The Poetry Marathon

Hour two text prompt -for I can do it all

Write a poem from the point of view of yourself, ten years ago.

I am so excited

Life is gonna go my way

First week is done already

Next week is on its way

And I think people really like me

And like what I have to say

My nerdom isn’t hidden

To my grandparents dismay

And sure I can’t read

The books I just checked out

About demons and faeries

And the world within and out

Because grandma believes in them

And inviting them is a sin

I guess I’ll learn at school alone

No matter

Nothing can wreck the weekend

I met someone cool on Thursday

I’ll meet with him again

And soon I’ll have my birthday

And tests and finals and

I’ll realize something about myself

While searching for a sin

I don’t know it yet

Not for another few years you see

But I’m living as a girl

Like I was raised to be

And I’m feeling all things strongly

Powerfully as can be

I’m alone and hoping

That college can save me

From the curse of my battered family tree

Ablution

Singing my favorite song

as steam curls up around the tune.

Gently massaging a scrub over my skin.

Granules of coffee, chocolate, sugar

mixed with coconut and shea

shed the remainder of the day.

Steam filling the shower smells like

swimming in a coffee pot.

Inhaling deeply, lungs filling

with caffeinated vigor.

Hour 1: Tapestry

A tapestry of time

Woven from the remnants of nursery rhymes, fairy tales, and broken promises of youth

Stitched together with wishing stars and skinned knee tears

Adorned with baby teeth, skipping stones, fishing line, a handful of jacks and one lost playing card

 

Ten Years Ago

Cut loose,

new freedoms spring

from explosive endings.

I’m blind to them

such is the chaos,

grieving loss,

shaken questioning of self,

the tumult of new beginnings.

 

Once Broken, Now New-Hour 2{Prompt}

Suffocated, pressured,

pressed, choking,

rage that closed me in,

shaking, aching, red and raw

want to scream, to lash out.

So I turned away,

toxic ex, toxic biological father,

go fuck yourselves.

Such a potent phrase,

one I wanted to yell

in fat, smug, satisfied faces

but that slammed door closed gentle,

that closed heart eased,

those bitter fists lowered

to soft palms to press,

to hold, to embrace the new life,

my infant son, and the jeering

voices of yesteryear would fade

to old scars, to whispers,

to nothing.

Something Wild

Boys and girls of every age
Wouldn’t you rather be something strange?
Something mystical and mythical,
Something wild they cannot tame?

Be wild, child.
Take society by the collar
And say, “No, I will not.
“I will not be your puppet.
I will not sit down and be silent.
I will not be your skyscraper prisoner.
I will not be your cookie cutter child.

“I will forge my own path.
I will be my own self.
I will speak, raise my voice in protest.
I will escape your cities of smoke and mirrors.
I will find the beauty in being wild.”

Boys and girls of every age
Choose to be something strange.
Something more than society dictates.
Something wild they cannot tame.

Self Defense for Women (2)

CLIENT:

Her mother signs her up for the class

and tells us that she was ‘assaulted with words’

at first, this brings to mind swarthy strangers

chasing her down the street yelling gibberish

‘Tomato sandwich!’

‘Abscond!’

‘Prairie dog cowboy hat!’

angrily as she cries

but if they’re willing to catcall

commenting loudly and with suggestive subtext

about the body of a 17 year old

it stands to reason

they might do much more.

 

FIRST IMPRESSIONS:

The marine in class before she appears

says it was all just cowardice

that a real man approaches

sacks up, says

‘Hey pretty lady, how about we grab a drink?’

a perfect white smile appearing

on his permanently-tanned face

to the applause of the other older men

and when she appears

he tries to teach her

‘The good ol’ 1, 2′

belly jiggling as he punches the air.

 

SERVICE RENDERED:

I start them on a simple drill

and take her over to BOB

a man-shaped target

with incredible abs

sculpted shorts hiding invisible penis

standing on a plastic base

I show her feigning surrender

slapping the ears

clinching behind the head

dropping the chin

for a headbutt.

 

RESULT:

surrender, smack, grab, slam

she plays an excellent victim

before obliterating the nasal bone

with a wrecking ball headbutt

and adding the knee to the crotch

like I showed her

I ask the marine

‘Do you feel like approaching now?’

smack, grab, slam

surrender down to half a second

knee hitting rubber crotch so hard

BOB’s base, filled with water, tips backward

‘Lord no,’ he says.

 

Ladder of Hope

A decade gained
From the ashes of pain
As the window opened
And the sun poured in
A ladder of hope
Extending beyond
The visible sky
A way out
A path to the next level
The past under my feet
Giving me traction for the finish

Hour 2 I’m going to do it

Text Prompt: Write a poem from the point of view of yourself, ten years ago.

 

I’m going to do it

Should I do it

What if no one reads me

What if no one cares

 

What if I don’t say it right

What if it falls flat

What if it’s all for naught

I’m going to do it

 

I’m going to do it

I’m going to step out on faith

I’m going to write my heart

I’m going to let it out

 

And if I don’t say it right

And if it falls flat

And if only one reads

I’m going to do it

10 Years Past

I take the path

I remember it well

Eight of young, still at school with English and Math

But even at a young age, she could tell

I like playing with dolls of Barbie

I like to dance and sing

I like to have a little party

I like to skate and swing

I want to say I’m happy, but I know that they didn’t make me feel so

But! I can’t wait to turn ten!

It’s a big number I know

Maybe I’ll have some friends then

I like to play with dolls

I like to dance and sing

I wonder if ten years later, it’s the same thing.