The Poetry Marathon

the inspired scrapings of whirlwinds
After 24 hours of writing
My mind is full of cheese
I struggle to craft lines

After 24 hours of writing
Comes dreaded editing
I struggle to craft lines
To have poems that are comprehendable

Come dreaded editing
Each line becomes faceted
To have poems that are comprehendable
but may have the reader run away sleepless

Each line becomes faceted
My mind full of cheese
Readers run away sleepless
The inspired scrapings of whirlwinds

tender is a cat purr
in my left ear
a gentle alarm clock at 6:21 a.m.
i struggle to write with soft paws
tapping my face.
i sleepwalkwrite these words .waiting the next prompt

Hour 20

Watchtower

We watch for you
always we watch
this is the mantra of the protector.
Come in and listen
hear the words that numbtect.
Towers oversee all
only what is watched is learned too late.
We watch eliminate all threats until you realize you were the threat.

Hour 17

Cats are above myth.
They encroach into your life
at the molecular basis – – – they are bone deep. They immobilize you for cuddle time
on their terms.
They heckle you whenever they want
to be fed or just whenever.
Jealous of inanimate objects and all computers.

Mine is a green-eyed menace
punctuating my downtime
with mythical weight pinpointed
on the belly becoming a pillow.

Hour 14

Not quite a fairy tale
or a western
or a story set in stone
this was shared words

Not a western
but tales set in an unknown lake
this was shared words
legends spoken around a fire

Tales set on an unknown lake
loon lake we called it
legends spoken around the fire
never written down

Loon lake
not stories set in stone
never written down
not quite a fairy tale

Hour 12

in fading light
in the sound of turquoise
there is a time of imaginings
an in between feeling
not awake not sleep dreaming
but like dusk with elements
of day and night
where your own thoughts settle
like the last wash of color
over desert mesa
turquoise into rust into spangled night

Hour 10

In the exhalation of poets, we writers like to categorize everything bundle them up. I wonder what a collection of humans would be? Not as congress or community as we would not agree on anything.

In a shrewdness of apes the gorillas at large from the zoo should be better than entering into man’s realm. There is no stopping or departing from bus terminal 3.5 for Africa.

Picture a cauldron of bats brewing the night sky into insect tea.

The glare of cats will gleam in the night.
Cheetahs may form a coalition
but never orangutans.

A tower of giraffes loom in the desert.

Is it a smack sting or slap of jellyfish?

It is definitely a lump of otters.

Tigers ambush
zealous zebras.

But humans?
If only we got along.
Not a crew a troop or agreement.
It would be a disagreement of humans
a force of manipulation
a gathering of egos.
A disrespect of all.
Nothing good comes from
categorizing so maybe
we are all fades of ourselves.

Hour 9

Snow supply
quarantine stash
easybox detox mac and cheese
not exactly childhood.
Mom did not make box cheese pasta
She made spaghetti and cheese
sorta from scratch.
In adult mode I am not sure
if Velveeta can be considered from scratch
it’s the same goop as in boxes
but it’s still a bite of childhood.

Hour 8

On the Edge

the walkers on the edge
balance the turns

they are the stilt walkers
chair builders
aerial ribbon weavers

they make joy out of chaos
make mundane magical

the audience watches
the impossible done daily

when the impossible flies
the walkers on the edge

are the transition from tricks to magic
when reality fades

magic is born
making joy out of chaos

Hour 6

Windows, looking back

Windows, looking back
I wonder if they are two-way.
Now from the outside, the
Drapes drawn heavy
Only obscure the
View within.

Looking back I can
Observe what passed inside
Only I did not grasp what
Keeping truth of me meant.
I had to walk away.
Now in the today I am
Going on ahead.

Backwards thinking is
A trip I won’t make I
Can I go to that place but just
Keep on and don’t look back.