The Poetry Marathon

Hot sun

Gentle breeze

sweet smell of summer.

Loud buzz

Sharp sting

Biting bugs of summer

Generous smiles

Open laughter

Hot boys of summer

A metaphor for life

This place

Surface of tranquil beauty

Manicured lawns,

well pruned palms

But lurking
around edges
under brackish waters

something else

not nearly so benign

submerged in shallow waters

aware and alert

as blind eyes

fail to see
and

carefree steps take you near

Working in the present…

in the middle…

an ancestral bridge

to cherished memories,

guardian of tradition,

celebrating the way WE do things

the way WE have always done things

While also

Looking into the future

&

anticipating change

&

encouraging the next generation

to remember and learn and innovate

Both required

to succeed today…

to ensure tomorrow

Birth should be consensual
Mother, child, ancestors, god
Should be collective rhythm
Not

hospital disruption
Bright lights
Sharp words
Too many people
Still
Can’t stop god
Can’t stop nature
Can’t stop beauty
A miricle

Still

a thick hush

rolls like fog across the mountain

a wavering moonbeam

cuts like a knife through the tall fir

a shadowy figure

stands like a statue on the dock

a slow hand

lifting

coffee filled canteen

breaks

the spell.

Like a pebble loose in my shoe

your face

your smile

bouncing around my memories

rubbing tender spaces raw

lone puzzle piece found

under kitchen table and on the ground

I pick  it up & examine every side

then ponder this futile attempt to hide

& pop it in between rose bud and wrinkled hound

red may be too bright &

yellow too glorious

some days are meant to be

muted &

delivered in generous blue

and soft spoken green.

Anger –
jagged heat.
roll, tear, burst!
leaving me small.
Fury

Etherial morning
An enormous wave grows
on the horizon