The Poetry Marathon

The Day I Left the Cabin

“There was the hum of bees, and the musky odor of pinks filled the air. -The Awakening, Kate Chopin

There was the hum of bees, and the musky odor of pinks filled the air.
The birds, wilting from the record-breaking heat splashed in the baths,
disappointed that the water wasn’t cooler.
A yellow slime crept atop the old tree stump to make itself known.
The full moon was setting on the west horizon.
I read somewhere that it was the last super moon of the year.
I heard somewhere that this would bring about good changes.
I hoped that was true and went about my chores–
moving through heat that felt like a physical resistance.
I tasted salt as the sweat dripped from my brow.
I chased it with iced tea, crushing the ice with my teeth for emphasis.
I didn’t feel ready to say goodbye to this place I had called home
for the last year and a half–the time of COVID
–my first time living alone in my 56 years.
I will miss this.
But the way is forward.
Toward pink-sky sunsets
and new beginnings.
And the bees will keep humming
even after I am gone.

Prompt Hour Five

Text Prompt

You find a time capsule buried in the backyard of your new home (or anywhere else, depends on you). What’s in it? How old is it or its probable story is up to the poet.

Contributed by Bhasha Dwivedi.

Image Prompt

Hour Four, 2021 // Grab A Book and Write the Last Line –& Lead Into a Poem

From George’s Marvelous Medicine by Roald Dahl: “For a few brief moments he had touched with the very tips of his fingers the edge of a magic world.”

Traveling to the end of the world 
to touch waves lapping onto the shore, 
she trusted there was magic in holding
soil, sand, and sea foam in hands which 
could shape, manipulate, connive, and create
something useful and beneficial. 
An alchemist? Far from it despite people's 
obstinate demand to cast healing as magical. 
A witch? Far from it despite the cruel and again 
obstinate demand to cast others as demonic. 
Her remedies would come from those handfuls of 
soil, sand, and sea foam gathered, formed, and 
massaged into salves to bind others' pain.

 

Wonders

Wonders

The Earth hangs upon nothing

So does the moon —

At least, upon nothing that eyes can behold

The Sun remains likewise

On its allotted locus

 

The stars, greater and less than our Sun

Keep their posts, for all practical purpose

Jupiter, Mars, and planets numerous as the ocean tide

In obedience to the hand that sets their bounds they stay

 

O mighty Hand

Keep me in Your grip

For, if you can keep the celestials in their place

You sure can keep this terrestrial

Safe and secure.

For the Future Generations

Living in the Vermilion River Watershed, published by Western Reserve Land Conservancy, last line of “Plant Communities of the Vermilion River Watershed”   FUTURE GENERATIONS WILL BENEFIT FROM OUR COLLECTIVE FORESIGHT TODAY

 

Future generations go even further than

The children I birthed, and focus much hope and care upon

Further in distance than Iowa, or Eastern Pennsylvania, or Kentucky, or Southern Ohio.

Further in time than the first great grandchild, due later this year.

 

Future Generations will benefit from the care and examples we set

Being helpful, being interested, being proud of the land we own and cultivate.

The time we spend on making a difference

Is an investment in the future further than we can see.

 

Future generations will benefit from our collective foresight

Collective is more than just you and I, so we reach beyond ourselves

Gathering information from those who understand more than we learned

And adding my passionate, sometimes persuasive invitation to all.

 

Future generations will benefit from our collective foresight today.

Yes, today.   Do not take a day off from gathering and sharing

Information, ideas, anecdotal stories, academic studies, time and tools

Native planting will feed bees that will pollinate the future.

 

Stewarding is a responsibility to care about the legacy

We leave behind.     Let’s set the foundation

Let’s care for God’s green earth, keep it vibrant with life.

Future generations will benefit from our collective foresight today.

4. Are there any questions?

Are there any questions?

reverberating through my blurred hazy mind,

pounding on my eardrums,

heard but incomprehensible.

My mouth parched,

Heart thumping in my chest!

 

Are there any questions?

Are there any questions?

I had many, but my frozen brain

could not formulate any,

My dry mouth could not articulate any!

 

Are there any questions?

Are there any questions?

Are there any questions?

Like a death penalty pronounced.

Fear ebbing and crashing like the incessant tide.

 

” Are there any questions ?”

he asked as he gently put his gentle comforting hands on my shoulder,

“We have to remove that decayed cavity ” he said again as wave upon wave of fear washed over me.

 

Are there any questions ? Last line from the book ” The handmaidens tale” written by

Margaret Altwood

4th Hour – Cat Haiku

Pictures of your cats
Is all an A-I asks for
To improve your life

Prompt 4 – LM Montgomery quote

 

Oh! Canada…

We used to sing with ramrod straight backs and serious brows

of the glorious crown of her majesty

while my friends disappeared in the night.

 

“All for the glory of God and country…,” we were told.

 

And yet…

the Spirit flowing through me

couldn’t find peace with it,

wouldn’t settle for a religion that

strangled relationship and fed on the purest of the pure.

 

Insidious things pranced about in the daytime

so proud

so wicked

blinded by arrogance and insatiable want of power.

Sure they thrived under the cloak of deception.

 

And yet…

the Saviour walking with me

wouldn’t abandon me to their hands,

couldn’t stand the darkness of their hearts

as He embraced the lost ones to His bosom.

 

Weeping splits the atmosphere.

Sorrow reaches the Throne room

the blood in the ground has cried out

and Justice is dispatched

in a timing so perfect I can not know it,

but my jubilee gift, the most perfect, splendid present…

True Light pierces the darkness

false light has layered before us for the last thousand years…

Lost little ones found,

Truth like a banner of vindication stretches across the land.

 

My spirit and my soul rejoice

at this most glorious Round Dance before me.

Beautiful faces in the Cloud

names only Justice has known

languages long thought dead…

all these years they have been safe on the lap of Heaven.

 

Still, 10-year-old me thinks back to the last page

And I finally understand;

“‘God’s in his heaven, all’s right with the world,’ whispered Anne softly.”

Hour Four, Last Line of a Book

Terminal Case

I should buy two dozen raised garden beds,
gravel, dirt, and mulch, seeds, potting soil, and fertilizer,
and build a green house in the back yard,
plant fruit trees, berry bushes, and vines,
and learn to can and preserve it all,
in case the grocery stores all run out.

I should convert all our jars of spare change,
the crumpled dollar bills in car consoles,
and the kids’ birthday card checks
into precious metals and bitcoins,
and stash them all in backyard and digital holes,
in case the economy pops.

I should collect all our rainwater
in barrels and tubs
and filter it through sieves,
treat it with chlorine
and store it in the basement,
in case public water is no longer clean.

I should have the roof of the house removed,
send Elon Musk’s kids to college
with the loans I’ll take out for solar panel roof tiles,
buy a woodstove and cords of wood,
and install a grill and outdoor firepit,
in case an EMP blast takes out all power.

I should buy and install a new shed
and seal it against the weather,
buy sturdy shelving for it
and fill them with a year of food,
toilet paper, and wet wipes,
in case the food chain gets disrupted.

I should do all this and more,
make myself crazier with each article I read,
each news story I hear,
for the end is nigh, after all.
I could, I would, I should,
world without end, amen,
until I take down a book,
take a step back,
take a deep breath,
read, and remember:

*”But in the world according to Garp, we are all terminal cases.”

*The World According to Garp, by John Irving

Hour 4: Legacy

 

This was the ancestors’ water

Yours and mine

They protected it from harm.

Flowing clean, unimpeded

To the sea,

Sometimes it offered up richness

For they fished, they drank, they washed

In this water

Sometimes it gave too much,

Overflowed in anger, brought death

 

This was their water –

Quenching and flooding —

And they tended to its needs

And now it’s ours.

 

This was the ancestors’ air

Yours and mine

They drank it in with every breath

Sometimes it gave a soft breeze

On hot summer days

Sometimes it whipped a whirlwind

And brought down what they’d built

And snatched lives

 

This was their air –

Gentle and wild –

And they tended to its needs

And now it’s ours.

 

This was the ancestors’ earth

Yours and mine

They tended it with care

Unsure of reciprocity

For sometimes it lavished them with

Sustenance, sufficiency

And sometimes scarcity and pains

Of hunger and want

 

This was their earth —

Abundant and barren —

And they tended to its needs

And now it’s ours.

 

“And now it’s ours.” from Legacy by Nora Roberts (page 434)