The Poetry Marathon

Every year I allow myself one poem in which I can use just haiku

To capture the light and life

Of a prompt I don’t quite vibe with

This year was tough but none were quite

Worth just giving in

Letting my unease win

This year I did perform before

An audience of 10 at most

While sharing my work with you

They all had my back

And so this year no haiku is had

Which is neither good or bad

Just bittersweet instead.

Thus the curtain draws

Upon the latest night

The marathon is over

Sleep is now in sight

And while we retire

Exhausted and exerted

I cannot help but wonder

If you feel as I do,

Watching the same sun

Set and rise right now

Breaking stillness

In Favor of a small celebration.

Sturdy

Sometimes all that’s left

To round things out

When thinking fast or slow

Is the study of the oldest art

A sleep perchance to dream

To dream and wake refreshed

Our body feeling well and strong

Sturdy, balanced, ready to face doubt.

Close to the end, Daybreak in sight
I’ve made it through day and harrowing night
And while it was a journey I come away from
I made it not alone, but with all of you.

While the sun yet rises I hear sleep call my name
And I know that after this things won’t be the same
We laughed, we cried, we empathized, we grew
And learned new things we previously never knew

We entered strangers, we made new bonds,
Some may prove weak while others strong
And while we entered in different boats,
We stand united, and far more close.

Estate

The grand hall was overwhelming
With its arched walkways looming
The path to the ballroom was still
And chilled like winter despite the date
The footsteps echoed on stone tile
I could not help but wonder while
I walked through this grand estate
If I was the only one who walked
And ended up quite late
I kept stopping just to stare
At intricate stoneworks and lighting
Marveling at the care put in
To the massive structure
In fact when at last I reached ballroom’s floor
I was just in time to hear
The melody’s last strains
The party ended before I arrived
Even though it had been for me.

Inkheart

Oh to speak with silver tongue
Reality into fiction
Fiction back to reality
The desire is there but magic…
Is sadly lacking here
And try as I might to coax it out
Reality is unchanged
No thieves or flame eaters walk about
No magical creatures
I cannot lift them from my books
Or put myself among them
Unless I create the works from scratch
But I’ve not truly won then.
I must satisfy escape
With new works and words upon the page
My ink-ed heart bleeds dismayed
By lack of magic displayed
Upon reading the written page.

Emergent

The road less traveled is far more bumpy
With less care put in to maintain
In parts the road is overgrown
In others it fades only to reappear again
Where you least expect it

The swamps were a surprise
The trees a spindled, branches wide
The land that’s visible eroded
Perhaps the travel was unwise
But as I pulled off to the side
I found I could not regret it.

The swamp birds sang
The land teemed with life
The road was unkempt
Unmanaged it jackknifed
And twisted end to end
Up toward higher ground
But I stopped to look around

And found the world emergent
Upon the path less urgent

Dove in hand, my songbird
You sing so sweetly to me
Jealous birdy, oh so needy,
You steal my donut freely
With careful tenderness
As your heart pounds
Fearless as you escape
The cage designed for
Your protection
You pluck my garnet heartstrings
And soar beyond the curtain
To a world far crueler
Than you’ve ever grown in.

Dove, starlet, don’t make me go
And find another birdy
Find your way back here safely
So we can work this out
Dear heart of mine
You’ve flown the coop
Too soon to make it on your own
Caught in a bush of night and lies
Sought by wicked claws.

Self – Expression

We are different people
Me, my self, and I
Each face each different problem
With different faces on display
Seen with separate visions,
Some are more fragile than others
And while I am on display
We keep the walls between myself
And me, hiding how we feel
Shattering the shells if we aren’t careful
We try to keep in mind
I, myself, and me are not the only shells
There’s you and him, and she
Different shades and different sizes
A world apart but for the shells which hide us

The splash of rain on pavement
As many head to work
Black on black umbrellas
Suits and shoes and Briefcases
And colorless sedans
Crowd a heavy street
There on the bleak street corner
Is the friend I’ll meet

A splash of color in the black
Red Umbrella and white shoes.