Poem for Hour Five

                        What Should Stay Buried

        Time caught in a capsule. Sorrow there
                                  or joy as you imagine opening it up?
                 Perhaps, better, if you put it back. To not know 
                              what was left behind.

                             a man and woman so young then. Babies
       not yet born. The woman not yet asleep in another man’s bed. Pearl
                     as they called it not yet bombed. Beirut, when it was
          the Paris of the Middle East. The young ones, brown-skinned, before
                          the top hats and whale-bone dresses before

                  the burials, before the bulldozers broke what marked
                                                            the graves.
Before the churches burned, before Christ turned his back,
                                          before anger’s black smoke
                               tore down everything and ripped words
                                        from cindered throats. 

Poem for Hour Two

A Mesostic – For and Not For My Dog Tugboat

“These cracked elbows, the only sign of time passing”
   —Canisia Lubrin from The Dzgraphxst, page 41

              Cracked elbows, the only sign of Time
                          passing Canisa says bUt
                                      not true God said
          to me just now sounding puzzled, the Big bang and its
                          aftermath, all that nOthing turned into somethings,
              for darn near fourteen billion yeArs that’s
                        big, very big, sign of Time passing he told me.

                     What more of Time do I need
               or want to know aboUt with death        
                    always this TuG

                              at my ankles, this Bounded true
                                                nOrth, all of us heading
                                         in the sAme direction
                                                 Time or no time.

                                      To pass the Time, mark
                              time, waste time, plUg
                    the holes in the boat of time Going down
                                   anyway, so why Bother giving
                      time or cracked elbows a secOnd thought. Why not
                imagine a dog, any dog, but especiAlly my dog, Tugboat
                                   bounding along Today untugged, unleashed 
                                                        to time.

*The mesostic form like the acrostic form takes a word and spells it vertically down the page but unlike the acrostic places it to create varied left and right margins.

Richard Osler
Poem for Hour Two
Poetry Half Marathon
June 26th, 2021


Hi! Richard Osler here from the Cowichan Valley on Vancouver Island, BC, Canada! So enjoyed my last (“halfer) in 2017 and then scheduling conflicts got in the way of the next few. I have been writing poems steadily since about 2004 on! Have two published collections, full length and a chapbook and I have written more than 300 poetry blog posts since 2010 at recoveringwords.com! And i facilitate a ton of poetry therapy sessions each year! More than 400 in the past 12 months!

Hello from Duncan, Vancouver Island, Canada

Trying to figure all the teck stuff out. And managing. Looking forward to this. Know it will be tough, the 12 hour, but hoping years of writing poems will help! I have had a group of friends who write a poem a day each January – five years now. But this ups the ante! And I echo the best wishes of others. All best, Westcoast Richard.