The Poetry Marathon

William Wordsworth wandered lonely as a cloud,

as Dylan Thomas beseeched him to, “Do not go gentle into that good night.”

Langston Hughes pondered to no one in particular, “What happens to a dream

deferred?”

In a heated debate all their own, J. Alfred Prufrock asked T.S. Eliot, “Do I dare disturb

the universe?”

Maya Angelou interrupted and proclaimed, “I know why the caged bird sings.”

Herman Melville, for some unknown reason, wanted us to call him Ishmael, while

George Orwell swore the clocks were striking thirteen.

Charles Dickens was beside himself for he couldn’t make up his mind and kept

muttering, “It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.”

Sensing that the fate of the world rested on his shoulders, Ray Bradbury struck a

match and lit the collection of old parchment he had gathered. As he watched the

flames rise, he announced, “It was a pleasure to burn the books.”

This didn’t sit well with Jack London for he believed that only he knew how to build a

fire.

I stood with Rebecca, and the ashes blew towards us with the salt wind from the sea.

Robert Frost, having had enough of all of us, called it an early night and took the road

not taken home.

There’s a hidden valley just over yonder

where the scribblers and scribes often wander

with pen and paper weighing down their packs.

They are anxious to write both fiction and facts.

The valley is filled with fountains flowing with verbs,

old orchards of adjectives, and, have you heard,

there’s chattering conjunctions hiding in tall chestnut trees,

while indigenous interjections snap at the buzzing bees.

Placid prepositions rest without making a sound.

Petulant pronouns roam around the grounds.

Antsy articles meander searching for crumbs,

as weathered writers scrawl witty phrases, one by one.

This valley of wonderment created by God

who whispered, then waving, gave a slight nod

releasing rushing rivers and a mountainous range.

Then, miraculously, He brought forth seasons of change.

Ask any proud poet to show you the way.

You’ll be quietly invited and later asked to stay.

Gladly deciphering verses of dribble and drool,

you’ll soon be writing in this valley, well-schooled.

In 1976, Cat Stevens nearly drowned off the coast of Malibu, California,

and he shouted, “Oh God! If you save me, I will work for you.”

Did it take long to find me? I asked the faithful light
Did it take long to find me? And are you gonna stay the night

On November 22, 1979, the last cords of Moonshadow fluttered from Wembley Stadium,

and Cat Stevens’s life as a musician, singer, and songwriter ended.

We soon discovered the meaning behind his famous song, Moonshadow, for

The Quran, 27:62, states, “Who is it that answers the one in need when he calls out?”

As his life flashed before his eyes, Cat Stevens called, and the Lord answered.

Cat Stevens knew he must keep his promise he made that fateful day.

Following his conversion to Islam, he abandoned his musical career.

For nearly two decades, Cat Stevens, now known as Yusef Islam, remained faithful to God.

Islam gradually resumed his musical career in the 1990s. His initial recordings had not included

any musical instruments other than percussion, and they featured lyrics about Islamic themes.

After I embraced Islam, many people told me to carry on composing and recording, but at the time I was hesitant, for fear that it might be for the wrong reasons. I felt unsure what was right.

I guess it is only now, after all these years, that I’ve come to fully understand and appreciate what everyone has been asking of me. It’s as if I’ve come full circle.

In March 2006, Islam finished recording his first all-new pop album since 1978.

The album, An Other Cup, was released internationally on his own label, Ya Records.

On 15 September 2017, he released his fifteenth studio album, The Laughing Apple. The album

is credited to “Cat Stevens / Yusuf” – his first record under the Cat Stevens name since 1978.

As my Zoom meeting rambled into its ninth hour,

lethargy zapped me of any remaining power.

Sitting on my deck didn’t help the matter,

as the sun’s heat beat down like John Henry’s hammer.

The strange stench of my own clothes

wandered up and grabbed my nose.

I had just the thing to mask the smell,

and I applied a bottle of Firefly Chanel.

Before the meeting reached hour number ten,

I saw a grizzly bear wander out of the glen.

He mumbled something about a girl eating his porridge

then asked, “Who owns this cottage? I need a place with more storage.”

At this point, I toppled right out of my chair

and warned my boss about the bear.

The last thing I saw before I passed out

was that the top of the tree line had begun to sprout.

“A tiger! A tiger!” I yelled sprinting into my front yard where I found my little brother messing with the sprinkler.

“No, I’m not burning up with whatever is blowing up the world. I am telling you I saw a tiger in the woods just now. Yesterday, I went camping in that grove just past the evergreens and bedded down under that enormous oak tree. It was a gorgeous night under the stars, and when I woke up this morning, there he was!’

“So what? I’ve watched ‘Tiger King’ a few times. That has nothing to do with this! Why are you still asking me questions? No, it wasn’t a ghost tiger, you idiot! Stop it. Go look for yourself, if you really think I am pulling your leg.”

“So, you saw it, and now you believe me. Praise be!”

“Holy shit! It followed you home! I told you to run in a staggered pattern. You never listen to me. Give me your phone, I’m going to text Mom. She’ll know what to do.”

Friday, March 13^th, was definitely bewitched

and not only for the nefarious connections tied to the number.

It was the last day of school of the 2019-20 school year,

though the students, teachers, and staff didn’t know it.

The Covid-19 outbreak brought forth a pandemic

with the only option to effectively slow the spread

being to maintain Social Distancing of a minimum six feet.

Teachers held online learning sessions with their students,

But those went the way of the Dodo bird.

The students fluttered away as the work was deemed optional.

Netflix, boardgames, and puzzles can only fill so many days.

Houses transform and gardens flourish.

Long walks under the sun slowly battle the disease.

The introverts rejoice and the extroverts suffer.

Toilet paper, paper products, and hand sanitizer soon vanish.

Worse yet, summer plans fizzle like a dying propane tank.

Vacations disappear, and despair sets in.

Beach goers blow away like sand from the shore.

Recreational vehicles sit idle, while flights are jettisoned.

Summer sport’s leagues and camps cancel any hope of parental rejuvenation.

The ultimate gut punch occurs when grandparents cannot be utilized.

The much-needed respite which refuels all teachers

rolls by as a tumbleweed tumbles along the dusty plains.

My deck is now my refuge. The dog is now my best friend.

The stack of tomes my only hope of passing the time.

My motivation is sucked dry as the protective clouds evaporate.

The summer morphs in to one long fitful nap.

I wonder if this pandemic is ever going to end.

Brothers on the Bow River

on a cool spring day just outside of

Calgary, Alberta, Canada.

Wading up to our knees,

we feel the gentle drift of the current

and hear the swish of our flyrods.

We savor the sweet taste of cigars

and watch our smoke rings evaporate in the air.

I admire the long float of my Green Drake

as it travels hither and yon down the blue water.

Standing there wishing this would never end,

I realize it doesn’t matter if I catch a trout at all.

Umbrellas galore

Surrounded by so many

Can’t see the ocean

Dear Jimmy,

I’m sitting here on my deck, drinking a beer, and thought I’d scribble you a note.

I know you’re on that never-ending fishing trip with the Lord, but I just wanted you

to know that you’re not missing out on much down here right now. I don’t know if

the Lord told you, but the worlds had an outbreak called Covid-19, and it’s created a

planet-wide pandemic. I may be joining you in the near future, so don’t catch all the

fish! Don’t worry too hard, all I and the rest of humanity have to do is sit on our asses

and read books, write poetry, or watch Netflix. Oh, and eat and drink! Heck, this has

nothing on the “Freshman Forty” when we were in college. Officially what we’re doing

is called “Social Distancing.”  This is just a fancy term for maintaining six feet of

separation at all times. It’s pretty easy for me to do sitting on my deck relaxing next

to the dog!  Don’t think of me as a hero. I’m just doing my part to save the world one

poem at a time. Now, if someone has to go out, people are wearing masks and latex

gloves. Also, hand washing has become the new craze and may soon become an

Olympic sport. People are worrying that there will be economic collapse but have no

fear. Lowe’s and Home Depot are packed every day because home remodeling is

running rampant. Well, that’s about it. Mom and I still miss you and think of you every

day. Now, go land a lunker for me!

Love,

Johnny

I search for cleanliness through the clutter

like a lost soul in the desert seeking a sip of water.

Books, blankets, clothing, games, computers,

dishes, puzzles, food, groceries, wrappers, laundry, mail.

Clutter in every nook and cranny.

I pray for cleanliness through the clutter.

I can’t walk three steps without tripping over something.

It began with an idea of having some of the rooms repainted,

but then it turned into something

even Sarah Cynthia Sylvia Stout would find hard to believe.

Family room, living room, bedrooms, kitchen, and even the fireplace.

Now where to put all that stuff?

My office, of course!

Imagine placing six rooms into one.

I think we ruined the carpet and cracked the window.

I can’t walk three steps without tripping over something.

I have been pinned in this chair for days

under cardboard boxes filled with photo albums and DVDs.

I’ve been tapping out S.O.S. against the wall

With nothing to show for it except a fist full of bloody knuckles.

Thank goodness my daughter left some Big League Chew in a pair of jeans.

I wonder if my family even notices I’m gone.

I can’t walk three steps without tripping over something.