The Poetry Marathon

Redaction

I don’t know what I am (redacted word)

some comic (redacted word) this is

Playing with words for some (redacted word)

Unbidden, unseen, unknown.

I am (redacted word).

“Spiked Color Wheel”

Hour Nineteen: Ekphrastic photo response

Ruddy russet and golden field

School colors somewhere

Sky blued to match dolphin’s birthplace.

Can a sky escape from clouds?

Can one come down this single road and leave?

Not till nightfall

and even then, the colors

will vibrate.

9pm. Poem 19. Gramma’s Bedroom (an haiku)

9pm. Poem 19.

Gramma’s Bedroom (an haiku)

Stripes, flowers, stuffed toys
memories of everything
in Gramma’s bedroom.

 

Winter Walk

My boots are thick
But I can still feel
The crunch of frozen water
Snow packing beneath my feet

The cold bites at my nose
Tries to seep into my gloves
My breath a smokey array
Of frozen moisture

White specks begin to fall
Quietly from the sky
Sticking to the ground
Sticking to me

All around me
There is a kind of quiet
One you only find
In the dead of winter

With the silence
Comes a strange kind of peace
Anticipation
For the coming Spring

Chronic

The worst part of all the fuss

is never knowing when the circus comes to play.

The whirling carousel vertigo and warped fun-mirror migraines

post no schedule and schedule no warning

and leave no room for proper function in the ring,

despite the ever-increasing demand for perfect attention.

If I faint before the audience, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

(Hour 19)

I’m a writer

Writing is like a building,

with a roof made up of love

a wall of hatred.

I’m a writer,

I might pinch or punch your ceilings,

Do not describe my words as your feelings,

I have the word you have the feelings.

Not yet old, but still a young lad.

Needn’t praise yet or a windfall,

The Lord hath sent the lofty rainfall.

I was taught how to read not write.

Now that I do both, I own a light

Retrograde

Hour 14 prompt

TIME

A stitch in time, saves nine
Alas time can never be a slave of mine
A low battery can pretend to slow down time
But, even the theorems of Einstein can never stop time.

Make sure to spend time with your friend,
You never know when your friendship might end
Make sure to spend time in your house
Create beautiful memories with your kids and spouse

Spend a lot of time nurturing your hobby,
Before you become old and just idle in the lobby
Utilise every moment of time like a boss
If we waste time, it will only be our loss.

BY
SHREYA SURAJ

Hour 19: ACDC

I used to think

That everyone would get nervous in a roomful of girls

That it was perfectly normal

To have your heart skip a beat

When a pretty girl smiles at you

You just want to be friends, right?

 

I was assuaged

By the “correct” feeling for boys

Skipping hearts

Blushing cheeks

Irony has always been best appreciated

In hindsight

 

There was a girl

A close friend

Who delicately removed my shirt

And painted on my bare back

And I guiltily imagined what it would be like to kiss her

 

I had dreams

Where my hands and lips

Betrayed my desires

But how much could a dream mean anyway?

 

And then I held her hand

And leaned into her laugh just a little too much

And followed her to her bedroom

Where she curled into my side

And tilted her beautiful smile up to me

 

And I finally fucking realized

Muddle, Hour Nineteen

Muddle

My mind is a puddle mush
galumphing dumping muddle
as my eyes mish-mash
and cross over running cuddles,
streamlet dreams of sleep.

My heart double thumps
in scheming driblet themes
as my ears wish-wash
and skewer through sunny wobbles,
dreamlet streams of the deep.

My soul cuddle pushes
in theming droplet schemes
as my hands slap dash
and scoop under wobbly runnels,
deeplet steeps of sleepless dreams.