The Poetry Marathon

prompt #1: after diana khoi Nguyen

the past draped about us like a cloak

 ~ after Diana Khoi Nguyen

the cloak of the past hangs so very heavy

hobbles my movement through the present

hides any futures

I shake my head to loosen its dark folds

but only flickers of light make it through

so much these days is dark

somewhere, light is its own mantle

this is the song I sing to myself: light hope

each another kind of cape

so that when this cloak threatens to smother

I stumble forward        hands outstretched

singing

Prompt one

I love the feel of darkness licking my fiery skin
Where all roads lead to shadows and the anticipation of sin
Alone in a wood burning with desire
You light the way with your eternal fire
A beckon to call
A moment to grasp
You make the shadows jealous of your cast

In The Back Room

cw: abstract body horror??? maybe??? idk being safer rather than sorrier

The canary chokes on vellum flowers,
and it bleeds black ink.
It swallows down each lettered rose,
turning yellow feathers gray like smoke.
The canary forgot how to sing,
and so was locked away, forgotten –
no use to anyone like that,
voiceless,
and so it chews up poetry
folded into origami flowers,
as if the bouquet is salvation,
as if it can regain its voice,
as if it can sing again
via suffocation.

Blooded Rose

Planted the seeds of your love,

in the dungeon of my heart,

where nothing grows but pain,

and blooded rose of regrets;

singing a melody of dismay

with the fragrance of anguish.

It bloom, i bleed mentally and physically.

My nose could cry a river in blood,

and catarrh running down to my lips.

My face is now a battle field,

covered with blood of a trembled heart;

yearning for unadulterated affection.

Rejection wreck havoc in my ship,

dragging me to the darkest cove,

where I cries and drowned in distress.

With no active compass to find my new rose,

I’m stuck between trying or crying;

Yes, flowers don’t bloom in the concrete.

Beached

after Diana Khoi Nguyen

Most summer days
this is how she found us
sunburnt skin
hair wind dried snarls

all day we’d run from shore
bobbing between whitecaps
diving to crawl along
ridges of sand and rock

when our bellies roared
louder than the waves
we’d retreat home
stuffed full with laughter

free from any past
not yet even our future

[Prompt 1: “This is how she found us/ the past draped about us like a cloak” after Diana Khoi Nguyen]

In Waiting – Hour One

drifting aimlessly
the owl soars in waiting
rabbits wait for death

Hour One- The Journey

In life, we travel many trails

In shoes

In boots

In our bare feet

We run and walk and sashay our way

To find the things that mean the most

With every step we take

We find ourselves ever closer

To the place that fills our hearts with joy

All roads lead to home.

Hour One, Where My Soul May Settle

I am waiting for the boarding call to sound.

To carry feet homeward, standing tall and waver amidst the rushing.

I am the slender grass that bends to the pressure of rushing water,

Feet, hands, eyes. A hungry herding din that rises up.

They glance then turn away, bleary voices mumbling,

malcontent of the onward crowding crush to the next plane.

Weary crowd that presses me to action,

to move, restless salmon-rush pushing on to Home,

where he is, that first homecoming to a place I’ve never known.

To rest at long last, silently amidst the trees, the roses, his arms.

Code Talkers

Code Talkers

 

An archaic language

that has survived the test of time

by facing the judgment of manifestation destiny.

 

This language was thought

to be unpure,

useless,

and disgusting.

 

In reality,

It is a language of

pictures and

definitions.

 

A language that

saved

the very people who wanted it dead.

It became a sealed code

kept by the government,

a code that no one can know,

a secret that isn’t to be told.

 

Until years after its creation

it was freed and shared to the public,

but wasn’t included in history books.

Those who spoke Navajo and Hopi

gathered and shared their tales

of how they formed the Code Talkers

and helped win the war.

 

A Path To Take

It’s dark and quiet when I walk by the trees so tall

Spruce under a night sky, no sound at all

The moon my only in sight

Up above, shining down this dark path so bright

But I slow as I see

A little sanctuary before me

No

Not a house, not a home

I worry as I stand alone

But the path is clear and split into two

One turning back and one to a chapter new

Is this it? This is the end?

The moon is brighter, a hand for lend

I don’t worry as I stand alone

It’s dark and quiet as I walk to a story set in stone