The Poetry Marathon

“Hoax”

 

 

 

I love your lips and your hips,

And the way it sways when you walk,

I love how you speak,

And your freak-mind bending ideas that keep me thinking,

Where on earth you get them.

I love your songs and your voice,

And your imitation that you are a professional singer even you’re not.

I am your only arena,

And you’re loving it every time we made-up a pretend concert.

I love your touch and smirks,

Your quirks and little remarks.

I love everything that you’re not.

Yes! These are not you.

I’m a hoax, and so are you.

 

 

Text Prompt

Write a poem that is pretending to be something else, a set of instructions, a recipe, an letter, a news report, etc.

(Why yes, this prompt was inspired by This is Just to Say, which is a poem pretending to be an apology)

 

#POETRYMARATHON2023 #HOUR16 #24HRSCATEGORY

Nefelibata

Look, that cloud is a dragon!
See it’s snout and tail?
And look, over there
Aren’t those flowers simply breathtaking?

I wish I was a pegasus
Flying above the world
Marvelling at all it has to offer
Wouldn’t that be something?

Everyone stares at her
The strange, unusual girl
Head always in the clouds
Never paying any mind
To reality, to the world around her

Hour 17 “Whispers…”

Hour 17

9/2/2023

 

“Whispers…”

 

Mid-naught…

and my breath HOLDS.

Eyes startle,

wander, focus…

Search, I can see each movement,

each passing pause and restart.

I can hear each “tick” – feel …each… tick.

Sense as the second hand sweeps

round and around the face.

I FEEL the THUNK of the minute

as it falls into the present

and my heartbeat mirrors the intensity.

 

Midnight

electric hum

the chime of the portent comes alive…

and my legs move

bedclothes rustle –

feet find their home within leather wraps.

 

Coffee beckons

and the kitchen table awaits…

 

Midnight, just another day in paradise.

 

Chris

(C) Chris Twyford 9/3/2023

 

 

Kaleidoscopic

Endless combinations
of color and light.

The most minor shift
brings new design
and unique beauty.

Another shift
and the pattern is gone
and won’t ever be seen again.

H17.P17 – Keildoscope

I close my eyes

A feild of sunlight

Penetrates my closed lids

Light spills onto my skin

I am bright, warmth

A spider web of veins

Drift and glow as l rise

My soul fills with happiness

Prompt #17

Shapes form, but dissolve before

I can name them.

Colors come into focus,

blend, and come back

a new hue.

And us?

We form, come into focus, blend, and

come back perhaps not better, but

yes, good enough.

 

 

The perfect recipe #16

Take equal parts desire and regret
A cup of commitment
An ounce of common sense
Or better yet
Leave that til the end
Probably fitter
Or the mix will spoil and be bitter
Pour in a healthy dollop of gullibility
Grate some nerves
And irresponsibility
Turn up the heat at the start
Hotter than all hell on fire
Then add your mix
To the sacrifical pyre
Half way through you’ll need
To do something peculiar
You won’t understand why
And might feel like a fool, yeah?
Transfer it all to the freezer
Just follow the instructions
It doesn’t matter if it falls
If you want to please her.
Swing back and forth
From volcano to glacier
Until in the end
That doesn’t even phase you
Then turn it upside down
To take it out cos it’s cooked through
At that point add your common sense
And instead of beating the oven tray
Like a dead horse
Just chuck it in the bin
And file for divorce

I hate you

I hate you for making
me so vulnerable,
so addicted to the smell
of your skin and the
summer sweat.

There is an inferno
that awakens inside of me
and only you
can extinguish that
need with which I
I was born.

I saw you so vulnerable,
so willing
to consume yourself in my fire.
You no longer seek heaven,
you want to burn
with me in this game.

Color-Go-‘Round- Hour 17

Spinning, wheeling, colors clash and pull together,

as I blink and squint, childish dreams and colors pulling together,

pulling apart anew.

Poem for Hour Seventeen (17/24)

Why on Earth

is the phoenix

the symbol for rebirth

and reinvention,

when we have condors

here already,

which nearly disappeared

from California skies

but now produce

their very own young

in the wild

once more?