The Poetry Marathon

They, with lips tangled,
grasping at the nothingness
of Love—ultimately only
tasting lust—seize a moment
at the sun’s wake.
A procession of coffins,
filled with nightmares,
trips into the scene.
Traffic jams are stemming
out, branches on a tree of
confusion… And the light
reads red.
Lovers tick away at old
cookoo clocks, greedy for
another bird song. But
no birds will wake without
a greeting from sunrise.
Slipping into a deafening
chorus of cosmic composition,
three lovers grip at their hearts
trying to resuscitate their souls.

Write a poem about fishing. It doesn’t matter if you have never been fishing before. The poem must contain at least three lines that involve fishing. Everything else is up to you.
————————————————————————————————————————–

fishing for reason in
a cesspool of lunacy.
My line has been laying
atop still, foamy water—
stagnant—in fact it is rotting from the contact.
At the end of the line, no hook.
No hook.
Only another rod. Another fisher.
Another somebody waiting to catch
a trophy. Or a meal. Or a pet.
fishing is for patient folk—
the likes of which I am not.
So I’ll pack up and take to swimming.
maybe I’ll have better luck with my hands?

good morning moon, I missed you at dusk…
Can’t we be honest? Why did you leave last night?
I longed for soft moonlight serenades-
instead I found only onyx flavored nights.

Your first prompt is to write a poem set entirely underwater.**
——————————————————————————————————————

Poseidon’s eyes, as sunken as the sea,
turn to me. Tridents line the underwater
corridor, leading to our palace. I smell the
stench of oil slickers from above, yachts and
cruise ships dumping thousands of pounds
of sewage into our home.

In his eyes, rage brews—hurricane iris. I
try to calm him, but typhoons are already
brewing in his heart. Creatures from the
deep are drawn up as energy is pulled into
the center. Before the sun sets, a mighty bellow
emerges, rippling tidal waves into the horizon.

No one can control the temper of a God—although
those land-walkers have sought such power for
millennia. So long as we breathe this oceanic air
will we command disasters to flow forth from
our domain. This is the nature of Poseidon and
Amphitrite—Aquatic Royalty.

Poetry is a practice of magick; using words to transfer the energy one is experiencing.
Each of us is infinitely more than what we may encompass in mere words; where my physical body now resides will tell you nothing of Who I am.
I am located in a small corner of the world, not unlike many other places–but I am not a resident of this location.
Light brews in our hearts and it Will illuminate any imaginable darkness– if we allow it. Thus why I have chosen to enroll in this marathon; to share what insights I have garnered from my own life.
We are cosmic entities passing through a veil of evanescent dust.

As Ikkyu said,
Forests and fields, rocks and weeds—my true
companions.
The wild ways of the Crazy Cloud will never
change.
People think I’m mad but I don’t care;
If I’m a demon here on earth, there is no need
to fear the hereafter.

and in response,

Crazy Cloud; Koan completer—
they think I’m mad too.
I’ll opt for stars and streams,
waves and grass—we’ll
find lovers in her blessings.

Zen vagabond,
are you down where demons stir,
searching for enlightenment?
Or are you up there
laughing in awe?
Did the winds blow you over
cold mountain?

I think I saw you in the morning hour…
Crazy Cloud—
Denouncer of Ossified Masters–
will you join me for Shikantaza?