The Poetry Marathon

“English is mind-blowing”

English is prominently a hilarious language,

To rise above challenges at any stage.

Ignite the spark of creativity,

You will be called witty.

Play with your imagination,

While making India a blooming nation.

 

The use of slang & phrases amazes me,

Learning this modern speech blemishes thee.

Enrich current vocabulary,

Develop reading as a hobby.

The library is like a knowledge junction,

Which book will I read?

I rarely mention it.

Saving myself, from falling into a pit.

 

Amateurs in proficiency,

Keen for job vacancy.

Communication will change personality,

Obstacles are just, challenges to overcome as my responsibility.

 

Fluency in writing requires coherence,

Expressing our emotions is patience.

Newspapers are thought-provoking,

Headlines and content are eye-catching.

It is my favourite subject,

That makes people connect.

(c) preksha puri 2023.

 

The perfect word #2

Whether the dawn spills
Slowly as winter honey
over the land
Or it escapes night’s grasp
And leaps for freedom
Skipping
Along the edges
Of lapis clouds
Against cerulean skies
I greet each day
As another chance
To get right
What it means to be me
And crave to crave less
To make simpler
To take away
Until the poem contains
But one word
And then none at all
Save the perfect silence
Where all is said and answered
In return.

The Poetry Marathon 2023: Hour 1

Early Morning Thoughts: Hour 1 6am September 2, 2023

Waking up, coffee in hand,

the sun still isn’t here,

rain clouds coat the sky in

layers of silver linings and

potential. I am exactly where

I need to be, even if I cannot

 

name this place, sipe spresso

on the veranda with my mother,

or smell wild mint crawling up

the driveways of people I love

and miss more now.

 

-M. Rene’ AKA SincerelyBlueJay Poetry

Hour #1

fingers weave
yours and mine
you press hard
demanding
punishing
hurtful

are these my fingers
is this love

Hour 1 poem

WRITING A POEM ON POEM

Today I must write a poem on poem
Should I search on Google for inspiration?
That is not a creative solution
It will only lead to cheating and frustration

What should my poem pattern be?
Or should I first go sit under the tree
Should I just let my words flow
Then my poem will not be slow

How should my poem start?
It seems like such a difficult art
How should my poem end?
Should I take help from my friend?

So many questions, so many doubts
I guess I will only follow my heart
A poem describes just my feeling
Writing our thoughts, is a form of positive healing

BY SHREYA SURAJ

Poem 1. First Responders, Lahaina, Maui, HI, 8/9/2023 “Diana Khoi Nguyen, Selkie Weaning Young (Redux)”

3am poem 1

First Responders, Lahaina, Maui, HI, 8/9/2023
“Diana Khoi Nguyen, Selkie Weaning Young (Redux)”

I imagine they

“trailed fingers down and against grains of” ash

before the futility of rising
left them empty armed

the nameless strewn,
powder on sand,
around their boots

.

Poem for hour 1: Evaluation of Man’s Journey from Genesis to Revelation.

this is the beginning:

first, all man thought of was living.

dices thrown, chances open. happiness kept blooming.

to eat was a game of want; much abundance spinning.

we are on to the end.

 

this is the beginning

then, the moment in time was fulfilling.

laughter choked, the heat made stale. plans advancing.

to live became a game of the best; man started sinning.

we are on to the end.

 

this is the beginning

in all, the adversary’s innocence was winning.

habituality bored, trials observed. the risk was cooling.

to die is a game of survival; now man lost living.

we are on to the end.

Hour 1–Gate House/Tiny House

We had all the money in the world

and wanted a tiny house

She said there’s this gate house for sale

gates not included

but it has this road

it bubbles like an island in the middle of this nowhere

road with nice yellow stripes making sexy curves

It’s the tiny house we always wanted

destentatious

So we bought it

Bought the road too

to keep away the riff raff

She called it cute, as women do

It was perfect for us

idyllic

until she painted the interior lime green

while I was at the dentist

That’s the last time I’ll go to the dentist

obviously

 

 

Poem 1 Prompt One by Ingrid Exner-Summer Serenades

Guarded Gatehouse

Buzzing sounds of cicadas

timeless memories

Poet

The words delete as fast as l type

pages that should be drowning in ink

stare back blankly

l blink with confusion

Chocking on

promises made

but can’t keep