8 pm – Canvas (a nonet)
A tattooed body lies next to me.
Breathing in silhouettes, we smile.
We trace each other’s stories.
We highlight bravery,
we honor sadness,
uplift and smile.
Our novels
Are not
Done.
Life Blooms Still- Prompt 12 Haiku/Poem 12
Delicate flower
petals now folded and bent
weathered but wise.
Ingrid Exner, Poetry Half Marathon 2021
Congratulations Poetry Half Marathoners
Congratulations Half Marathoners! I am so happy that you have completed 12 poems in 12 hours! That is wonderful. Thank you for joining us in this madness.
In the past I have personally verified that everyone who applied for a certificate was eligible and then I would make a certificate. That is not possible this year and so we will be operating on the honor system.
If you completed the Poetry Half Marathon please consider the following certificate yours, to update with your name, to print if you choose to do so. If you need any help altering the certificate please email me at poets@thepoetrymarathon.com
Click on the link below and save the PP (the powerpoint file) to your computer, add a text box. Type in your name, save as a JPEG.
Here is a direct link to the Powerpoint for editing.
The visual example of what the certificate will look like is right below this text.
Also this year we will be putting together a 2021 Poetry Marathon Anthology.
Submissions will open July 6th and stay open till the 25th.
Full anthology submissions details will be available on the 6th. All submissions must be written during the 2021 Poetry Marathon.
Digital copies will be made available for free to any contributor. Print copies will be available for a reasonable price and any money that is made from them will go towards covering the cost of the marathon.
Want to know what the 2020 Poetry Marathon Anthology was like? Pick up your copy here.
Consolation for the Heartsick (Hour 8)
Own your disenchantment. Stay blissful engaging the tragedy There is meaning when you choose to die here. There is something real beneath the farce The mirror’s shadow held behind the glass Own your disenchantment. The descent cannot be avoided It is always lethal There is meaning when you choose to die here. Transcendence embraces demise To celebrate the unavoidable Own your disenchantment. Dancing all the way down There is happiness in the sorrow There is meaning when you choose to die here. Do not hide from pain Or race to meet death Own your disenchantment For there is meaning when you choose to die here.
Ear aches–7pm
Crying in the middle
of the night-
mama mama
where are you?
It hurts.
Whispered feet
on the carpet
Come now child
It will be alright
I’ve got you
Dark halls
Dark rooms
so warm-
I’m ok
wrapped up tight
smell of coffee
won’t lull me to sleep
it’s funny when you slurp
sshh sshh
I have you
close your eyes
you’re safe in my
hands
God entrusted you
to me because he knows
I can care for you
Swaying back and forth
humming
stroking my forehead
sleepy
so sleepy
mama, mama
it helps being in your hands
it doesn’t hurt as much now
just really itchy
Lifted up
whispered feet on the carpet
once more
kinda chilly
more humming
snuffling into my pillow
there you are Red Baby
I wondered where you were
mama, mama
will you stay with me
a while longer? Can’t hear you
Mama?
Young Lady
Young Lady
I knew from the first moment, my heart
Instantly fell in complete love
with the soul of a truly
genuine young lady.
There I’ll always be
If ever you
Need me. You
Have my
word.
Hour 11: Nature
Look up to the sky
The blue sky
Wrapped with the thick cloud
My heart beats so fast
While i’m running
I breathe the fresh air
I’ve been longing for
No skyscraper here
I see animals
Feeding their children
I see field rice
The farmer wears gumboots
To passing by the sludge
I see green colour
I am refreshed
I hear dripping sound
There is a river
The bird is chirping
I look to the other side
Periwinkle blooms so nice
I grab one
Lord, I love this ambience
I enjoy this time
No car honks
No rush
No phone
Just me, and the nature
No.12 – The Covid Months
No. 12 – The Covid Months
By Nandhini G. Natarajan
I catch sight of a masked woman,
with wild hair and crazy eyes,
starting menacingly at me.
I realize it’s my reflection
in the shop window.
The dog cries for mercy,
as it has already been
on three-hour-long walks.
Now the neighbors
want to borrow her.
I look suspiciously at everyone,
at the store,
and wonder whether they have taken
the last pack of toilet paper.
I am an avid gardener now.
My backyard seems like
the great outdoors.
I go out 3-4 times a day to check
how much my vegetables have grown.
I call all the plants,
and even some weeds
by the personal names
I have given them.
I cut up all the bed sheets
and have enough material
for masks till
the next pandemic.
I notice the scar
on my husband’s face
for the first time.
I learn he has been clean-shaven
for the last six months.
Alcohol has made
the skin on my hands
like old shoes.
But I don’t care.
With my hair, my eyes
and my skin,
nobody recognizes me
anymore.