The Poetry Marathon

I made my way down to the stream
I wanted some time to loaf and dream
I settled myself upon the bank
Stared at the water, giving thanks.
A shadow suddenly darted nearby
The edge of the stream where I lie
I leaned down for a better look
Carefully set aside my book.
With a furrowed brow, I saw a trout
Disturbing my peaceful time, no doubt.
I got to my knees, leaning low
Reached down my hand, in the water just so.
I slowly wriggled my fingers just like bait,
Near the fish, not a moment to late.
He swished his way through the water clear
Closer and closer, he got very near.
With a daring grasp, I got that fish
He will make such a wonderful dish
With my hands in the water, I was befuddled
How I caught that fish, how I learned to guddle.

The nature of hills

Burned up chrome

Aspiring to the high plains

Sun glare drowned in the surface

And black flows after rains.

In the small valleys

Evaporating levels of dry lakes are

Steep, heavy, dark and bitter with the deposits

A thin crust lies over the area

The wastes to the sand shows the sculpture

More storms scar them

And the desert edges are famed at last.

A hill expects to depend upon

For they are slow

Here the hot death rolling where always

A heavy dust

Whirling into the earth or called for violence

Lost in love, yet visited inevitably

If not so little of it.

From: The Land With Little Rain by Mary Austin

To Deanna, the Young Mom,

Chin up my dear, it’s tough I know
If anyone knows that it’s me.
To have a child who is always sick
Another with a disAbility.
Take the journey day by day
Learn all you can know
It is perfectly okay to cry in the night
For the life you won’t ever know.
What might surprise you, my sweet
Is the life that you WILL know
A life that’s full of happy things
In spite of your time in the lows.
The boys will be just fine
With typical woes mostly
A few things that might shock you
But life is like that, you see.
When the children are all grown
You will find the freedom to soar.
You will go back to school in your 40’s
In order to learn some more.
A job will come your way, my friend
That will answer that yearning call
A job of helping others
In the journey you have already walked.

With lots of love,

From Deanna, the Older Mom

I stand in the light of moonbeam
I slowly survey the dock
My gaze it turns into the fog
It sees the shadow of a concrete rock.
I take a sip of my coffee
From my battered, metal canteen
I stealthily move beneath a fir tree
To better hear what I think I’ve seen.
Hush! I tell the night sounds
So they don’t hide the noise
Of something crashing through the fir trees
Is it animal or is it boys?
I place my coffee on a shelf
Softly laughing at my fears
Because damn if that noise isn’t what I thought
But just a couple of deers.

Our planet is being destroyed
In rocks and fire and flame
The moon itself has ceased to exist
The why leaves us no one to blame.
Only a few of the people who live
Will have the chance to survive.
They will live and work in space
In a station for the rest of their lives.
Many conflicts arise in space
Lives and order torn apart.
The men and women on the ship
Have to make a brand new start.
No help will come from the planet
The world they knew is gone.
No help will come from anywhere
Nothing left of all they’ve known.
Time flies on and eventually 
Eight women left to keep the race
Alive and well and going on
Though one can only help the pace.
The seven women push humankind
Into the next centuries…
     Then milleniums.
In the distant future, the human race survives
Thanks to the seven eves efforts
Who ensured it with their lives.
The planet is finally habitable
And so some people go
Down to the surface far from space
To see what they can know.
A lot of change has happened
And the people are aware
How those seven women gave all
For a world that was no longer there.

Many things I treasure
Strong coffee, family, and love
Puppies and babies.

Other things are less a pleasure
Smelly socks, onions, and rudeness
Durian and hate.

….the feels are so intense.

I am strolling down a country road
With good friends by my side.
Knapsack in hand, we are going down
For camping, a feeling full of pride.
The days of summer are waning,
But we still have lots of time
To wade into the rushing rivers
To not would be a crime.
Simple silence surrounds us
To talk would break the spell
Of our youthful togetherness
The tales we cannot wait to tell.
No adults surround us now
To clutter up our plans
We simply walk the country road
Swinging our unclenched hands.
The thoughts that race through our youthful minds
Are full of adventure and glory
We turn off the country road
To start the next part of our story.
We find a shaded glade of trees
Next to a dappled stream
We set up camp in which we will
Begin to live our dream.
The talk begins to sprinkle amongst us
Gently bringing on the laughter
Slowly the conversation increases
The camaraderie we sought after.
As the sun begins to set
Over our primitive campsite
We sit side by side to watch the stars
Their brightness not hindered by firelight.
We settle in, a group of friends
In who time has not started to chide
We share our dreams, our hopes, our fears
And enjoy life’s glorious ride.

I look from the outside, trying to get in
All I can see are the people inside.
Having such fun, laughing, grins
Out of sight, I am out of mind.
Tears they stream across my cheeks
I reach out a lonely hand
I touch the glass of the window
Attention! my actions demand.
Alas, there is naught coming to me
A bleak existence, just that.
I search for an opening into the room
In despair, I realize I can’t.

The eyes are everywhere
Daring…
Glaring…
Faces at the windows
Staring…
Despairing…
Curled up in bed I hear your breath
Softly rumbling, sound of death
My head upon the pillow lies
In the dim light, a shadow flies.
My bladder aches, but I don’t dare
Get out of bed, I am too scared
The atmosphere is full of hate
I just can’t believe this is my fate.
I tremble inside, sheets up to my chin
I see the people, won’t let them in.
I whimper softly, eyes open wide
I know that there is no place to hide.
Walking sounds outside the door
I hear footsteps cross the floor.
A creak…
A snap…
A squeak…
A clap…
This house it’s called a place of Zen
I won’t dare stay here again.

Exhaustion lingers in my soul.
My bones are leaden, my muscles jello
My body aches, my minds a troll
I’m not even feeling mellow.
My eyes they sting, each breath burns
I feel my brain begin to quiver
I give out, get no returns
My entire being starts to shiver.
With every thought, I want to scream
Even speaking is a chore
Each tired glance is a bad dream
I give up, I hit the floor.