ajanta – Page 2 – The Poetry Marathon

Poem 14 | {Eternity’s End}

Prompt 14: In her wonderful book Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer writes — ‘In some Native languages the term for plants translates to “those who take care of us.’ Use any part of this quote (with credit), or the ideas it contains as a jumping off point for your poem this hour.

“The land knows you, even when you are lost.”

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{Eternity’s End}

I close my eyes and you’re there

Vast and immense, a constant presence stretching to eternity

When I feel lost or troubled, I reach for you

Your solidity is edifying, I am grounded and whole again

I open my eyes and you’re in that transition between ephemera and eternal

between void and fullness, where there is not knowing.

The trees and plants sing me into their wholeness, cradling me with beauty

They bear witness to the passing years, offering majesty and reverence

I take a leaf out of their book, seeking equanimity and flow.

Seeking to live within the natural laws of a land who harbours deep intelligence.

I look to the horizon vast and wide as an ethereal sky lingers over the canopy.

For you my love I will stand on the precipice, soul laid bare, arms outstretched,

resolute, waiting for you, seeking solace in your treasure trove of wonders.

I will return to you where the essence of your ancient heart imbues me with love.

I will return to you when I am no longer breathing.

I will return to you until eternity’s end.

Poem 13 | {Breathing}

Prompt 13: Write a poem about a physical activity you do all the time. It could be something mundane and chore related, such as brushing your teeth or mowing the lawn, or it could be something you do for fun, or for your health, like running or swimming. The poem can be about more than that physical activity, but it must start and end with it.

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{Breathing}

Breathing in great gulps of air, I’m now at the top of the cape

A meandering steep ascent of stunning beauty

How crisp and untainted the air is here

I pause and observe the slowing down of heart rate, of breath

and feel the strain of the climb subside.

Saying a big thank you to my autonomic nervous system

I ponder upon how we take it for granted this breathing business.

Countless breaths throughout a lifetime

a baby’s first wailing breath, the last gasp of the dying

the bookends of a life – the signifier of life

Internal to external – circulating, invigorating

I have now learnt that the average person at rest takes about 16 breaths per minute

We breathe about 960 breaths an hour, 23,040 breaths a day, 8,409,600 a year

A person who has lived a hundred years? 840,960,000 breaths…!

How marvellous is this?

I’m thinking now about the difference between shallow breathers and deep breathers

And those who practice pranic breathing, diaphragmatic breathing or, holotropic breathing.

What a crucial element to life itself. How essential it is to well-being!

Yet most of us live constricted and tense, the stress of everyday living taking its toll

Better make the most of it, cherish it and nourish it

Take the time not to restrict it, to exercise it, to respect it.

And as I look out over the cape to the expanse of Bass Strait,

I’m breathing and I don’t know where I end and the ocean begins.

Poem 12 | {To play with metaphysics}

Prompt 12:This prompt has steps, and you have to do them in order. Don’t look ahead to the next step before completing the previous one. 1. Grab a book off a shelf at random. 2. Read the first line of the book and the last line of the book. 3. Pick one of them. 4. You have to use every single word in this line in a poem. Those words can be used at any point in the poem.

From: “On Poetic Imagination and Reverie” by Gaston Bachelard

To play with being and non-being, starting from a trifle, from a flame – perhaps merely an imagined flame – is for a philosopher a beautiful instance of illustrated metaphysics.”

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{To play with metaphysics}

To play with metaphysics,

is that beautiful trifle sitting there a work of art?

manifested from an altered state?

the starting point of a flame?

Or, merely a concrete object,

existing to appease the gastric senses?

Then, perhaps an imagined blob

illustrated by the unconscious in a dream interpretation?

In this reverie,

where does being begin and non- being end?

In any instance, the philosopher

can masterfully conjure up from imagination

with gusto, desire and flame of intellect –

a glimpse of the unknown.

For isn’t the quantum field exactly that?

An endless, spontaneous source of possibility?

Poem 11 | {The Garden of Earthly Delights}

Prompt 11: Write a poem about or set in a place you have never been to. It could be a real concrete location, or something more metaphorical, imaginary or fictional – somewhere over the rainbow comes to mind.

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{The Garden of Earthly Delights}

In the garden of earthly delights

The yellow roses grow wild and free

Unattended they flourish bright spring sunlight

Petals strewn by the wind in gay reverie

In profusion they sing to the clouds above

Though nothing compares to the single rose

Brought to me on the wings of love

by the lover of mine who providence chose

In the garden of earthly delights

Ribbons of remembrance gaily flutter

A heartland rich with heavenly scent

Encircling the words we once feared to utter

Liberation is ours if we only embraced it

The way to the heart is open and fair

A mending of minds if only we faced it

The cure for all evils is kindness and care

Poem 10 | {Infinite Universe}

Prompt 10: Please listen to Moonshadow by Cat Stevens (Here’s the handy Youtube link) and then write a poem as soon as the song ends.

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{Infinite Universe}

I was born searching for my star and was offered this galaxy

It was almost too much to cope with at times

And me, just the tiniest speck amid this vast gathering

Way too minute to register on the universal radar

Insignificant but, breathing all the same

My steady lup dup heart mimicking the pulsing of distant unknown stars

Protons, electrons and neutrons circling each other

Repelling, attracting, pinging

All vying in a game of one-upmanship

Different formula, same dance moves

conjuring up the next spontaneous combustion

A big bang

A tiny pop

An apocalypse perhaps

Every now and then unexpected turbulence or, a devastation

Perhaps a sixth dimension intervention

Exquisite, ephemeral, eternal, ineffable

I was born searching for my star

Was offered this galaxy

And ended up with an infinite universe

Poem 9 | {That mask you wear}

Prompt 9: Write a poem containing at least five of the following ten words. If you want it can include all ten words. If this prompt seems at all familiar, it is probably because we do it every year, just with different words.Heat/Cottage/Firefly/Bottle/Mask/Porridge/Zoom/Lethargy/Strange/

That mask you wear

behind whose your eyes do blindly stare

they seem to zoom into an empty place

where you live that strange existence

like a firefly trapped on a glued surface

succumbing to the inevitable.

The last time I saw you at the cottage

you were hovering on the treeline of insanity

an empty bourbon bottle on the floor

another one half full on the table

and lethargy filled the room

like a belly full up with the morning’s porridge.

I had tried to get through to you

to pierce the disquiet and pull you back

but all you did was mumble incoherently

punctured with a stony silence.

This time would I intervene?

How would that be?

Would it permanently sever us?

In the end I had decided to leave

and hope that you would survive to sit this one out.

Until next time..

Poem 8 | {I had to give up}

{I had to give up}

I had to give up yearning for you

to come back to a shared reality

in which a more objective view was mutual

and as good as it ever would be

If I clung to the moments when you had some balance

in no time would come the brooding dark absence

evoking disdain, displeasure and defence

And then I would only suffer anguish again

If I had not given up yearning for you

to return to a tenuous pseudo norm

I would be tipped as you tip within that cycle of yours

Suffering would be mine as I’m weathering your storm

I had to give up yearning for you to be alright

and learn to buffer me against your moody endless flight

but sometimes I forget that you’re rarely that well

and that is a sadness I must reconcile with – your hell.

Poem 7 | {Season of the Unrest}

Prompt 7: Write a poem titled Season of the (fill in the blank). Then fill in the blank could be a reference, it could be an actual season, it could be something abstract, or concrete, anything you want. The key is to write a poem that matches, or interacts with that title.

{Season of the Unrest}

We are disturbed

by uncertainty

by change

there is upheaval

a plague is ravaging the lands

fear is invading the small minds of beings

the race is threatened with scourge

reactions are varied and confronting

some turn to fight an unknown enemy

whilst others turn on themselves

they fight the system

they fight their brothers and sisters

fear and ignorance is rife

misaligned rights are demanded

leaders are struggling and inept

oppression invades the collective consciousness

the ancestors watch amused

such antics on this earthly plane

they nod wisely then

turn and continue their walk

through the season of unrest

Poem 6 | {Ideal Day}

Prompt 6: Write about your ideal day using only imagery and sensory details. It is fine if it is fragmentary.

{Ideal Day}

Sunrise is strewn with brilliant pink and orange hues

Thick mist floats across the ancient cape

Salt smell drifts over the lush green paddocks

Soft sand crunches under my bare feet

The dogs, keen and eager, pull for adventure

My eyes are taking in the magnificence

My lungs are inhaling the freedom

I’m writing the landscape – I’m capturing the imagery

I’m attempting to express the ineffable –

the essence, the emotion, the interconnection

between an insignificant sentient being

and a vast and wondrous environment.

Poem 5 | {Anguished}

Prompt 5: Using one or more of these images as a jumping off point, write a poem. All of the images are sourced from Unplash.

{Anguished}

There’s a helluva lot of anguished souls up there

Wondering what had hit them

Overtaken by this novel virus

Stricken, incapacitated and scared

Their last moments on earth spent

with crackling lungs and a feverish body

Shuffling off the earthly coil

with not a loved one in sight

And meanwhile the rest of us

live tormented by the overwhelm

and wonder who will be next to go

The anguished souls turn their backs

The earthbound pray for respite

Mother earth lets out a long slow sigh

and with a wry smile says:

“That’ll teach you now, won’t it?”