The Poetry Marathon

Shed

Pretty as can be, I feel sorry for her.

While the physical seems in tact,

her emotional state is out of whack.

With each man, she bids farewell to another piece of herself.

Never really touching life, just watching from a dusty shelf.

Fed up with each violation,

just not enough to salvage what’s left of her next generation.

I pray she finds a new revelation.

One she can hang her hat on, trust with no questions.

Let sleeping dogs lie, finally learn her lesson.

Realize that who SHE is at the break of wake is by itself, a beautiful blessing.

Rise up!

Break away, and start your shedding.

 

 

 

 

 

The battle of wills

How does one keep their identity

In such a union?

The struggle pf one person’s needs over another’s?

A battle of wills? The war of the poor me’s

Who will win?

No one I’m afraid

 

This is not what love is about?

Love is selfless

Your concerns are secondary,

Your motivation being about the greater good

The ability to make someone feel

Better about themselves

Just by time spent, listening, reassuring, bolstering

Their wavering self esteem

And the most important thing of all it is returned tenfold

 

Love is the act of giving and receiving

Without expectation

Instead it becomes a point scoring exercise

Who’s had the greatest trouble, loss and

sacrificed the most

All in the name of love!

 

This type of love

Which is not really love at all!

It is a state of mind

I truly do not need nor want

#22, Silence

I am forgetting your voice.

I dont have it captured anywhere.

I kick myself for that

All this technology

Buzzing

Brain melting stuff

and I never thought to record your voice

I remember my aunt used to record Christmases when we were little

I want to comb through the pile of tapes and find you

Hold you again

If only with my ears.

I could close my eyes and hear your voice

Run my hand down the path you always ran down my cheek

Pretend it was you there

Comforting me like you would have

Pretend it was your thumb on my cheek and not my own.

When I could curl up at your feet and put my head in your lap, forever 10years old.

How do I do these things without you?

Get married?

Have babies?

Who am I going to call for help when the baby wont stop crying?

How can I be a mother…

Without mine to show me how???

 

I run my thumb down my tear stained face.

Pretend its yours again.

Try and hear you.

Silence.

Poem 22

Let me fix you
Let me love you
Let me see you
Let me hold you
Let me comfort you
Let me know you
Let me rely on you

mother’s clothes

she’s renting to own from
two and a half different decades

marriage put her into t-shirts,
oversized hoodies and jeans that flare
at the bottom

divorce threw her back into spandex and dresses
painted her lips pink again
and taught her body to stop asking for
guidelines to feel
belonged to

 

__ar.

poem for the language angel

come sweet language angel

i am the red sister

consuming love like fire-

honey falling over delicious dirt-

put in the universe to grow you.-

overwhelm you with emotion and words.

come sweet language angel

dance the light of heaven-

embrace an innocent neighbor-

woman, boy or girl-

fill their hands with music, beauty and art-

and each one can live happy and full.

come sweet language angel

with your delicious kiss

go wild filling my universe with a thousand words-

never embracing old memories and pain-

only believing i will pronounce life

wherever i go.

come sweet language angel-

you with your supernal words and me with my mess-

blend us into song of hope and light-

blend us into one sweet flower destined to live throughout

eternity.

The Raging and Consuming War of The Poetics

Part XXII

the first time I spent time at the bin,
I was never so alone;
three months I spent wailing, praying,
begging my husband to put family first;
in the bin,
I accepted that it was over,
but I had to hang on through Christmas…
for the kids…

– Michellia D. Wilson 8/24/14 5 AM

6am

Inject me with a dose

so I may feel

If it hurts

rainbow bridge prompt

there is a poem called “the rainbow bridge” which illustrates that pet and owner are brought together again after death in a part of ‘heaven’

regardless of your beliefs – write a poem in which a pet and owner are reunited after long years apart in life and death

 

Just this side of heaven is a place called Rainbow Bridge. 

When an animal dies that has been especially close to someone here, that pet goes to Rainbow Bridge. 
There are meadows and hills for all of our special friends so they can run and play together. 
There is plenty of food, water and sunshine, and our friends are warm and comfortable. 

All the animals who had been ill and old are restored to health and vigor; those who were hurt or maimed are made whole and strong again, just as we remember them in our dreams of days and times gone by. 
The animals are happy and content, except for one small thing; they each miss someone very special to them, who had to be left behind. 

They all run and play together, but the day comes when one suddenly stops and looks into the distance. His bright eyes are intent; His eager body quivers. Suddenly he begins to run from the group, flying over the green grass, his legs carrying him faster and faster. 

You have been spotted, and when you and your special friend finally meet, you cling together in joyous reunion, never to be parted again. The happy kisses rain upon your face; your hands again caress the beloved head, and you look once more into the trusting eyes of your pet, so long gone from your life but never absent from your heart. 

Then you cross Rainbow Bridge together…. 

Why am I awake

Worries bills and costs have haunted my dreams so to stop them I get up from my slumber with the hopes they would stop. Playing catch up like a horse with a dangling carrot I’m running in circles working for pennies and always losing sleep cause even in my dreams I can’t afford to be that deep. It’s just life some may say but those May not know that insomnia is a side affect of lack of cash flow.