The Poetry Marathon

In Hell I was formed and in Hell I will die

You are not deserving of an origin story
and you will not be remembered
I know the deeds of your hands
they can never be truly cleaned
You are the monster here
I will send you back to Hell

These words you speak are empty
you and I both know this
Do not judge what you do not know
for what I did, I for you alone
I am the monster you created
In Hell I was formed and in Hell I will die

You are the asshole here
you have brought this chaos here
I am the one with integrity
yet see how you have deluded yourself
You are a cancer that must be excised
I will redeem this house

This game of yours grows old
yet you refuse to evolve
You lack the proof for your claims
your claim of honor is a lie
I am the evil that you needed
I will be the memory you cannot forget

Poetry Marathon 23

Darling

 

We have given ourselves

far too many reasons to

stay whole when really it

is perfectly reasonable to

Crash and fall apart and

maybe even lose some of

pieces in the process.

 

Sometimes growth isn’t about

Flourishing with what we had

To begin with – but rather in

Becoming a gallery of everything

& Everyone we’ve picked up

Along the way and over the years.

 

-M. Rene’

Commanding your morning

If we speak good things
We have it
If we speak bad things
We have it
The trajectory of our lives
Literally in our mouths
Such power, such promise

We must unlearn bad habits
Develop good ones
To ensure a great outcome

When we start our day with
Something positive
We set the tone for the rest of the day
We change our mindset
Positive things follow

Life and death they say is in
The Power of the tongue
Speak what you want, good things, and
Dispel, bad things, those you don’t need

Have you commanded your day?

“I declare this poetry marathon complete”

Command your day
Change your life

Typing -Hour 23

I don’t know who I am any more

Names mean nothing now

Words are just letters strewn into a blurry line

What is a poem?

Can I even write one at this point?

No. I am just typing sequentially right now.

I guess I am typing.

Maybe it is someone else.

I am not sure

The part of my brain

That is used to these things

Has taken charge now.

l cannot be held responsible.

 

I know, I am whining

Why not? Where am I?

I should write something profound

Something with deep meaning

Something with pizzazz

Instead, I shall type along randomly

Acting like I have some inkling

Of what the hell is going on.

Hour 23 – The Fault In Our Starsq

The fault in our stars

Has never been the way your eyes

Light up when you talk

Or your goofy smile at an inappropriate joke,

Or the way you grab the steering wheel

The fault in our stars

Was not giving me you sooner

So that we may spend

A bigger infinity together

Than the one we already have

Prompt 23: Odyssey

Never a night so long,

Lashed here, to Homer’s Galley

 

And knowing, sleep’s music, so wrong

Would undoubtedly drown me

Wholly, completely, sweetly.

 

Pillowed Siren, Scylla and Charybdis

I have closed my ears thus far

 

But I nod and your voice softly whispers

“Come away, come away. Sleep is yours.”

 

I must not, for a moment, til dawn.

Never a night so long!

 

Pillowed Siren, Scylla, Charybdis

have won and I am no more.

To the waves of my sheets, I succumb.

 

Surrender–surrender complete,

Has never felt so sweet.

“Under the clouds with Tesla” POEM 11

Small repeating patterns
spotted revealing private messages.
The croak of bull frogs behind me
calling out, slowly. The sound is a visual thing.
Female letting out a tease
as suiters hurriedly raise their voice in desperate sequence
waiting for her to echo back the number of times they did

Three, six, nine
repeating. reminders of our continuing survival
Nine doubled, always equaling back to it’s self
One set of rolling tires on dew damp pavement.
Eight blinks of a wayward star.
Two flutters of my eye lashes as the bull croaks out seven times.
Three slaps of a branch.
Six steps to my bed.
Five bodies snoring in a space meant for four.

Can you close your eyes and hear the sequence in your space?
The numbers disguised in the rustle of the wind.
Hushed laughter of parents making an inside joke
or the staccato rhythm of my toddler wheezing,
my ear catching all of her whispers.

Be carful what you listen for…
its hard to give back secrets you’ve unlocked

23rd hour – Absolute power (Text prompt)

Gavel conundrum

won’t catch this crime whose committer runs the white elephant

under strict service to the prince of power

bedding the better halves of other royalty

by the vestige of heavy crown

No. 23: Solo

I enjoy the solitude of cross country driving
My first solo trip was from Arizona to Pennsylvania
I marveled at the variety of scenery
From the red volcanic stone of northern New Mexico
Into the nondescript panhandle of Texas
Then bursting into a scene of flowering trees
Alongside the interstate as I encountered
A whole new blooming country I'd never seen before
My senses were in constant amazement

I was alone with my thoughts when I wanted to think
Listened to my collection of cassettes when radio reception
Was nil or when only country music filled the air waves
Along with farmers' reports
I enjoyed the process of driving
The only times I 'got lost' when I was driving through
The cities not fully confident in following the signs

My next long solo trip was also from Arizona
But this time to Florida and the southern route
Took me through the deserts of Arizona and New Mexico
And the wide open skies of Texas but
I did not marvel until I crossed the border
Into Louisiana which led me to traverse the Ponchatrain bridge

Nothing but water on both sides of the wooden, logged passage
Passing vehicles of all sizes, being passed by vehicles
Of all sizes until the landscape changed to the skyline of
New Orleans - gray and gloomy in the day - did not compel
Me to want to explore
I was just anxious to get to my last night in a motel in
Tallahassee

That was the last cross country trip I made on four wheels

My Muse: An Ode

I am digging deeper

Digging for lost words

My head feels empty

Imagination’s dry

My fancy flew

In a clouded sky

In sighing a deep sigh

I pray

An epiphany to burst by

But inside me

An empty ocean swirls

Bubbling and foaming

To escape this listless girl

Buried in a timeless abyss

Swimming in a mindless bliss