The Poetry Marathon

I have sat so long at this broke piano

my fingers are numb, my body hollow.

Void of all meaning, without any words,

Once strong emotions now cease to serge.

Yet my autumn song is crisp and clear,

even though it doesn’t sound in any ear.

City of stars steps out in a counterpoint dance,

given the night’s mellow tones yet another chance.

Doubly debonair, what a pair we will make,

again, shining with the stars until daybreak.

Contrary moods beset us each blessed night,

going from sprightly to methodical

dirge then back again now a melodic song–

a sad tune without words all so deep & strong.

Contrasting moods move us at a lively pace.

Gone is the workaday routine we embrace.

Don’t spare caresses!  Fill me with your kisses.

A new day dawns, so we don’t want to miss it.

“And miles to go before I sleep”:

A league of tasks light and deep,

Must errands to run without delay,

Multi-tasking without thanks or pay:

Noses wiped, shoes tied, tears dried,

Fights stopped, yet I’m sorely tried.

Of course, the photocopier’s jammed!

Sometimes, such little things overwhelm.

Papers to grade, meetings to attend!

Tonight, our team plays.  Will we win?

E-mails to answer, enter those grades!

Bill is failing! His dad’s enraged.

But Ann and Tim were extra clever,

And Raul, he disappoints–never!

Finally, in bed by eleven.

Saturday, I’ll sleep ’til seven.

I’m nearly weightless–

Floating, luxuriating

in a warm, dark bath.

Solitary, yet

at play, rolling and kicking,

even grabbing my toes.

Occasionally,

in the murky fog, taking

in fluid, hiccupping,

I’ve been very safe here

quite some time, and yet

my time has now come.

Suddenly, the walls

quake, and I start hurdling

down a narrow tunnel.

Oblivion, birth?

Yet I been thinking, feeling

a very long, long time.

Upon looking at some old photographs,

I glanced upon a college friend,

a David Bowie twin whose

conspiratorial

smiles hid a dry wit

and easy grace.

Now he’s dead—

died of

AIDS.

In Idaho, some twenty-years ago, I chanced upon a moldy, old high school beau,

A forest ranger in rubber gumboots with forty-something, middle-aged spread

(Acknowledging old girl friends from more than a while ago engenders dread)

with yellow hair graying, and eyes no longer that exact shade of periwinkle blue.

For time does cloud the vision of old flames, for I’m surely likewise not the same.

His heart didn’t skip a beat; he didn’t hear me call his name and sounded retreat.

I’d like to share an Epiphany just before the Carnival season begins:

Sainted, wise virgins will contend it’s best to wait for truly wise men,

for upon January 6^th, several Magi upon Bethlehem did descend,

bearing gifts for the Christ Child of gold, frankincense, and myrrh,

while on this day, some followers of Jesus His baptism recall.

Of course, after lamenting their indebtedness and paying arrears,

most Post Moderns lament getting rid of the tree so late in the year.

Do you hanker after being on Fortune’s100, a zillionaire entrepreneur—

Like a Steve Jobs, a Bill Gates, a Jeff Bezos, and a Mark Zuckerberg?

Do you wish to be extraordinarily worthy if you’re really very nerdy?

Sure, you have an E.E. M.S. degree from Berkeley, Harvard, or even M.I.T.,

But here’s a nano-warning, as Melissa Gates explains, alimony is alarming.

Remember now this cliche, “Don’t count your chickens before the hatch”

Else adultery and a friendship with an Epstein from victory will snatch.

Do you see yourself an American princess, an uber-woke Grace Kelly?

Even if an aging D-list cable-TV actress, why oh why dream of such folly.

Then marry the dim-witted second son of the British Royal Family,

But beware, telling lies to Oprah and bullying the staff ends in calamity.

Five Bennett daughters desperately wish to wed

From an entailed estate that worries Dear Old Dad.

Gentle Jane, the family’s beauty, she’s quite a catch,

So suave and wealthy Bingley she soon does snatch.

Lizzie, Pride and Prejudice’s heroine, first eschews

Uppity Mr. Darcy, Bingley’s chum, a handsome parvenu.

Whereupon Wicked Whickam whisks air-head Lydia away,

But Darcy intervenes with a stash of cash, saving the day.

Upon visiting with her Aunt and Uncle Darcy’s estate,

Lizzie discovers how wealthy he is and thinks he’s great.

In the end, Darcy and Ms. Elizabeth Bennett do marry.

When Regency girls spotted their prey, they didn’t tarry.

98.6 degrees with nary a cough, sniffle, or a sneeze

While wearing a mask, isolating, worrying about disease,

Having below120 systolic and 90 diastolic blood pressure,

A heart that makes between 60 and 100 beats per minute,

Not working at the office eight hours, but time spent at “leisure”

Allows for interference in thinking what one does please.

What Brave New World has such Orwellian creatures in it.

Six hours and forty-two minutes a day adults spent Online.

An average Intelligence quotient score between 90 and 109,

Below 238 words per minute read by dropouts and thugs

While not exactly Mensa doesn’t call for pulling the plug.

An average lifespan three-years short of eighty for men

With several years of incontinence–a market for Depends–

With 15 years to relax, live out one’s income, and decline