The Poetry Marathon

If we had the earth implanted in our womb,

Would we nourish ourselves more?

Would we care for her better?

Would we look down at the plants and trees and rivers, as we would look down at our own beautiful growing belly,

Knowing that with each breath, each thought, each bite of food, each sip of water creates the growth of the forests and fields that will soon provide us with nourishment, medicines, fresh air, and a place to revel in beauty.

Would we have more intention to do what is best for the earth? Would we give ourselves more time to prioritize it’s wellbeing?

Would we put it above all else? Would we love ourselves more wholeheartedly knowing that this alone would improve the world.

If we saw ourselves as the divine mothers that we are, would we feel empowered? Would we console the troubles of the terrified world by taking as much of it in our arms and shooting it with the nurturing power we have?

Would we take every wounded soul capable of creating destruction and hold it close allowing anger and greed to melt into grief and sadness and from there would we rebuild these souls by feeding them with all of the love we have.

Could we fill them full enough that they sleep and steep in only love, waking up anew. If we act as the Divine Mothers we are, can we wake up the world?

“Be a lotus in the pond,” she said, “opening slowly, no single energy tugging against another but peacefully, all together.”

I couldn’t even touch my toes. “Feel your quadriceps stretching?” she asked.Well, something was certainly stretching.

Standing impressively upright,she raised one leg and placed it against the other, then lifted her arms and shook her hand like leaves. “Be a tree,” she said.

I lay on the floor, exhausted.

But to be a lotus in the pond opening slowly, and very slowly rising, that I could do.

In the hole in the ground, there lived a hobbit, that’s what I imagined,

When I was young, I longed to be a fearsome Dwarf or Elven King,

A ranger from whom goblins flee or wizard upon Eagle’s wing,

But as of late, it seems to me,
It’s best to be a humble thing,
In the hole in the ground, there lived a a hobbit worry-free…

But then again, they got the Ring.

I sing a song beyond the sea where feathers float on dreams and cactus flowers bloom.

Where lazy afternoon hours sneak glimpses at sunset.

Where time has no meaning for it counts itself in breaths, and clouds of many colors drift just out of reach.

Where laughter fills the morning light reflected off the dew, and nighttime touches dusk, to soothe a weary soul.

I walk among wishes held deep within a sigh.

Where ferns cast lacey shadows upon sparkling rippled lakes,and enchantment rules the dawn.

I sing a song beyond the sea.

My song is heard and answered,carried on an eagle’s cry.

Some days I still long
for the big brown chair,
my parents used to own.
It was round, ribbed,
yellow mustard corduroy.
I’d spin one way, then the other,
pause, eleven, listening
to Cat Stevens sing.
Losing everything,
hands, eyes, legs, mouth,
sounded like nothing to fear
under a benevolent,
faithful light the way
he sang it.
Moonshadows
connect my life
like a thread
chaining each and every moment.
Once a full moon followed me
over snowy Nottingham roads,
trees limbs encased in inches of ice
while that song played
and I knew I might slip
or slide, but I’d be alright.
I long for that old
brown chair still.
I want to curl up
and unspin
this crazy world
I’ve grown up in
and listen to every song
on that album.

One day when the MASKS come off,
And forgotten smiles touch us once again,
It might be STRANGE but,
We will have learned to listen to unsaid words,
Of songs that speak of love and pain.

One day when the air is clean
We will leave our COTTAGES, and breathe anew.
To take in life, but give back much more than just ZOOM calls,
Knowing we’ve won the battle of “many” and “few”.

One day when this all makes sense
When every tear is wiped, every heart is lit like a FIREFLY,
Maybe we will look back and tell ourselves,
It wasn’t the easiest puzzle, but yes, I did my bit.

One day….

All other expressions be on your way, Why isn’t there a day to celebrate words?
A day for all the language🧐

But it’s nice to celebrate something new,
Rejoice in the use of the emoji✌️
Emojis definitely brighten up a tweet✨, To tell everyone you are: “allergic to 🦞
Not just one you can have a few,
Instead of an insult why not a you ! Although we shouldn’t make travelling easy,
Thinking of that nastiness makes me🤮

Emojis are cool creations,
Enabling all nations –

To interact without language + verbs

+ grammar,

Not a communication

In the works !
A new language to appreciate, So EQ emoji before it’s too !? !!!

With this poem I think👩‍🎓

The calm brush of a breeze with the scent of home fires burning,
Inviting, the spell of leaves falling in a swirl,
they touch your face and provoke a smile.

The gentle caress of autumn steals the sultry heat of summer precludes the melancholy of winter;
a careful lover,
he whispers in your ear promises of evenings spent enthralled within his arms as he teases you with nature’s kisses.

within the change of seasons comes the promise of his visit and within his embrace,
the promise your heart will be kept warm and soul lulled into rest,
before the chill of winter steals his caress away from you.

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
A face in a passing car, upturned in a smile,
A dream, remembered long after waking up.

A glint of red in my own unwashed hair,
A tree in winter, looking as good as dead,
A bent leaf curled about grassy blade,
A puff of wind ahead of me on the path, A pup I may never see in its life or mine,
Someone else’s joy at a nice surprise.

The smell of bread leavening by the heat,
Our rabbit’s morning breath so sweet! The joy of taking a walk with words I feel,
A gardener’s joy in dirtied hands and heel.

Reaching in to see if I can touch you, Running hands against living, breathing flesh,
I still fall in love with something new,
I fall in love with love each day,
There isn’t that much, I haven’t loved so far.

A silly fool’s foolish heart carved; thoughts often scattered, but never torn apart.

Narcissism, the bearable kind;
a relatively non-foggy intelligent mind.
Sunshine both from the morn and noon, twilight hues and not a minute too soon.

Drizzles, downpours, floods and fall, drench my soul, they take my all,with an umbrella in hand.

Trees greet each other;
Moonlight and stars;
of course all the cliched romance of Venus with Mars.

Music better be, the soul stirring kind,
to trigger memories that are often hard to find.
No dearth of giggles and tears,
nothing to hide, the laughter or the fears.
A girl first, a woman always, so many roles,
so many masks with grace.

Mountains gray, dreams of gold,
growing up a lot harder than simply growing old.
Drops of dew; a morning anew, take my hand,
let’s leave footprints in the sand.
Living moments, far and few, complete with a pinch of me, incomplete without pinch of you…