Seeing Clearly

My husband drinks beer and/or vodka
Every night I hear as he pours
The liquid into a cup

He often wonders why
He’s sleepy before
I am ready

To close my
Sober
Eyes

From the 2021 Poetry Marathon

Prompts Hour Twelve

Text Prompt

For this year’s first formal prompt the challenge is to write a nonet. This poetic form requires that you write a 9-line poem. In the first line, there are 9 syllables, in the second 8 syllables, and so on down to the final one syllable (ninth) line. You can learn more and read an example here, but its origin is unknown.

Miles To Go Before I Sleep

Each night I go through my routine
Check Facebook, play Candy Crush,
Wait for my man to kiss me goodnight
And sit in the dark, waiting for sleep to approach

The darkness envelops me
Unless you count the numerous nightlights,
The red glare of the tv’s on/off button,
And the glow from the LED bulbs that never seem to fade

They just glower above me
Looking down on me, letting me know that they see
They see, those three lights, what the darkness tries to hide
They see, those three lights, what my mind avoids during the day

Sleep doesn’t come but my prayers do
For you see, those three lights also remind me that Another watches as well
The Great Three-in-One, those three lights, aren’t as harsh
As the other lights that constantly seek to dim my shine

It’s a Frost-y night, and just as he had things to do
Before he could even think of entering the evening’s rest
My miles to go, my promises to keep
Must be traveled before I too can sleep

Write a poem about being in water. It can be about swimming, the shower, a bath, the rain, etc.

On my bucket list
Is an item or two
That has to do with water
Shall I share them with you?

A walk-in bathtub
Sitting upright with water all around
How comforting that would be
But not over my head, lest I drown.

An outdoor jacuzzi
With the sun shining bright
Or the moon in its stages
Watching as in the water I delight.

The ocean I long to see
I can hear the waves call out my name
But to get there takes over six hours
That is such a shame!

Sitting by the river
Especially as the sun begins to set
Brings me peace when I am still
Upon this I shall reflect.

The waterfalls I visit
Allow me to see that even as my thoughts cannot be contained and often overflow with a crash
That doesn’t mean there isn’t tranquility found within them
Guess that explains beauty from the ash.

Hey there fellow poets! I’m honored to be writing with you again this year.

It’s my third time here and I have been impressed by those of you who put your works into books. Way to go!

Okay, it’s time to start poeting. May we all be inspired and create some lovely works!

Hello, fellow writers! Are you as excited as I am to be joining poets from all over the globe tomorrow for this marathon?

This is my second time participating. I only do the twelve-hour portion because my ol’ body can’t handle staying up for twenty-four.

Since last completing, I have published my first two novels! They are cozy stories about two characters named George and Mabel, loosely based upon my husband and me. The biggest difference is that George and Mabel made…um, not quite better choices but certainly ones that had Steve and I made would most likely have had a dramatic effect on our lives. If you’d like to read about them, you can find them on Amazon.com. Here are the links: The Adventures of George and Mabel: Based on an Almost (Kind of? Sort of? Could Be?) True Story and The Adventures of George and Mabel: Based on More Almost (Kind of? Sort of? Could be!) True Stories.

Tomorrow is going to be great! I look forward to reading your stories and learning more about you. Get some good sleep and Lord willing, I shall be with you in the morning!

Stef

Baby we can talk all night

But 

I told you 

There’s nothing left inside

you can cry all night

that’ll never change the snow

piling up outside

I wish you would make me leave

I tried to show you

I’m tired of words

I keep on telling you

there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you

be sad

be sad

I know you’re looking for a

Cracker Jack 

I tell you 

No 

I’ll never give you

so many years

I’ll never

love back

Oh 

she left me on a stormy night

She kissed me and got out of our bed

I pleaded and I begged her to walk out that door

She turned right away

there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you

Now be sad

there ain’t no way I’m ever gonna love you

Now be sad

we

ain’t getting nowhere

Dear Stefanie:

Remember when you were seven;

A little freckle-faced imp?

You weren’t always sure-footed

And often your big toe would be limp.

You liked to play with dolls

And brush out their hair;

And loved being on the swings

Flying high into the air.

At school you were smart

And wanted to be the first one done.

You thought if you were

You’d be able to have more fun.

Your friends were few

Except the ones in your head.

Going home when he was there

Was something to make you feel dread.

I wish I could hold you,

Old former self of mine.

You were so lonely

Searching for something you just couldn’t seem to find.

You lost yourself in music

And in making up all kinds of rhymes.

You’d play with your doll

And sing to her all the new lines.

I sometimes still feel I’m you

Trapped in a tender shell;

Wanting to escape,

Feeling doomed to hell.

Oh you sweet poor child

You never had the chance!

Never had the love,

Never learned how to dance.

Your next years weren’t better

And possibly became worse.

The hurt inside continued to burn;

Same chapter, different verse.

Oh you precious little girl,

With your eyes so blue:

This world is a sad place

One not meant for you.

I long to hold, squeeze, and protect you;

To shield you from all that is to come;

To save you from what you’ll go through,

Before all is said and done.

As you close your eyes, dear child

Lost in fitful sleep,

I gently kiss your forehead.

And for you–my self–I weep.

While sitting on the dock of the bay,

Watching the fog settle into a gentle hush,

The moonbeam caught my eye.

It reflected off of my canteen

Sitting there on the concrete shelf.

Damn!  My coffee is cold.

I walked over to the fir,

Gave it a kick.

Hobbling over, I sat down,

And now I am crying on the dock of the bay.

Oliver had his Jennifer;

Stephen has his Stefanie.

Ollie and Jenny:

Steve and Stef.

They met in college

As did Steve and I.

His parents didn’t approve of Jenny

Nor did Steve’s approve of me.

They met in a library;

We met in a gym.

Jenny was a teacher

And so was I

“What can you say about a 25-year-old girl who died?”

Oliver’s memorial to his wife.

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry”

Jennifer’s infamous words to her preppy.

Oliver, when in need of money, was asked by his dear ol’ dad

Why, have you “gotten a girl in trouble?”

Steve’s granny once said similar words, but to me

“We always knew you trapped him.”

“To make a long story short” or “Get in the kitchen, woman!”

Are some of Steve’s most famous lines.

“I’m a lover not a fighter” or “Most men do”

Are often some of Stef’s retorts.

Oliver loved his Jenny;

Steve loves his Stef.

Their story comprised a novella

Ours will need a few sequels.

She craved three things in life:

Unconditional love,

honesty, and security.

Instead, she received

Being misunderstood, rejection,

And judgment.

She died hungry.