The Poetry Marathon

poem#12/12: thank you

thank you for showing me i still have my heart’s blood

left

to dip my pen into.

 

poem#11/12: out of time

there are things left unsaid

there’re colours left unseen

 

time – the ultimate thief and conman – shows you all

and then leaves you hobbled adn chained unable to reach as it runs out on you.

College Dreams

I will be gone in a year,

Progress is the only way to success

I will miss you but I have to move on with my life too.

I will visit every now and then.

Don’t make this harder than it has to be with all those tears.

It is the decision I have made.

Thank you for your support.

poem#10:bereft

he induced poetry in me.

reduced me to mere words

my love; my muse.

 

he lef tme nowhere to hide,

nowehere to find comfort

than where i’d always found them: in words.

 

i bled for him,

cried for him.

 

my heart and soul emptied out;

hollow,

empty

and now,

not even words left

to me anymore:

bereft.

Future Love

I will fall in love the day I see you.

You and all four of your paws,

Your big beautiful eyes will melt me like butter,

Your golden hair, will shine even on the gloomiest of days.

My future puppy.

My future love.

Autobiography of A Face.

My face has many flaws,

I am in no way perfect,

Nor do I strive to be.

I prefer no makeup.

I prefer a real face instead of hiding behind my insecurities.

Living versus Responsibilities

 

I want to be gone,

being responsible for everything…

Whether it is my fault or not!

 

I just want to live already!

I want to feel ALIVE!

I want to go to concerts,

Go take a hike on one of the eight wonders of the world,

Walk on the hills of the highest mountain

Scream as loud as I can!

Have a great time with friends,

Meet someone I can love,

Meet someone who can love me right.

 

Have my story to tell,

With many have twists and turns

but that’s the fun part of it I believe.

And even though it may turn out to be a large mess,

I know that it would be worth everything:

 

the travel,

the lust,

the fun,

the pain of love,

the education,

the hatred,

the flirtations,

the stressed out finals week,

the music,

the romance,

the anger,

the crazy deadlines,

the wondrous words that I write about the journey of my life

Is it selfish of me?

 

I don’t know.

I have responsibilities:

I have younger siblings,

I have a mother who needs me,

why does it have to be this way?

I feel like I am a financial burden.

I feel like I should just earn it all on my own.

I feel like this is done.

 

 

poem#9/12: reports from the lands of brokenness

’tis unfair, but a truth:

each time you break, you break somewhere other than you thought you knew how to heal/to deal with from before.

in this, there is no experience and practice makes perfect that will help:

each time you break differently, at a different spot,

And what you knew before, doesn’t work.

 

This is how you are altogether broken.

Wave Upon Wave

I forget the world I once had as a child that grew

The imagination that was created in the world’s that I wrote

At a time when escaping the world around me was a better choice

When things where different and the world was simpler

As long as the time was available and no one was around

I escaped to a world that was all of my own

A place that I could make things as I wanted

In a time that I could lose minutes on top of hours on top of days

My world was something that could help me and hinder me

For the world that I create could be a place I could never leave

From character to character and day to day

Once I was inside and caught the outside world would just melt away

As to why I left that world I will never know

And the more I try the less of the world I see

To become lost in a world that was once me

When can I find my true self

And where will I be when that world comes crashing on me

I wait for the waves that once over came me

That closed around me and invaded everything I was

For the creativity that was once my whole world

Where will my creativity come from and when

I am ready for wave upon wave of worlds to create

And for a time that I can lose minutes upon hours upon days

poem#8/12: ‘The thinking man’ cares

behold: the thinking man on his boulder, resting his chin on his hand;

he contemplates the pebble at his feet,

Concludes: The world is naught but the pebble and the pebble is worthy of care;

 

he sees the pebble;

in all it’s glory and perfection.

 

satisfied, concludes: I’m a thinking man, but can also feel, can also care – foor i care about this pebble.

 

—

The world-consuming fires finally arrive at the pebble at the thinking man’s feet;

he screams.