The Poetry Marathon

the rain fell

and if you heard

if you listened

you would hear it,

soft strains of them,

a man and woman,

dancing,

and to them, in that rain,

there is nothing else

nothing,

save for heartbeats

and the drum of rainfall.

The green-grey of a storm is utterly electrifying.

You can almost taste the violent potential,

even as the air presses down on you,

and birds huddle away tightly,

and there is nothing behind but golden sunlight

and that dark storm, looming,

that thunder sound low and rumbling over you.

She sits near a window and never knocks,

though you know she’s always at home.

Spinning, weaving, making time

by measure of her lengthy thread.

Little delicate creature of black,

why do you hover so?

Peering through my window frame,

do you dream of warm rooms,

no rent,

not hanging by a thread?

Little old woman in your stamp of bright red,

do you know that your sign says

stand back?

I’d love to come and let you in,

if only you would refrain

from venomous tendencies!

If there was something there, and all we had

could be carried, this slip-thin gently-used old love we

had used along would remain; but

this is us, the ones who had enough of the world.

And you wanted more, but I had enough.

Enough to carry and sustain, but you and

she had your minutes, while I had enough of time.

“Had we but world enough and time..” To His Coy Mistress, by Andrew Marvell.

I hope you can forgive
a devious sense of humor
which can, or will delight
in that lovely presence,
now, if only you remember
us two fools grinning.

And while we are grinning
I hope you’ll forgive
that I can remember
your own gentle humor
at my disheveled presence
and obvious delight.

And to this delight
for which I’m clearly grinning
At your new presence
You seem to forgive
my weird brand of humor
And oh! I also remember..

Or at least think I remember
that midnight sweet delight
touched by your sweet humor
those lips temptingly grinning
but of course you’ll forgive
my flustering presence.

And what presence
can’t I remember?
Please do forgive.
This tonight delight
is graced by grinning
fools with love’s humor.

and that love’s humor
is given a presence
of two grinning
friends who can remember
a lover’s delight
which time can forgive.

But your lovely soul humor I will always remember
that true, luminary presence, my own true delight.
You leave me standing, grinning. A temptation I can forgive.

When the moon is full and dark,

when the moon is full and dark,

will you find me drifting, slowly dancing?

will you find me drifting, slowly dancing?

Slowly dancing, when drifting, find

me the full and dark moon.

No spell can bring this old love back,

no spell can bring this old love back,

but try we will, try you might,

but try we will, try you might,

This old love, try, back but try

you might we will, but no spell.

See it there under the jasmine vine waiting?

See it there under the jasmine vine waiting?

Perfumed melancholia of memories washed away, with time,

perfumed melancholia of memories washed away, in time,

With time, waiting, memories washed away, see it

under the jasmine vine, perfumed melancholia.

The full moon, dark, but no spell

find me this old love, we will see it

slowly dancing, you might with time

try, back but try perfumed melancholia

under the jasmine vine, waiting,

memories washed away.

you make me happy

joyful

delightful

with all ten fingers and toes

you make me silly

happy

get rid of all my woes

cheerful

wonderful

jubilee

exhilarate

little mr. sunshine,

my little ray of golden sun,

sweet little child of mine

you make me happy

when my skies are grey.

The morning sun is in my eyes,

why oh why must I go blind?

The window east sounded like a good plan,

but then I could understand,

the morning sun is in my eyes,

and now I can truly realize

that a morning person I am not.

Foolish things I planned out,

in the home I want to build,

the door North sounded grand,

but not in the ways that I had planned!

Foolish things I had planned out,

winds are coming in with snow,

I’m sorry but I’m buried, so I can’t go!

I wanted a home by the sea,

how grand a cottage just for me!

A little stone house near the breeze,

until the storms blew in,

I wanted a home by the sea,

but I never bargained a storm for me!

Help! I’m too close to be swept away, please say a prayer for me!

I think my home is hearth and books,

to keep me company.

To sit and read and drink my tea,

and live in quiet harmony.

I think my home is hearth and books,

for what else do you need?

Papers and tea mugs all I want,

and things that I can read.

The string we shared was a thin one,

little steel cable, shimmering

in the glow of bliss,

and even as our days grow dark,

I can feel the string pulling me out, pulling me in,

though you’re 2000 miles away,

I can’t help myself, I’m strung to you

and the night is full and bright,

and I have miles to go before I sleep,

and the string is singing of lovely lullabies,

dreams and late-night goodbyes.