The Poetry Marathon

How can one describe what’s empty and what’s void?

To those who’ve never seen it, what use does it afford?

There is only One, who knows just how it was,

And believing what He did, takes faith in things above.

For God commanded all that there is now, to come to be,

And He set things in motion from His eternity.

The only way to see what’s not, is to see it as of now,

And erase the very thought of it; remove, if thought allows.

The only way I know to describe the awful place

Is a lonesome avenue that stretches far through heaven’s space.

Or a black hole that collapses–what does that even mean?

Such knowledge is too great for a human mind, less keen.

I am feeling homesick for a land I used to know;

It was the land my mother knew; in her time of youth did grow.

Her journey took her far from there, to move into the city,

But her heart always felt at home where crickets played their ditty.

Often times the city life would cave right in on her,

And she just felt as lost as an abandoned bird.

We would visit there, gathering blackberries from their bush,

And we would always hear the loud, dry leaves from autumn, crush.

It was always hard to see those hills covered in snow,

For backroads were not cleared, save from the sunlight’s glow.

But when the winter broke, and springtime came acallin’

You would find us there, when new life burst forth with bawlin’.

My Mother would linger far in walks along the land,

And climb the hill to decorate the graves of those so grand.

Sometimes I would go with her, and hear her stories well,

Of the land that held her heart and bore her footprints in its dell.

I must go back and visit soon, without my Mother’s lead–

For she has joined those grand ones, but the land remembers me.

I hear you are in business, and women are your aim

To dress their heads in beauty, with headgear made of fame!

I’m sure you’ll do quite well, for some women love to wear

A headdress that will flatter and show them off with flare.

Will it be a hat with ribbons and a bow?

Or maybe it is made of straw to wear for shade, you know?

Will it be a scarf tied round with beads or such?

Or will it be a headband decorated with your touch?

I’m sure whatever you create will be talk of the town

When ladies wear your special one that fits as if a crown.

(Original poem) The Gift, by Ed Ringer, from Mature Living/June 2019:

The ocean has a job to do,

Pushing toward its goal.

It moves at God’s direction

To wash my mind and soul.

The sand that sweeps between my toes,

The roaring in my ears–

The simple message from my God

That erases all my fears.

Each wave that rolls upon the shore

Rolls out with parts of me.

It slowly cleanses to my core

All of life’s impurity.

Foolish man, O foolish man,

I seldom heed the call

To just give up my problems

To the One who solves them all.

I must come back; I must come back

Each day to walk its shore

To take advantage of this gift

To love the Giver more.

My Erasures of “The Gift” by Ed Ringer from Mature Living/June 2019:

The green tree has a job to do,

Important for our health.

It was taught by God above

To fix our air as wealth.

The breeze that flows upon my brow

Full of oxygen I need,

Is given off from his green trees

For breath, for life, indeed.

And just as we are partners

In this game of life,

We also help the trees

Exhaling wasted blight.

The trees need carbon dioxide

To keep their system strong,

So God devised the plan

To work together, long.

Foolish man, O foolish man,

Could never have devised

A plan so unbelievable

In God’s thoughts, very wise.

I must take care; I must take care

Of earth, and all He made,

For He made everything with care

And care by me, he bade.

How I’d like to go back and talk to my fat self–

The one who sat all alone, like a book upon a shelf.

I’d tell that unknown beauty of a secret she’d soon know

That fixed the problem she endures, that burdens like a foe:

The diet you eat now, is loaded down with carbs

That piles on fat-filled layers, we cover up with garbs.

That diet leads you to a stroke, diabetes, heart too fast–

But then you’ll finally learn how to tame that beast, at last.

You will become determined to learn all that you can

To feed your body properly, and fix a new meal plan.

And then, your weight will drop a hundred pounds, and more!

You’ll be wearing clothes like you never dreamed, for sure!

But the news that’s best of all, is your health takes a turn–

That diabetes takes a hike; sure glad you finally learned!

So learn from my mistakes, and do yourself a favor:

Change your diet now, to a new plan you will savor.

We sat upon the bench,

Upon the rise of hill;

So quiet was the hush

Of morning, very still.

A sip of coffee, hot,

Helping rid the chill

Of foggy morning air;

A peaceful time, until…

A boat that moved too fast

Hit hard the wooden dock,

Upsetting several fishermen

With tackle gear, unlocked.

Their screams were heard so loud

As they began to see

The fish they’d laid upon the shelf–

A floating feast, to be!

Standing by her bedside

Life ebbing away

Her chest–rising, falling.

Heart slowing down

Holding her hand;

Prayers for peaceful passing.

The monitor is beeping

Time stands still;

Her forehead relaxes.

Nurses nod their heads;

Gone forever, now.

Imagining her welcome.

Gathering my thoughts;

Aching so intense–

How to go on now?

Breathe in, breathe out.

Lungs full, lungs empty.

Repeat, repeat, repeat.

The keys, some are white;

Black, the others be.

Major combinations.

Some like their music loud;

Others soft and tender.

Jazz, rock, country twang

…All in tune, with me.

Old times were the very best

Cornfields, and barns with hens

That gave our breakfast, fresh;

Life was simpler then.

The water well was ready

To fill the pitcher full.

The stream was full of frogs

That croaked and senses lulled.

Lightening bugs in a jar–

We kept, then raised the lid

To let them join the others

In flight to where they hid.

Clothes were hanging on the line

To dry in breeze of air;

Nothing ever smelled so fresh

As clean sheets dried so fair!

Lard was in the bucket

To fry the chicken, crisp–

No worries of clogged arteries:

Real butter, churned by Sis.

Homemade ice cream made so sweet

With salt packed tight around it,

We’d turn, and turn, and turn some more

Waiting for the taste: a hit!

Modern days are filled with speed

And great technology,

But nothing beats the good ol’ days

When shooting stars we’d see.

Here I am, with all hope well gone

Of ever escaping this trap;

No home, no car, no money–

Alone; my faith as been zapped.

How will I ever move forward?

Deep fear and despair grip my heart.

I only expect falling downhill,

And I’m looking forward to naught.

Is there any hope for a sad song?

Can there be relief from dismay?

Can charity give way to joyful?

Can love make a difference today?

Put one foot in front of the other.

Take a step; no matter how small,

To pull yourself out of your doldrums–

This trap’s door surely will fall.

There are people around who are smiling;

Latch on, and learn well their life.

See what they have that brings joy,

Then set new goals in your sight.