The Poetry Marathon

Waiting (HOUR 1)

Wanting, needing, hoping to find a love that’s so pure and oh so true.

I look up, down, side to side I look everywhere for that  bond that is strong as glue.

I walk the paths of lonesome souls head held high.

Maybe today I think to myself she will step out from the shaded area that lines the path.

With hope in my heart I walk searching for the first  time  my breath gets lost and the emptiness inside gets washed away like dirt in a warm soothing bath.

Finally the path has ended and as I step out from the tree lined misery, I look up and there it was your smiling face I have found love so pure so true the wait is over.

From the way we hold hands to the soft gentle kisses there is no more searching.

We found each other ironically at the end of the path of lonesome souls and our love has flourished  no more will I be longing, and feeling empty, for love has arrived  there will be no more waiting.

 

Poem #1 — Underwater Prompt

An Ode to Mnemosyne

I call to thee, O’ sweet Mnemosyne

Gaia’s fountainhead; spring of memory,

Pull forth from thine father of the heavens

Thy legacy of Devine expressions.

 

Call into being, O’ mine Oracle,

All thoughts visceral and primordial

Lest they escape into oblivion

To sup waters of Lethe’s dominion.

 

Bring out the host, O’ Devine Memory,

As I genuflect humbly before thee

And quaff the elixir of passing time

To hold its hand in remembrance of mine.

 

 

 

by Karen Sullivan

Form: A Horatian Ode

 

 

Hour 1

lightning cracks

ripping across dark skies

demanding dreamers awaken

thunder rumbles

stirring their hearts and imaginations

there is nothing like

rain in the high mountain desert

droplets pouring down

like a million answered prayers

longings

into the embrace of a parched land

that has waited far too long

there is nothing like

a flood of words, lines, shapes, colors

tumbling onto the empty page, canvas

like a million answered prayers

longings

to soothe the ragged edges of a parched soul

that has waited far too long

First poem

One, two, three, four, five, six
Submerged and amused.
Thirty two, thirty three, thirty four, thirty five, thirty six
Holding, pressure building.
Fifty six, fifty seven, fifty eight, fifty nine
Bubbles dance and race away.
Seventy five, seventy six, seventy seven
Eyes sting, lungs protest.
Ninety six, ninety seven
They surface first, victory.
One hundred twenty four
Show off…

Drowning (Hour 1)

I take a deep breath

and plunge

Now I’m in deep with you

We swim around

Blissfully taking each other in

I notice your skin

Wrinkly and pale

I look at you

Asking with my eyes

“How long can we survive like this?”

You look away

And I know we can’t

You open your mouth

I want to scream at you ‘no!’

I swim towards the surface

My lungs screaming for air

But you hold my feet

Pulling me down

I try to kick

It’s no use

Your grip is too strong

I look into your eyes again

You don’t want to be in this alone

So I stop

I open my mouth too

You hold my hand

Pull me close

I close my eyes

Slowly we begin to sink

I realize it then

We’re drowning

Drowning

In our sin

Are you ready kids?

My friends say I suck;
I think I soak.
I’m but an undergraduate
employed at a burger shack.
My friend is a star
but I’m stuck behind a bar;
My neighbor thinks I’m annoying-
he’s my only friend and now I’m crying.
I’m just a little kid trying not to be a square
(Surprisingly enough, that’s exactly what I am.)
But you have to consider my upbringing if you are to be fair.
I am but a pacific creature
I hope all these words explain to you my features.

I am who lives, you see
in a pineapple under the sea.

9 am

I feel weightless while

submerged

The sounds in my ears

are like a gentle thunder

 

I am free under the

Shooshing water

Creating ripples as I

exhale small bubbles

 

Looking up, I see

A distorted vision

Of the land

We call home

 

Much like many people live

Blurred

Focusing only on

Our next breath

 

Forgetting to

Admire

The beauty which

Surrounds us

 

 

 

Word

In the beginning was the word

There are many beginnings

Not enough words

So I type the words but I feel

No stirring but anxiety

Anger, ripe trilogies of

Heroic offering with armored

Men on horses save

As if in battle scarred

By the years I spent in harness

Myself small child

Restrained and held

To protect me from running afar

I did that ran too far

Can never come home

Years passed I stumbled back

In tiny steps I grew

Aligned to other homes

None served as fortress nor

In tenth degrees did

Fall away protect or

Save me from my hero’s task

Jump on the horse

Hold to your banner

Escape and ride escape ride on

I am here a selfless girl

Inflicting my weapon

Manipulating my banner

Coming home a third time

Building the home myself.

Diary of Grace

When my heart felt your love.

For my soul.

With your smiles of your grace.

Diary of grace.

Is always the most beautiful words.

Of the grace love.

His love for my soul.

Diary of his love for my soul.

Diary of grace is love for my.

Soul