The Poetry Marathon

6. poem in 5 parts

Poem in 5 parts

 

i.

I am only one person

a door opening into mother wife daughter

sister grandmother writer  

a window broken a door unhinged

opening into madness

 

ii.

I am only one person

so I remind myself

in the dark hours before morning

but morning doesn’t come

and the day is full of madness

 

iii.

I am only one person

but sometimes I hear voices

they sing to me in whispers

beneath the murmur of the others

many voices many voices

 

iv.

I am only one person

and it’s all too much

I can’t breathe, the man said

death is layered over under life

and it’s all so much

 

v.

I am only one person

this is what they say when I reach out

hand so strong, they tell me

and aren’t we all

only one person

A Play on Words

All I want to do is make love with my eyes,

to the pages of dictionaries.

Cum off of words with newfound meanings.

Slowly rise and climb climaxes as I lick the tip of my finger to turn the page.

The world stops spinning,

I’m lost in the translation,

caught in the rapture of finding the right words to fuck myself with.

The pretty ones,

the sweet nothings I chase after,

When I should be looking for the raw and real ones,

the ones that don’t hide themselves in multiple definitions,

they are what they mean, and nothing else.

And all along,

I’ve been steady looking for you,

For your native tongue,

that speaks the same language as me.

Reading the same page,

hoping for a different ending,

Yet, you never cease to surprise me.

Evermore sorely disappointed,

by your lack of clarification when you said all that you meant.

So here I sit, with the phonograph of remembrance,

replaying all the words you fucked me over with.

Letter to Isaac

Hello again
I know it seems like forever
Probably even like never.

How have you been, wherever it is you are?
Is that you I see, by that tiny star?
Is it cold out there, or warm?
Is space quiet or is it like a storm?

I miss you, you know.

You made so much sense out of things that didn’t make sense.
Like is matter light and is starlight dense.
Or do robots want to be like us, or want us to be like them, you know?
Or will the currents of space make the sun explode?

I suppose I’ll have to wait to ask you these things, in person.
And hey, how is that World Season?

Hello?

© 2014 D. Edward Croy

From Drought to Sea

Hidden deep within the caves of a poet’s mind…

is inspiration.

Seen on the pages of a poet’s book…

is creativity.

Separately, they wither in the drought…

of writer’s block.

Together, they inspire others to create their own…

seas of poetry.

Clueless

Topic, topic, find a topic
Can I be, this myopic?

Lots of choices.
Many voices.

Brain is racing.
Stay with pacing.

Keep it going.
Words just flowing.

Halfway there.
Do not despair.

 

Ablaze.

I saw it down the telescope,
The last decaying ray of hope,
Glinting in the setting sun,
Confirming that the end had come,
Sat there in the browning grass,
Light caught it like a shard of glass,
The ground around it caught ablaze,
An ode to long gone better days.

Hallucinations

He allowed himself

to be

carried away

by the massive hallucinations

he had produced

and why not?

he asked

of the wallpaper and drapes

bees fly,

birds glide,

balloons loft

and pollen….disperses

so too my sights

my visions

shall smear across the sky

shattering the retinas

of all who watch

he was a wizard and a magician

a necromancer and a king

he was a Hollywood producer

and his vision governed most everything

2pm

Maybe I could just write the million times I say clean you room

or put that away

or don’t do that

my thoughts couldn’t penetrate anything more

maybe the delight in this hour comes from my kids

since I’m laughing that I turned my frustration into poetry

this just may save them punishment

single parent life, it’s a zoo at times

even on a rainy day

the animals are still out…

Drifting in Dark water

 

Lost on a Black River

The water is so dark and erry

Feel the vampire bites of the river mosquitoes

on your hands and feet

Death seems to be in the air, as the trees sway in the breeze

The moon lits the river banks

As the boat drifts slowly along

Shadows cast a spooky feel

Nothing to do but wait until day breaks

If no one comes to rescue you

Then the final thought is doom

Look ahead its the crocodiles lair

Oh!! what will be next

Hearing the sounds of the night creatures

Sends chills up your spine

Oh!! its so clear now

A final night stranded on the Black River

As death lurks in the dark waters.

Prompt for Hour Six

Use the following image to inspire your next poem.