The Poetry Marathon

Tá brón orm –
The sorrow is on me.
I’m sorry sounds so much better in Irish than English.

Tá brón orm.
I started this marathon late.
My house had some flooding last night.

Tá brón orm.
The cable guy is repairing the signal and I can’t access the internet.

Tá brón orm.
I’m drawing a blank on words and ideas are not flowing today.

The sorrow is on me

Tá áthas orm –
Joy is on me.
The sun rose today.
My leak wasn’t too bad.
Someone helped me move boxes.
My cable is being fixed.
I have cellular service and can type from my phone.
I’m meeting friends for dinner.

Tá áthas orm – Joy is on me.

Hour 3

The rains came last night in the desert,
the ground already drenched from
last week’s tropical storm.

I followed my usual after work routine –
treadmill, stretching, dinner.

As I was in part 2 of the routine,
the stretching portion,
I heard a crash.

Boxes stashed out of sight had fallen over in the office,
the one room
aside from the garage that had not been sorted.

I stepped in the water as I went to straighten the boxes;
shut the door, returning to my yoga mat
and continued stretching.

Annoyance at the thought of my evening plans being interrupted,
fear of possible damage and of being alone,
dread at lifting the heavy boxes with my poor back
bombarded me.

Getting up off the mat after a final stretch,
I heat up dinner,
text friends
and open the office door to begin.

Hour 2
My cherished memory is a picture
of my grandma sitting at our dining room table
with the wallpaper flowers behind her.

I remember feeling excitement
when she and my uncle came down
from “up north” in mid Michigan.

I remember getting
Little Ceasar’s Pizza Pizza
and loving it.

I remember my mom getting frenzied
before their visit and getting mad
when I asked her about it and
I didn’t understand.

I remember feeling connected
where extended family meant a world
outside of my isolated “Christian family”
where everyone else was “of the world”
and we were not.

I remember not wanting to be set apart
from the world
as I was part of it
and I felt tethered to the earth.

I didn’t want to be different.
I didn’t want to be “not of this world”.
I wanted to be a part of.
I wanted to belong.

My cherished memory is in a picture.

Prompt #1
After Diana Khoi Nguyen

This is how she found me
the past draped around me like a cloak.

A box full of pictures and memories,
a kiss on the cheek at Whatcom Falls
from when I used to visit years ago
a different world from the barren desert.

A kiss on the forehead
from when she was sleeping
after her return from her Greek adventures

Pens and unused flowery notebooks
books and memoirs she read

A childhood picture (that I would send back
if I knew where she lived)
pictures of Bruce
her feisty Chihuahua companion
pictures of us

This is how she found me
the past draped around me like a cloak
and I feel nothing;
no sorrow, no grief, no love, no longing;
This is how she found me
the past draped around me like a cloak
that I shrug off
because I don’t want to be found

Sometimes, I have FOMO
until I’m out and about
and miss my solitude

Sometimes, I get lost
within myself and
my dark thoughts swirl

I think I’m alone
have nothing to contribute
no adventurous tales to tell
no travels to speak of
then a friend calls
and I’m full of wit and humor
and find stories I’d forgotten

Sometimes, I have FOMO
until I see myself in others

I like my solitude
I like my friends
I just need a reminder now and then

An ex once told me

I looked like Santa with

my belly shaking

and it embarrassed her.

That took the grin

right off my face

and put me in my place.

Junior neighs as I get closer.
I want to think he’s happy to see me
but know he wants the apples I hold.

His mom joins him in song
as she learned to get hers too.

Pretty soon the two horses
have told their friends and family
and I’m bringing apples to
feed everyone.

Junior glares at me when I’ve
forgotten his treat
and tell the rest of my misdeed.

One bit my hand trying to find
the apple not there.
The others were a bit more understanding
and agreed I could make it up
tomorrow.

I remember the 5 gallon ice cream buckets
and jumbo sized Lays potato chips
that were supposed to be hidden in our deep freezer.

My dad came into the den when I was watching TV with
my boyfriend at the time
and brought the bag of potato chips
he had found.

The potato chips crumbs landed on his shirt
as he tried to eat too many too quickly
feeding a spiritual hunger

Looking back, I feel bad.
He hungered for something he didn’t have
and couldn’t find
in a bag of potato chips.

At the time,
I was an embarrassed 14 yr old
whose boyfriend was trying not to laugh.

My dad didn’t seem to have a clue
about his actions or the reaction he received.
And I’m a little grateful for this

I’m looking down at the
pretty yellow cabanas
all in a row
like students in the classroom
eyes forward facing the
sun drenched gleaming water

The cabanas look
more like umbrellas of a
single monotonous color
standing at attention
like good military soldiers.

I prefer the international umbrellas,
the multi colored ones
that I saw at the lavender festival
last week.
They were much more vivid
set against the constant blue of sky.

I’m looking up at the
pretty colored umbrellas
and lost where
mysteries abound
in the chaos
of multi anything

Come on Mom
just a bite, please?
It’s good for me –
full of fiber and water
with just a touch of sweetness.
I don’t ask for much
just some love
and an occassional
watermelon snack.