Santosha – Page 12 – The Poetry Marathon

16. Spider Luck

I touched a spider, yesterday as he sat on a Mini Cooper BMW, as happy as buzzing bee.

I touched him for good luck.

I thought he was a money spider, not a Union Jack supporter or Brexit negotiator in fact.

I questioned whether he was he a sign of what was to come, perhaps a car we would pursue, or was he only a sign of good luck as he could be nothing less and this was something I knew.

4. In Sync

80s music is where it is at and this a fact.

This is not the only thing we have in common.

Each day we linkup in ways that synchronize serendepity at its best.

Where are we now, two years strong?

Do we still get along?

We still share each other‘s thoughts …

Words merge, thoughts serge.

You can see the image I see at the same time.

You verbalize it in unison with me.

It’s uncanny how we do this while driving, sightseeing, or daydreaming.

We are still so in sync, no matter our mood.

Anytime there is ever a shadow of a doubt about us we throw it out, like a rain cloud trying to block out the sun or put a blanket over our sunshine.

We find a way to connect on the same line.

The bond is too strong.

Coincidences are too clear, we are on the same plane.

I am your eyes and you are mine.

6. Dreamwork …

Dreamwork …

While everyone is working I’m waking up from a night of traveling with students running recital’s …choreography… dancing

Mentoring

Greeting

Disciplining

Teaching

I am not getting a paycheck; I am working in my dream.

7. Outside my window

Peeking out the window I see a maple tree dressed in burgundy and alexandrite green leaves gently bobbing back-and-forth in the wind.

I see the world through a row of horizontal blinds that outfit the window like a sunglass frame once worn in a popular music video.

Fully formed red wine saturated leaves are contrasted against a mint green garage turned shed facing a dirt road with a gravel path that sounds like the roads almost a century ago, minus the planes and sirens that can be heard on occasion.

Inside my widow I see a miniature paper replica of a Japanese maple tree, with finger like leaves is in the foreground juxtaposed against the inside glass window trying to peek through the background of a carefully curated garden with brown mulch weathered by the sun.

It makes me even more anxious to break through the fourth stage, a willing suspension of disbelief, and go outside to pour the black mulch between the green plants blowing in the breeze as well as in between the now dry azaleas trying to mimic the richness of the black soil that it can create.

I’m convinced gardening is a mirror of our minds wild and free, a little struggle goes a long way indeed.

15. Explain how I feel…

When I’m near you

Or when we are apart

I see eyes that sparkle &

Eyebrows that tease

Heart shaped lips,

That whisper please …

You voice my deepest desires

Ever so softly, you say,

“Let go. Let me love you,

I can show you the way,

To love you without reservation,

I love you and you can be the same for me

Without question; without hesitation.”

I want to let go.

To show you too, I love only you.

My dreams no longer have an expiration date.

19. Journey

Journey

My friend’s daughter spells her name different from above, yet she is so full of love.

This journey we take is a choice we must make.

It is full of surprises along the way, mishaps and accidental mistakes that are beautiful and funny all the same.

This life is a journey of sorts.

Think of how fun it would be if each day was an adventure with ourselves and those we love, to go out into the world confidently.

Just like how we choose to approach our poetry.

18. Out of Order

Out of sorts

Poetry writing

In all kinds of ways

Some inspired

Many prompted

I wonder if I will see the break of day.

16 hours for the summer solstice

This is quite a feat

To stay up all night and day without missing a beat

Of the music

It started out with a soundtrack that ended.

As it got too late.

The music was all in my mind and I traded it for quiet.

I need to recheck my spelling and grammar.

All in all this is a feeling like to other.

Thank you to the creators of this glorious challenge.

To write to our hearts content with as little or as much flow.

I am so happy to have made it through 26 plus poems for a marathon worth its weight in gold.

My eyes are blurry and my hands are weak, yet this is the happiest I have been in weeks.

Once a year we dedicate an entire one day to Poetry… A national holiday near and dear to my heart.

Adieu till next year…

Sweet Slumber and Good Night to all.

May your poems rest tonight in the company of more than a few and tomorrow be shared and multiplied too…

You made it.

20. Watercolor Girl with the Red Hair

Why have your dyed your long locks a color not your own?

Soul Sister…

Moon Maiden…

Flower Child…

Why do you look away?

From the world?

Into the phone?

You are surrounded by beauty.

Can you see it?

You are in a purple haze that surrounding you.

A multitude of kaleidoscopic hues engulf your being.

An aura of the highest indigo chakra is vibrating around you.

Walk out of the screen and join reality…

3 AM Pancakes

3 AM Pancakes are best when shared…

Breakfast for dinner is a treat.

My father makes delicious pancakes and crepes this I know.

My new love likes Jack Johnson like my mamma and my brother flow.

I’m feeling so fly as I write.

When the rain falls and we nap we have everything we need.

Thank you for letting me sleep, but please wake me before noon so I don’t cry.

I need the sun as much as I need the rain, and yes, I love you all the same.

My Mother’s Clothes

Sporty…

Chic… cotton, silk, and linen.

She prefers Indian cotton, like how she dresses her babies.

Clothes that move; clothes that breathe.

She is on trend because she is a classic who dresses for herself.

She was “athleisure” before it was in vogue.

She wears pastels, whites, and royal blues with such command.

Denim shorts and gingham tops is how she shops.

My mother is a pillar of fashion and fun.

One day I’ll dress like her when I make my way to the sun.