The Poetry Marathon

Hour 20- prompt

SELF LOVE
I am a woman
I am a mother, a sister, a daughter
I love myself, my family, and my friends.
I am passionate about many things
That is what makes me who I am today

I love the way I look in my new dress,
I love the simplicity on my face
I love the way I look in a photograph
Especially when my eyes are closed, and my smile is real.

I deserve unconditional love
I deserve the yummiest of food
I deserve my gold and diamonds
And Universe wants only my good

I am not perfect
I am not always right
But that does not mean
That others can hurt me with their nasty words and unnecessarily fight

Love your neighbour, love your spouse
Love your kids and even love your pet mouse
Most importantly, love yourself
Your health is your wealth
Your smile is worth millions
You are priceless.

POEM BY SHREYA SURAJ,

Run #2023poetrymarathon #prompthour21

Running.

I hit the ground running

and never broke a stride

never gave you reason

enough to hide.

yet you took my trust

and tossed it aside,

who knew that your betrayal

was so easy to find?

It was complacent

believing

you were on my side

But you turned out

to be an ordinary thief

the kind I deride.

no break in my stride,

still running.

Running

Running for my life
Past following close behind
Don’t look, keep running

Hour 20 – I have run out of routines

I have run out of routines

Waking Up
[Is less now like a time and more so an estimate, expansive above all else,
who knows how many angles of the sun I will miss in my dreaming]

Eating Breakfast
[Food, too soon, sits in my stomach, becomes its own urgent care on a Monday morning
each particle trembling, shaking their knees, clutching their palms, refusing to leave]

Making Coffee
[Always dependant now on the coffee sitting on the counter, or in the fridge, or none at all
a courtesy that has cracked autonomy open and let brown sludge leak out]

Brushing My Teeth
[My toothbrush has melted into a plastic pompom on a bending stick
and the paste has imploded in on itself, a minty black hole with white and green swirling]

Starting My Day
[When does a day start? At zero hundred? With the incessant clanging of alarms?
When eyelids open and yawns impact the air? When I’m ready to be alive?]

Jackson Brown Would Be Proud

Running on empty
Pre-dawn hollowness
A shell of my usual self
My words brittle, stilted, halting
My emotions devoid of feeling
Free-floating angst and anger
So great, yet so nebulous.

I have no core.
My thoughts echo in the vastness
as they ricochet between scales from high and the abyss
Vacillating on the periphery
Of sleep deprived cravings
For friendship,
Commeraderie
kinship.

I miss my friends
and Some Poets.
It’s hard to remember a time
When I have felt as sorry for myself
As I do now.

Breath fills the cavity within me
Slowly released into the vacuum that connects us all.
It is enough for now,
for me
to keep running.

Hour 21: Running

Running out of time

There is so much left undone

The clock does not stop

So much more to be

Minutes quickly become hours

Grains of sand slip through the hourglass

And I watch them slip away

Time just keeps running

Hour 21: Simple Pleasures

Running.
Flowing through my hands.
Warm and comforting.
Nuzzling me as I scrub and scrape.
Plate after plate, spoon after spoon.
Turning the most mundane of chores
into an act of comfort.
Giving me some pleasure,
some stillness,
Till I am ready to finish,
turn off the tap,
and once again, start
running.

Hour 20

This one came to my brain really fast. It’s kinda silly and almost is t a poem at all. But hey counting it today!

 

Hour 20

 

My worst habit isn’t that bad

It’s almost silly really

I never tie my shoes before leaving for work

I get them on my feet and go

Which isn’t a problem

Until you end up in the ditch

And there no pretty way to put it

When the ditch has a couple feet of snow

And your shoes are untied

Hour 9. See How They Run

Running all over the house as a young child
without any rhyme or reason
Running aftera ball or a doll as an older child.
Running after a lover as young adult
Setting up a house running after money
house,car, education, learning, fame
As the body tatters under its own right
thoughts and worries run riot
Wondrous are these funny little (wo)men
Even in death bed as disease has ravaged
they still keep on running!

23~8

melancholia 

is my master

memories 

longing lost love

rudely ripped away

just as it was

beginning

such sadness 

memories

drown me

can I be

forgiven 

hidden regret

colors everything

around me

wistful

fleeting 

glimpses

of joy

stolen happiness

leaves my past

forever gone

away

with him

our secret

i’ve paid for

with 

the rest

of

my life