The Poetry Marathon

21     What tomorrow brings

Red sky at night sailor’s delight

Red sky in morning sailor’s warning

A week of warnings as this Sunday morning

Brings a red dawn to take heed

A brief respite from the calamity

Of our world that divides and frightens

I am not ready for another Monday

Bringing doom and fears for many

Feeling safe as I age in a northern

Paradise of green and liberals

Far from the too much and too little

I watch remotely as others suffer

They say to vote and send money

But there is little change for most

Take to the streets and warn the

Masses who turn and shop for comfort

The sky now fades with relief

I will slow my breathing and

Sink back down for one last moment

Before tomorrow harkens more trouble

20     Stuff

Time will bring aches and pains

With gout and wiggly bones

Perhaps hair will thin and fade

Fond memories of moments gone

But to know me all one must do

Is travel through this house

Visit each room that belongs

Sanctuary to a hoarding mouse

It seems my peers and I are sharing

This journey going through our space

Just in case there may be an item

A treasure hidden from our face

Hoping for that valuable find

More money to see us through

More likely we wonder out loud

So much stuff!  What shall I do?

19     Firefly

Each night once dark arrives

A sole firefly twinkles

Near the upper left broad window

As if it wants to come in

Believing it to be the same firefly

I welcome with a familiar greeting

Wondering why the vast outdoors

Does not beckon this bug

18     New Old Hair

Hoping for long white braids at eighty

I am on my way despite hair thinning

I had wanted thick wide lusty braids

Those witches wore around a midnight fire

Accept my fate with what now endows my head

Perhaps I shall add ribbons of many colors

To show an old hippie is inside this person

As braids of thin hair slip out at night

True white silky tresses are my blessing

Many comment as others are merely mid-gray

I hold by breath each day as I discover

Too many slivers of silver on my pillow

17     Intermission

I might have to take a break

I might have to stop

And make some maple oatmeal

On my bed I will flop

I will keep the light shining

To avoid a deep long sleep

I have to give my brain a rest

As these words don’t come cheap

I’ll boil water and find a bowl

And empty the oatmeal pack

But have no fear I promise you

I definitely will be back

16     The Cello and I

I played the cello for a summer

I lugged it all around

Taking lessons from an expert

I was lucky to have found

Soon I noticed I was rotten

I didn’t practice very far

Instead I bought a ticket

To see virtuoso YoYo Ma

I felt bad for my instructor

She really cared a lot

And wanted all her students

To become talents on the spot

The cello left undaunted

Back to the rental shop it went

Now I listen to the masters play

Precious time well spent

15     Rodent Hotel

Chipmunks abound darting

Under the porch and into

The old maple’s oval portal

Rabbits dig below the

Garden fence at night

Filling themselves well

Woodchuck twins munch

Grasses near my door

Skittish when Millie barks

I know there’s mice

That scamper in the walls

Ancestors here before my time

Decades we lived in peace

Despite folks often warning

They will come to no good

14      Colored Pencils

You see I am not alone

I know you’re out there

You who cannot resist

A box of colored pencils

Matter not how many you have

There is always recognition

That more will be better

Though many see no daylight

Art supply support groups

I will join but not yet

I am not ready to stop

This madness that feels good

It is the idea of it

Hoping to be a creative

Though never commencing

The act of pencil to paper

And Oh, the paper!

Don’t get me started

When I pass my children

Will divvy up the spoils

13     For Mela

Treehouses created by handsome men

Who rode horseback shirtless through

The rain forest of Belize

A long morning climb up a rocky mount

To jump down an endless waterfall

After three shots of whiskey

We ate armadillo exchanged for cash

On Bob Marley’s birthday as we

Celebrated with a toke and stew

Our adventure held memories for

Decades after we returned and grew

Older and aware of our mortality

My buddy passed this week before

I could say Goodbye and hold dear

A wild adventure for girls only

12      Point of Origin

Adopted finding new brothers and sisters

DNA speaks of Sicily and ancestors who

Ventured across the sea to a place called

Brooklyn with collections of their folk

Beautiful men and one being a father

Who I will never meet or see his

Good-looking glance that belongs to me and

My children in places around the eyes

I will never hear his voice though

I imagine my new brother sounds

Similar to that man who held my mother

Once upon a time near Brooklyn

There is no story to tell or know

How this comely young girl found herself

A handsome soldier beyond Italy’s shores

Long enough to make me