The Poetry Marathon

Sometimes I think you do not know.

Sometimes, I think… You do.

Sometimes I think I have to tell.

Sometimes, I think… You, too.

He licked her toes and she laughed

giggling in his softness

squirming beneath her

they sighed.

later,

she stroked him ’til they kissed

nestled next to each other

rumbling beside her

they grinned together.

looking into his deep sparkling eyes

she whispered…

(I love you, you silly cat)

eee

eeeee

cummings??

(how so?)

sometimes when i look into your eyes…

(how could i have thought they were blue

when they are so very, very green?)

…or listen to the slide of your voice…

…or feel the touch of your hand on my shoulder…

sometimes i am amazed at how well you know me, and how

comfortable i am telling you all my scary things

in the quiet moments of our day…

Viva Sweet Love!!

By this music would I love you

gently

sweetly

slowly

(ever so slowly)

I would love you deliciously

fingertips on fire

eyes closed

lips parted

tempted by the taste of you

teasingly

then lovingly

sensuously

torturously

joyously

I would love you

love you

love you

love

you

Until the end of time

(and beyond)

You.

Life truly begins after you have put your house in order…

Sitting here

the pounding of the surf

the sucking of the sand

at my toes

the warmth on my back

blue skies in my eyes

and sweet sunny original you.

I smile with remembering

as I go about my day

sitting here

without you.

(Soon…)

~First line of poem is last line of last chapter of “the life~changing magic of tidying up” by Marie Kondo.

oh, how you terrify me!

(do you have any idea

how much of my heart

you could waltz through

if you only paused briefly

to listen to my music?)

Would I save my soul if I could

from this fire smouldering in me

anger

burning gnawing seething anger

orange fire burning red

smoking from my singed heart

white hot

I burn blue and cry

great tears squeezed from the depths of hell

my childhood

I would not save that from a fire.

 I need some time

some tiiime

some tiiimmme

(sometime)

She screamed into the night

from the corners of her mind

softly

so softly it hurt

hurt her heart

hurt her heart deep

(no time for sestina)

*weep*

Beautiful dreamer

perhaps someday

you will put away your toys

and in your flickering memory

reach

to find an old tin photograph

warm

with rich, glowing images

ever fading

and hold it to your heart

and whisper

that could have been us…

green beans sliding down the wall

homework floating in the tub

and you, Dad

with your feet in the car

upside down

your face in the grass

dome light on for all the world to see

the glitter of the can in your hand

the can on the lawn

under the seat I see

one can, two cans, three…

my Mother

and Me

as we drag you in

night after night

and you smile in your sleep

and you snore

and you never remember, Dad.

…you never remember.

I hate green beans.