The Poetry Marathon

Blue Moon (Hour 1)

Blue Moon

The morning after you left,

the Moon refused to set.

As the neon sun rose, she – blue marble in a sea of pink sky –

still gazed upon you.

Full and bright,

She would not leave her sister Sun to mourn you alone.

Moon knows what she has done – what she showed you,

and she is not ashamed.

Why should she be?

She is marvelous, splendid, and resplendent.

Had she ever burned you?

Had she ever poisoned you?

 

She began to tug at you a week before

she fully unveiled.

Naked, she climbed high and turned her phosphorescent face toward 

you.

Leaned in on you sighing as Earth groaned under her weight.

You should have looked her directly in the eyes.

 

Not looking is what causes some to crumble –

Caused you to crumble.

Didn’t anyone ever tell you?

Full moons don’t drive people mad,

But the shame and hiding — well,

That will do you in.

The Moon glitters what we hide.

She offers us a chance to surrender,

and if we don’t, our glowing contraband is ripped from us. 

 

Didn’t anyone ever tell you?

Poor child, how could you possibly suffer the weight of her

unless you give up?

How else could you survive her splendor

unless you reverence the fractured reflection mirrored in her face?

How could you know the beauty and function

of your twinkling pieces, until you saw them fully formed by the light of the Moon?

 

So, she, with all of the full moons before her,

Silently absorbs the blame for

all of the ways we cracked under 

The weight and fullness of her gaze, 

beam of her closeness, and

might of her pulling.

Hour 1 – Shadows – “The past draped us like cloak”

As she stared at the deep reds and the purple sunset
She walked into the shadows of a red brick building
That was her high school, her old school
Along the library that smelt of old books
Under the tree, where she spent her lunches
She climbs the stairs only to find the cemented couch
Which is painted in a different color
The chatter and cheer of friends echoes her ears
She goes down memory lane
Thinking loud “The past draped us like cloak”
The years lived through has shone bright
Only to leave shadows behind.

 

 

Night’s Serenity

 

Amidst inside the hushed night hours
A steadfast light glowing,
Closed doors shrouded
two bars measuring incised as a way

Thresholds stays as uphold,
those traces mark a way ,
Mysteries at the back of thrive,

Celestial dark sea this night

Sentinels stand as an oath
Watchful and unfastened,
inside the stillness,
flickering light Promise stays,

protect the dwelling,
From existence’s lines,
via scared dark hours
Stand tall until morrow

Protectors of night,
Guarding all,
As darkness garment
the time weaves world from view,

custodians of the calmness
Steadfast and actual,
In quietude, questions without solution
till darkness dissolves

Safeguards goals, protected
In geographical regions, dead hours.

 

Hour -1                                                                                          Image Prompt

hour 1 – jesus at the bus stop

 

The last time I saw you
Oxblood brogues perched on a beach cruiser,
I admit to being unsettled.
20,000 holes on the average human face
But yours were gravitational –
I suppose stillness after a flood is a longstanding trademark.

and now, having awakened me,
you must expect me to do something. but
the problem is I don’t know which part of the story I’m in –
is this the valley of the Baptist,
Or, have we already arrived at the place of the skull.

Hour One: Glimmerings

An optical illusion, the light

So near in the distance I could almost see

How darkness is a trick,

Retinal magic,

As if light dies, disappears

In vacuous depths

Of Unknown formulas,

Mathematical solutions drifting,

Falling from a time ledge,

A mere absence appearing,

Ending where infinite limitation begins.

So much,

I know,

We don’t know—

A lighthouse

Pixelating fog, like

A doubt haven, full

As half-way moments,

Declaring safety by

a glint, the light

In the flash of a bullet

Seeking its target.

Poem 1: Aubade with Red Eyes and Gold Moon

My daughter texted me last night to say the supermoon

stole her breath when she saw it. I wanted to rise

and bear witness too, but I had already trekked to the edge

of slumber, my body a willful slave to bed.

Still, when the moon calls, I obey

and move my legs, pink and meaty as hams,

outside where I crane my neck to see only her glow

growing above the neighbor’s house

that blocks her. I wait for her to rise. She takes

my breath too when I see her round gold face.

I’ve never seen her so gold. She can never dart

in the sky but plods like that old unsinkable submarine

of someone else’s dream. I am a lumbering bear

who won’t sleep until yardsticks break underfoot

on my way to my den. In the morning,

I creep out of my cave into the yard to see

with my red eyes the bright now-white high-hanging moon

among the branches of white pine and cedar.

This morning cup of coffee steams with the sweet pond

of sleep still dripping from me as I stand and praise

the morning and my daughter for this moon.

 

Untitled Hour #1 Poem 9/2/2023

Door cracked slightly ajar

A slip of mid-morning light

through a thin atmosphere of dust and cat hair

This is where the past found me

Terror in one hand

Wonder in the other

How She Found Us (2023 Poem One)

How She Found Us                                                     after Diana Khoi Nguyen

This is how she found us
the past draped about us like a cloak

Woven unreliable memories
Tales from children who now are grown

Bound too tight to breathe
shielded from our dreams

(Prompt: Write a poem inspired by (and/or using this line) from the poem Selkie Weaning Young (Redux) by Diana Khoi Nguyen.  “This is how she found us/ the past draped about us like a cloak”)

Time to Begin to Begin

It was a day

Like many days past.

Up, showered and dressed

Tasty cereal down the hatch.

It’s Saturday, fun day

No work, only play

But this day, this Saturday

Is Poetry Marathon Day!

Getting started for some

Can start out a bit slow

I too feel a bit nervous

But I’m ready, here I go.

Prompt number one

I might savor a bit.

40 minutes have passed

And this poem is……….shit!

But I know, words will flow

Once I settle in

Slow starts are ok

So I’ll begin to begin.

I feel like a pianist

Warming up playing scales

Time to play or to say

Be it verse, song or tales.

And throughout this day

I’ll share myself, heart and soul

12 different poems

Deep breath, here I go.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Hour One – Castle Keep

Beneath my feet pine straw yields,

a scent so fresh and clean.

The day both crisp and sunlit

as we hike this forest scene

 

From walls of granite boulders

woodland creatures hide and peep

keeping close watch o’er their realm

high within their castle keep.

 

They track our route along the path

ensuring we’re not here to stay.

We hear them chatter in the leaves

as if to say, “Be on your way.”