The Poetry Marathon

Widow rules are fluid

Three years they say

A corner to be turned

Still wearing the rings

Twirling on and off

Almost everyday

Clothes are gone

Papers are sorted

His boots rest in the barn

Almost out of sight

With pictures helping

Our one-way conversations

I can’t do the rings

Like a dead dog I will

Miss them all the time

I chance being out of the game

Unavailable should someone

Try to love me again

Weighing the risk cost

Not choosing to be unmarried

I keep them where they belong

No sprinkles

Icing thick

Swirling around

Ribbed coats

Pulled gently

Dropped down

Several mouthfuls

Breathing hard

Eyes closed

Licking fingers

Making sure

Wanting another

Asking ghosts to reveal

Who provided an essential

Ingredient that put me here

Implored the unseen on

The other side hoping

Perhaps they could help

A biblical seven days

And there he was

A someone who might know

Wrote a letter to this

Maybe new brother to

Suggest and ask

Calling with a curious

Voice we talked not knowing

How I happened

After a DNA said yes

The pictures arrived of

This handsome soldier

I like him I muse

Wondering what he thinks

Of me over there

Traveling to the little green store

Our two-wheelers with hand-bar tassels

Several coins eager and safe in pockets

Dropping bikes near the entrance

There is little worry of thievery

Our mission in sight we charge inside

The cooler holds my bottle of Yoo-Hoo

Near the counter sits the neatly arranged

Shiny round plastic bags of Ring Dings

To the bell of the cash register

We bolt out of the little green store

Past our resting transportation

Rushing behind the small wood building

Sitting with feet tapping the small brook

We tear in to our treasured treats

Tossing wrappers in the metal can

We’re off crossing the busy road

Heading home satisfied with the world

Twins in the garden

Born this spring

Tunneling with Mum

Under the barn

Out on their own

One at a time

Impossible to know

They were sibs

Well and bouncy

Soft autumn brown

Munching on new

Green summer grass

Tempted to name them

Wood and Chuck

Alas I am made of

better intentions

Anthony and Cleo

I don’t think so

I have more respect

For nature’s nursery

The ship’s captain rolled his arm

Around the lady while broad wide

Hands patted her tears to stop

White beard and sun-soaked skin

Yielded a low smooth voice

Comforting the sobs and shudders

Promising to return and save her

From the sudden lonely sadness

That encircled her dark world

Each morning and evening

He came to tell her of the

Beautiful day she was missing

Traveling far she searched

For a way to be in the world

That was new and hopeful

Tallest snow-covered mountains

Most wild beasts on the plains

Exotic trees in the jungle

Prayers with the shamans

Herbal baths from the healers

Meditation with the gurus

Always returning to the Captain

The gravely voice reminding

It’s a beautiful day

Weary from searching

Taking enough time to be still

She finally understood

There’s no place like home

Too sad to tell you what you know

Those dear folks are waiting

Hope has worn thin and evaporates

Struggling to make sense and

Put the pieces together

To get on until the next disturbance

So many layers in too many places

A catastrophe becomes the metaphor

Breathing again the challenge

How many times shall we be

Tapped on the shoulder reminded

That our task is to serve

My dragon sleeps with her head on my king bed

Her body rests on the floor while her rather

Long tail wanders out the window to the brook

She will not offer her name so I call her Dragon

Hoping she is not offended though she responds each time

Dragon is centuries old and not to pry I don’t ask

Dragon requires no food from me and I hold out hope

She refuses to murder the sweet creatures in the yard

She’s a healthy girl with clean habits and little care

A secret to all including my pup who shares our bed

I don’t risk being misunderstood and considered

An aging old gal in need of professional service

I always wanted a dragon not realizing that all

I had to do was ask and behold she was here

To lean on in sleep and dream past this life

I look forward to one windy ride before I die

With long white hair billowing behind me

My final blessing in this already grand life

Jersey girl from a foreign land

Marries man from another time

A mere three years apart

Yet a cultural century separates

My mother went to college

His rode her horse to school

Days when English fails

What are you talking about?

Uptown parents catered

The rich and famous

Local boy’s father

Worked at the brick factory

Frustration could yield hard words

Acceptance came slow

Times all we could do was laugh

Say Salmon Pea Wiggle without

Smiling

Wake up for something different

More than just the day

Wanting to get started

With sunshine to make hay

Not just ‘cause I have to

For work to pay the bills

To keep the fires going

To ward off all the chills

There must be a better carrot

To keep me in the game

Not this everyday routine

That sometimes feels so lame

To paint a special story

As they did on old cave walls

To say I’ve been here also

It’s how immortality calls

There’s too much distraction

Every time I look and see

What’s going on outside this life

I search and can’t find me

Write a song and sing it often

When riding on the bus

When walking in the grocery store

To let them know we’re us

I’ll keep looking for my thing

That suits me to a “T”

I promise to lay down my mark

To remind us we are we