[Hour Six]Hitting Rhyme Stride

I thought I’d take a slow stroll down Madison and Main,

Stop by the coffeeshop where they know me by name,

slide by the diners, and grab a bite or two,

Step to the blookstore and listen to canned blues.

I call it what it is, a simple hop and stop

to places where I’m known, where it’s home to shop.

To those that know me, it’s plain, easy to see.

A simple wandering ramble to places I’d like to be.

You see, a poem’s got to have rhythm, a certain kind of step,

A shuffle and a slow note and a certain feel for rep-

-etition, word division, a stringing of reason and rhyme.

A poet in search of words that mean a certain bounce in time,

a step, a stride, a slouch-along word for talkin’.

A simple, slow, jazz-boogey slam-slugging other word for [walkin’].

Hour Six – Bath

I have a list of poems I wanted to try, so some of these are getting a workout for The Poetry Marathon. Here was a sweet poem from Buffy Silverman called “Rainbow-Colored Springtime.
She wrote this sweet rhythm with each line ending with time. There are six stanzas. Click the link to read the rest:

Red time
Green time
tiny on a tree time

I decided to use one of the photo prompts from earlier to write about taking a bath.

Photo by Olena Sergienko on Unsplash

Wet bath
Free bath
Rock the best tunes bath

Rest bath
Calm bath
Soft and pruny toes bath

Warm bath
Peace bath
Lolling, lazy lounge bath

Release bath
Embrace bath
Tensions down the drain bath

do you want to go for a…

I recently when on a road trip

and boy,

don’t they always sound better on paper?

I didn’t realize that I can get

claustrophobic

until I was strapped in and 150

miles away from home.

 

We drove through towns that I will

never live in,

past people who live in a completely

different reality than I do

even though we are only

2 hours apart.

 

Seeing how big the world is makes me

feel so stuck

and comfortable in my hometown

I don’t have to worry about getting lost.

Well,

physically lost at least.

 

Stopping for gas

like finally and desperately reaching

an oasis.

Legs are wobbly,

head pounding,

pacing in between unfamiliar but familiar

gas pumps.

 

Smile to the cashier you will never see again,

recognize that to them, you are just

a blip in their workday

they don’t get paid enough to care about the

cracks forming in your sense of time and space

and self.

 

Snacks that will remain uneaten roll

and crunch under my feet,

how long has that ache in my back been there?

God, I am getting old.

We are 3 hours away.

3.

3.

 

Up the stairs, down the hall,

through the door.

To the bathroom.

Back down the hall,

into the room,

that unfamiliar room.

A large window,

the sound of the city underneath.

 

New city,

new life.

Unfamiliar,

straining to familiarize quickly,

learn the streets and the trees,

quick,

before my brain realizes that I can’t do this.

 

Down the street a tire shop,

advertising “cheap”

where I would rephrase “affordable.”

Mexican polka music.

Bagel shop.

The ceiling in our bathroom is leaking.

 

And I ….

and I ….

And I-

Milestones

Milestones

 

Stone posts stuck in the ground

mark life’s fleeting journey.

From birth to death we are

reminded of our odyssey.

 

Sometimes viewed ahead,

sometimes seen behind.

Some people have many stone,

others have very few.

 

These small stones tell the tales

of our triumphs and tragedies

from toe- stubbers to monumental

boulders that weigh on our shoulders.

 

Some are smooth with

ease, contentment and joy

Others are crevassed and cracked

with guilt, shame and travail.

 

A new stone is etched

at birth with our first cry.

With our final breath an

old stone marks our death.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

#4. Mysteries Abide.

“But this I can say with certainty: the mind is vaster,
& the world ever so much more alive,
then I knew when I began”.
Opening to the universe
the magic of it all
Sifting through the imagery
Creating, to recall.

Each molecule enchanting
a biome rich and dense
breathing electricity
dramatic and intense.

Sifting through the alchemy
desire in our breath
Slowing down we listen
to the music notes and death.

“But this I can say with certainty:
the mind is vaster, & the world ever so much more alive,
then I knew when I began.”

Michael Pollan
“How to Change Your Mind”

Hour 6: Rainy Evening

The lampposts lit up the trail
As the clouds darkened the sky.
The cool breeze accompanied the rain
And colorful umbrellas popped the streets.
The smell of vinyl from the raincoats
surfaced as the kids played in the puddle.

Prompt 6: Hour 6: Distance

The distance we sometimes feel-

also at times craving,

like an emptiness and wholeness

somehow all wrapped into one.

You love though,

something I never wish to feel apart from.

Hoping it will forever

always be

the closest memory I ever hold.

Survive

Hold up

I’m gravitating in the air of war

We will survive it all

For the end is becoming the beginning

 

Of the survival field comes the master

He saves whom His heart

. . .has got a rythym and a beat for