The Poetry Marathon

say the bees and hummingbird in tune: we need sweet nectar, more flowers to grow
and the spiders say: we need less stomping and less death please
the bears chime in: We need more fish, more berries too, more seals, more ice would be nice
say we all: we need more sun, we need clean water, travel, we need less hunger, and to breathe
and the humans pitch in: we need to love one another, homes for the homeless, hate to begone, and art of course
dandelions have their say: we need the wind and breeze to spread our seeds
the praying mantises: we need to eat, we need to eat, eat, eat
say the wolves at night: we need to howl at the full moon each month with abandon
say the dogs: we need to howl too, but why?
say we all: we need more babies please. we don’t have enough babies!

we need we need we need…

A window faces a harsh blow from the rock
the moment of impact, a bundle of white streaks stretch violently
like sun rays in solar flare
radiating outwards
and in between each finger concentric loops connect
suspended for a moment
then in a cascading rush, the fall to the floor
each shard, each row, each crack
release and tumble into a glowing heap of diamonds

This was me when you abandoned me once. Shattered glass you could scoop up in your hand and let trickle through your fingers like smooth, beaten river pebbles. Shattered, but all of my pieces still here, alive and shining brighter than before.

I’m glad to have you back again.

The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
clothed in dresses woven of grass,
and spun with web, embroidered with flowers

The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
breathily sighing through the leaves,
its whispers gathered in tree hollows

The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
many-eyed boulders scattered throughout
heavy lidded stones slowly blink and gaze

The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
it’s lips the streams bouncing about
trickling with gossip from neighbors upstream

The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned
The forest alive; moss-skinned, bark boned

I started with one
Seven billion grandchildren
Please love your cousins

In Denver, Colorado grown and raised,
in the laboratory’s where I spent most of my days;
flippin’ switches, linkin’ gadgets, mixin’ potions so neat
makin science discoveries that couldn’t be beat.
Then a couple o’ dudes who were bein’ so rude
started talkin’ smack about my Hubbard Review
I made one little threat and my peers got scared and said
“We’re shuttin ya down, then we’ll get outta your hair.”

I knocked em out cold and when they came to
they were in my time travel pod halfway through.
Where exactly we were I had no idea.
I said “who remembers your prehistoric trivia?”

We launched outta the pod around 150 million BC
and I yelled to my colleagues “check these sphinx moths, ya see?”
Looked around at my jungle and visited time and again,
tamed me a dino, became the first of cave men.

I am hungry and the salmon are plentiful.

Let me wake from my slumber and lumber
to the edge of this precipice in the river
and stand my brown bulky body on this slippery boulder
while the stream swirls around my paws.

Salmon are leaping up and down like fireflies at dawn
and my furry rolls jiggle as I swat at them
like my cubs will swat at butterflies in spring.
Yes, that is how I will teach them how to fish!
But now I am not here to play games of young cubs…
Ah, the salmon are almost here;
let me open my gaping maw and let them leap into it

om nom nom

a good morning starts off with a
bang
no, not a gunshot

but your legs might end up over your head

bang

cross a few hills, play around in a valley, searching for treasure island

be honest, wouldn’t you like a nice
bang
followed by a cuppa?

here I fall, these

shackles bind my wrists, my ankles and

my neck too

and this heavy chain to hold me together

as if my limbs will fly apart

shall I hold my breath? I’ll hold it for now

watch the sun shrink to a tiny star and the rough current

almost tumbles me about so I cannot see it

but the weight of the chain keeps me steady

so my fall is straight and true. I remember the first

time I saw this ocean, and

before that how I ran and hunted with my brothers and

heard stories of the edge of the world

How we laughed my brothers and I!

To imagine a mass of water as large as

the grassy savanna where we lived, what stories!

My brothers will not know that I have found it and soon

I will touch the bottom of this ocean

as deep as the sky.

Now my lungs burn and the light is gone and my body is numb.

I take a deep breath of water and succumb.

I’m Jasper and I’m a writer. I’ve been writing since I learned to write and poetry came upon me pretty easily. Of my many goals in life, one of them is to publish a chapbook, so I’m excited to see what comes out of my fingers and brain over the 24 hour marathon.