The Poetry Marathon

Full basket

September puppy

Waiting to be born

All my eggs

In this basket

Morning

Wags and kisses

Coming home

Greetings

Leaning in to

My sad stories

Laughing at

The same jokes

Big pressure

For a little guy

TobeTT  #23

2wenty 2wo word harvest

early peas so welcomed

the first to go

dry desperate tendrils

grasping

the wiry metal fence

then yanked

without a thank you

withered vines break

in the wind

frost bitten

red tomatoes intoxicated

into jars

for deep winter meals

and perhaps

a blue ribbon

the last

green bumpy cucumber

waits alone

her young children abducted

pickles she sobs

dill I believe

humans can be

so cruel

anxious zucchini

hopes for a pie

no one is coming

for you

september is over

and you’re boring

so much for success

the growing is done

time to go

warns the crow

not for me

cries the four-eyed potato

Thanksgiving

they’ll be back

TobeTT  #22

Short bread cookie tin

Planting the azalea

She dug up cow bones

The marrow rotting

In to the earth

Rinsed in the sink

Hoping to impress

Her grandsons

A forensic moment

Placing the bones

In an old cookie tin

Tempted to dig again

Baked a pie instead

Glancing at the tin

The old woman smiled

One day a good place

To keep my ashes

TobeTT # 21

LOVE

it dies of blemishes, of atrophy, of exhaustion …

Left on the table

In the kitchen with

Too many windows,

The air thickens,

Hot,

Muggy.

Puts one in a salty mood.

In time a white patch will appear,

Then the mold sets in … green.

No one notices.

From within, around the seed,

The heart.

There is decay

From being ignored.

On the wall the clock ticks

Closer to indifference.

TobeTT  # 20

Winter’s Friend

In dreams

Gliding untethered

Across clear ice

Turning

A crisp whoosh

To stop then bow

Blue wool hat

Edged with

Gentle white fur

Falling as feathers

A perfect holy

Angel

Rolling snow orbs

Fashioning a

Winter’s friend

Wrapping the

Red scarf

With reverence

Dreams melt as

Car doors slam

Needing help

The old woman

Walks carefully on

Winter memories

Tobe TT # 19

A sign

I reside in this in-between

With you on the other side

Our deal not to be shared

With anyone living

I wait with patience to

Know that you are there

Somehow still connected

To me and us

Take only a moment

My last request as

You have joined the others

While I must open this door

TobeTT  # 18

Yarn hoarder’s confession

Street vendor by trade

Crocheting hats with a

Madame Defarge intensity

Seven years I sold them

Now laden with too much

Yarn purchased on sale

I appear a hoarder unwilling

To part with smart purchases

Hats of my own design

Unable to follow formal

Instructions lost on me

I had made up my own

Now Granny squares

Has become my therapy

The same square in

Infinite colors now hundreds

As yet not unified the

Squares are mounting up

In bags hidden from view

Until one day

Perhaps to circumnavigate

This failing planet to

Cozy it up with comfort

That only Granny can offer

TobeTT  # 17

haiku

my aching behind

causing a big distraction

a poet’s nightmare

TobeTT  # 16

Sober Friend

Grieving without wine

I became the sober friend

Without intention I hear

The ice in their glasses

When I answer the phone

It is almost all of them

And I am surprised

Belonging to this club

For years knowing

The phone was a trigger

Thinking I am missing

I try to imbibe only

To find my glass half

Full in the morning

Virtually untouched

I will not go back

As it is a slippery slope

I am only too familiar

Confusing drink with

Sadness I stay clear

TobeTT  # 15

Mixed Up

Yellow ran away from home

Causing great distress for

Blue and red while

Green and orange wept

Of little consequence to

Black and brown they

Offered support to bring the

Thoughtless youngster back

Purple obviously concerned

About blue and red

Showed his true colors

And went to the movies

People let this be a lesson

It’s not who you are that

Matters in this world

But who you are mixed up with

TobeTT  # 14