The Poetry Marathon

poem #7 I was late for motherhood

I was late for motherhood
the appointment was in a neighbourhood
I didn’t know      hidden behind billboards
and bare-limbed trees
for years I drove the highways
but the map given me at childhood
was missing pieces
like a puzzle where someone stole
all the blue edges

I had to ask directions
the doctor made me pass a test
I flunked the first time
later he would help me study
prescribe me vitamins
tell me not to worry things would work
out
I tried to follow his car to where
I thought I should be

you weren’t certain you wanted to live
there in that toy-strewn house
where the large windows first beckoned
at night I would dream of infants
and their tiny whispernames
in the darkness just before light broke
I would drive myself to where
the babies might be
that rendezvous I always meant to keep

it would be years later
when two boys became men
that I would remember
how it felt to be unfinished
lacking
missing those blue pieces
and realize
it was never about motherhood

“A Poem to REMEMBER:being A mArAtHoNeR”

✌✌✌✌✌✌✌✌

In that straight

More than 24hours awake

Studying sentina

And working household chores

As well as to calm the mind

And relax the heart

My mind stocked to understand

What sentina is

And the clock comes lesser

To write, I have none

I’m about to stop

My mind says hop

My bed says come

My heart says write

I focused

I focused in my heart

And I followed each hole

I was challenged

Not because there were writers better than I

Not because I was a new comer in this race

It is because, here I saw diverged

Every single Tictac of the clock

A pen’s value in tact

And soul to rock

My shadow walked

As I stood

I’m done

I can’t imagine

How I finished the game

Its not just a game but a plan

An undreamed run

A memorable ground

 

(C)seth:kw:13:46:june15,2015:ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

a great marathon of poets in time and space

starting eastern time 9 am 13 June  2015

moving for expressing in each prompt

creating poems

raw emotions raw verses creating

making poems creating and revising

posting for PUBLISHING

whether a half marathon or full marathon

moving creating and posting

for 12 hours 12 poems finishing a half marathon

next 12 hours begins

surely patiently eagerly moving to a great plane expedition

finishing full marathon

poets expressing themselves the sleep prompt which is final marathon prompt

ending  8 am 14 June 2015

what a blast!

adding to my humanity’s experience

kudos to organizers and fellow marathoners in this endeavor

Beautiful

I remember, towards the end
You asked me why I don’t tell you
You are beautiful

I thought it strange you would ask such a  thing
As I recall, I told you so every day

I smiled when you ever came to mind
Which was always
When I saw you, I wouldn’t hesitate to kiss you
When you would pass by
I would embrace you
Never to let go

You said, I didn’t show it enough
I didn’t tell you enough

You were mistaken, mi amor
I told you every day
Every moment you were in my presence

Could it have been that I did not say it enough?
I won’t deny that
In my defense, though, you knew I was of few words
My heart did not reside on my sleeve

In fact, the truth is
I did not dare attempt such a feat

To tell how beautiful you are
How much more I fall in love
When you look at me
Your way

I can not encapsulate the extent of your grace
Within the mire of words
Sought and placed as markes
Upon the portrait you are

It would be as futile a thing to attempt
As it would be for anyone to describe a sunset

Try as I might have, it would be done in vain
For I could never put words to what I could never understand

It is my greatest regret
For all that we lived
For all the love we had

You could never see
The words I spoke
In ever kiss
In every look
In every moment when all I could do
Is stare in wonder

How could a wayward soul like me
Be so lucky

To find such a beautiful thing
In such an ugly world
And somehow convince it
To love me

Creation

Creation in its smallest from is something that not many people see or believe

A single event in a single time on a split from the world that has created it

But what of those things that the world has not create or refused to acknowledge

What stands between the world that exist and that of a time that has past us by

The creations we seek are not the things that catch are sight or interest

They are the things that make us invisible to the world outside

The large and small things that make us think about all the other things we see and hear

Creations of what they do make us question whether or not the world sees itself

Always wanting more than what is required

Questioning if the things we do is correct or if they lack that something special for the full creation requested

What will the world create in the absence of time and in the void of darkness

Something remembered only when fear and loneliness take over what is not seen

A creation forgot in the wake of time and the lack of all else

The world will always become something greater

And the creations that came in its wake is something that will be un-measurable in time

Yet the world will continue in its unmistakable creation of things to come

The World Creates

The world creates small and impossible things

Something that is and always has been forgotten to others

Things that only exist to those that take turns and watch them grow

Small things that no one can see

Or just things that that have become inconvenient to most

Those that find the world to slow in its turning and too slow to be noticed

Will never see the small things that are being made and frown in the world around

There is always something more than the big things that you can see so well

What of the sunset you see as you quietly sit on a bench under a tree

Maybe it’s the bird that wakes you in the morning as you lay in bed and smile

It could be smile you get when you have the one person say how much they care for you

The small things are what we miss the most when no one is watching

They are sometimes the beginning of the day

And at other times they end the day on a smile

The world races around itself in hopes that things will one day be better

And yet no one had come to the thought or the ides that the world’s race is what helps everyone miss the small things

To slow down and see the world as it has always been

Would be something that no one in this world is willing or wanting to do

Yesterday

Clearing windows. Open doors, existential rooms. View surprising, tantalizing. Unremembered dreams, endeavoring scenes. Moments recorded throughout time, different place, different lives. Expanded views from skyscraping angles, clouds that dangle. Breathtaking, painstaking, never faking, real. City living, dangerous beauty, feel. No regrets, dark nights, cold kisses. Hours fly by, drunken misses. Painstakingly pleasurable, unforgettable. Old files locked away for rainy days. What ifs, maybes, the ones that got away. Clearing windows, exhausting. Padlock, won’t cost me.

Keep Finding

What keeps one finding that that was never done

For they cannot see the world as it should be

What finds them hunting for the wrongs that another does

How is their world held together when wrong is all they say

That which is done is never truly done as long as they see what is left behind

A world that takes only that where they find all wrong

Where can one find true bliss if it is never done their way

How does one search for that which was once for love

When what was done before was done as two

But now it lies to one to finish

Yet even when an attempt is made to make another happy

The wrong is still what is found as the day goes on

Where will one stand when their attempt is not accepted

Even if the wrong is completed it is still a wrong that was never done

The hope stands tall that one day all will be done right

But even then a wrong will be found

And yet the world will still turn to the perfection of one

But a wrong can never be right by the other

The day will go on and another wrong will be connected

But hope stands faith that the wrong will be right

And yet still a wrong will be found

HisStory

Rock of all ages,

King of all stages,

Awesome in power, in honor, in gauges.

Lion of Judah,

Prince of all Heaven,

Created all things in day 6, rested 7.

Born of a virgin,

savior and servant,

name above all names, salvation determines.

Steal Kill Destroy

Eyes were upon me,

skin crawling on me,

uncomfortable,

without protection he’ll harm me.

Taking advantage,

taken for granted,

incomprehensible,

another touch, I can’t stand it.

Innocence stolen,

no longer golden,

irreversible,

youth betrayed, dead and molded.