The Poetry Marathon

(for hour 17)

Balancing

A kind woman in my MeWe homesteading group said,

“I don’t have to pull all the weeds, just the weed in front of me.”

Her words in reverse on a black computer monitor resonated deeply within me,

vibrating my bones with a harmonizing frequency that made me cry.

Was this anxiety releasing?

Depression?

It was as if she knew me,

knew I would be reading the messages,

knew my Blessings Jar begun January 2020 atop the fridge is currently stressing me out.

Of all the responsibilities mounting

adding to the growing list of to-dos

it’s a radically joyful thought to remember

I don’t have to accomplish all the tasks, just the task in front of me.

One line item at a time.

Until I get to the fantasy: clone myself

and then teach my clone to fold and put away the laundry

after getting the washer re-balanced.

And isn’t balance what it’s all about?

(for hour 16—from the “touch” prompt for Onweald)

I Thought I Touched You Today

(by the character Nigel Taiman)

A kind touch breezing by my hand

Reminded me of you today

A soft voice whisp’ring a word of kindness

Sounded like something you’d say

The moment caught me off my guard

When I turned to see your face

Disappointment filled me so fully

When I saw emptiness in your place

That I excused myself from society

How can you haunt my brain

When you wore immortality as perfectly

As you wore Arcana’s good name

The swing where you once teased me

With noxious words of battle and war

Moves heavy with dead autumn leaves

Or memory of your movement as we’d spar

The tree where I handed you music papers

Withers in despair of your absence

There’s not a creature in Onweald

That doesn’t crave your presence

Every person, beast, every dying bloom

Seeks you in the fingers of the wind

And each breeze that lifts your scent

Fools me to thinking I’ll see you again

(for hour 15—from Onweald, an intro for something longer)

Ella and Rohne

He was the one covered in diamonds

She was the one covered in gold

They were the ones covered in riches

Yet their story has never been told

(for hour 14—imaginary children prompt for Onweald)

Sinder, Rohf, and Cahla

They play so well together

A trio

Held together by a triangle of connection

Sinder, the adopted dragon child, the oldest and least coordinated for a household with so many walls and tables

Rohf, the new heir to Hleo-Arcana, and dragon child of a goddess

Cahla, full-blood sibling to Rohf yet to show signs of dragon shifting, praise the gods in Mahriket

To see them play as if knocking loose a scale was as normal as scraping a knee brought a joy that reminded Loetha of all she’d lost

And all she’d gained here

And all she could still laugh at when a pair of dragons fashions a cradle-vest to help their youngest sister “fly” through the halls of the emperor’s home…

(for hour 13—from the rainbow image prompt)

I Accept All Your Promises

Of all those counted up like random lists petty humans try to track,

how can I choose which pledge is most meaningful?

Of more than three thousand spoken to assure believers, how can I choose which of your promises brings the peace that passes understanding?

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder…

and some may find the symbol placed over Noah’s quitting the ark

more beautiful than words can express…

Yet to fulfill the promise of eternal life

you allowed petty humans to hang your beautiful son on a cross.

And that speaks more of love to me than a dozen oaths cloaked in vibrant refracted light.

(For hour 12—nonet prompt for Onweald)

Amanda in Motion

(by the character Nigel Taiman)

She is beauty and death together

with her weapon an extension

of each movement in battle.

Using her geasa’n skill,

Amanda’s steeped in

perfection, grace.

Reflecting

justice,

love.

(for hour 11—holiday prompt from hour 10)

Christmas Eve Sing-Along

Sleigh bells ring

I’m listening

to deep, soulful chimes

of handbells near the dais

where the harpist strums

and the little drummer boy

rumpa-tum-tum-tums

with a glance to the director

for her smile of approval

even when he misses a beat

His performance isn’t for her

or me

or angelic voices joining the chorus

or the crowd warmed after snowy drives in the dark

or even his mom smiling gleefully from the front pew

This lifting of voices

of notes

of harmonies

of joy to the rafters and beyond

is for the Creator who so loved us

that He gave His only begotten Son

that whosoever should believe in Him

should not perish, but have eternal life

(for hour 10—the image prompt this hour)

The Serial Killer’s Haiku

black-purple death shrouds

bursting with putrefaction

finality’s stench

(for hour 9—this too shall pass prompt—from Onweald)

Pain Not Passing

(by the character Nigel Taiman)

Amanda

How can one body endure sorrow such as this

Not even when lashed by The Dragon’s claws did I know such pain

You were the one who was to live

to succeed

to outlast

Amanda

How am I to go on without you

Mia tells me time will heal these wounds

She knows not the depth of the pain

from the memory of your fall

Kaylin tells me this too shall pass

She is a false prophet

to be protected from the caves of Tiurlang

Tell me who is to protect me

from the caves of my brain

when night falls

and the second moon reaches its zenith

and the Dragon comes for me

filled with anger at our loss of you

Amanda

(for hour 8—condense book prompt)

Sweet Jane

When Jane ran from my grand home, indignant

and penniless

I feared she’d succumb to diseases of her orphan childhood

My Sweet Jane

Though her brilliant mind and steadfast morals

I would sully

My fairy-like governess forgives as easily as she flies to anger

My Sweet Jane

Beauties may stand above her station in their games, their ploys

not mentally

She must be made my equal despite others’ maneuverings

My Sweet Jane

To hide a dangerous wife in raging insanity, and lose her

to tragedy

Leaves one open to God’s judgment, punishment, wrath

My Sweet Jane

Her worthy adventures and suitors drive my mind wild

with jealousy

Yet I give up all my pride to have her returned as my helpmate, my soul

My Sweet Jane

There are days when I awake, blurry-eyed from damage

unbelieving

Until I feel Jane’s hand on my cheek and hear our child’s cry

My Sweet Jane