The Poetry Marathon

Hour 20 Routine

I wake up first thing in gthe morning to dismiss the multitudes of alarms I set for myself
Followed by scrolling through some reels til my heart’s content.
once I resent myself for wasting almost an hour comfortably tucked under my sheets

Reels have unwittingly become a part of my daily life
more so when I am stressed.
Its like I am seeking for something that I am not even aware I am searching for.

 

I admire the way writers express such complex emotions eloquently.

I enjoy watching writers reels with their quotes I think that is the most beautiful thing.

Hour 19

I’m exhausted and strung out.
I am having to express myself inarticulately
Which under normal circumstances would flow right through me in an effortless manner.
Right now all the words are on strike
Resisting, and uncoperative with all my pleas.
Emotions have run amuck
as if they are high on marijuana
I am unable to put a finger on them and describe my thoughts.
Its a bland hour for the writer
and a sad demise of all things I hold dear.

Hour 18 Haunting

I am lost in the woods.
I am trying to find my way home.
I do not have any memories.

I do not know how I got here.
But, I am pretty sure I didn’t come here on my free will.
I can hear cries of a baby
I am running as fast as my feet can keep up.
I am running towards the cries.
I trip on the roots of a tree
Fall to the ground.
A big shadow encapsulates me
The crying baby I can hear so clearly
Its proximal to my location.
I face the shadow
The crying stops
Theres a big growl.
I was the prey
The crying was the bait
swallowed by the shadow.

It was a monster.

Hour 17 Prompt 17 Kaleidoscope

Kaleidoscope –

Perspectives matter
Perspectives rarely change
However, to live life fully
We must be fluid and open to recieving and observing
What surrounds us.
Dare to Look beneath the surface
To gaze into the soul.
Ask the difficult questions.
Sit with uncomfortable and confronting emotions
to absorb and learn and
to connect with peoples minds.
Have you attempted to understand things from a different perspective.
Do you dare to walk in someone elses shoes?
Do you dare to feel and experience?
Do you dare to participate in the change?
Be the kaleidoscope.
Be different, radiate patterns of growth and hope to enrich life.

Hour 16 The apology

I should’ve said this sooner
I am sorry…
it’s too late
however I am sorry.

I am sorry that my pride was too big to see past your intentions.
I am sorry that I went about it in an arrogant manner.
like whether you existed didn’t really matter.
I am sorry for going all quiet on you.

I am sorry for staying  angry and hurt for so long.
it has taken a great deal of time to understand and cope.

And for not learning to bend soon enough.

compromise has never been my forte.

I am sorry for hurting you in ways I can’t even imagine.
For turning a cold shoulder and pretending to be indifferent.

I don’t know why I did it,
its pretty immature.

I should’ve just said sorry for all the things I have left unsaid.

I hope you recieve all the things that are meant for you.
I hope you find friends who look after your heart and are not afraid of speaking vulnerably.

20 / Bright Tapestry, Coverlet

[Prompt: Photo by Robbin Grimm]

 

Bright Tapestry, Coverlet

 

Armadillos are said to have no eyeshine,

he whispered that first night

in my cozy bed.

 

The Indian mirrorwork coverlet, Shisha,

shone its tiny mirrors at us.

 

The tapetum lucidum is a layer of tissue

immediately behind the retina,

reflecting light and contributing

to the superior night vision

of some carnivorous animals, I learned.

 

Jerry came over most nights for a few weeks.

Bright yellow eyeshine belongs to raccoon,

he said, while I took off my makeup

and let down my hair.  Moths exhibit

an orange-red glow. Same holds true for owls.

 

Cool nights we wrapped ourselves

in the winking embroidered fabric,

imagining the sexy glare of wolf

and coyote eyes.

 

The burning red of gator eyes,

the frog’s green flash

and bear’s deep orange

were quite the aphrodisiac.

 

But then he said wolf-spiders shine

white as glittering constellations

as he tugged on his heeled boots

and then left before daybreak

for his job at the lab.

 

Shisha, shisha.  The streetlight is cold LED

and it shines through the window

on the stars of your horrible eyes!

 

 

* Tapetum lucidum, Latin for “bright tapestry, coverlet”

 

Hour 15

She looked gorgeous
my precious darling.

When she walked down the aisle
I thought it was the most beautiful sight.
I struggled to hide my tears
they just came flowing.

The day before our wedding,

I was supposed to leave from my parents house for the church
but both my parents had expired
I was distraught as none of my extended family offered their place.
However, each and everyone was stoked about our reception.
So much for family when you need them the most they suddenly have a sack full of excuses.

I was a homeless groom until my fiance suggested I leave from her house on the day we were to Wed.
She was going to leave froom her friend’s place which was in the same apartment complex on a floor below.
She was close enough to get her parents blessings and so was I.

I knew in that moment that she was the one for me. It strengthened my belief in our love.

She is loving, caring and generous.
my pretty angel and
my love and my life.

 

I vowed to love and protect her and honour her for the rest of our days til death do us part.

Hour 14 A redacted Poem

This is my redacted poem
an ode to all the unsaid words
blacked out on paper.
Read between the lines
and relate to what you can.
Rest is open to interpretation.

 

You can find my redacted words in the scrunched up paper in the bin.

Peace out.

19 / Haiku After Radiation Cloud

[Prompt: Photo by Wolfgang Hasselmann]

 

Haiku After Radiation Cloud

Orange grass and red trees

Await the acidic rain.

Human storm has passed.

18 / Haunted by Foods Passed

[Prompt: Write a poem about a haunting, real or imagined, detailed or abstract]

 

Haunted by Foods Passed

Who could forget loaves of bread stuffed with chocolate-covered cherries, perfect for making French toast on slow Saturday mornings?  That bakery on 4^th or 9^th street (I always mixed them up) in Vancouver long defunct.

Copenhagen pastries hard with solid butter, perfectly formed by that Dane now retired.  Even the waxed paper they clung to indelibly haunts me.

Real Greek pizza, dough formed at six each morning by Marguerite—long passed—who spoke no English.  Her coarse gray braid and gnarled hands both reminded me of olive trees in black-and-white photos.  Village Pizza today: a bland facsimile.

Chocolate marshmallows that puffed and smoked on sticks over beach fires; slip off the crispy shell and toast the molten middle again.  What corporation would discontinue such a thing?

Big yellow papaya from Hawaii, sliced down the middle and emptied of black glistening seeds.  I filled the hollow with large-curd cottage cheese so many mornings, until the markets stopped getting you and we’ve got these wizened, unripe, expensive failures now!

Montréal: you are famous for smoked meat but your sesame bagels I will never get over.  Hand formed, poached in honey water, baked in a woodfire oven.  You still exist, but I can never afford to visit you again.  Ditto New York cream cheese with seasonings and diced vegetables.

Fresh chinook salmon, you are my favorite food ever.  I would stand at the fish counter and make sure I got the line-caught Sitka king with the most belly fat.  I bought you for my father’s last great meal.  But now I feel like I’m taking you directly out of the mouth of a starving orca whale.

Something in a Chinese restaurant in Durham, New Hampshire, I called “orgasm chicken.”  You were coated in sesame seeds and I could still cry from missing you after I graduated and moved.

Chicken in an Indian restaurant in Cambridge, England: you were marinated in yogurt and I’ve tried to order you in every Indian restaurant since.  I have failed to find you.

Sara Lee pecan coffee cake before trans fat was banned.  You and Lorna Doone cookies were superb.  RIP.

White cheese with smoked pork right inside, bought at a roadside stand in Vermont in the 80s and never to be found on the internet.

Orange-chocolate ice cream in California.  Soft serve rolled in chocolate powder in Denmark.

Ontario butter tarts.

Patak’s Kabouli sauce.

Fresh Elk liver and onions.

Grandma’s canned green beans.

Hob Nobs.

Apple beer.

Jello 1-2-3.