The Poetry Marathon

Words of Wisdom From the Purple Poet

I never claimed to be wise or a savant
in any way, don’t possess extraordinary
knowledge on any one subject,
never thought of myself as a purveyor
of wisdom but I can share my experience
with you for whatever it’s worth.

Leave sleeping dogs lie is crucial
as is leave husbands sleeping on the couch
alone, let them wake up whenever the dog
decides it’s time to get up, go out, go to bed.

Don’t believe everything you read.
if Cinderella’s shoe fit perfect, why did it fall off?
This too shall pass, yeah, right, like a kidney stone
and it’s gonna hurt.
Back off, if I was meant to be controlled,
I would have come with a remote.
Yes, the truth hurts; you would too
if you were stretched as much.
A thousand mile journey starts with one step;
just watch where you put your foot.

Don’t ever expect anyone ever to do anything
you didn’t ask them to. If they do it, woohoo
be glad there are no grumbles about my time,
or I’ll do it later right before never, maybe,
which is around the time you’ll do it yourself
and do it right.

An apple a day will keep anyone away
if you throw it hard enough.
Since light is faster than sound, some people
may appear bright… wait until they speak.
Know what you want but more important,
know what you don’t want.
Trust dogs; they are a very good judge of character.
If given a choice, pick the purple one.
Words of wisdom, you’re welcome.

~ J R Turek Hour 14

Alexandrite

Old gold rose-tone setting
scrolls and filigrees from
shank to bezel holding the stone.

Large, deep, faceted stone
vibrant purple in evening shade
and blueish green in sunlight.

I was told the stone was mined
in Ecuador, did some research,
learned that stones are found,

not by design but when mining
other stones. Rare, one Alexandrite
found for every 100 Emeralds.

The first stone was found in Russia’s
Ural Mountains in 1830, on Prince
Alexander II’s birthday; it was later

named for him. It is June’s birth stone,
and believed to be a good omen,
bringing good fortune and love.

I cherish this ring even more,
a gift from a friend who had said
he had a gift for me if I promised

to wear it. I did, I do, every day.
A jeweler told me a stone of this size
could be worth $10,00 or more.

I gasped but it doesn’t matter.
Both the gift and the giver
are priceless to me.

~ J R Turek Hour 13

24 Shades of Purple

At 47, I went from mousy brown
to grey, not salt-and-pepper, not
platinum, nothing pretty about it.

Then, I went beach blonde and
had more fun but my hair was dry
frizzle frazzle damaged .

No one to tell me I couldn’t,
I dyed my hair purple. I’m known
as the Purple Poet, love the color,

so why not. I started with demi-
permanent but it didn’t take, then
used permanent and it was great.

Vibrant, super cool color but
my hair was breaking off, chemical
warfare took its toll.

I found conditioning color. Semi-
permanent, no chemicals, no mixing
no hassle. Put it in, leave it in

as long as you like, then rinse it out.
Conditioner, good for my hair.
Instant love. I started collecting colors…

Radiant Orchid, Lavender Macaroon
Plum Perfect, Wisteria, Paradox
Neon Lavender, Pastel Lilac, Cloud

Smoky Amethyst, Wild Orchid
Violet Dream, Purple Haze, Genie
Tanzanite, Neon Purple, Grapeful

Lighter Daze Stoned Pony, Desire
Periwinkle, Prismatic Purple,
Metallic Orchid, Girls Night Out

Lavender Moon, Orchid U Not —
I love them all, 24 shades of pure
purplesque fun.

~ J R Turek Hour 12

In My Purple Bag

A double-zip wallet in plum perfect
a lilac credit card case
that actually holds gift cards
4 purple EnerGel pens with aubergine ink
one Sharpie marker in orchid
one in magenta
2 ballpoint pens I hate but keep just in case
a red beaded ladybug case
that holds my amethyst rosary beads
a small purple journal with a dog asking
Is it time to play? How about now?
an amethyst carbuncle with a pewter angel
a house key with a purple plastic sleeve
my truck key big and black and lost
to the abyss of stuff
one pack of tissues with lavender irises on it
… why is my bag so heavy…
a clear plastic glass case
with my purple marbled reading glasses
wrapped in a wisteria cleaning cloth
a fabric pandemic mask that says Poet At Work
an old Home Depot receipt I wrote a few lines
of a new poem on but can’t read it
can’t throw it out
a cluster of safety pins pinned together
several vinyl-coated paper clips in
varying shades of purple
band-aids, purple – where did I get those?
my cell phone in the military-grade
dark purple metal case… it weighs a ton
DogSpeak, my purple-cover poetry book
from last year’s 24-hour marathon because
you never know when you’ll be called on —
drug store / doctor’s office / laundromat
to read a poem or two
a pack of grape gum
… oh, that’s why it’s so heavy…

~ J R Turek Hour 11

I Am Not 20

but I’m not 100 either.
I refuse to conform to convention,
let my hair stay steel-blotchy grey,
cut it sensible short to appease people
I barely know and me be miserable.
I won’t.
My hair is purple, parts are lavender,
strips are grape, sections are plum,
it’s long, it’s purple, it’s the most fun
I’ve had in years.

I’m stopped at least once every day,
supermarket, post office, on line
anywhere, everywhere and someone,
sometimes male, mostly female,
will say they like it / love it / wish
they could do it but spouse / mother
father / brother / sister / aunt / uncle
grandparents would never allow it.

I feel bad for them, they’re missing out.
And no, it’s not bad for my hair. Oh
contraire, it’s conditioner, no peroxide,
no developer, no chemicals to weaken /
strip / dry out / damage my hair.
It won’t.
Conditioner. Leave it in 5 minutes
or 5 hours; it doesn’t matter. Package
says it lasts 40 to 60 washes but I add to it,
change shades often so it never washes out.

When my husband is with me and someone
ooh and ahhs, he says thank you. They look
at him, quizzical, his hair turning a gradual grey,
not a drop of purple in it. He chuckles, reveals
that he does it for me. We all laugh. I tell them
the first time he did it, he didn’t heed my warning,
didn’t wear gloves, telling me it would wash off.
It didn’t.
Easy, fun, and my hair is in the best shape ever.
Some say it’s a leftover pandemic whim, some
call it daring hair, others whisper it’s clutching
onto my youth. No, none of those. Others
cluck that I’ll tire of it and what then. Well,
I could strip it. Easy peasy, but I don’t want to.
I won’t.

New shades from lilac to lavender,
orchid to deep purple come out every month
and I can barely wait to try them. It’s purple hair.
Get used to it, I’m keeping it.

~ J R Turek Hour 10

Dripper

Jackson Pollack
master mixologist
in his studio
contemplating the formula
for the perfect purple

         two drizzles azurite
three drools pyrope
four plops phosphorite
three sprinkles cinnabar

pure vivianite
with a trickle of vermillion

a splash of tungsten
a splay of ruby sulphur
a blotch of kyanite

                             more flicks of red to plum
more flecks of blue to violet

two dribs of manganese oxide
three drabs of alamandine
one tiny droplet of sandaracha

a spurtle of mayan blue
a gurgle of dragon’s blood
with a single woman’s tear

a splitch here                                              a splotch there
yes, absolute perfect purple
but it’s hard to see

under all those drips

~ J R Turek Hour 9

Blackberry Brandy

her name is Brandelyn, we all call her Brandi but
he calls her Blackberry Brandy, a long cool name
for the love of his life whose hair shines like a smooth
sip of it when they sit on the beach beneath a full moon,
tide rising to rush the shore

but they’re never in a rush

they sit back on the blanket she kept on the backseat
for when she took Ruffles for a ride, his canine head
flying out the window in pure joy, his chuffs when they
headed home too soon for him

but Ruffles was gone more than a month

she’s sad now, he leans into her, nuzzles her slender neck
furry with white dog hair, kisses her cheek and spits fur while
she laughs, a soft melodic sound that staunches his cough and
makes him smile

how he’s missed that laugh these past weeks

forty years together, she still makes his heart do a double beat
his Brandy, sweet as blackberries off the vine, his soul mate,
his soul aching for the void left between them… Ruffles loved
him but loved her more

he hurts for her hurting

tomorrow, their anniversary, he’s taking a risk, a longshot gulp
of hope he prays will be the answer, will bring her back from
wherever she goes when her shine is dimmed, the abyss where
he tries

but he can’t reach her

she will be the answer to his prayers, she who needs a name,
who wears a purple collar, she who waits at the neighbor’s
house until morning, her shiny black fur almost the color
of blackberries, and maybe, that will be her name but
he’s hoping it will be Angel

delivering puppy kisses to bring joy back to his love

~ J R Turek Hour 8

Purplescent Garden
Haiku Sequence

crocus, iris
hyacinth
early bulb bloomers

lilac
hardy plant, heady fragrance
plant in your dooryard

lavender
natural mosquito repellant
soothing fragrance

purple coneflower
pretty purple addition
that reseeds, reseeds

butterfly bush
attracts pollinators
yes, butterflies included

columbine and salvia
vibrant spring blooms
through June

stately delphiniums, larkspur
beware –
toxic to people and pets

morning glory
breathtaking blooms
prolific vines can strangle

verbena, petunias
perky pansies
dress up garden beds

heliotrope and lobelia
steadfast bloomers through
first frost

whatever the bud
whichever the season
bloom your garden purple

~ J R Turek Hour 7

Paleolithic Era

I would guess it was a woman
who first discovered berries
growing wild outside their cave;
bunches of plump blueberries,
and red raspberries harvested
from prickly vines.

I would say it was that same woman,
an innovator born eons before her time
who crushed berries into a red compote
to pour over roasted glyptodon, a blue glaze
on spitted wooly mammoth, a semisweet
dressing poured over ferns and green leaves.

I can see her with her favorite stone,
the one that fit perfect in her palm
and the berries in wooden bowls
she carved herself, crushing them
with smooth, practiced movements,
keeping them divided.

And then hubby comes along,
sweaty from a hunt, looking for a bowl;
when her back is turned, he dumps
red berries into blueberries; she rails
at him to go dig up some roots and
legumes, just go away.

Exasperated, she’s tempted to dump
the mixture but stirs it, considers
the vibrant color, tastes it, smiles,
rugged hands on sturdy hips and viola!
Meet the Paleolithic Julia Child,
patent pending creating edible purple.

~ J R Turek    Hour 6

Midnight Mission

I’ve never had a manicure.
A budget thing, yes, and also
a time thing. Usually, I’m doing
my nails after midnight. No salons
open then so it works into my schedule.

If you know me, you know my nails
are long. Sometimes too long between
trims and polish changes; when I type
and everything is numbers, I know
it’s time.

It’s time now but I know it will take me
a while to decide on a color. My polish
collection is massive, divided into seasonal
summer light and winter dark; creme, frost,
glitter, iridescent, mild and wild, trendy,
sassy, mirror, matte, and almost all
a shade of purple.

I pick Fandango with a stripe of Berry Blush
but then I see Rule Breaker, then Bolidonna,
Pompeii, Plum Crazy, Between the Sheets,
ooh Parlez-Vous, and settle on Purple Haze
with a shimmer of Glazed Donut.

Midnight start, the sun is rising;
I am yawning, reprimanding myself
to tone down the collection, far too many
colors, too many choices take too long
to do my too long nails but when I’m done,
I agree they are purpleluscious.

~ J R Turek Hour 5