The Poetry Marathon

The Walls

The Walls
Now that its all said and done
Can we bring down these walls?
Walls resentment and anger have built?
Can we bring down these walls?
Walls paucity of communication and impatience have built?
Can we bring down these walls?
Walls selfishness and lack of empathy have built?
Can we bring down these walls?
Walls that riding roughshod over another’s will have built?
Can we bring down these walls?
Walls ethnic and tribal sentiments have built?
Can we bring down these walls?
Walls that religious sentiments have…rigidly..built?
Can we bring down these walls?
Walls self imposed by human thoughtlessness?
Can we bring down these walls?
Walls that bloodshed and wanton blood letting have built?
Can we please bring down these walls?

07 – Normal

“What is normal?” I’ve been asking for years

And perhaps it’s because I’ve never felt it

What others consider run-of-the-mill or benign

Seems completely alien to me

And the opposite is true, what comes naturally

Appears to feel foreign in your skin

And then the pandemic upended

All that we’ve ever known

And so we just find a new homeostasis

Maybe all will be called to their true homes

Hour Seven

Prompt 7:

 

Silenced normal

From the hope for a change in silence, normal had drawn a line of seperation condemning instinctive certainty.

 

Source: Bronte, Charlotte. Jane Eyre. Wordsworth Editions, 1992. P.43. Print.

Girl, Not So Much About Town

Girl, Not So Much About Town

for Krista Richards, Girl About Town, On tour with O-Town author

$985.00 is too much for any book.

Yours may or may not be the truth.

Fortunate for YouTube and Boyband Break podcasts

excerpts of your writing heard.

Would have bought it at a Barnes and Noble 

reasonableness price,

in hopes of a poem inspiration.

Won’t become a prisoner to credit card debt

to read Fan Fiction.

Disappointment towards your experiences 

feel your descriptions towards Erik,

not so nice, not so much about Town.

Talk of Trevor’s size to brag,

if truthful embarrasses you more than him.

Surprised to hear Jacob ran into you recent.

Guess he’s grateful for what you did for his back.

Compliments towards Dan and Ashley the only 

kindness expressed in print.

Fan Fictions and tabloids can line my cats litter boxes.

Now a married mom and nurse, 

I wonder your regrets, but

won’t pay to read them.

I’m busy saving money for O-Town.

Sunny side Isle

Sunny side Isle
Oh how I wish it would rain
Let the rain fall down and Grace your shores
Oh how I wish it would rain
Sunny side isle

Copyright © 2021 Roxann Lawrence (Poetessrock)

Romeo and juliet- William Shakespeare

A love born from hate

Tragic events blamed on fate

 

When he gate crashed the ball

He didn’t know how hard he’d fall

He did not truly understand love until he met

A person he was meant to hate, his beloved Juliet

 

It was love at first sight

Marriage right after that night

But devastating circumstances forced them apart

Shattering both their hearts

 

And the hate between their families was so strong

That being wed to each other, they knew, was wrong

They were forced to make drastic choices

And shut out all the other responsible voices

 

A ruse was made to keep them together

So that they could love each other forever

But when things don’t go as planned

It cause Romeo to misunderstand

 

And so begins the end

Where suicide will mend

A bitter rivalry of  many years

As the parents mourn their children through tears

 

Death by poison and knife

To be together in another life

#8- A Rowling Stone Gathers No Moss

Cupboards and spiders,

Screaming and fighting,

All of a sudden, I’m eleven,

There’s magic.

A big scary man and a secret train station,

A red headed boy and a little know it all.

Four houses to belong to,

A talking hat that decides my way,

My history unfolding,

My name, a symbol.

The wind in my hair,

As I take flight on my broom,

A teacher who hates me,

A little more than a little hate?

A secret door with a guard dog,

Many attempts to break in.

Saving the school,

Saving the world,

Little Harry Potter,

Saving since forever.

~thryaksha

 

Book Haikus

Choose to live a life

brave, full of wonder, even

So the sea can see.

Surviving Savannah by Patti Callahan

 

American Dirt

Covering our white privilege

Ignoring others.

 

Forced on a journey,

A mother and son, they move

greeted by struggle.

 

But they do survive.

Their story, like so many,

determined yet weak.

American Dirt by Jeanine Cummins

 

We just do not know

The struggles people carry

Hidden behind smiles.

Anxious People by Fredrick Bachman

 

Judging others is

A monstrous game played by so

Many who miss out.

The House in the Cerulean Sea by T.J. Klune

 

Dust-covered, dirty

migrate to California

heart set; tragedy.

The Four Winds by Kristin Hannah

 

HOUR #8 (Lack of progress)

Silence is not golden.

At present, it is a pounding, penetrating reminder

of failure.

The air conditioner comes on from time to time

my sole sound companion;

as it achieves a loud monophonic bluster,

I just want it to end.

I can take the heat but not the monotony

It reminds me too much of my present predicament.

 

I find no comfort in being alone with my thoughts

when the thoughts do not come

when the ideas that seemed to be flowing

ebb suddenly then stop against an invisible dam-

a beaver’s wet dream.

(All puns intended).

 

Outside my window,

the wind pushes across the wide street below

foretelling the storm to come

It takes no prisoners and gives not one damn

I would ride it to escape if I could.

No. 8 – The Prom Dress

No. 8 – The Prom Dress

By Nandhini G. Natarajan

 

It was a special joy,

a milestone for my high school

Downs Syndrome daughter.

She was going to the prom,

just like her sister, Anjali

the previous year.

Her Best Buddy was taking her.

 

(I wanted to adopt

the best buddy.

But her parents

refused.)

 

I pulled out all stops.

No dress was good enough

for this occasion.

I made a dark-pink satin gown

And got shoes to match.

 

Alas, there was an emergency

on that momentous day,

I would be out of town.

 

Anjali was cajoled

to come from college

and dress her sister for the day.

I was reassured on the

transatlantic call

that Piya looked

splendid.

 

I longed to see the pictures.

When I did, I wept.

Her father came over to point

out proudly.

I even put on her tights which Anjali had forgotten.

And there it was between the lovely satin dress,

and the lovely matching shoes.

A pair of pure white,

thick, woolen stockings.