The Poetry Marathon

People are real and complex and composed of

out of context quotes, half-remembered daydreams,

and coffee-stained yesterdays – there is a beauty

in such fascinating feelings and experiences;

but we can’t all boil down to rhyme or reason

so easily – we don’t all fit the same molds –

and honestly where would the fun in that be?

So next time you pick up a collection of poetry

or go to a museum or peruse a community garden

I hope you’ll admire the differences and the personalities-

I hope you’ll take note of all the butterflies

and hummingbirds and silver linings guiding

you wherever it is you need to go.

Time and age and choice can change people

but  you do have a say in how they affect you.

-M. Rene’

Poem 25: BONUS:

There’s a fluffy purple owl

named Moonlight and she was

born during the space between

the witching hour and our secret

phone calls- well before the

artist’s hour but you can tell

there’s creativity in those feathers –

that inspiration truly takes flight

and when the final moments

of forever finally arrive – she will be

the sole reminder that even then

there is still beauty and hope.

-M. Rene’

This has been a blast and there’s even an extra poem for you because one of my fellow writers with a ginormous weekend goal gave me a purple owl stuffed animal named moonlight and we had to celebrate that. thank you for the support. I have poemed and won. now for sleep.

We make time for the people and things we value

we leave space for growth and potential and even

opportunity based on the things we want in life.

Anyone who can keep you softly laughing – no matter

what the day throws at you is worth the effort it

takes to keep them around. You don’t have to learn

this one too late – enough people have already lived

and shared their stories to prevent it. Trust me,

I believe in you and the magic of genuine joy.

-M. Rene’

There are so many things
I am hoping you’ll realize

as the pages get thinner and

thinner – as you not only near

the end – but feel it so completely

in your soul that this is just

another step along a path you

have been choosing since the

beginning of your story.

But the most important take away

is that wrapping up ideas is almost

never – so rarely ever – as clean and

as tidy and no where near as final as

everyone likes to believe. There is

always somewhere else to go,

something else to say or someone

else left to be. There is always more.

-M. Rene’

Listening to the music you left behind is like

trying to send letters to a stranger in a house

that won’t be built for centuries and there is

something to be said for the level of tenacity

or pure dedication coursing through veins that

won’t even begin to form for an eternity – literally.

There is a sense of familiarity that cannot be

rationally explained and there is still a

certain mystery no level of science or

understanding will ever be able to decode.

And I would like to be clear – I did not

sign up for a decade of picking up pieces

of a puzzle I never even liked in the first place.

I think I love your ghost more than I ever

even registered you. And maybe there’s

something to be said for the choices being

made between wishing

the hummingbirds forever to

sparkle and sanity in a single human being

bound to the limitations of flesh.

Do not get confused – every moment

is a choice and I have made just as many

good ones as poor in my quarter-life musing –

I just know that the showing up will

outweigh any “mistake” that never

morphed into full-fledged lesson.

EVEN YOU.

-M. Rene’

Progress is progress – you’ve got this

and you truly are capable of so much

more than you ever seem to realize;

but that said, you owe me a salsa

with time and a tango with potential –

don’t put me on hold again, I know

you’re waltzing with memory and

you wouldn’t even have that power

if it weren’t for me. And yes I know

now that I’ve written about you and

used your name in a way much more

directly than your song scavenger hunts

and unoriginal bastardized codes –

which I suppose also isn’t saying much

I’ve been cast into the eye of forever

by many a drunken artist – a want to be

promise – a story that never dared to

grow into anything other than what-if.

And before you say it – I am not a calmaity

I am not chaos or order or anything worth

defining in such ways but I am also far more

concrete than anyone seems to acknowledge.

I am certain someday you’ll taste paradise

and realize you’ll never get so close as me – again.

But also you’re far too interesting for the world

to be rid of completely when age comes

swooping in for not just one dance – but eternity.

-M. Rene’

It is midnight now – the witching hour

I am drinking honeyed whiskey and writing

in something other then obsidian ink –

so clearly whatever is haunting me now

is not you is not cinnamon or orange juice.

I am not sobbing about the cities we did

not get to visit or the poems you chose not

to read so process of elimination –

this is NOT about you. It will be the

storm’s prime time soon – with more

flooding and too much unnoticed magic

.Shortly after that it will be the

artists hour and even the things that

have never made sense to anyone

gardless of their mental state or

abilities will be crystal and powerful.

People will gather and revel and you –

you will realize just how much there was

to miss. You will understand the haunting

of a lingering poem and the way the

computer eats thoughts from us all.

And time will continue to fly by

because I have conditioned myself

to this and for all the right reasons –

no one would ever notice the cracks.

-M. Rene’

We keep talking about this

and I understand where you’re

coming from, but sometimes

there’s something to be said

for nostalgia simply for

Nostalgia’s sake – it’s been

way too long since we’ve had

a 2am phone call, since the

tweety bird lighter got magically

swapped for a salmon one – and

I know you’re not one for color

you’d rather remember the vibes

or the quoteable things that will

more than likely make your poetry

more relateable to the average person

without losing your flaire. I’m not

an average person mind you

I am a long distance forever that you

have yet to admit to needing the same

way you are needed and I am a whisper

you will never lose to time or age and

there is something marvelous about

love like this – someday you will see

this and on that day I am truly hoping

for more 2am phone calls and lighters

and promises we’ll actually follow through.

Before someone else makes good on them for you.

-M. Rene’

You have always had this way about you

of being perfect and incredible and

record breaking in your own right but

never lasted longer than a few minutes

especially if there was rain on the horizon.

Paper airplane wishes – the prize flower –

something everyone wants but I suppose

if we’re being honest no one can ever really have.

And I’m sure you have your

reasons the way I have my rhymes – but

sometimes I wonder why you were ever

here in the first place – knowing that we are

the furthest thing from temporary people

.-M. Rene’

Remember when we would go to the nursing home

and glue puzzles together and trade books worn out

and weighed down with the annotations of

literal generations – we painted sunflowers

and lilies for each room with a little old lady lacking

family or support. We made such a routine out

of being there to name the hummingbirds whenever

we lost someone to the garden and chasing fireflies

for the old men in walkers still in love with the

dream versions of their wives and kids – already passed.

I don’t know why the smell of pine sol and lemon

are so distinct to me when the memories were

actually so bright and the lessons that were

inherited within those walls so valuable – I don’t know

why I can write poems for Shirely’s mom

but when i want to write for shirley herself or

mourn Johnny (I’m late to that party too) the pen

just dries up so completely it can’t be salvaged

and the computer freezes and the internet dies

and the storm drags all my ideas to a city that

will never appreciate them the way I did.

Her birthday is coming up soon and she hasn’t

returned my calls for the last two years, but

I’ll go ahead and give her a ring anyway.

Wouldn’t you?

-M. Rene’

Yes a storm is brewing –

yeah there’s already one

knocking on the doors and

wrapping on the window panes –

I’m sure you’ve heard the warnings

but in every Pandora’s box was

all about hope not the monsters

and I’d like to think you understand

that if you’re reading poetry.T

he hope -the silver linings –

the little miracles are all

so much more valuable than

the worry, the fears, or

the demons pretend to be

and the sooner you embrace thatt

he more likely you are to

live the life you keep telling

yourself you will. And there is

a certain tint of artistry

that can only be utilized

by those who recognize

when they have been moldedb

y the storm to such a degree

that they in turn become it.

-M. Rene’