The Poetry Marathon

A Time Capsule -Poem 5

A time Capsule- Poem 5

 

A living memory to carry on

When I am gone beyond

A life jacket to save me

When I fly and am no more

Horse carriage and treasures

 

A memory of my likes and dislikes

My ceremony of songs I like

Photos of me as a child

Memories I left for my child

White suit for my frame my child

 

Loving bath to relax

Breathing music to the ear

Soaking atmosphere

 

Bottled place of safety

My memories secure within

Sealed with love to begin

Wooden cross and charity begins

To carry on to heaven within

 

Angels of delight to secure

My breathe and love to despair

Gold, Jewellery to find a love to repair

Mum has gone to heaven at sheer

Hidden away to be no more

 

Buddhism relaxes

Lampshade a light to secure

Candlelight a pleasure

 

 

@Sabinah Adewole 26/06/2021

 

Haiburn originated in Japan combination of Prose and Haiku

Autobiography, Diary, Essay, Prose poem, Short story and travel Journal.

 

 

 

metanoia momma

she speaks to me

simple words

nothing earth-shattering

and a fog of anger

detaches from my mind

releases its clutches

through no effort

of mine

The Corvus Metaphor

Hole In The Ground- Hour 5

Yellowed over the years

Edges worn from weathered storms

The smell of ancient years

It read,

1997

If you’ve found this,

Then the world still exists

And the plague of my time has not killed the human race

I give you my greetings

I give you my love

I hope you find the strength to keep living on

It was the year 2097 that I found this note

In a bottle

In a hole in the gground

In my backyard

 

 

LUNG COORDINATE – Hour Five (2021)

LUNG COORDINATE

 

coiling wires between the buddha and light

between the body and the mind linking lost

sinking into a capsule of sound called childhood

memories of tuning a radio quietly in the dark

the bottles accumulate empty of the mindless

soaking in the symphony of a body encapsulating

experience alongside daily awakenings

contained in this fractal point calling itself I

a capsule of the time treading and breath

where music meets water touching down

crisp into ripples along a body of only one thought

Books

Every teardrop is a waterfall

It just trickles down into a pool

of obscurity, one among many seeking to make

it to the end.

 

It cares not where it stops,

only where it’s going because

that’s all it knows.

 

It may not seem like much in that moment

but when it finally reaches the bottom and

feels the cool ocean breeze all around, it will

realize the waterfall was there all along

just waiting for a catharsis of ubiquity.

Alive in 75 — hour 5

Popular things for 1975 time capsules
Bell bottoms
Leisure Suits
A pet rock named Fran
A cracked mood ring
A Jaws movie poster
One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest
Glen Campbell’s Rhinestone Cowboy on eight track
A Course in Miracles
Judy Bloom’s Forever
And King’s Salem’s Lot
Magazines with half liquor ads
And Virginia Slims cigarettes
And a stash of Pez

Poem #5 — Haiku

Sheltered by the tree

Leaves, a privacy curtain

Whisper in the wind

Motley – 5 of 24

the libertine cracks some
marsupials into the frying pan
the noise they make
as the sear makes him wince
and beg for deafness

he is malcontent and ambidextrous,
with his other hand, he shuffles
for a round of rummy,
which he will play with a motley.

the rest of the scoundrels,
inelegant as they are, lined the bases
in the back lot
and hit a homerun each time.

they are discontinued and abbreviated
charred at the edges, ganged up
a synecdoche for their specific sins
would be the crimes

the cynosure practices his pitching
and trades out his aces
for an empty hand, the winner,
sniffling praise up through a straw.

he is frosted and bombastic,
with his monologue in every building,
his dishonor sheds off in pellets,
these men, microcosms of murderers
yet unborn