The Poetry Marathon

The Raging and Consuming War of The Poetics

Part XIII

Not many weeks after my prayer offered
to a perfect God,
from the pit of my sinful nature,
my daughter was conceived…
the conception that finally put alcohol beyond my reach,
and my husband became even more irritating;
he was much better tolerated through inebriation.

when early morning breaks,
and I see parcels of light,
break through the venetians,
summer’s end nearing…
I realize that I am still in a war;
I pick a pocket full of poppies,
take in a long, deep breath,
choke on myself and go on.

Go on…
why must I?
Is there a law that says I have to go on?
I mean now,
not then.
Then I was young,
thought I had a chance,
carrying the love of my life,
the same life that would marry
and bring two more loves of my life…
crazy how that works –
life, procreation,
little hands and feet that march on your heart
and create a trail that no briar can cover.

Go on…
why must I?
I stayed with that man until he found sobriety,
I stayed with him faithfully until…
well, even now…
I was there when he decided I was no longer useful
and he cast me aside,
found someone else,
they broke up two homes,
hurt three children,
destroyed my spirit,
and yet,
I forgave –
in his current putrid state,
I can look him in the eyes and know, I have forgiven…
so I ask again,
why go on?
I have no regrets,
I will die a one man woman,
I birthed the perfect, beautiful daughter,
I love and know my two perfect grandchildren,
I love the poppies;
anything red…just like my little grandson;
why fight a war,
when I don’t think there will ever be a winner?
It’s like Vietnam –
no winner.

– Michellia D. Wilson 8/23/14 8 PM

Picture, Picture on the Wall…4pm

We are the picture of society that we want to see.

We have to make the choice that creates a world that can make us proud.

But when parents neglect their duties,

And children refuse to grow.

When teachers choose not to teach,

And students choose not to learn.

When leaders refuse to lead,

And countrymen refuse to feel.

We create a picture filled with…

Hate

Greed

Selfishness

Need.

And then we wonder what is going on in this world.

But aren’t we the picture of what we want to see?

Summer’s End

” Summer’s End”

Summer is at its end, this summer night has fallen.

Sadly the crickets song is silent,

For the weather has grown too cold for them too bear.

Summer where have you gone?

You came and went oh so quickly.

Soon my noisy home will be filled with silence all day.

Ever so will I miss the splendid beauty of all the flowers you bloom.

The cooler night air brings promises of winter’s icy grip.

No more fairs, no more carnivals,

No more campfires, no more shiny bright stars at night.

Yet, Summer’s end brings the Fall and all of its marvels to behold.

The Ballad of Meowleen the Airship Pirate, part 3

The ship descended in the dead of night
But the pirates had their amber lights
They armed themselves with rayguns readySoon as the ship had landed steady
They broke in, silent as they could
To explore and steal just like they shouldStrangely, though, there were no guards
Which was quite weird, as it regards
A lab of such notorious class
With details of the finest brass
Would surely not be left unwatched
It’s almost like there was a catch
To this new oh-so easy heist
And suddenly, there was a slice!
Across the throat of Meowleen’s first mate
Soon in a messy post-life state
And she heard steps behind her back
Then suddenly, it all went black

Within

There was a brief moment

When I held ALL.

When I saw the spark

That is this moment

And is eternity,

And is infinity.

Timeless in its omnipotence.

I still hold ALL.

 

When lifted from the ashes,

All illusion falls away,

And we are left with this…

The moment of our birth

And the moment of our death.

 

Realizing that

All in between

Is a grand lesson

To teach us how to fly.

With the Knowing

That Love is Light

And Light is Love

And All that is real

Is within.

New Forest

Running through the shadows

of a newly found forest

brass and copper

lined the paths

 

shifting chanting

notion less

being still and silent

In the mist

 

Fleece is sent

through the mill

making wool

so cool and thrill

 

Tens of Thousands

days to go

why not let the magic flow.

 

 

Something

Jump into something

Blue

Something to

Change and some extraordinary

Happy

~.%

Young criminals

We’re allowed to shoot them these days,

those pesky little brats

they get three written warnings,

then that’s the end of that;

we pack them off to cryogenics

to wait their turn to die,

when we’ve got a group of ten

we get to end their lives;

you look a little horrified,

but you’re living in the past,

our crime rate is down

employment’s up,

they learned the lesson fast;

welcome to the new earth,

you’ve been frozen for a while,

time to get you all cleaned up,

today is the beginning of your trial.

 

The Reality Slap

The string of truth

A fine line that pierces deep within

At first your breath is taken away

For a split second where you feel nothing

But you instinctively know its coming

That excoriating pain, that sudden jolt

The thud that sends tremors through your body

Then the aching starts from your heart

With each beat the aching gets stronger

 

Then the tears start of flow

Streaming down your cheeks,

Running down your cheeks to your neck

Uncontrollable sobs begin

Like waves growing bigger with each rep

 

You look up at your tormentor

Right in the eye looking deep within

Behind their anger and guilt to their heart

Beating uncontrollably

Aching in pain

The dull ache of years of anger and pain

Built up inside

 

What do you do?

Lash out and continue the war

Or do you look them in the eye?

Show them compassion and forgiveness

And turn on your feet smiling

And walk away

 

For the universe will even the scales in due course

From every painful situation

Comes the opportunity for a new beginning

Have strength in this knowing

And trust

Prompt for Hour Thirteen

Write a poem with no visual imagery in it whatsoever. Instead rely on your other 4 senses to pull the poem along.