The Poetry Marathon

Night Crawler

Have you ever wondered why is he is the way he is

Have you ever thought why you never see him during the day but at night

He has been called many names worst names

Some call him vampire others call him the nightcrawler

If you want an appointment we fix it at night

If you want to hang out we fix it at night

If you want a celebration we fix it at night

Because he says there is Joy in the night

He says

Don’t you feel the breeze blowing into your soul

Don’t you feel the silence whispering family

Don’t you hear the faint noise an amazing music

Don’t you see the light in buildings like a million Suns

The night itself is beauty

So beautiful it doesn’t need a Sun

The moon and twinkle stars do it Justice

Even the satellites aren’t left out.

 

Wait

four am just after the full moon turned to wane

somewhere Before the dawn where sleep should be full With dreams awake and travels sweet

Waiting is never fun and when your heart walks outside of you the wait is even longer

sniffs at the door show signs of return  for a dog knows his person and feels them close

I’ve done this before

sat up wondering

praying the door swings open soon

how many times did I wait in his room?

a mother’s lament is never over and the blessings aren’t either

wait with patience and worry won’t darken the path

Self-Portrait Gem Stone Hour 20

Who am I you ask?

I am sunshine in human form. I am a galaxy of energy unbound, I am a young star, a flower in constant bloom. I am duality of thought and singularity of action.

I am a soul within a body kissed by the sun and flecked with gold and brown kisses from angels who wear milk and dark chocolate lipstick.

I am a dancer in a body with legs that float on the earth, I glide. I dance into every room.  I walk with purpose and faith.

I am a model citizen who likes to share her voice and her face as if it were sacred geometry, occasionally her body tessellates if she has the space to roam free.

I am an artist in an academic body. Some call me theatrical and bold while others see me as shy and soft. I glisten and sparkle depending on how you handle me.

I am multifaceted and I am deeper than farthest shore. I am uncharted territory. I am more than the eye can see.  I am me implicitly.

Night walks

Once I was a bit witchy
I wrote 8 on papers
Chanted dreams in mirrors.
Held my 8’s on scraps of paper up to the moon.
I burnt them up
And wished more.

As a witch I strolled under the moon
Needing it on my skin
Like I need the sun today.
The streets were empty
Sidewalks empty
Weeds on full alert
Tall as soldiers

I lost my magic
Ex witch
Now I sit inside or slave under the sun
Sweating
Breathing hard
Pulse on fire
And wishes?
They no longer come true.

[Hour Twenty]Nocturnal Habits

Thick soles thmp down against asphalt,

continual stride, long-legged, steady,

as a full moon hangs through thin cloud sheets

beckoning to tired eyes the coming home.

Hour 20: Nighttime Serenity

Softly I tread upon the ground
With quiet breaths, I look around.
The stars in the sky, shining bright
With a beauty only seen at night.
Pass the neighbors, dark houses sleeping
Walk past the park, no children laughing.
Listen for the road, no cars passing.
Wait, a siren, I hope all is well.
I close my eyes, the wind in the trees
With a smile, I make my way home.

Hour 20 – Aliens (image prompt)

A time machine

On sand does sink

if it goes too slow

Yet I swear I did blink

And slow down light

While I stood still.

Perhaps the car sinks for a reason

While people crawl the sands

If time machines didn’t sink sometimes

What would we blame on aliens?

Hour 20-Word Magician

I have made it this far

I have teetered on the edge

I have pulled the rabbits

Out of my boot

and made them into

magic words

I have waved my wand back and forth

And forth and back

Pen to paper

keyboard to blank screen

I have made this happen

20 times

I cannot see

My eyes are frosty

I am a word magician

Struggling through

the final tricks

Behold dear reader

I am a wordsmith

Being eaten by the words

 

 

 

 

To Keep Time

Timelapse is only a frame a minute
there’s so much in between
a snapshot- one part of a rhythm,
a sequence, a story

long exposure is the same, but in reverse,
(it’s dialectics)
one long look at a movement,
the details cease to exist

Hour 20: Nightlife

The night in the city
Isn’t much different from the day
Less people and less cars
But the bustling still remains
Because it’s at this time
Under the stars
That they begin their day
Looking like any other passer by
You can’t tell them apart
From people you may see during the day
But for the eyes
Those reflect what they are truly within
Full of stars and just as dark
As the night sky, they dwell under
Never look at them in the eyes though
It’s easy to lose your way home
Once you do
For when you gaze at the abyss
It gazes right back at you.