The Poetry Marathon

I’ll Clean It Up After

How do I describe water

the essential element of life

Without it

we grow faint and suffer

I love it in a glass or a bubbly bath

slipping under or running through

my hair on purpose

thirsty skin and shafts waiting for

the lather

in my hand

I love it

gently splashing

over my toes sinking in the sand

I love it

on a window

in a storm reflecting

flashes of

light across the sky

I love it slow and gentle

running in rivelets

down the windowpane

or in a hard downpour leaving

muddy stain

it’s messy

but we will clean it

after the rain

Water

I loved how it trickled down

my legs that day

announcing joy was on its way

We cleaned it up after the pain

there it was

that essential

to life element again

words

can be messy

like rain

when inspiration comes

I’ll clean them up later after the pain

 

 

 

Hour 2 “Never save the drowning man in waves.” Brendan McEntee

Las Flores, El Salvador

He hashtags #neverleaving and I know he’s there now.
Watched as Tommy rides on a canary yellow surfboard,

back and forth he turns on IG video.

it’s 2014 like he’s on his skateboard on his childhood driveway

in younger years  and I ride by in my car

as he flips his hair to the side.

 

”The outside was a bit more intense.”

You’d never know it by his balance.

Amped is how he appears gliding

these South American blue waters.

A year before he bailed his surfboard for heroin.

Missing a wedding day and waves drowned in sorrow.

Now Tommy funnels, barrels, backdoors, carves, and curls

charging with his brothers and his Dad.

Caught inside this memory

I chunder in disbelief that he’s gone.

19 years

After letting out a sigh , i sat next to her on top of my bed

the room is quiet , nothing being said

 

the fighting and screaming , replaying out aloud

it definitely wasn’t something ,that was meant infront of a crowd

 

we look at each other , the point of not knowing what to do

i hate she could never , just understand my view

 

now we sit here , in silence and despair

why am i thinking of the day , i first laid eyes on her at the fair

 

her pretty brown eyes , sparkled in the night

oh my , in all 19 years , i’ve never seen such a delight

 

even though it hurts and sometimes i feel low

my heart wants to keep fighting , i don’t want to let her go

 

i know that another like her , i’ll probably never find

maybe they were right about the saying ..

“ teenage love is blind “

 

 

 

Second Hour Musings

Poets can’t help but insert their experiences, the fears, their beliefs into their works.

I’m surprised at how easily I slipped into poetry mode a day after the lives of too many women in American have been changed for the worse, a day when it was made official that we aren’t in charge of our own bodies, our decisions, our lives. What will we lose next?

And yet, here I am, able to take a prompt, think on it, and write. Today, poetry will be my meditation.

Hour ONE – Watermark

Watermark    HOUR ONE       Mary Pecaut

 

The weight of all matter

matters more the longer

you wait

 

Body immersed     wrinkles emerge 

sebum washes thin   water 

penetrates papered skin

 

Watermarks mark origin

to dissuade imitation

a value defined by limitation

 

A garment can recover

Rubbed silk removes a watermark

stain of tainted lover

 

being in water

begin again

 

Water and Ice

The rain splashed against

eyes closed relishing

the joy and warmth

of the first Summer shower

 

A blast of frigid air

wrapped my body

within its steely grasp

pulling me away

 

Upon a mound of frozen snow

on the first day of the solstice

sat an abhorrent polygon creature

cold wind swirling from it’s out-stretched arms

 

Bodies of my Brethren circled 

the monstrosity in a macabre 

dance of Antarctic death destruction

and despair 

Hour 1: Do as they do not as they say… Find your own Way!

Don’t Drink Seattle.

Sugar…Dabble in Sour

Dough Instead…Bergamot Rain

Hour 1

It has been ten years since I last set foot
into a bodice of water.
It’s not that I don’t shower,
or take a bath from time to time.

I used to say I don’t like
to swim. I don’t like
to exercise the power of my arms
connected to my shoulders
connected to my body.
Oh god, my body,

Where to start?
At my toes, guaranteed
to send me straight into a dissociated spree.
Or my fingers, the pull and stretch
of skin over bone.

That same skin
will wrinkle in the pools
of children’s toxins
and old people’s skin patches.

Dentures float around
while I try to tell myself,
it’s okay, no one is looking at you anyway.
Maybe I don’t like swimming,
or maybe I just don’t like the public-
ness of it all.

 

Intro

I forgot to do my intro, so here goes:

Hey everyone! I’m based in Rochester, NY. I’ve been writing my entire life, but have seriously fallen off the wagon lately. Hoping to get back into things with this marathon and be able to use it as a springboard to put together my first chapbook.

Happy writing!

Oh Moderna

The booster’s needle pricks my arm

Avoiding Covid, which causes harm.

arm is a bit sore

nothing more

than a jab

but it feels like a stab

odd since I’m addicted to tattoos

does the jab bother you?