The Poetry Marathon

Hidden in the ground

Alabaster rests dormant

An unknown treasure.

I’m taking a walk.

I’ve got it all planned

Up the street

and over to Jan’s.

If she’ll walk with me,

we’ll go pick up Pete

if he is not asleep.

We will walk to the hill

the one over by Bill’s.

We’ll lay down on the ground

and look up at the sky

and watch the full moon

start slipping on by.

The walk wasn’t long

and we all made it back

to our homes and our beds

and our tiny night snacks.

A little cottage garden

is a charming place to be

colors softly drifting

flowers gently scenting

roses, lavender, and honeysuckle vines

and the spicey fragrance

of herbs basking in the sun.

It is a messed up mix

but its grace and charm

calm my weariness.

A place to walk, a stone laid path

a yellow rose covered arbor

and a rustic bench where I can sit

and perhaps

talk to God.

My book of rhymes

is missing.

It has the words I need

to write a perfect poem

of a hero and his steed.

Writing now is very slow,

words refuse to flow.

My adventuring hero is running late.

Nothing seems to rhyme

and I am trying to update

but he might not get there in time.

He might not get the prize,

whatever that might be,

all because my book of rhymes

is missing.

You amaze me little boy

with all the things you do

like an architect you build castles and space ships

like a painter you dabble in abstract forms and colors

like a race car driver you never give up till you win.

You amaze me little boy

with your kindness extraordinaire

given without any reason

with your laughter that booms out

of your young mouth

with your persistence to do things right.

You amaze me little boy

mostly because you are you

and I, yes I want to be like you.

I like coffee

I like tea

wait …

no, no I don’t like tea

but I like a bunch of stuff

and I like me.

the gumball machine belonged to my sis.

i wanted it, but more than this

i wanted what was in it,

she never let me have.

one night i took the machine

and smilingly said

you can have it back when i’m dead.

she got that look in her eye

you know the one

and i felt some regret

but the deed was done.

i smiled again

and began to run

straight to the shed.

i don’t know what was in my head

but she cornered me there

and took the machine,

opened it up and said

lets share.

My air conditioner is a window unit

and if I didn’t rent

I think that I would shoot it.

Its loud and noisy

and I can’t bear it.

It doesn’t cool anywhere. It

seems to hate me.

My ears are rattled

and myself is sweating.

I don’t know but

maybe I am just getting

old.

Sometimes

I worry too much.

Sometimes I forget

to sing and dance.

Sometimes the weight of everything

is too much.

But I have heard a word that gives me hope.

Joy and laughter are a result of obedience to God’s word.

I would rather have joy

and laughter.

My Dad said to me,

“Good morning, Morning Glory!”

Now a memory.