The Poetry Marathon

There are those dreary nights

When one swears to hear tapping

Out there, or in my beleaguered mind

Fear, isolation, and other destructive blights

Or is it a ghost

After all, I lived and loved

Made glaring mistakes in my lust

those of which I should not boast

The radiance, beauty and dare

That voice so wild and untamed

The way she entered the room

like a Greek statue, arms aflare

I keep hurdling in anxious temptation

Is there a greeting, within my tortured soul

My heart beating, in a doomful cry

the pounding, I fear, is my final Damnation

There is a rise in me

some misty apparition of hope

So I did take advantage of my aging feet

and checked the door to see

Before me, a milky darkness

There was silence, yet a silky flow

Strange threads of white

teasing me, and my moral starkness

Two golden wings appeared, waving

and then turned to black

Speeding off or disappearing

I could not tell in gasping breathes craving

The story was told

but the end was in my room

As I turned to see a wedding dress

tattered and cold

I too, am confused by the literary form

So undefined

A running of the mouth

without speaking, now that’s refined

Poetry, maybe there are things more important

And sometimes I read it in scorn

But then something overcomes me

and I find myself reborn

It seems so genuine

In a haphazard sort of way

Unless the poet is some kind of syllabic perfectionist

which to me, is a strange way to play

But I have done the 5-7-5-6 kind of thing

And yes, it was an adventure

A symbol of potential orderliness

along with a specific indenture

Some, I must say is unintelligible

I ask, a product of brilliance or fear

Spending hours extrapolating

looking for what might be clear

Buy yeah… this is not the purpose

It’s an exercise in creativity and wake-up dreams

Turning and twisting

in its emotional scheme

The metaphorical imagination

That hanging bat

A plethora of geese

or that hilarious fall known as a prat

It’s all a story

Brushed with, sadness, anger, maybe even hate

Or feminism

sometimes in a tone irate

And once and a while

There is celebration and praise

For life’s revolving miracles

amidst these rondomatic days

There is something about a Martini,*

It’s a bikini in a glass

Clear

much more than a demi-tasse

It would be nice to have one

While writing like a silly goose

Crisp

shaking my brain loose

Yes, there is nothing like it

Vermouth so dry

And that juniper juice

that makes me fly

It will enhance my humour

To a notable level of sophistication

Just like Dorothy Parker

no doubt of the causation

I will take my last mighty sip

But won’t be my last

I have a forty ouncer

yes, I’m going to have a blast

*taken from A Drink With Something In It Ogden Nash

I will celebrate this day

under the moody sky

looking at the yawning flowers

watching the doubtful birds fly

I will not unearth

any of those wonderful things

letting things be

as the Church bells ring

The rolling hills

challenge my eyes to wander

the light breeze kissing the grass

as I begin to hum, in senseless maunder

I have no answer

or questions, for that matter

as I look at the town’s waking lights

no destination within the coming clatter

I look and think

of what might be mine

but maybe all of it is

in this wondrous miracle of rhyme

I mark my spots, claiming

by saying I love them

I will be back again

strumming the music, of each stem

24 Poems: “The Dinner Party”

Aftermath

I will do this again

There is no doubt

Work that pays priceless rewards

No threads of doubt

I sit on the couch

Enjoying the noiseless ambiance

Just the quiet

And a final of champagne’s ambiance

Soon, in weeks or months

I will plan another

Looking forward to the druthers

And being with one another

A celebration of unity

And admiration for difference

And a continuous caring

No spirit of indifference

But it’s natures work

And the miracles of the earth

And our aspirations for resplendence

Let us love our earth

DeaBeePea  6-27-20

24 Poems: “The Dinner Party”

Leftovers

We all stood in wide circle

The last toast of champagne

The evening went as quickly

As the teasing champagne

I helped with the jackets

And offered Tupperwared portions

And any wine

That was sitting in unconquered portions

I walked out to the driveway

With the satiated company

For the goodbye waves

As they drove away from my company

But there was no loneliness

Just joy

A reflection of thankfulness

The most fulfilling kind of joy

I knew something was forgotten

There always is, I was aware

And I saw a silk scarf

On a now lonesome chair, so unaware

DeaBeePea  6-27-20

24 Poems: “The Dinner Party”

The Toast

A grateful guest stood up

With some grateful words

His tongue no doubt loosened

But still inventing enchanting words

“I thank the host,

for this wonderful evening

and am astonished at his efforts

that leave me speechless, this evening”

Everyone laughed

Knowing the impossibility of that

So he nodded stubbornly

And said with arms raised “take that!”

He grabbed his rosé champagne

And gathered himself

Then bowed with joie de vivre

And with dignity, sat himself

His address was finished

By someone else

Let us rejoice in the gathering of friends

And I cheered, there is no one else!”

DeaBeePea  6-27-20

24 Poems: “The Dinner Party”

Time for a Luau

The grand finale

From trees and cacao seeds fermented

A simple pie, with flakey coconut

A history of passion, fermented

My fresh-baked pie crust

Passed the flakey test

And the fudge-y chocolate pudding filling

Challenged me in the dieting test

I cheated

Adding a few butterscotch chips

For a touch of buttery glory

So down were the chips

The rich heavy cream

And the coconut milk

Gave a creaminess never before known

And this pleasure I am sure to milk

The whipped cream topped it off

With a light river of Malibu rum

Temptation for seconds

Tum-de rum-tum-de-rum

DeaBeePea  6-27-20

24 Poems: “The Dinner Party”

The Volunteers

Someone was observant

Noticing the mess

Hesitant to speak

Until firmly advising, “Let’s clean up the mess.”

So when I looked

I realized shew was right

There was no room on the counter

From the left or the right

The eager helpers

cried, “Great, we’ll have it all cleared before dessert”

I was slightly embarrassed

But finalized the dessert

They rinsed all the dishes, forks knives and spoons

Filling the dishwasher and clearing the counter

It made it easy the rest of the way

And I thanked them for the re-birth of my counter

Thanks so much ladies

I won’t wake up tomorrow to a clutter

I will remember now the importance

On the mid-term removal of clutter

DeaBeePea  6-26-20

24 Poems: “The Dinner Party”

Question Period

The group decided to stretch

Some touring the house

Even considering sauna

Others, visiting the Giant Schnauzer, the King of the house

I was approached and asked

How did you manage to do this?

Just a lot of planning

I showed them my lap-top, as simple as this

They could see the itinerary

All laid out

They shook their heads

And what was that Evoo ab-out

Oh yes… the best of all

Olive oil made from Koroneiki olives

High in oxidants, a wonderful buttery taste

Cheers to the effulgent olive

And where did you hear about that prune recipe?

Absolutely insane

Learned from a Ukrainian chef, many years ago

Enough of it, you’ll go insane

DeaBeePea  6-27-20