The Poetry Marathon

Fruit Knife

Fruit Knife

So I tell her about the ripcord

this is maybe our 10^th date

and I explain that it’ll disembowel a guy

like some ancient samurai shit but you could do it in a subway

and also katanas are for weebs and virgins in that order

The fruit knife is ideal

quick stabs and Pikal style

slashes that rend muscle and tear

open all the important stuff

like arteries and whatnot

She holds it in her hand

turns it over

I tell her she’s in sabre grip now

and the dudes at Libre call this other one reaper

and she looks up at me

If you ever run around on me

I will filet you to the bone with this

It’s so small you’re thinking how

but I’ll find a way, she says hugging me

So don’t ever do it

She’s scary.

I did my 12

Congratulations to everyone who participated. Twelve hours or twenty four  or somewhere in between, We did it!

I did my twelve (9-9) EST. I wanted to do more and thought I could. My brain said, “No way, are you crazy?” I got some sleep, was up at 3ish, checked to see what was going on, went back to bed. Here I am again, glad I only committed to the half marathon. The full marathon is fun but life gets in the way. If I knew I could stay home and sleep the next day uninterrupted I go for it.

Hour 22 (2021)

A splash of cold water
A slap to the face
Gotta keep going
Pick up the pace!

Just a few more to go
Before we are done
24 poems in 24 hours
So much fun!

18 me and me

Me and me
Ways to see
How graceful you can be
It’s just me and me

Copyright © 2021 Roxann Lawrence (Poetessrock)

Starry Night: Over Rhone

Starry Night: Over Rhone

 

The immersive exhibit blares

on the speakers, engulfing

ears in tunes, gentle lullabies

broken up by drums and trumpets.

The lull of the paintings stretched

across the walls lulls minds and hearts

into worlds that don’t exist. Stars

curl around the mirror’s dent

and swirls with the town below,

resting among the water’s depths.

Victorious! (Hour 24, An Acrostic Poem)

Writing our way to victory, we left

Everything behind, each piece of our sordid stories splattered

All across the page.

Readers, ride along with us!

Everyone is invited

To share in the

Happiness and heck,

Even the heartaches, should you

Choose to cheer us on.

Hey, y’all, we

Actually did it — we

Made it through all 24 hours of

Poetry Marathon 2021!

I think this calls for a celebration!

Oh, wait…

No, on second thought, I believe I’ll just

Settle for a lengthy victory NAP!

 

(An acrostic poem is one where the first letter of every line, when reading downward, spells out a word, a message,  or even the entire alphabet. I have highlighted the “hidden” message in blue so it is more evident.)

Hour 23 – Anxiety

I wish my anxiety wasn’t so desperate, 

That I could plant seeds without immediately 

Needing to dig them back up because

Maybe they aren’t the right seeds or 

Maybe I don’t know how to give them what they need. 

 

I wish I didn’t feel the constant nagging

To capture every moment, every person

Because even in the happiest moments 

All I can think about is the fact that 

Everyone I know is going to die and 

So am I and what are we if there’s 

Nothing to remember us by? 

 

There are so many things 

I’m afraid I’ll never do, and 

If I don’t, that my life is wasted. 

 

Things like giving back to my parents

What they gave to me, or 

Looking into my child’s eyes for the first time, 

Or finding that one person who 

Doesn’t think I’m crazy for having

Such a whirlwind of emotions. 

 

One who isn’t as exhausted as

I am over myself. 

Mississippi River

Houses make me nervous
They can burn down

Buildings with floors
Have the possibility of collapse

Bridges are unreliable
London Bridge fell after all

But the Mississippi River
Is the one constant of my life

Sitting on its banks
I feel at peace

When leaving, I am not fearful
I know it will be there when I get back

It does not burn, collapse, or get razed to the ground
It is a constant

It is my home

Hour 22 – Pieces

My mind fragments into a million pieces

A million interests and versions of myself

And I am left trying to catch them like butterflies in a net

Trying to cobble together any that I manage to catch 

 

And lately, I’ve been collapsing in on myself

Like that abandoned house on Donahue

Slowly being returned to nothingness. 

 

You wanted to love me but there was never 

Enough time. 

 

Isn’t it funny how we never know

What time will be the last time? 

Or the only time, even. 

 

I really wish that I could be creative 

Without needing to be separated 

Into tiny pieces first. 

Writing is the glue that holds me together 

And helps me fall back in… 

well, like with the world. 

 

Like, not love, 

Because all I know of love is pain 

And the world is too beautiful to be 

synonymous with love. 

Nesting eyes

There’s this only place in the world,

That could be rated like house of pearled…

The best place for the time to be still,

No matter whatever wounds, they all are surely to heal…

So much of peace and such calm,

Eradicates negativity and undesirable quam…

Vibes filled with lots of salvation,

Mesmerizing effect leading to nirvana’s kind of relaxation…

Portrays self in the purest of the form,

No matter whatever unwanted things, it would just transform…

Adopting so very to even add the factor of privacy,

When enter inside, worries turn away with complete secrecy…

Such a place even in dreams could not be sound,

But luckiest does it feel for self I had found…

Yes! It does exist and has great mobility,

Now just wish, by words, to turn it into immortality…

Neither can now term it an earthly thing,

Nor can let it called an heavenly ring…

They are the eyes of her,

Full of love and so much secure…