The Poetry Marathon

They slip into the ground,

buried there alive—

Burrow down to death— You’ll find;

magic Seeds that strive.

Dainty roses, small pigweeds,

giant redwood trees,

bundled up in teensy shells;

born to thrive, are these.

Thoughts are magic seeds;

buried in the mind.

Thoughts sprout flowers,

thoughts grow weeds;

giant trees— you’ll find.

Will “I Am”—

Will you pose with who I  Am?

I-Am-bic poetry?

Prophet us oh Mir-i-am.

Will “I Am” is me.

Willingly I say “I AM”.

I Am, The Word, I’m one?

Her “I Am”  a sacrifice.

To “I”— Am-“er”— I can.

Merriam; oh god of words.

I am, de-find to be.

I am formed in letter herds.

I am made of Thee.

Pink skies  silhouette my view—

Blue mountains, silver water too.

Street lights usher out the night,

Red eyes, turning  off my sight.

In Idaho—we’ve both been friends,

First grade girl of innocence.

A memory that now depends,

Neither native citizens,

Meeting both our families’ ends.

Her— Arizona Mom made plans,

Me— Colorado family lands.

Now, that is where our story ends,

I miss her lovely little hands,

Time separates with sand.

We took our songs into the swings,

Up, Up away— balloon of dreams..

I’m leaving on a jet plane— stings.

We sang to groovy song moonbeams.

We’re tied by fragile memory strings.

She had such lovely auburn hair.

And emerald green her eyes

My eyes of blue we’d look to share

My blond haired windblown skies.

Yet, In my dreaming I still care.

Perhaps some day by chance we’ll meet,

We’ll push a grandchild in a swing.

The tunes we sang, we’ll then repeat,

Look in each others eyes and sing,

Missed songs of days gone bye.

A finer day,

A ballroom dance,

He sought his way

With his advance.

And false pretext.

She’ll run away?

A friendly smile across the room,

His words help you to fight the gloom.

He reassures—

“You stand there waiting for a coach,

You needn’t leave, I’ll not encroach.

I’ll make sure you’ll get home safe.

I wish someone had done the same

For my own Jewel.

You’ll be okay,

You needn’t cry.

You’re safe to look me in the eye.

Just stay awhile.

I’ll help you smile.

Perhaps you’ll even laugh a while.

Sweet music I’ll provide for you.

You only need to like it too.

Lift up your fan and hold my hand,

Take wing to an enchanted land.

Perhaps a waltz on crystal sand,

Now that we’ll do.

We’ll talk into the morning light,

You share your dreams,

I’ll make it right.

You’ll be home soon,

Look at that moon!

Oh, What a fine black velvet night!”

I caught a catfish from  Lake Powell.

‘Twas bigger than your pike so frail.

It was this long from head to tail.

My story has a fishy smell?

I tell the truth, so go to—

Well, Okay it wasn’t quite that swell.

This fish was bigger than a house,

Okey a house made for a mouse.

Or maybe for a common louse?

Don’t bother me with fine detail.

My story grows with every tell.

I’ll send a picture in the mail,

Juxtaposed by a giant snail.

On my clothes hung on a line

Sewn for me in soft silk twine.

Carcass of a bumble bee.

Floating in the wind you see.

Flying  like a little kite,

With my underwear so white.

What a crafty tailor, you.

Gulliver need fear you too.

I will have to break your heart,

Crafty spider, oh, so smart!

What if you were omnipresent

Their theres were really your heres.

You were always

Here being now.

Resurrection—

The end of reincarnation

An ascension of space

Your yous  come together as one.

Imploding into self,

Before exploding into everywhere

Before everyone

Could be there

To hear

The soundless —

“BANG”.

Cloud Mountain is—

shrouded in mystery,

where thought is soundlessly

sleeping.  

“Come down,out of the clouds,”

my father warned—

but I have always spent my free time,

on Cloud Mountain’s pleasant slopes;

where I can see more clearly,

my daydreams floating by.

Forever now,

The in flowing

The outgoing

Like a never ready—

Everflux battery.