
That could in darker hours come to pass
He’s running under trees of shifting shapes
He loses speed while crossing the morass
He should not stop and yet he does and gapes
A fluttering a shadow moves and then
He vanishes and is not seen again

Before darkness

Before darkness

colors are muted

buildings and lives

are shadowed, and

the death of another

day has dawned.

Time is the only element

that remains constant.

It clanks on monotonously

as a steady stream of

inconsequential actions

are performed to keep

darkness at bay.

Before darkness humanity tries to

bring light to the world.

But darkness always wins.

Prompt Three–Before Darkness

Before Darkness

El Paso’s evening symphony
begins fortissimo, an explosion
of vibrant colors streaking
the desert sky, azure, orange, rose,
a visual songburst echoed
by the last, frantic calls of birds
seeking shelter within the palms
and scrub, the scree, scree
of crickets advertising availability,
and the scrabbling, scurrying
rustle of miniscule desert lizards
searching out day’s few remaining
thrumming vessels of heat
to sustain them through the night.

Softly, surely, in deepening streaks,
the light purples down to dusk,
the birds settle to cooing mumbles,
and crickets and lizards slow to stillness,
their nightly hibernation begun
as the emerging moon silvers
and silhouettes, and all quiets
to the tick, ticking of my small world,
contracting into darkness.

Before Darkness

not light

not any

not you

not me

not ideas

not fog

not empty

not imagine

not god

not words

not pictures

not sound

not white