The Poetry Marathon

Flying, the mode of travel glamorized by songs of yesteryear
Today, is dreaded by many.
As exciting as it is to climb through the skies,
Far above the clouds,
To leave behind one’s reality,
The concept of leaving the ground
Can feel like a flying torpedo.
And if leaving the ground does not bother you,
Then maybe the historical terrorism events will make you question those around you,
Even when you promise yourself not to be judgmental.
But then of course, just when we are used to increased security,
Along comes COVID,
The invisible demon to make us wonder about the air we breathe.
In recent decades flying has gone from glamor and privilege,
To a dreaded solution to long distance travel.

Boy meets girl and falls in love,
He gives her roses to express his love for her.
Man proposes to the love of his life
And a wedding is planned, roses in every bouquet.
A child is conceived, and love is shown with flowers
And gifts in preparation for baby.
Valentine’s day, Mother’s Day,
Birthday, Anniversary,
Flowers are given to show love.
When the dreaded happens
And divorce ensues
Tears rain down as grief takes over,
God gives woman a garden.
With every day and week that passes,
She waters and tends to her garden,
Pruning and fertilizing the flowers,
Tending to the gift that God has given her.
As the flowers bloomed, she did as well.
Healing deep and true, courtesy of Father God.

Pick ‘em up.
Set ‘em down.
Got to keep going.
Can’t stop.
Don’t walk.
Clicking IPod button
Must find a faster song.
Repeat song.
Repeat song.
Pick ‘em up.
Set ‘em down.
Ugh, how many more miles do I have to go.
Keep going, the car is at the finish line.
No matter what you still have to get to the car.
Pick ‘em up.
Set ‘em down.
Pick ‘em up.
Set ‘em down.
Focus on the music.
That is it.
You are really lookin’ good now!
You are kickin’ it!
Pick ‘em up.
Set ‘em down.
FINISH LINE!
Stretch out your step,
That is it!
Pump the arms,
Stride it out!
OOOO I hear music!
There is cheering!
Of course, I ran the whole thing.
I am a BOSS!

Thank you, Father, for this day.
Thank you that you knew of this time long before.
Thank you that you are not surprised but remain in control.
Thank you for your forgiveness, that you will always love me.
Thank you, Father, for your plan for my life.
Thank you for your protection of my family and me.
Thank you for my home and my dog.
Thank you for your guidance in every day and every way.
Thank you Lord, for all.

Well my dear girl, heaven is what you believe it to be.
Mine is built courtesy of The Wizard of Oz and The Care Bears.
When my imagine comes to life and I see places unseen
I dream that heaven is beautiful and colorful, joyous.
Kind of like clicking your ruby shoes together
You follow the yellow brick road through fields
and over rainbows to the pearly gates.
Father God is there to great you and comfort you.
He is there to welcome you home.
The sun is always shining, even when it rains.

Can we have cake in heaven?
I think so my dear.
Will you be there to read to me at night?
Of course, my dear.
And daddy too?
Yes.
Then heaven sounds like a nice place.
When do we go there Mommy?
Oh, not until God calls you home.

The needle on the record player glides across the 45 as my eyes close to focus on the music.
My mind continues to race with anxiety as it seeks inspiration from the calm tones of Cat Stevens.
While Moonshadow plays I can’t focus.
It is encouraging me to take knap.
While my head encourages me to make another cup of coffee.
The impatient voice in my head feeling as though the two minutes and forty-nine seconds feel like two hours.
How does one write a poem about a song that there head just cannot seem to focus on?
Oh wait… I just did.

The cottage sat amongst the trees far off the beaten path.
A vacation spot for writers to escape the summer heat.
Tucked behind the treeline there was a strange darkness that blanketed the small house
even during the day.
It was the type of place where there was a typewriter awaiting you,
But no place to plug in a computer.
No bottle of beer to embrace your writers block,
Just paper waiting to be used.
It was the type of place that in the magazine looked quaint and relaxing,
But in reality,
it became a jail when lethargy stepped in between you and your best seller.
The firefly that flies around outside your window
As if to brag about how beautiful the night air is only serving to frustrate you
Instead of amaze you like you thought it would.
As your night continues and your eyes become tired of staring at the paper in front of you,
The missing Zoom function of MS Word begins to look like a luxury that you wish that you had.
No matter how hard you push through to mask your frustration,
Distraction begins to take hold as your deadline creeps closer.
You are hungry.
There has to be some snacks in the kitchen.
Stumbling in search of snacks, you drag yourself from the uncomfortable antique chair
But alas there is only a box of porridge, nothing that will satisfy your craving for a burger.
Defeated,
You take your place to hammer out the breath-taking ending that your story requires.
‘When this book is done, I am taking a real vacation!’

A poem made of emojis?
Emojis?!
Pictures are not words!
How does one make a poem with emojis?
Well I guess that I can try…
It may not look pretty
And it may not make sense,
But here is a poem made of emojis.

If only I could ✍️ like a 🏇.
The 📚 would 🕊️ on and off the shelf.
Amazon would ❤️ 👩.
👩 👩 would read my 📚 at the 🏖️
And 💭 off to 🌴 🌴 🌴.
And 🧑🏼‍🤝‍🧑🏻 🧑🏼‍🤝‍🧑🏻 🧑🏼‍🤝‍🧑🏻 would know 👩 name.

It was a sunny winter day the day that the pandemic hit home.
The day the economy shut down.
The day that government closed.
The Wall street floor emptied onto the streets of New York,
Not to return for months.
Stores, amusement parks, beaches, and hotels all lights out.
The world had been taken to its knees by an invisible demon.
People had no choice but to stay home
as they watched their hopes and dreams crumble in front of them.
With their hands tied behind their backs
People began to pray.
Some talking to a God that they had never acknowledged existed.
The Season of the Pandemic brought a broken world to a stop.
People never thought that would ever happen.
These things only happen in other countries, not here.
But here we kneel, praying.
God help me get through this.

A cool breeze blows through the white curtains as the sun rises over through the trees.
Soft kisses on my shoulders and neck pull me from a deep slumber.
He is making coffee and breakfast for us while I dress for the barn.
It is going to be a beautiful day.
A nice ride through the hills and valleys surrounding the barn,
A little light jumping over fences
Before relaxing for lunch in the barn yard.
As the sun crosses from east to west we make dinner together
Setting the table with candles and a fine wine
Our dinner date is complete with a shared desert and kisses under the stars.