The Poetry Marathon

Inspired by Robert Frost’s “Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening”

The journey’s long, but love waits there.

The road is wide, then narrows where,

Darkness comes before it’s time

To gather close and offer care.

Young hearts wait, our hugs to feel.

Old bodies push on, the pain is real.

Too young to know the cost of love

They long for precious time to steal.

The path is hard, our faith is deep,

“But we have promises to keep,

And miles to go before we sleep,

And miles to go before we sleep.”

How do I describe water

the essential element of life

Without it

we grow faint and suffer

I love it in a glass or a bubbly bath

slipping under or running through

my hair on purpose

thirsty skin and shafts waiting for

the lather

in my hand

I love it

gently splashing

over my toes sinking in the sand

I love it

on a window

in a storm reflecting

flashes of

light across the sky

I love it slow and gentle

running in rivelets

down the windowpane

or in a hard downpour leaving

muddy stain

it’s messy

but we will clean it

after the rain

Water

I loved how it trickled down

my legs that day

announcing joy was on its way

We cleaned it up after the pain

there it was

that essential

to life element again

words

can be messy

like rain

when inspiration comes

I’ll clean them up later after the pain

four lucky green leaves given to me,

one for loving another heart

who is true to only you,

for health, wealth, and a home

that is happy and

full of plenty,

forgiveness,

peace, and

joy.

Autumn.

A mixed bag for a forest ranger.

Clouds floating over

a periwinkle sky,

no clue they offer

of the danger nearby.

Nature’s golden-green pallet spread

across a pine-needle floor, makes a bed

under trees wrapped in vines of ivy,

touching the sky.

Sensing the air, dusty and dry,

gumboots heavy,

lifeless leaves beat

into the clay beneath his feet.

Ignoring the smoldering stench.

His focus today is to quench

flickering flames, before

they reach a weathered door.

December-January holidays

Emotions too many to count and too risky to explore.

No longer filled with joy and happiness and beauty,

replaced with commercialism beginning in July or sooner.

Where did the names for super-discounted sales come from?

Black Friday, Black Monday, and so on. I’ve never understood that.

I’ve never wanted to be in a crowd of crazed shoppers

pushing at big box and mall doors when they opened,

disrespectful of everyone else because it was first come, first served.

Fighting like dogs over a bone, caring not if they trample someone or cause injury to a clerk or anyone.

Who should own this travesty? The shoppers, the employees?

Nope, this belongs to the corporate marketing geniuses,

who gleefully watch on their closed-circuit cameras

as people act like animals, with dollar signs spinning

in their eyes as they count the sales, never

noticing the pain in the eyes of those who couldn’t

get to the checkout before that special sale ran out.

It’s shameful, it’s truly not loving your neighbor

or doing unto others biblically. It’s doing to others

before they do it to you, and everyone is to blame.

Frankly, I’m glad we had holiday sales locked down this year.

I’m glad we went back to basics,

share more of ourselves, make do when we had to.

Should it always be locked down? NO, but we should always put

the real meaning of giving first, no matter what the holiday is.

Should we care more about each other’s well-being than what we get or give?

If, in my opinion, we learned to find true happiness, there would be less hate.

We can learn to hate evil and love one another.

Three couples sat around a table.

What was to become a dinner party

Soon became a fable.

Each brought their favorite beverage to share.

One by one, the husbands would hear

The best life lessons their fathers had taught.

While on the other side of the table,

the wives, somewhat distraught,

offered tight-lipped what they had learned.

Husband number one proudly exclaimed the value of food earned.

“My dad said, “if you give a man a fish, he will eat for a day,

but if you teach him to fish, he will eat always.”

His wife gently added, “He forgot to teach you

to clean the fish, so your wife wouldn’t throw them away.”

Husband number two cautiously looked at his wife,

before offering his fix-it lessons on life.

“Careful,” she said. “It could be a long time before bed.”

He wisely passed the torch to his friend.

The virtues of farming were the next husband’s wisdom lend.

“Grow it yourself, eat from your land.”

“Ah yes, he was right if you pay your hired hand.

and make sure it’s ready to put in a pan.”

“Now, Ladies, be fair.

If it weren’t for us, you’d not have a care.”

“Aren’t you sweet,” the wives offered their joke.

“If it weren’t for stores, you wouldn’t be broke.”

The moral of the story is to work as a team.

Don’t make life harder for those you esteem.

Face the music, yes! It’s about time!

Money, Mansion, Fame, never mind!

Hazel Miller lies in secret seclusion

She’s Jake’s widow, but it’s an illusion

Fame, fortune, thrills, and chills

Who’s really paying the bills?

Who’s a killer, who’s hunted, who’s the prey?

Is this another country music,

somebody done somebody wrong story?

How much will Cambell Hale have to pay?

Just another day in paradise they said

Until shouting started and headlines read

Pandemic, Emergency Measures, Many Dead

Oh! How did this happen?

What do we do?

A Global tragedy, nothing but dread!

The wise old man looked around at his kin and

One by one he clued them in.

“Fear has been the tool they’ve used since time began

Keep your eyes open and do the best that you can.

Take care of each other, each sister and brother.

Find love in your heart, forgiveness, and grace.”

The old man went down the street to his neighbor’s place,

No one to see. A sign on the door written in green

“Do Not Enter. Quarantine”

A curtain pulled back. His friend waved through her tears.

“He’s gone, dear friend. When will it end?” She asked.

“Will it ever be normal again?”

Sadly, he told her it never had been.

It was an imaginary place.

That’s why we need to find peace

and give grace.

First tornado siren goes off:

Hurry. Hurry. Pack it light and fast.

Grab only what you need, what will last.

We’ve far to trek so boots will be best,

they are good for hiking, We’ll give them a test.

Following day, reaching through the rubble, Robert calls out to Lily:

“Where are you;

reach out your hand so I can see you,

I’m coming to you.

Do not move if you are bleeding.”

Heart pounding, Robert pleading

As he pulls a dresser away, he heard Lily say:

“Here, here. I’m stuck and can’t reach up.”

There is no force of nature to keep him from getting to her side.

Finding supernatural strength, Robert steps

carefully through the brokenness that is now their life.

Together finding items they treasure,

one helps the other to realign and measure

what matters most as daylight slips away,

they must come back to search another day.

They have each other, and nothing material matters.

Hand in hand, they trudge through the pieces, all scattered;

evidence of a life suddenly shattered.

Pondering how one would create a “happy place” and

find respite from the onslaught of stressful arrows shot at us.

Twenty-four hours a day I am exposed to

an environment affected by people, elements, inventions,

animals domestic and wild.

Perhaps it would be in a hot-air balloon, drifting on soft breezes

over the rolling hills and emerald green pastures of Tennessee.

Perhaps it would be wiggling my toes in soft

white sand of a Caribbean island.

Perhaps it would be face down, towel-draped, receiving

a healing massage from the love of my life.

More than likely it includes listening to harp guitars while

swinging in a wide hammock under a pair of sweet maples,

soft breeze blowing across my brow as I write to the music.

Nevertheless, I know there will be stressors to affect even that place.

This writer thinks turning inward to listen to the

Voice of my Creator will be most successful as a “Happy Place”