The Poetry Marathon

Rocking Before Bed

Just before bed

I listen to music

rocking back and forth

I daydream as I listen

my hopes and dreams

dance in the motion

the motions of my rocking chair.

Hour 13

Slowly catching up.

 

Hour 13

 

Some days I wonder if I should’ve sent that text

Because now we have spoken at all in over a year

And maybe you were a bit shit at responding

But when we held conversations 

I thought you knew me

That you understood who I was

And you wanted to know more

I thought I knew you

That I was seeing who you were

And I wanted to know more

Now I think you shouldn’t text when drinking

Past Midnight

Moon glow casts shadows
on the closet door—
geometric watercolors that flicker.
I watch them for a while
before turning toward the window
and the grace of your bare arm:
a luminous silhouette.
My gaze travels along the smooth
and curve of you,
and finally rests on
the leg you’ve flung over the duvet,
toe pointing toward morning.

Hour 20 – Haikus for the mad

Wanna join me in

a reminder of my letter-

ed masochism

yes! wait, leathered as

in the animal skin or

in the alphabet?

Honestly, I’m in

either way; both for the challenge

and companionship

How many tabs do 

you have open right now?

“Lots”

That’s not a number

Experiencing the Experience of the Pairs

The relaxation –

overshadowed the bedtime.

My friend and I were in hushed discussion. That in existence,

We were all natives.

One thing stroke my arrogance,

that I was flat broken.

She has also experienced that the landscape and the sky

Unfold the deepest beauty.

So, let the candle handle the darkness,

The sun is full of heat and lightness.

Canary’s Song

cw: none

First, the canary re-discovered flight.
For the first time, its wings lifted
with air beneath: it soared in the sky.

Second, the canary re-discovered the sun.
For the first time, it felt warmth
on its face, and didn’t want to leave.

Finally, the canary re-discovered songs.
For the first time, it opened its beak
and music came out: it sang.

24 Hour Poetry Marathon Hour 20: A Tribute to Muldrew Lake “The Polygons of Night or A Man Sitting on a Dock at Midnight”

Hour 20

Dark yet gorgeous

Just as my love for her

4:something am

 

Poet

 

With ink and pen, the poet writes,
Words that soar and take new heights,
Lines that touch the hearts of all,
And lift us when we feel small.

The power of the poet is great,
Their words can heal or seal our fate,
In times of joy or deepest strife,
Their verses can bring hope to life.

They paint with words, a masterpiece,
Of love, of loss, of war, of peace,
They bring to life, a world unknown,
And make it ours, our very own.

The poet’s words can change a mind,
And make the deaf and blind, rewind,
Their message is clear, their voice divine,
A light that shines, a way to find.

They capture pain, they capture love,
And let us feel, the world above,
Their words ignite, a fire bright,
That burns within, both day and night.

For poets wield a power strong,
Their words can right a world gone wrong,
And when we read, we feel their might,
A force that guides us to the light.

So let us cherish, the poets’ voices,
And in their words, we’ll all rejoice,
For they have the power, to change our fate,
And make our world a better place.