The Poetry Marathon

Hidden

I don’t think that you have
inspected the area very carefully, as you
have apparently not seen, and even over-looked,
the one you are seeking. Here, right in
front of your face, the
Love which you are longing for, standing out like ink
splattered on a white wall. I’m here. Oh, well.

This poem is a Golden Shovel on the children’s poem Hiding by Dorothy Aldis, using the line “Have you looked in the ink well?” The original poem can be found here: https://allpoetry.com/Poem/8605367-Hiding-by-Dorothy-Keeley-Aldis?page=4  A Golden Shovel is a poetic form I first learned about during the 2017 Poetry Marathon and have enjoyed using ever since.

West Virginia

24 thousand square miles is not small
A person could get lost in all that space

But I feel stuck
A small person
In a small town
In a small life

Locked out of new experiences
Locked out of meeting new people
Locked out of moving forward

Trapped

Moose

A baby moose is still a big creature

And how this one found me I do not know

But he looks at me with his big droopy eyes

And, motherless being, I know I must take him in

He follows me around the house like a puppy

A puppy the size of a Great Dane

Scared, he tries to hide under the coffee table

His head barely fits in the small space

When I wake I wonder, Why a moose?

When did I become the caretaker of woodland creatures?

Is it emblematic of the size of the challenges I nurture?

Or am I supposed to learn to welcome strangers into my life?

A Haiku based on the first photograph, the bouquet

On opening night
Presented to my Diva
My admiration

Hummingbird, confused,

Examines the lilac bush

Its flowers long gone

No Magic

I’ve known no magic –
no fairy spell
no witch’s curse
I’ve known no alchemy or enchantment
– except for flowers
that grow unbidden in the grass
and open their small faces
to the sun
– except for fireflies
that sparkle amidst the trees
fliting everywhere
in random joy
– except for stars
burning across the vast universe from me
yet filling my night
with wonder

Malicious

I am the thing that crawls around your brain

That whispers madness, disregard, distain

I am the darkness when you long for light

I make you dismal in the small hours of night

I am the words the swirl ‘round your head

Repeating remarks others once had said

I am the obscurity of visions, vile, untrue

That keeps you from seeing the momentous you

I am the malicious thoughts you deliberate

That twist and twine your hopes and bind your fate

I am what is keeping you from starting life anew

I am nothing but your thoughts. I am you.

Welcome readers!

I appreciate you stopping by to look at my efforts from the marathon. Of course you are welcome to read anything, but I’d particularly like comments on Hours 1,3,6,8,10,16, and 18. It is from among these I’ll be selecting what I’ll submit to the anthology. hanging the lights (hour 3) is a definite. I haven’t picked my second one and would love to hear your suggestions and advice. Thanks!

blooming

the rosebush
despite my neglect
blooms again
the tiniest buds
are hard red things
but as they open
they fade to tangerine
and then to peach
meanwhile
becoming less tough
less closed-off
softer
freer
as should we become
as we grow and
blossom

Summer Days

It used to be
In summertime
We would spend all day in the pond
Diving off the dock
Swimming underwater
Playing in the sand
Not until Mother called
Would we walk, dripping
Up to the house
Sitting in wet bathing suits
To keep cool as long as possible
Even at the dinner table
Where ears of corn steamed in great piles
Outshining whatever meat was served

What a time that was