The Poetry Marathon

Vibrant Eyes

I ordered it online,
a roll-on eye shadow
goes on smooth
creaseless, flawless
innovative, so pretty —
sparkly amethyst powder
in a small glass bottle,
orchid metallic band,
faceted, jewlesque resting
below the slender black cap.

I look for the color –
it must be something elegant
yet bold, wild yet refined,
as captivating and unique
as the packaging.

I turn it, twist it, flip it
upside down and there
on the bottom a label
emblazoned with
80.

80. That’s it.
No exotic color name
just 80.
Not as in the year
I graduated high school,
the year Rubik’s Cube
came out and the year
I earned a new nickname…
Jack-n-coke-Pac-Mac girl,
the same year John Lennon
was shot and killed.

80, as in the year
of my first newish car,
as in the age my mother
looked forward to but
didn’t make by 60 days,
not my percent of correct
jeopardy questions,
not when I worked two jobs
to pay for my newish car.

80…
so I decide to give it
a suitable name, something
ethereal and mystical, brazen
but authentic, colorific, radiant,
irresistible. Think, ruminate,
contemplate, cogitate, muse,
meditate, ponder, deliberate,
cerebrate, consider, stew
yeah/nah, hmmm,
finally decide
80
is perfect.

~ J R Turek Hour 4

February, Not July

My birthday came and went
and I thought of you,
yours came and went
of course, I thought of you,
think of you every day
missing you, though
the missing feels like less
and that feels wrong
but I think you know
what I mean, especially
after almost four years.

But let’s go back forty years,
I’m guessing, but it feels right.
Your birth stone, February
amethyst. Mine July, ruby.
I say to you, Mikey, you will
never need your birth stone,
never buy a necklace or earrings
because it represents you and
your connection to the month
you were born.

I remember how you rolled
your eyes in your head, exhaled
a big brother sigh, wishing this
were over already but you knew
how detailed I can be, definitive,
precise if not concise.

And I don’t really like red,
don’t connect to it other than
Christmas and St Valentine’s Day
though purple hearts are better
than red.

So I summarized it, finally
your eyes said, stopping
their search for respite.
Since you will never need
your birth stone, I’m taking it.
You can have mine if you want
but I’m taking amethyst. You
can keep February and snow
and all that cold blustery frost.
I’ll keep July, perfect for me,
summer everything and now with
purple. Amethyst I’m taking, ok?

I’ll never forget your laughing
assent, so glad that it was over,
an agreement made that meant
nothing to you but even after
all these years, means so much
to me.

~ J R Turek Hour 3

Waterbury Road

Lilacs in the dooryard blooming
since Grammie was a baby, a sprig
of a bush planted when her parents
got married, first in their families
to own their own home, so proud
and pleased to see lilacs growing
with their family.

Those lilacs spread joyful news
through the neighborhood when Janie
was born, then Grammie Maggie.
That same bush, heads drooped to scrape
the soil when Janie died after falling out
of the oak tree in the backyard, the one
they chopped down a week after her burial.
A few years after, they thought the bush
would die when Maggie’s dad, James
succumbed to influenza.

Winter came early that year, brutal
with snowfall and spring barely made
an appearance; they prayed over those
thin, spindly shoots. Next spring,
there was one flower head, a tad small
but fragrant as an April breeze. Grammie
remembers, closes her eyes and smiles
each time she tells me about it.

For the past five years, I’ve lived here,
caretaking my grandparents, tending
gardens and whatever needs doing.
My first spring, Grammie put tiny flowerets
in our salad, out picking the best open blooms
before the sun crested Hodge Mountain.
Grampa wouldn’t eat them, picking them out
like flies and dropping them in Grammie’s
plate. Purple flowers ain’t meant for eating,
just smelling. And he loved those lilacs.
We lost him in July, the end of a heatwave
that sweltered us for the whole month.
Here’s the darndest thing you will ever hear.
That Saturday Grampa died, that old lilac bush
pumped out three giant clusters of heavenly
purple, perfumed with angel wings. July!
It was as if that bush was bruised with hurting
missing him already but wanting him to have
her blossoms as a sendoff.

So now, it’s Grammie and me and the lilacs
blooming in that dooryard over a hundred years,
fragrant as a cherished memory, sturdy as family ties,
and I pray it will still be there a hundred years more.

~ J R Turek Hour 2

Lavender Fields

Sleep came easy last night
our old sheets know us well
softened to bare threads yet
we can’t bear to part with them
just yet.

Yesterday, I found a new scent
in my favorite laundry detergent
and a matching softener —
it had me happy-dancing in Aisle 5
of the supermarket. Shoppers
stopped, looked for a camera set-up,
was this a commercial for a new product?
and curiosity drew them down the aisle.
I had stopped dancing by then, exclaimed
my delight in finding Lavender Fields,
screwed off the softener cap and passed
the bottle around like green-label Jack
at our family reunions.

By the time, I was checking out,
an announcement overhead, somewhat
like the ‘blue light’ special in reverse –
Gain Detergent and Fabric Softener
in new Lavender Fields is sold out
but we are ordering more. Please leave
your name and phone number
at the customer service desk and
we’ll contact you when we get more in.

I chuckled, did a mini-dance
as I swiped my credit card, raced home,
and for the first time in my life, looked
forward to doing laundry. Stripped the bed,
grabbed towels, and sniffed as I poured,
waited through the wash cycle, dryer time
and made the bed to heavenly scent.

Yes, sleep came easy last night.
Today I’m going back to the store
to add my name to the waiting list;
I need a case of this intoxicating elixir.
Lavender Fields for me – sniffff
forever.

~ J R Turek Hour 1

I am looking forward to Saturday/Sunday, a favorite event.  A creative, inspiring, personal challenge that I share with poet friends who want to stretch poetic muscles.  I’ve published two previous marathon collections.  Last year’s is DogSpeak, and I’m supporting North Shore Animal League, the world’s largest no-kill shelter organization with proceeds.  That would never have happened if not for the poetry marathon.  Thank you for makng this happen and for keeping it happeneing year after year!  Grateful poet, kindred spirit.  Write on!  J R Turek

DogSpeak #24 Serious Speak

I know you don’t like
serious conversations but
we need to discuss something.
It’s important.

I need to know that you will be ok
when I have to leave. No, I don’t know
anything you don’t. I just have to be sure,
while I’m here that you will find a life
without me.

We’ve had fun together, laughed
cried, learned what we want and like,
what makes us who we are, what keeps us
together as a team, as family.

So, wait a little while and get another dog;
you’re not replacing me, you’re taking on
my spirit in a different breed and color
and temperament – don’t think I’ll make it
easy for you. Training is important.

Thanks. I’m glad we had this talk. Carry on.
Ok, let’s play!
Can I throw the ball this time?

~ J R Turek

DogSpeak #23 Employment Application

Name
The Dog

Skills:
Retriever
fetch and fill with slobber,
shred into crosscut pieces

Landscaper
unearth anything that makes noise
or smells bad; digger, unplanter, uprooter

Demolition Expert
any material, no job too big or small;
no clean-up included

Bounty Hunter
animal, vegetable, mineral
anything, anywhere, delivered dead unless
specified

Refrigerator Janitor
cleaned and cleaned out but no kale,
broccoli, spinach, nothing green

Available Shifts
between naps and meals

Salary Desired
bones, kibble, treats, toys
gas money for my humans

When Can You Start
after lunch but I have to be home for dinner
I can’t stay out after dark

References
Spot, Rover, Buster, Opie, Snickers,
Munchkin, Gumball, the man who runs
the dog park, my humans

Preferred Contact Method
whistle

~ J R Turek

DogSpeak #22 Definition: Dog

Confession
we let ourselves out

Admission
we speak with our eyes

Expression
speak only words of wisdom

Compassion
what we are made of

Impression
what we live to give is good

Obsession
sharing of ourselves

Decision
we find you worthy of our love

Comprehension
we understand, we strive to relay

Vison
every home to have a dog

Mission
empty shelters, rescue every one of us

Passion
what we foster for you

Inclusion
we hear, we embrace, we accept

Televison
Animal Planet!

~ J R Turek

DogSpeak # 21 Dog Wisdom

Stay pawsitive
the best is yet to come

Trust dogs with your deep secrets;
we know but never tell.

We fill an emptiness
you didn’t know you had.

Love and hugs
are four-legged words.

We are like potato chips;
you need more than one.

You think you need a hand
but what you need is a paw.

A great day starts with a wet nose
and ends with a wagging tail.

We speak but only to those
who know how to listen.

A house without a dog
must be like a garden with no flowers.

The best thing to come home to
is a wiggle butt waiting at the door.

Dog hair everywhere,
we don’t care.

Live. Laugh. Bark.
Repeat often.

~ J R Turek

DogSpeak #20 In Dog Years

Humans like to calculate
our ages in dog years,
seven of ours to one of theirs.

We dogs like to think
our life span on earth is shorter
because we have less to learn.

These figures are guesstimates
averaged out for the life cycle
of dog and man.

A good life for a dog is 12 years,
which translates to 84
in human years, yes a good life.

Yet the average age of a human
is 80 and brings a sense of worry –
what if we outlive our human?

A better thought for a dog is
what if we outsmart our human?
Well that’s easy.

Bark at cars, bikes, kids, cats,
bunnies, errant leaves, and your human
will look and look and see nothing.

Scratch frantic at something under
the den chair, whine; your human will
leave his dinner unguarded. Too easy.

Give a human 7 years to figure out
how to make friends with everyone
he meets. He’ll need more time.

Tell him that he got it backwards,
that in dogs years, he’s actually
over 400.

Turn in circles 9 times when you go
to bed; when he asks why not 3 times,
tell him you’re an overachiever.

Kiss him, tell him dog saliva
has magical powers to mend
anything broken, like a heart.

He feeds you at 7:30 every night;
let him know how proud you are
of him; he’s finally trained.

~ J R Turek