The Poetry Marathon

Late night conversations–5am

Did I hear you right
last night, when you said
You love me and want me?

And did I hear you right
when I felt you wrap your
arms around me and you
whispered

‘Hush, I’ve got this’
and went to war-
battling Satan for my soul
what a battle that must have
been

I don’t think I could have
heard you right Lord,
when you said you had
something for me
but first I had to surrender to
you so you could set me free

I’ll try-
I don’t know if It will do any good
but I can try.
That’s all I can offer

That’s all I ask of you
my child

[Hour Twenty-Two]Fury

A sharp smack

stinging cheek, a print

deep red, throbbing,

cold shock and hot pulse

and my throat closes.

I feel it burn,

hot and sick and bright in my chest,

raging, any words

turning to cinder in my mouth,

but eyes dry, cold, and aching.

 

What Is A Poem?

What is a poem

But a four lettered word

Structured just so

By the poets of the world 

What is a poem 

But a beckoning mistress

Calling and calling 

To write words of distress 

 

What is a poem

But an unstructured sonnet

Beckoning young women

To loosen their bonnets

 

What is a poem

But a peculiar Haiku 

Completely confusing 

To the likes of me and you 

 

What is a poem

But a tangle of lies

It’s web can bring pain

It holds our souls when we cry

Night To Day

I see the light
peeking through
my window blinds
A chalky blue
after the nights
drenching storm

I’ll see the sun
rise through the
rain soaked trees
It’s been awhile
since I was awake
at this time of morning

I’ll watch the birds
chirp and bounce
upon the ground
And the squirrels
chattering away
along the fence

Good morning
to a new day
a future bright
And farewell
to the longest
of nights

Hour 21 Poem 21

Sorry for your loss,

My prayers for your family,

Grief is not easy.

Walking at Night (Hour 20)

Steps creep closer to an awaiting death,
Pale-faced ghost laugh,
Entering an unknown tunnel beneath the land
Head is dreaming on the far bank of the river

City traffic sleeps in the cradle of the moon
Entering awake, the land of midnight’s intention
Suspended serpents dream an alerting fear.
Women and children out of reach.

Heart jostled by a silent magician,
The crowning sun emerges from behind grey towers
The yellow king prays with red tears
A white rose waves on a black field

22.5: Tired

Wake up
Or not
There is no meaning to life
After all
It’s an illusion
The choice
Destiny itself
Nothing more than a rigged game
Wake up
Or not
It’s not your choice
After all
Because you are alive
You will need to get up and move
Sooner than later
Living is suffering…
After all.

Hour 20 Poem 20

6 legs, 3 piece suit,

Wings that fly, eyes with no sight,

And… It’s flying , run,

 

Buried beneath ground,

Minus three years from a score,

Oh, Cicada, rest!

 

Prompt 22

sometimes
everything
can go right

in the morning

Coffee
freshly brewed
coats my insides
with warm hugs

its the only way
to stay awake
sometimes

“Maggie May” – Hour 22

Rod Stewart sang it.

My parents said it.

My roommate played it.

My husband tried it.

The marathon requested it.

So, here goes…

“Wake up, Maggie, I think I got something to say to you.”