The Poetry Marathon

I can see the point best

When I can’t see the point.
Leaves of Grass covered in dew,
my heart covered in glass,
my liver coated in vodka,
my kidneys sick with psych meds.
My eyes clouded and confused
my intestines bloated with fear.
My my my.

Life no more bird worms.

These Leaves of Grass can
no longer protect me.
Could they ever, or did I
protect myself, armed and armored
with the memory of Carol Ann?

What I mean to say
is my body is prepared.
Maybe I can be safe.
I mean to say
Only Poetry Can Save Me.

Change

Life changes so fast

And sometimes it’s hard to let go of the past

Even a small difference in the simplest of things

Discomfort it will bring

 

It’d hard to adapt yourself to new ways

And let go of how you used to live your days

But change is something that will happen always

It’s something that we all have to face

Poem 6: Do I remember you?

I might remember you
Though it is hard to tell
I think you were quiet
But you wrote rather well.

Ah yes, the redhead
There weren’t many of you at school
Were you caught smoking?
No, you wouldn’t break a rule.

Year after year,
So many come and go,
I’m sure you’ll forgive me,
When I forget to say hello.

Well, good luck then,
I really wish you all the best.
You seem very special,
Just the same as all the rest.

 

Hour Seven – Dogs

You came into my life when I needed you the most
At my darkest hour, I met you
You light up my life in a way I didn’t know I needed
On nights when I don’t think I can go on
You’re there to push me until I am okay again
I have never met a purer soul
Or a heart with that much love in it
I have no idea how I made it fourteen years without you
And I have no idea how I will make it after you’re gone

Prompt 8 – Still

Rest

calls to me

Dark fathoms dropping

like stones into cold waters

Weightless, I’m claimed

by silence

Still

A Gigan-tic Mess

So here is my first attempt
A Gigan from my brain shall be rent

I’ve never heard of this form before
And I must admit, perhaps I’m a bore
This prompt seems like a fucking chore

Whoever came up with this prompt I swear
Will rue the day they wrote it there

On the site for us flail against
And leaving me feeling incensed

I don’t quite know in what spirit its meant
So here is my first attempt

Whoever came up with this prompt I swear
I’ll make them eat their underwear
Make an example so big that crowds will stare

Oh, look the end, anger got me through
Hey Editor, enough of a twist for you?

#7 Pairings

Pairings

Like a fine wine selected
to bring out the flavor of the dish,
you draw my deepest secrets to my skin
and bring a rosy blush
to my once pale facade.

With you, my power is doubled
as we walk the journey called life
up the hill, out of the fog of confusion
to find a simple peace in
holding your hand.

Mancala and Me

Mancala is a game
I had never seen
It tickled you to know
As a player I was green
My 10 year old trainer
I had on retainer
She showed patience and grace
While hiding her face
And did not cry
As I passed her by
My angel,
I’m Haley to report
Had grown up a great sport.

The Last Chance is Here

The last chance is here

For your burden are easy

Your mind to cease while deluding

To walk with faith in the light

Of blissful solitude

The last chance is here

To at last move on

To shed a sweet yet bitter tear

For time in life to hang onto now

The last chance is here

Just to see of a better day just when the sun comes out

The golden light of God’s true words of love mingle around us with comfort and comfort

A another walk and talk with the Lord is our best race to win him back again now

 

How can I do this?

What to say?
Just keep writing.
The first ones suck anyway.

This isn’t an Ars Poética.
This isn’t about a poem.
This is about fear and rage
and a hatred for them.

A whole class of people
dedicated to taking my choice
dedicated to controlling me,
dedicated to stealing my voice.

Bring out the guillotine.
Bring out your dead.
Bring your pitchforks.
We’re after their heads.