The Poetry Marathon

Bonsai

Old friends met.

An outing.

Lunch and bonsai.

Prepared azaleas for

a new way of life.

Scissors slashed,

raked off soil,

exposed roots

to fit new, smaller pots.

Need to get rooted

in new soil.

Trimmed back

leaves, branches

to the shape, scale of

full-sized bushes.

Need to adapt to

smaller surroundings.

We ate and talked,

more awkward now

in company of others.

Took our newly planted bonsai.

Returned home to

adapt to our new,

smaller lives.

I’m Sue Storts, an old lady, retired psychiatrist. I live in Tulsa Oklahoma. I have done two of these half-marathons before. They were fun and exhausting. Don’t have the stamina for a full marathon. I admire those who do.

I just posted my twelfth poem, another Half Marathon finished. I can’t imagine doing this for another twelve hours. Good luck to all you Super Beings who complete the Full Marathon. I wrote Old Lady Poems this year. That is how my brain feels at this point. Old.

Don’t go into the Light.

I can do what I want.

You’re not my mother.

Dreams are not dark.

Dreams are like movies.

Is Death like a movie,

Or is it Dark?

Stay away from the light.

I don’t have to mind you.

You can’t make me.

Sleep without dreams

Is Dark.

Is Death like sleep?

I’m afraid to go there.

Don’t go into the light at the end of tunnel.

I choose the light.

You can’t tell me what to do.

I love stories.

I don’t have a flashlight.

I’m retired.

I can stay up late if I want.

It hurts.

I must have overdone it

Putting on my brassiere.

Odd pains,

Here and there,

Come and go.

Familiar pains,

Bone and muscle,

Come and stay.

Sharp or dull,

Localized or radiating,

Stabbing or aching,

Constant or Throbbing.

All pain stops eventually.

Pain is life.

Embrace the ibuprofen.

When did he get here?

Kind of round.

Other guy was muscular but thinner.

Hair’s a little thin,

Quite a bit of grey.

Other guy had full, dark hair.

Other man was grouchy;

This one’s irascible.

Other guy was a little anxious;

This one worries all the time.

Other man was compulsive;

This one’s obsessed.

He brought so much stuff.

He fidgets.

Smacks and growls when he eats.

Face folds over on his nose

When he sleeps.

He snores.

Drives me crazy.

But…….

He has the other guy’s eyes

And his wry smile.

Tells good stories,

Just like the other man.

Doesn’t let me get away with stuff,

Like fooling myself.

Goes along with my crazy ideas

Even when they scare him.

He loves my sons.

Seems comfortable here,

Like he fits.

Just like the other guy.

He gets me.

I’ll let him stay.

I’m going to the garden.

No, I’ll get the car.

What do you mean? It’s not too far.

Why do you always have to argue with me?

I don’t. Why do you think the garden is too far?

What? You said you were going to the car.

No. The garden. I’m going to the garden.

Oh… Be careful. It’s hot out there.

No, it’s not.

It’s not like the weather;

More like climate change,

Going unnoticed until it can’t be ignored.

Finally, the ocean level reaches the balcony.

Who are you?  You’re a fat little thing!

“Granny’s hiding candy in her shoes and wearing them to bed.”

Finally, there are no more trees to shelter the birds.

My forgetter’s working real good. I know you’re going to make a good teacher.

“Grandma, I just graduated from medical school.”

Finally, extreme weather makes us enemies.

Somebody stole my pressure cooker and replaced it with this one.

“No, Aunt G. I gave you that one for Christmas.”

Denial and enabling,

The tools of legislators and family members.

Confabulation and obfuscation,

The tools of big business and high intelligence.

Marketers fear loss of fixed income spending.

We become Senior Citizens.

We buy the Silver insurance plans.

We become mature and vintage,

Classic not antique.

We’re “of a certain age”.

What age is that?

We’re timeless and ageless beauties.

Sexagenarian has the word “sex”.

These are the Golden Years.

I’ll still spend my social security checks

Without the condescending bull shit.

Give me my Old Lady Discount.

I earned it.

It’s not profanity;

Please call me “Old”.

So sorry. He passed.

Passed by?  Passed over?  Passed through?  Passed out?

He passed on.

Passed on the promotion?  Passed on the second helping?

I’m sorry. I need more than a preposition.

Passed on to what?

A new job?  Another life?

Passed on to where?

A new town?  Another dimension?

No. He passed away.

Away from what? Away from whom?

He passed away from life.

Finally, a complete sentence.

So sorry. I understand now.

Life if hard.