The Poetry Marathon

Image Courtesy of Pixabay

With words so sweet, a honeyed tone,

My sister speaks, her contrite moan,

But hidden well, beneath her guise,

A subtle twist, veiled in her lies.

“Dear sibling,” she begins to say,

“I’m sorry for that fateful day,

When words were harsh, and tempers flared,

And your dear dog, I rudely stared.”

Her voice, so gentle, feigned remorse,

But watchful eyes, I stay on course,

For in her tone, a subtle smirk,

Her twisted scheme, a cunning quirk.

“I never meant to cause offense,

In my defense, I took no offense,

Your dog’s just fine, he’s quite alright,

A sturdy soul, despite the fight.”

A backhanded “sorry,” I perceive,

A dance of words, a web she’d weave,

She feigns remorse with utmost grace,

But in her heart, a different chase.

Her apology, a sly charade,

With hidden jabs, it’s well-played,

For though she claims to make amends,

Her true intent, she won’t amends.

So, sister dear, I see your game,

Your words may flicker like a flame,

But I’ll protect my loyal friend,

With love and care, until the end.

Your apology, though thinly veiled,

Will not leave me feeling derailed,

For in my dog’s unwavering eyes,

True love and trust, no need for lies.

Antoinette LeRoux © 2023

Image Courtesy of Pixabay

In shadows cast by moonlight’s glow,

A battle brews, emotions flow,

With trembling heart, I stand my ground,

In defense of my loyal hound.

My sister, dear, with furrowed brow,

Questions the way I care for now,

She claims my love is far too blind,

To see the truth of what’s behind.

But let me tell you, sister mine,

These canine eyes, they brightly shine,

With love that knows no bounds nor end,

A bond so deep, my dearest friend.

You see, I know he’s spoiled, it’s true,

A pampered pup, in all we do,

But in his eyes, I see the trust,

In me, he knows, he’s found his just.

He sleeps beside me, every night,

In darkness, his eyes still shining bright,

He listens to my whispered fears,

And licks away my salty tears.

In every wag, in every bark,

I find a piece of my own heart,

A love that’s pure, without disguise,

Unwavering, beneath the skies.

So, sister dear, before you judge,

Consider this, the deepest grudge,

For in my dog, I’ve found my grace,

A bond that time cannot erase.

I’ll cherish him, come what may,

Through sunny skies or stormy day,

In this potential fight, I’ll stand,

To protect my furry friend.

For he and I, we share a soul,

A love that makes us both feel whole,

And though you may not understand,

I’ll defend him, hand in hand.

Antoinette LeRoux © 2023

My head keeps falling on my keyboard, so I have no choice but to sleep a bit. Will catch up when I wake up at 10 am (It’s now almost 5 am). See you soon!

Ant

Image Courtesy of Pixabay

(No Redaction – No time since I woke from my accidental slumber a few minutes before the next prompt was due, lol!)

A red ball of fire lies low, aglow,

Upon an amber bank of clouds so high,

Hesitant to descend where shadows flow,

For countless times it’s graced the endless sky.

Then, in a graceful curtsey, it takes flight,

And coolness shrouds the earth, the day’s retreat,

Venus appears, a gleaming jewel of night,

With shy winks in the midnight’s dark, complete.

The moon’s bright disk now joins the nightly stage,

Bathing all in a silvery-blue embrace,

I wish to follow on this timeless page,

And join the moon in her celestial race.

Yet I remain, an earthbound, dreaming heart,

Yearning for the moon’s nightly, wondrous chart.

Antoinette LeRoux © 2023

Image Courtesy of Pixabay

In the world of freelance, we wage a wordy war,

With laptops as our weapons, we’re battling galore,

From coffee shops to couches, our offices on the roam,

We’re the sultans of syntax, in our linguistic home.

With deadlines as our drivers, we type away in glee,

Juggling multiple projects, like a caffeinated spree,

Our clients, oh so varied, from tech geeks to romance,

We scribble their dreams, in a wild wordy dance.

But don’t be fooled by glamour, it’s not all fancy flair,

There’s writer’s block to conquer, and blank screens to stare,

And when payday comes around, oh the thrill, the suspense,

Will our invoices get paid, or vanish, hence?

Yet despite the ups and downs, we persevere and jest,

For in this freelance journey, we find a quirky zest,

We’re wordsmiths and storytellers, in this wacky writing scheme,

With pens as our swords, we chase the writer’s dream!

Antoinette LeRoux © 2023

Image Courtesy of Pixabay

Life, a ceaseless puppetry unfolds its play,

Each marionette trapped in its private plight,

Acting out scenes, from dawn to fall of day,

With none escaping the puppeteer’s slight.

Invisible strings, our fates forever bind,

In life’s theater, we dangle and we sway,

Awaiting destiny, our hearts entwined,

In a drama where reason often goes astray.

Continuous defeat in life’s cruel game,

Confusing joys for cravings dark and base,

The threads that bind us, our enduring shame,

Closeted skeletons hide, leave no trace.

Selfishness reigns, we’re puppets in its thrall,

Escape eludes us, closet doors stand tall.

Antoinette LeRoux © 2023

Image by Tim Foster

In the heart of suburbia, a hidden gem lies. It’s an ordinary backyard, but when you step into it, it transforms into a miniature forest of wonder and harmony. A permaculture garden unlike any other.

Upon entering, you’re greeted by a lush canopy of fruit trees, their branches intertwining like old friends sharing secrets. These trees are not just trees; they are the guardians of this woodland, offering shade and sustenance to all who dwell here. A chorus of birdsong fills the air, as feathered inhabitants flit from branch to branch, creating a symphony of life.

The forest floor is a rich tapestry of colors and textures. Wildflowers of all shapes and sizes peek out from among the perennial herbs, creating a vibrant mosaic. Bees, butterflies, and other pollinators are drawn to this floral banquet, performing their delicate ballet, ensuring the garden’s abundant harvest.

Meandering pathways wind through this enchanting landscape, inviting you to explore further. As you walk, you’ll notice carefully placed rocks and logs, not just for decoration, but also for their role in retaining moisture, providing homes for beneficial insects, and contributing to the garden’s ecosystem.

In the heart of it all, a tranquil pond mirrors the sky above and provides a haven for frogs and dragonflies. It’s a microcosm of life, where water lilies bloom and tadpoles dart through the clear waters.

This permaculture garden is more than just a garden; it’s a testament to the intricate dance of nature and human ingenuity. It shows that within the confines of a suburban backyard, a harmonious forest ecosystem can thrive, where every element plays a part, and nothing goes to waste. It’s a place where the ordinary becomes extraordinary, and where the connection between people and the land is rekindled in a beautiful, sustainable symphony.

Antoinette LeRoux © 2023

Image Courtesy of Pixabay

What is love? A question often asked with sighs,

A mystery that dances in the moonlit skies,

Is it a fire that burns with fervent heat,

Or gentle whispers, soft and ever sweet?

It’s more than words, a language all its own,

A bond that in our hearts has deeply grown,

It’s sacrifice, a selfless, giving grace,

A smile that lights the darkest of a face.

Love is the sun that warms a winter’s day,

A guiding star that leads us on our way,

It’s in a touch, a hug, a simple kiss,

A cherished moment that we’ll never miss.

So, what is love? It’s life’s most precious art,

A gift we give and hold in every heart.

Antoinette LeRoux © 2023

Image Courtesy of Pixabay

Beneath a bayou’s tranquil, silent sway,

A jacketed elk at the break of day,

Tremors of nature in the water’s flow,

Where cinnamon sunsets cast their amber glow.

By the carport’s shade where the lightbulbs gleam,

An elk and a bucket, a tranquil dream,

Beside the bayou, under the moon’s embrace,

With an elbow’s touch and a gentle grace.

Antoinette LeRoux © 2023

Image Courtesy of Pixabay

(Not very musical, so I chose a Japanese Mondo Poem

Where does the river find its way,

Meandering through night and day,

Reflecting skies in tranquil blue,

Its course determined, strong and true.

In mountain’s heart, its source is found,

From melting snow on sacred ground,

Through valleys deep and forests grand,

The river flows, a life’s demand.

Antoinette LeRoux © 2023