The Poetry Marathon

One day at a time.

Cloud(y) with rain, and

Coming on down.

A skyscraper lands on top of another building.

Where 9-11 emerged.

And killed so many people wow!

The New Times Square vanished.

They beat(s)the traffic.

Workers from Lucy Lucky Bakery.

Purchases sourdough of one dozen of dougnuts.

Right along with the storefront development.

It’s not day and it’s not night,

Neither evening nor morning light,

Its 4 am and I am alive.

Alive like before, before my heart was broken,

When sometimes I smile, sometimes I cry,

but all those times, I feel Alive. 

Today, I am not dead, nor alive

Neither feel nor express what’s inside,

It’s like living dead, and this is life…

Abandoned notebook
for safe place in basement
Tornado warning

if i could live in these veins,

holding this being in the palm of my hand

held over my heart in longing to breathe you back into life

in the sun in the field under the sky

blue like the cleansing of my want

to live in the veins of this being

connected to my centre and their centre

linked umbilicus to umbilicus

mother and child in the cradle of the sky

littered with all those ancestors who placed me

in the way of this being

so I may live in these veins of blue.

(c) r. l. elke

“What am I going to do? I was born when the gods had already died.” Pablo Neruda

“What am I going to do? I was born when the gods had already died.”
A time when indifference rode the sky and everyone felt alone.

My ancestral seed was planted in a different world and
I still have those longings. I will find others
and together restring the beads of hope and compassion.

If they are not to be found, I will stay the course –
alone and do no harm til my longest day has turned to night
and still silence is my final resting place.

Natural for me to fear lost life,

this lightning flashing above me.

Terrified in the green chair,

rain dripping off shutters—

blue St. Elmo’s fire.

I am alright,

but feeling

jitters,

God!

The music plays softly in my room

As I sit swaying in the dark

Eyes looking out the window

Contentment in my soul

A smile on my face

Perfect sunrise

Finally

I feel

Calm

~thryaksha

This year stole him away from himself
hijacked his craving for sunshine
held his friendships for ransom
annihilated school
depleted his hopes
dangled normal
from the thread
of a
shot.

I should actually say ‘past eleven’
because this is ‘twelve’.
Now that the hours have done
their work, they may dance –
madly, blithely, cannabis-high.

(No need for filter papers as I do not smoke.)

We’ve watched today’s games, partaken
of today’s meals, exhaled some sighs.
I will sleep on today’s poems, which
will all look different in the
morning. I didn’t even wear my glasses.

(My husband’s snores are in a crescendo.)

Outside, the birds are asleep, or
perhaps wondering why my candles have
not been turned off yet, waiting for
the sun to touch the trees again
and move them to burst into song.

Luminous moon heralds coming change.
I will welcome and embrace it
even if the change feels strange.
My life is a bounty;
I cherish it all.
Strawberry moon.
Super moon.
Hear my
call.