The Poetry Marathon

Summertime Blues

I love summer and summer loves me.
As I Rest under a big tall shade tree with a nice cool drink to refresh my Soul.
There are always summertime games of hide and go seek.
You don’t have to worry about school until Fall takes a peek.
Spending all Your time on a sandy beach watching the people go by.
There is never a dull moment from dusk till dawn.
Rolling down the river on a raft made of wood; paddling a canoe on a beautiful sunny day makes life seem worthwhile.
Listening to the happy songs of waterfalls and white capped waves to love’s sweet tunes will make you feel light and gay.
These Are some of the wayS you can avoid the summertime blues.

Waiting

Love
Reveals
Naked truth
Undressing my thoughts.
Clothes slipping down into
A pile on the floor ‘neath
me, patiently waiting your touch.
Downcast eyes flicker warmth hiding softly
Fallen words, describing what you see
What your heart has moved to feel within you
That which is already felt by me
Climb through my windows and away
From your solitude and pain
For here, I wait for you
Here, I rise for you
From diaphragm
To my soul
I wait
Nude

untitled

Absorption of all light
Of every visible energy particle
Of all portions of the spectrum
Like a signal to an antenna
Like vitamin D to soil and bark
Like builders to work on monuments
Like scholars to an archive
Like prophets to canon
Like dusk on Manifest Destiny
and midnight over America
Turning barbarians’ wack linguistics to motivation
or, at least, pride
Like sunlight to melanin
Like…since Pangea
They can not outshine
that which absorbs all visible energy
All portions of the spectrum

The Remainder

No one even knew it wasn’t an

Ordinary day.

Rearranging all familiar objects;

Making common melt away.

And now we only have the rubble

Left once the twister flew away.

The Beach

The Beach

 

Car trouble on the way to Union Pier Michigan.

Martin bent down to look under the hood,

came up with face and glasses covered with soot

or smoke, what a Chevy emitted under stress.

He was startled but fine, like a guy in a TV show,

maybe Abbott and Costello or the Riley dad

in The Life of Riley. We waited at the gas station

where the car got fixed. We were always waiting

for our apartment near the beach, from the day

we came back home to the day we went again.

We played at the mostly placid beach every day,

except when there was an undertow sign, adults

in knotted groups talking in undertones. We kids

got the gist of it, someone pulled under…

Like air we breathed in sadness and respect

for the lake, untamable, small choppy waves

belying its power. The day before we left,

needing to punish someone, my parents, myself,

I dumped a bucket of sand on my head.

Sure enough I upset Rose and for weeks

after that she rinsed sand out of my hair,

though grit like chopped cinnamon

roughed up my pillow each night.

 

 

 

Have We Meet?

I live in a small house high above the slum

On the street but off the track

Into the wood, the green scenery

Held by the tall mountains and flat plains

But enveloped in a cloud of silence

Yet, once or twice broken by the bird’s chirping

Or the frogs crack and the breeze blowing

For the trees and Shrubs to dance slowly

Though, aggressively when storms break out

This word I see and I thirst for non-other

Not because I was socially inept

Nor was it because we all others were fake

But was because silence itself was fulfilling

Inspiring, thought-minded, eye-opening

For I saw the other world

And in silence I observed

That’s why when we met,  you asked

“Have we met?”

How could we have meet

When I have always dwelt in silence.

 

FALLOW

6 seasons left untended

Fallow heart

Dormant

The few tenacious tendrils

Emerging from the soil

Wild and untamed

A testament to nature

Rather than nurture

What Time Is It? – Prompt Hour 5

 

The Gift of Time

 

Here’s this…oddly familiar cash box,

the sort you use for a yard sale or craft show,

I’ve just dug out of the ground where the roses are strangled.

To say the previous homeowner had a green thumb would be a lie,

so it would also be a lie for me to say

I’m not confused by this cash box,

Which has my initials on it.

 

I’m tempted to stand here

at the kitchen counter with my brow knit with confusion,

drinking a glass of clover and mint tea

while the tiniest fingertips of fear creep up my spine,

but curiosity is killing me.

 

Strange, the key to the cash box in the garage is the same…

 

How in the world…

Did my Aunt Marguerite’s bible end up in here?

I lost that sixteen years ago.

And who took these pictures of me

at age fourteen sitting in the café on the mall in Cape May?

Or this picture of me

reading a book on a Lake Michigan beach when I was twenty?

Where did they get this ring I lost when my ex-husband left that one time?

Or this gold and sapphire bracelet I found at St Alban’s and lost again in Elephant and Castle?

This…is a monogrammed handkerchief my Nan gave me

when I was eight…I cried a lot back then.

What’s most confusing is this envelope full of pictures…of this young man who never seems to age.

He takes a frightful amount of selfies…

He’s got lovely handwriting, though.

 

Wait, that’s me again.

This was taken yesterday at the eye doctor.

How in the world…?

I hope this notecard gives me some sort of identification the police can use to find this stalker.

 

Dear Gusha,

You were ninety four years old when I was born.

It was a pretty big deal because you couldn’t see what I looked like;

mom always said that made you incredibly sad.

And I remember describing things to you,

and you telling me about the world before you lost your eyesight.

You always told me anything was possible;

that I could rule and reign over time and space if I set my mind to it.

So, I have, as you’ve guessed by now.

And I’ve collected these things for you, precious things you lost.

I know how much you hate selfies, but I took some with you

so you could see who I am

and how I set my mind to

rule and reign over time and space.

You will be happy in this house…and use this box to leave a time capsule with my dad.

Thanks for everything, Gusha,

Asher

Normal

Everyone and everything is back

After a year of being stuck

In the same spot

For what feels like forever

The storm has lifted

 

 

New Earth

feet find gravel flaws

soles would seriously singe

this surface now stings