The Poetry Marathon

One day, it’ll happen.

I can see it clearly, as plain as today.

I will wake up, half-asleep still.

Cold morning light, lavender-gray soft

filters in one window, scudded with clouds,

and a heavy weight will be ’round my waist.

All those years of waiting,

of silent tears and reaching out in the night

to an empty bedside will be just an echo.

An echo of what was, what never will be again.

And all the dreams of today will pale

in the face of that ready tomorrow.

With your voice low in my ear, gentle, sweet,

a time without limits, without an ocean between,

just us and the quiet dawn cresting.

So here’s to that ready tomorrow, my darlin’,

of that we will make it be.

Just you, me, and my little boy together,

at long last at rest, at home, with more to come

and much more life left to share, to give.

Come, my lover, rise with me on that tomorrow.

Let’s greet the sun together.

Entire worlds from my brain,

rising to the fore. Voices of those

echoing in my mind, telling their stories,

weaving their tales. And like every god,

I begin to spin, to warp and weft each tale,

layer upon layer, a story of destinies,

of peoples great and small, and

of d20’s scattered across a weather-beaten map.

I’ll bring the horizon, and the calamity,

and bring the players in,

we’ll see if heroes or villains shape the realm

that I have created once more.

Hot cheese stretching out
pepperoni and olives,
just for dinner now.

Running, running, sprinting down the street,

feeling feet thud pavement, arms as I swing,

chest tightening, sweat slipping as I press on,

stretching for the end in sight, the finish line,

but even when my legs should stop my heart keeps running.

Steam slowly wafting,

honey swirling through deep red brew,

while the scent of cinnamon and cloves lingers.

Chai, splash of milk, touch of sweeness

that warms the hands, such a bliss

to sit upon a cool porch step and watch the skies

slowly melt from indigo to soft starshine peach,

lavender, gold lingering into periwinkle,

a long slow morning wrapped up in silence

and a good brew.

Smooth walls circle round and round me, round and round,

like a tailor bird I stitch it round me, in the best and coolest of colors.

Green, rich gold, deep mahogany, colors of the forest, dressing me

in sumptuous symphony, I turn, the green a warm cocoon of liveliness,

lovely green walls that spin and touch the senses, just so,

in the depths of winter, I will always stand in spring, in her soft,

sweet, melancholic way, a Persephone garden, an immortal garden,

wrapt so in that deep forestness, Hades’ favorite gift of the pomegranate

and of flowers never dying.

There will come a day when I’m not there,

my love, I hope you won’t mourn forever.

For I’ll always be here, by your side,

when I’m in your thoughts, in that late night,

when the grief crests, and the ache starts

to rise, dark and deep and threatening

to sink you, close your eyes and remember,

beloved, not time, nor distance, nor death

can keep me far away, for I am here,

in thoughts, in memories, in mind,

and will have life eternal.

Spinning, wheeling, colors clash and pull together,

as I blink and squint, childish dreams and colors pulling together,

pulling apart anew.

Step 1: remember your shoes.

Step 2: Pat your pockets.

Step 3: Panic, as the wallet isn’t in that pocket.

Step 4: search the house for the damn wallet.

Step 5: find it in the purse.

Step 6: Look for your glasses.

Step 7: resume panicking.

Step 8:…Remember you can see.

If you make it to work without your wallet or purse, you may have to turn around! Repeat steps until completely ready.

I see her every night. No bright colors, no fancy water bottle,

just a small woman, bent, hair pulled back, in plain grey

sweatshirt and leggings. Every night, the same deal. I have seen her,

knelt to the ground crying, watched her struggle. Watched her

bend, break, and lose. When the weight’s too heavy for her,

I’m there, watching her form, helping her take the plates back,

and watching her slowly, surely transform.