The Poetry Marathon

A safari of sounds

When darkness is around

Craters that breathe

Suspended disbelief

Noxious smells

Imagination casting its spells

All is darkness in this space

Evening fog has set in

While everyone else is in bed

Rhyme schemes dance in my head

I’m sleepy and grumpy

And full of despair

Half-marathoners have no more cares

Five more hours to stay up

Five more poems yet to think

Five more hours of writing that really stinks

I lost my T-square

Searched the studio up and down

It’s nowhere to be found.

My “straight” lines go at a slant

Without that cap on top.

Draw a straight line— I can’t

Finally gave in and bought another.

Then found the first one on the counter.

Desktop organizer? Why bother?

I did not, repeat did not,

Sit on a tuffet.

I sat on a bench.

A bench, I tell you.

And this nonsense about curds and whey?

Have you ever tasted curds?

They may as well call it “squeaky cheese”—

It is not good.

And whey?

C’mon.

It’s disgusting.

And that spider?

I’m not afraid of some

Spider.

He may have startled me,

But I was not afraid.

I squashed him.

That Goose is a lyin’, flippin’ fowl

“Take me fishing, brothers

The gods promised a bountiful catch

But we must leave now.”

The four brothers paddled

a short distance from shore

When their longboat stops abruptly

“Row fast, harder.

I’ve caught a large one,”

The three oldest brothers row harder,

Not noticing the dropped anchor,

And the islands rising from the ocean.

The youngest brother turns

And looks at the chain of islands.

And smiles.

Aloha.

Down the creepy road,

She lived in the house

She had six children

But never a spouse

Under the rays of moonlight,

Beneath the beams of stars,

She crept outside

Wearing a raincoat, carrying a jar

She knelt on her knees and elbows

As she removed the jar from her coat

She captured a frog

Then penned a curious note

When she passed away

She left little behind

Six jars rested on bookshelf

Each tied with a card and signed

Light refracts predictably,

But Imagine what it would be

If it lined up in a pattern other than

Red, Orange, Yellow, Green . . . ?

Imagine a pallet

Where those colors choose a different path?

I’m not a scientist, but imagine that puzzling math.

Green next to orange?

Yellow next to purple?

That rainbow would suck.

Now I lay me down to sleep

All those dreams I wish to keep

My eyes close

But the movie plays

What treasures lie in my mind

Villainous gems too hazy to define

My eyes close

But the creatures snarl and stir

Universal conflicts are solved

All our mortal sins are absolved

My eyes close

But the science cures

Synapsis rage and fire

Planting seeds to inspire

My eyes close

But the engine burns

By the morning light

No memories remain in this twilight

My eyes open

The brilliance dies

Take my hand in yours

And sail away

To that distant shore

We’ll leave this black and white

We’ll leave by ocean

Let’s leave tonight

Through the window

We’ll find passage

We’ll find the light

Fight through the rain

Search through clouds

All to leave this town

Take my hand

And trust in me

Cerulean eyes

With the cold jolt of honesty

And cruelty

Murmured the words

Burnt Sienna

Could not understand,

“You don’t know what love is.”

And with those words,

The door closed between the two

But one remained

On both sides.

Nickel Gold Azo

Stood there,

In the shards of color,

His world

shattered.