The Poetry Marathon

I remember snow

Crunching under my boots

Forming it carefully into a snowball,

mittens become wet on my skin

as I threw it as hard as I could.

I remember building snow forts

With little tunnels

and seats too cold to sit on.

I remember sledding,

waxing the runners

speeding expertly

into my grandparents’ yard.

I remember Ice skating

trying to keep my ankles straight

while I attempted a figure 8

on the frozen tennis court.

I remember snowmen

built in the front yard, rolling the pieces

around the yard, over and over

making trails across the lawn.

I remember snow,

brutally pounding my skin in a blizzard

when my car broke down.

I remember shoveling walks laden heavy and deep

Filling back up as fast as I could empty them

I remember sliding through streetlights

Driving into snowbanks out of control

I remember snow,

glistening in sunlight

The softness of the snowfall in the silence of night

The reflection of Christmas Lights

I never miss the cold, the brutality

I miss the laughter

I miss the joy.

I remember snow in all its forms

The sound of crunching under my boots.

Here on Maui

The weather hasn’t made up its mind yet

Some rain, some wind,

Some stillness

Clouds hang low

With breaks of sky

The ocean is flat

The forecast is mildly hot

The day says be ready for anything

There will be surprises

The change will flow minute to minute

The palms sweep at the air

Latching on to what they can

The sun ascends

But hasn’t reached its zenith

We are tended to here

This day lives in inspiration

That is you and I

sitting on a bench

overlooking the ocean

and our lives.

We are growing old together

We know each other’s health struggles

We have matched strides and rhythms

Danced around each other’s shortcomings.

We have gazed at the moon

with love in our eyes

One day when walking is too much

Our heads bent towards each other

We shall sit on such a bench

Looking out onto the ocean

lost in our memories.

A million moments

Reflections of love.

Cat has come to visit.

He sits on my lap.

He wants attention

and to help me write.

He is tired of being ignored

by two poet parents

and their sudden love affair

with their computers.

He shares a purr

involuntarily,

he doesn’t like to give them away.

He seeks warmth, closeness

adoration.

Until he doesn’t.

A lone bird sings

Outside the window

A soft warble

That catches his ear

He listens, his ears attentive

But he is too relaxed

for hot pursuit

right now.

Noisy neighbors and my aching leg

Disturb the moment.

He gets up, licks himself,

settles back down

next to me.

He will allow me a pet or two.

He will share another brief purr.

We contemplate each other.

I write the poem.

He falls asleep.

I was sitting outside

In my old wooden chair

beneath my Grandfather’s Oak.

My own space of solitude.

I held my hardback on my lap.

It dangled precariously

a creased page

begging for my return.

I sipped on Chardonnay

The day fragrant and misty

The late afternoon silence

comforting, cradling me

A sunflower caught my eye

In nearly full bloom

Dancing in the stream of sunlight

It ducked, waved

It spun a perfect pirouette

I clapped involuntarily in response

The wine glass hitting the pavement

Shattering into a thousand purple fragments

that caught the sunlight,

Glittering, glistening

I let the wine seep into the cracks

Staining the cobblestone

Delighting a stream of ants

A hundred years ago

Women won the right to vote

White women, that is.

It was a start

But it was big, huge

Tremendous.

Yesterday rights

were stripped from us

Rights hard fought, hard won

Rights are tenable, tenuous

Because we are women

We are not allowed simple fights

We must claw, beg, cajole, demand, scream

We are born to hold a sign in protest

We fought for years

Just to have some backwards

white conservatives and

Uncle Clarence

Come for what we earned

This time, we will not

roll over,

even if it takes 100 years more

to achieve the rights

Others are granted at birth.

It is still nighttime

5 am here

Cat is confused

His people off schedule

Invading his quiet time

Just outside the window

I hear the ocean

Gently hitting the shore

A sound I barely notice

I can sense the moon disappearing

and the sun readying herself

for a glorious Maui day.

Cat jumps up

His fur lightly coated

A gentle rain greets this day

Full of promises and poems

Cat will adapt and inspire

Maui will caress with its beauty

The ocean will play its gentle percussion

The darkness will fade into light

Into darkness

Cat perches and chirps

Hassles me and bathes

Cat is the night, the rain, the quiet.

The sun will bring his naptime

I will poem through it all.

Miles to go before I sleep.

Whispers of words

Poems sliding into consciousness

I glide my fingers across the keyboard

Allowing them free reign

to do what they wish.

My mind is jumbled

With today’s news

Tomorrows promise

But today

I am poetry

A sing song palette

Words slinking, swaying,

Sorting themselves

22 Poems to go

Miles to go before I sleep

(Inspired by Robert Frost, Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening)

In the early morning hour

Darkness and silence

Settle on the world

I worship water

Soothing, sparkling

Coaxing me into awareness.

The giver of life

The sacred Wai

Tumbling gently

Over my tired, sore body

A daily christening

Resource of angels

Slowly flows down the drain

Hello everyone! Just posting to ensure everything works. So looking forward to this years marathon!