The Poetry Marathon

Twenty Roadrunners

(Based on the poem “Twenty Froggies” by George Cooper)

Twenty roadrunners went to school
Where the desert heat is cruel
Twenty feather coats so trim
Twenty tails so straight and prim

“We are responsible,” said they.
“Respectful and safe in every way;
This is what we know is true
At our school of Pleasant View.”

All the teachers, kind but firm
Gave the chicks a lot to learn
Taught them how to read and write
And found their students very bright

Taught them math and science too
Were proud of how the small chicks grew
Saw them leave for bigger things
Roadrunners now could spread their wings

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The prompt made me think of the poem Twenty Froggies. I decided to borrow that format, but write it about my school Pleasant View with our mascot the Roadrunners.
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Here’s a link to the original poem: https://www.mamalisa.com/?t=es&p=3358

85 Closets

On the boulevard of my mind
Sits my dream house, so refined

A skylight is above my bed
A kitchen done in black and red

A pool, of course, a hot tub too
Libraries, yes, one or two

And closets? Yes please, just a few
Eighty-five or sixty-two

One just for my silky nightgowns
One for black shoes, one for brown

One for Christmas wreaths and lights
One for summer toys and kites

One for dishes I don’t need
One for books I should reread

One for stones that I find quaint
One for buckets of old paint

One for string to short to save
One for kids who misbehave

The others will find a purpose when
I buy more useless stuff again

When building castles in the air
Have extra storage space to spare

Ribbons

Ribbons of light hung in the air
Swooping from pole to pole
Stretching high across the sky
Drawing the eye upward

The power lines above the construction site
Reflect the golden rays from the setting sun
I tell myself it has no right to be beautiful
But it is

They Sent Me To Fetch The Cow

Come, Cow

Come Bossy, come Bessy, come Cow
Come on, now.

Come Cow. My dinner is waiting and I am hungry.
Come now so I can go and eat.

Come Bossy, come.
The sun is sinking fast over the mountain.
My dinner is waiting and so is yours.
Come.

Come Bessy, come with me, home to your stable.
Fresh hay for your bed, fresh water to drink.
Safe and warm.
Come cow.

I will give you a turnip.

Come Cow. The sun is sliding quickly away.
You will stumble in the dark and break your leg.
Then what will they say to me?

Come Bessy, Come Bossy, Come
Think of your stable, cozy and warm.
Think of the hay there.
Think of my sweet bed with the snow-white sheets.
Mother has embroidered flowers on my pillow covering.
I love the sinking softness of my bed.
I wish for it so.
Come!

COME!

You do not want to be out here when the sun has slid away.
The night creatures will come.
Wolves. Bears. Maybe monsters.
Perhaps there are monster that like to eat brown cows such as yourself.
Or small children such as me.
Oh, I do not know the way in the dark!
How will I find my way if you do not come?
COME THIS INSTANT!

Bossy, please? Please come.

I swear I will give you a turnip, but only if you come right now.

Fine.

Fine, I say.

FINE!

I am leaving without you!
Who cares what they will say.
Who cares how they will punish me.
I hate cows, anyway.

Good luck with whatever comes to eat you, stupid cow.

Goodbye forever.

*cowbell*

Oh, so you decided to come after all? Fine.

Good cow.

Jacket

That jacket
The one you wore throughout your childhood
Beet red
Rips at the collar and elbow
A black elk head emblazoned on the back

I see it still
See you in it the night you stole the lightbulb from the carport
Not considering our fort in the woods had no electricity
Your bright red jacket could have been a dead giveaway
But you were always too quick to get caught

I remember the bait you carried in that rusted old bucket
Beet red jacket trudging down the path
Thinking you were going to fish in the bayou
Without a pole, or net, or boat
Just a pailful of smelly old worms

I’d share my stash of Halloween candy with you
Your costume that year a biker in a red jacket
You said you liked the cinnamon ones best
But was that just because you knew I didn’t like them?
You seemed only to have whatever was left over

I remember your tremor when the streetlights came on
Knowing you were expected home
I thought it was leaving play behind that upset you
Never knowing it was the idea of home that made you shake

I wish I had that jacket now
I could sew the torn places for you
Make it look as sharp as you deserve
But nothing can fix what happened to you
And you don’t need a jacket anymore

Solar Impact

Morning light creeps between the slats of blinds
It tumbles over the window sill
It puddles on the floor

Morning light seeks the dusty corners
Illuminating unswept recesses
Pointing its shameful finger

Morning light shimmers off surfaces
Blooms like algae
Occupies all the space

Morning light pries at my eyelids
Insistently buffets my face
Screams at me – Get Up!

Morning light, go feed the plants
Go warm the earth
Let me sleep

Rose-of-Sharon

In the blooms of the Rose-of-Sharon
The stripped bees creep
Their black bottoms wiggle
As they seep in the sweet nectar

The black swallowtail butterfly
In the blooms of the Rose-of-Sharon
Stays but a fraction of a second
A quick drink before fluttering away

Alighting from branch to branch
The ruby throated hummingbird seeks
In the blooms of the Rose-of-Sharon
A little ambrosia from each

The blossoms are tired and few this year
Yet the visitors are many and eager
I wonder that there is nectar enough
In the blooms of the Rose-of-Sharon

Report From The Edge

I didn’t want to come
I’m not the adventurer type
and I’ve heard that the winds at the Edge are fierce
sometimes 50 or 60 miles an hour!
People have been swept over
never to be heard from again
But, “It’s the chance of a lifetime!”
So we went

Just the journey was as rigorous as you might suppose
Each step one level more removed from society
more rural, more cumbersome
Jet plane to train to barge to mule team
And I, as you may have suspected, didn’t complain
Once I agree to something my doggedness in incomparable
But inside
my unease grew with every mile

Then, last evening, we were there
After trudging through the heather
-which I really quite liked –
The rim was ahead of us
a rocky, jagged rim of stone and then
Nothing

I felt myself rooted to the ground
safe in that one spot
knowing one step more was impossible
I heard the cascade of water tumbling over
like it was in some distant space in my head
Saw the rising mist
the kestrels dipping and diving beyond the drop off
Tasted panic in my mouth

I saw Paul and the boys kneeling on that delicate rim
talking, gesturing, laughing
I turned
walking back to a spot where I could no longer hear
no longer see the Edge
Picking a bouquet of yellow grassflowers as I waited

So goes my report from The Edge
I fear I shall have disappointed you as well

A Mystery at the Cottage in the Wood

Who’s been eating our porridge?
Who has broken this chair?
The victims gathered evidence
Meticulous with care

From the spoon they lifted fingerprints
Took splinters from the chair
Could they obtain DNA
From that strand of yellow hair?

But wait! Are those footprints
Leading up the stair?
Look! A lump on Baby’s bed!
What’s hiding under there?

It will not end so happily
For the girl with golden hair
This evidence collected says
She hasn’t got a prayer.