The Poetry Marathon

(a warrior’s song for Onweald, part of the fantasy series I have in publication; this is a combo of two prompts, the pictures from earlier (I think prompt #5) and prompt #11 for a fictional place)

By Sandy Lender

When burning fog of dragon’s breath

swirls in the Vale’s pale morn

take up your sword and shield, my lad.

To the Vale, to war!

When reach your village the stench

of man-flesh burnt and torn

take up your sword and shield, my man.

To the Vale, to war!

When farrier sees the burning rise

and drops his tongs and forge

take up your sword and shield, old man.

To the Vale, to war!

When the goddess’ horn fills the air

a harbinger of news forlorn

take up your sword and shield, all men.

To the Vale, to war!

By Sandy Lender

You can take all I have
and all I am
Then I will dance here in the dark
and all I am
will find a way to praise You.

By Sandy Lender

lift lost babe from sun

body-long paddles flick air

seek freedom in flight

By Sandy Lender

The seven of them dubbed Success a “ragged tiger”

and harnessed it for decades

through multiple iterations of the band

Using any and all forms of media

to push a quality product is smart promotion

Musicians and marketers ahead of their time

Still reaping the rewards of groovin’ bass lines

beneath movies made-in-paradise

with lyrics that make you cry when you listen right

“Ten thousand screaming fans can’t be wrong”

And watch out when those fans grow up

to become journalists

and teachers

and social media influencers

with a built-in distrust for hoity toity music critics

(Italian sonnet form–I think)

By Sandy Lender

A multitude came crawling up the sandy shore

Only moonlight off’ring light by which to nest

A thousand sets of flapping flippers sought what ground is best

Mighty turtles one by one raked the ground and tore

Digging, ripping, cavities for their eggs to store

And burying again with solid sand their eggs to rest

Left by moonlight, taking up again their ancient quest

The multitude slipped back to Mother Ocean evermore

For such a great arribada

We pray a season of success

Forgive our lack of sentience

For their lovely sonata,

No other redress

Have we but penitence

By Sandy Lender

shirt-surfing conures

lavender-warm laughs, writing

music at sunset

By Sandy Lender

I craved understanding of his message.

The ranting.

The raving.

That rabid passion could divert rivers

to water desert lands.

His eyes flashed like lightning announcing storms.

Intensity.

Piercing me.

His voice thundered from the pulpit like Malachi

Prophesying,

Signaling doom.

Drenched by the waves of his words,

We swayed,

We shouted,

We screamed.

Caught up by the virtues he triggered in us,

We rose up.

We rose up.

The fire in his belly ignited the crowd.

We rose up,

As a force.

And we thrashed from the hall

to take over the world,

Watering already flooded lands.

By Sandy Lender

Fathomless pain

And oppressive grief

know I can’t bring you

back out of the ground.

I beg forgiveness daily

for decisions forced upon me.

I fear regret chasing me down

cornering me on cloudy nights

when the last chateau briond

has drained my last emotion

leaving my heart-scatters vulnerable

to careless memories…

What selfish act could have kept

you nearer to me?

I can’t stand your absence any longer.

The fathomless abyss

seeks to blend us again

and tonight’s liquid inhibitor fails me.

By Sandy Lender

Someone had prayed for peace on Earth, God bless them,

But prayed without specificity

Thus we awoke in July to silence outdoors

Spotify stopped, the airwaves dropped, Pandora closed her box

With Hope locked trembling inside

As if waiting for a measure of sanity to release her

We looked for the answer in three, four time

While timpani drums throbbed to a different beat

Our children wept in fear at the solitude, the absence

Song, melody, harmony, tonal blending gone

We’d crushed beauty fully

Muffled it with our hateful shouting

Overpowered the hum of the bees, the thrum of Mother Earth

With incessant complaint and discord

Recognizing our imbalance after a cleansing plague

Left us with only obscene screams

We looked for the answer in three, four time

While timpani drums throbbed to a different beat

We took our sons and daughters home

To teach them sense and love again

No matter the personal definition

No matter the political affiliation

We sought the sweet sound of songbirds

To offer sustenance for our souls

We looked for the answer in three, four time

While timpani drums throbbed to a different beat

Petri at his Wreath

By Sandy Lender

Some bright bauble round

Reflects your eyes’ perfect shine

Excited for Christmas day

And the wreath with which you play

Darting through the opening

Dancing, squeaking, fluttering

A glance to me then swing back through

Beads of red in strings of green

The loveliest thing I’ve ever seen

Is you

Excited on Christmas day