The Poetry Marathon

Hidden Things

Twice, while peeing in the woods, I spotted a geocache.

In one box, I found a pair of haircutting scissors. It was up

near a lookout tower that I’d hiked hours to. That hike about

killed me. I had to rest all the next day to get my electrolytes

balanced. I rolled out my sleeping bag on a metal frame and

mattress. One should stay away from metal in a lightning storm—

there was metal all over that tower. Once when I was young,

I was in a tower when it was struck by lightning. It was the loudest

noise and brightest light I’ve ever seen. I was terrified. If I hide

a box for someone to find, I would put in it a booklet of lightning

rules, a notebook and pencil, a pocket knife, and a compass.

I would leave a note that said, write your dreams and find your way.

In a bottle

Mitch Brown

hr 5

 

in a bottle

Time in a bottle, Jim Croce said it best
A time to remember a time gone by
And a time to let it rest.

A time to remember those who have gone
And to remember those we left behind
A time where conclusions are drawn.

The time in the bottle seems to not be great
A remembrance of another life
When worry was not such a weight.

While looking back across the years
Can bring a slight smile to your face
And remind you of now distant fears

The past is a time you now fondly recall
Before life took its often cruel turn
But today isn’t too bad at all. (more…)

Heat

Hotness

Scorching hotness

A spark coming to life

To consume and ravage and spurn

Tongues of fiery glee

Shooting blood and crimson

Glowing orange and yellow

Burning, burning, burning

 

Sweltering and sweaty

Sticky and slapping

Skin against skin

Rubbing, massaging and squeezing

Itching and stenching

Of creeping naked limbs

And musky breasts

Of old discarded socks

And cool frooti drinks

Bathed in water

Swimming in sweat

Drip-drop, drip-drop

Little droplets collecting in pools

And flowing in streams

Steady and stinking and stale

 

And then a cool juicy plant

Leaves all turgid and watery

Glossy and green and soft

Cooling refreshing

Flakes and shards of ice

Piercing and plunging

The hearts of hell!

In the deep abyss

Of sweltering hotness

Bursting a fountain of ice

Breaking and crumbling glaciers

Sliding and smashing against

With devilish glee

Of fury and heat

 

A crackling rage and sweet nector

Of golden apples and tart mangoes

Birds humming and buzzing

A tune of heated dalliance

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Magus (Prompt 4) 2021

Attaching closeness so often in life
Some pull still faded
Others shine standing out but can’t be felt
Are these chords finite
Do I attach myself to myself with the illusion of another,
Overused words dull echos in a murky landscape,
Let those love now who’ve never loved; let those who’ve loved, love yet again.

Hour 5… time capsual

the storm has passed, like all storms do

me, i made it, but as i walk the new day

l see all have not, the ancient legs of the

snow gum have been pulled from the earth

line upon line of its history bared and washed by rain

i lay my hands on its curves, listening to it tale

how the world has changed, it tastes sour

in my mouth, i cannot swallow this song

it changes flavors, my taste bud read this language

a skill pulled from memory, wings resting in tangled words

i know this breath it is mine and the planets

i am not mine, i am not whole when i am alone

in a prison of four walls, of screen

i belong like all things, to the earth

 

 

To Catch a Bird

To catch a bird
To hold a dream
To fly so high
To be the dream
To climb the mountain
To see the valley
To hold the mist
To hug the dawn

Poem #2 — Haiku

Cascading water

Flowing through rocks and pebbles

Soothing to my ears

Recipe for Peace

what a surprise! A golden capsule appears in my yard,

we curiously opened it,

we found a recipe, not any recipe, a unique one:

Recipe for Peace Ingredients

1 pin of justice

¼ spoon of love

¼ spoon of compassion

¼ spoon of respect

¼ spoon of tolerance

Preparation

Mix all ingredients with care and hope.

No need to refrigerate, bake or broil.

Only open your senses,

To obtain the perfect peace.

@Maritza – Hour Five

Hour 5: Time Capsule

Lascaux’s lost cows tick
Backward across time-baked walls,
Shoving,

As I stand
Awed beside my ancestors’
Scrawls,

A spear into my fist.

Hut Feels

Two white feathers across the hut gate

Cowries dropping every minute

White and all white teeth gain

Welcome to my hanging hut

 

Serve yourself with palms of the boy

Of all ends and feed

Whisper into the boys left ear

He has his own breed that bleeds by nodding

 

Hut feels feel free

Emotions are no bamboo zeal

The mirror river is rippling by sundown into reels

This is hut feels