The Poetry Marathon

I left my house too early.

No other  cars were in the drive.

My fingers turned to ice,

as my stomach churned inside.

Too early, no one’s there.

Around the block I go to think.

Meeting new people in new place,

Learning names and matching faces.

Deep breath in and blow it out,

whatever shall I do.

A car pulls up and the driver appears,

I can do this as person number two.

Three more cars before I park.

Six people with food and chairs.

I can’t, not yet,

away I go.

They wave and I’m not there.

The summer heat baked the watermelon on the vine,

Not enough water, not enough shade, perhaps another time.

Twice a day I tried to give them drink, but it was weeks with no reprieve,

The summer heat baked the watermelon, but wait, what did I see?

A weekend away, when I returned, the watermelon vine sprung anew!

Maybe too much water and too much heat, water more carefully I will do.

No flowers yet but hope has sprung, a chance again to thrive.

The summer heat’s not over, but maybe my garden will survive.

Two cats, one dog, and me, family

united in our shared space as one.

Love, laughter, quiet times shared too.

Better together for

the good and bad days,

they love me always.

Family,

glad.

The smell of sourdough bread baking wafted through the air.

The bakery storefront display had cakes and pastries there.

The sign in the window advertised fresh jams and almond butter spread.

The forest ranger lost his resolve and into the bakery he did head.

Pausing for some coffee and a fresh cheese Danish that hit the spot.

He tapped his foot to the beat, glad to drink until the last drop.

sourdough

storefront

spread

forest ranger

beat

New Year’s Eve gives us time to reflect,

on past and future days.

We can choose to challenge ourselves,

to find out better ways.

To celebrate the good memories,

to flush the bad memories away,

to hold resolve to improve ourselves,

in the up and coming days.

The countdown to the New Year,

people pop corks and cheer.

Kissing loved ones, hugging friends,

wishing the best for all who are here.

Don’t put all your eggs in one basket,

An expression heard a time or two.

A good warning for those who walk in two left shoes.

If all your eggs are in one basket,

And you take a fall,

Laugh it off and make a scramble,

The tastiest of them all!

Blue skies beckon.

The balloon basket awaits.

Burdens heavy set down.

The flame ignites.

Away into the heavens.

Let go of the rope.

Leave those burdens to God’s care.

Hold on to hope.

Normal changed.

Everything is strange.

I want to scream.

Mom, dad, no longer here.

This wasn’t what I dreamed.

Normal changed.

Everything is strange.

Does anyone agree?

A spring in your step may occur when vacation is at hand,

Whether going far away or staying home is the plan.

Skipping may occur when you have a light hearted revelry,

For wandering in a funny style can bring laughter bright and free.

Twirling round and round, is another way to go,

Though dizzy you may find yourself rather slow.

Strolling from point a to b, chatting with a friend,

There’s many ways to wander, the options have no end.

Digging in the garden, ready to plant new roses down.

My shovel made a clank, I knelt to see what made the sound.

A small metal box rested there, the length and width of my size eight shoe.

I lifted it out with a smile, whispering, “who buried you?”

The lid opened after a few raps from the shovel through and through.

There was a faded picture, a young family smiling brave,

Letters filled the rest of the box, a glimpse into time past.

A childish scrawl when it began, it developed throughout the years.

A few tear stained letters, the writer could not stop the tears.

My cheeks wet too as I read the tragedies that struck them down one by one,

A family no more, or were they, I searched upon my phone.

Perhaps I could find one that remained, and help these letters find a home.