The Poetry Marathon

tink tink tink
Is that in key?
Is it a key?
Do I care?
tink tink tink
I think I like it.
Maybe.
I should try it again.
tink tink tink
That sounds horrible.
It sounds like rust.
I love it.
tink

Sometimes
I don’t know what to say
Wishing I could play more than just one string
Sometimes
I find it easier to speak with less
Using all the voices of just one string

Nowhere to stand
In this wetland
Its easier to climb than it is to walk

Bridges from fallen trees
Swatting at nettles and at the bees
Maybe it was a yellow jacket

Slashing through blackberry bramble
Was only part of the slow ramble
Rarely was there need for talk

Mud so deep and thick
Tried to gauge it with a stick
Once I opened my finger with a hatchet

While the property lines
Aren’t well defined
Whose woods these are I think I know.

Last line prompted from Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”

The air is wet

But its not really raining

The parking lot is a still lake

Dampness seeped into his shoes

“Why would anyone want to live here?”

Shouted to the clouds he knew all his life