The Poetry Marathon

Half immortal. Half mortal.

Son of Helios and Klymene.

He wanted to do great deeds.

He wanted to be famous like his father.

To drive the steeds and chariot through the sky.

Light and warmth for the Earth.

Food for people and a beauteous place to live.

To his father he would not listen.

All he could see was the horses’ manes glisten.

Of he tore across the sky,

gripping the reins of the horses who knew and obeyed Helios,

but would not Phaeton.

Off the horses raced. They flew out of their courses–to close to the Earth

causing drought, fires; all manner of destruction.

At last Zeus intervened and flung a lightning bolt that hit Phaeton,

throwing him from the chariot and into the sea.

The horses, though weary, returned to their stable.

The daughters of Hesperus retrieved Phaeton’s body from the sea and was entombed by them on the beach as a memorial to his desire to do good things, though not as he should have done.

Summer days are long and sunny.

We children were outside–playing, laughing, running.

Till afternoon clouds burst with warm, pelting rain.

We sprinted for cover on the back porch swing.

“Run inside. Grab  your raincoats, Grandma said with an elbow nudge. “Go splash and play,”

Then she turned back to the hot steam of the stove and canner.

Outside we skipped and hopped.

If it weren’t for the frog we found at the edge of the tomato patch we may have never stopped.

Johnna scooped up the little creature and ran to the house.

We all whooped and squealed with delight as we slid in the mud trying to keep up.

We had to show Grandma. What a memorable sight.

Grandma was standing at the kitchen sink with water and tomatoes up to her elbows.

For a second she grinned, then returned to the tomatoes–speculating

the source of little chunks missing from some of the prizes she had grown.

“Look what we found! May we keep it? It won’t make a mess.”

“Take it outside quick! I think it has been peculating my tomatoes. Just look at these holes!!!”

We took it outside and watched it hop across the porch, then put it in a box, then went back out in the rain.

We forgot all about the frog until we heard Grandma scream!!!

She was holding a jar of tomatoes. In it was our frog.

We never figured out the mystery of how it got there. Maybe it had something to do with the peculating of the tomatoes.

KellyLynn

There once was a rule of 10.

It counted our numbers. It numbered our streets and ordered our money.

We learned it again and again.

But that changed last night during my quiet, sweet slumber.

Now we go as far as 4–no more, my honey.

0, 1, 2, and 3.

Will somebody please help me?

My bank account is messed up.

I can’t find my home and

It’s all because of some mathematical louses!

Hi all! Looking forward to this challenge. Just got home from a professional writer’s conference so I am a little behind schedule.

A little about myself: Haven’t written many poems recently. I need to begin and complete small projects in a timely fashion and I see this 1/2 marathon as one way to practice. I enjoy the British romantics, Shakespeare, and many other poets. I am an historian by education, trade, and passion.

I will be challenged to get posts entered before my lovely three month old kitten figures out how to delete them.

KellyLynn