The Poetry Marathon

‘Nother Me (hour 23, prompt 23)

“Who are you playing with?”
I’d ask my baby boy at play
The answer that he gave me
Blows my mind unto this day
He’d look up with a smile, and
“‘Nother me,” he’d say
My jaw just hit the ground
As he turned back around to play
You see, my baby was a twin
A fact that he was not aware
And ever since his birth
I’d catch him talking to thin air
This was the first time he was able
To put it into words
That he was playing with his twin
Who’d died weeks before their birth.
~Mandy Kocsis©2020~

Permission Denied

Permission Denied

‘It’s better I just die,’ Brigitte Poirson

Because I do not see a trace of you
in your utterances, mother, I forgive you.
Perhaps, your demon has found a way
to mimic your voice, to agonize us –
a way of holding our bodies hostage,
as if we are thieves, as if we are slaves.
I won’t carry your words to the world
if that’s what your grief wants from me;
I won’t sow panic on your lovers’ mind.
A dirge is not to be replayed after a rebirth:
you’re not free to utter any word about exit.
There’s enough dreadful words in your heart,
leave us to battle death for you and live
in the cubicle of quietude, singing songs
of hope, of healing, and of resurrection.

Life

The voyage of life
Is enmeshed in a puddle of stack realities
The highs and the lows
Like the pendulum
Sways and swoons
The graph goes up
And swiftly glides down
The journey is never straight
Embellished with twists, twirls and turns…

Like a jungle of roving beasts, predators hunting,
Haunting their preys
With brazen craftiness

There lies the will to win in the raging battles of life

Winning the war is the ultimate goal.
Like eggshells, the delicate transition for survival continues…

The journeyman must continue to wrestle his way to unending triumph!

King of the Monsters

I am so stupid

Sitting alone in the dark

While watching monster movies.

Godzilla rises!

He scares the crap out of me

As he saves the world once more.

The Road Not Taken

Hour 23 : Random Prompt used: Took the Title of the Robert Frost Poem, but changed the poem completely

 

In moments of screaming solitude

reflection pays a visit

and digs up questions

I’d rather stay buried

 

where is the sense

in disturbing the earth

already well settled

chasing chimeras of

“What if”s and ” maybe”s

 

Where is the sense

in wishing for the road not taken

when the one I took

has shaped my life’s story

 

And wishing for it to not be so

is wishing I were not me

 

 

 

#19 Listening

Old houses insist on patience

Attention to repair

Occasionally offering pieces

Of their stories only

To those who listen carefully

 

A burden or many lessons

An old house keeps its secrets

History passed intentionally with

Creaks and sounds in the night

That speak of what it has seen

 

Those may call it a haunting

Though it is merely a hello

An honor most certainly

A building choosing to trust

Opening its doors to the listener

Our Children

Stroll on sugar sand

Many voices, many tongues,

Children can unite us.

Bette Low 2020

A Childs Eyes

One morning as a child I went into the forest alone
I was drawn deeper and deeper by magical musical tones
My feet were hurting and my legs started to cramp
Then I finally came to a clearing where a host of Angels held camp
They were singing to the heavens until I came into the clear
Then one smiled and bid me come near
He said ” Remember what you saw today and always keep it dear!”
Suddenly they were gone
I thought I imagined things
Then I looked down and saw a feather left from an angel wing.

Glasses

Glasses

 

It’s funny how you can’t see the grease

when you’re looking in the mirror

but you see it when you’re looking

out, trying to gaze at the world.

Hour 23, Prompt 23 – A Creature Cometh

I was out walking late beneath the stars

to soothe my brain so tightly wound

I glimpsed a thing which gave me such a start

and never had I heard such sounds

 

Footsteps shuffled, running in the clearing

the woman must be some enchanter

straining to see what it was I’m hearing

a creature cometh wearing antlers

 

This vision wearing flowers in her horns

the sight already made me pale

her points with seaweed she is such adorned

a gentle face and mermaid tail

 

They sang together at the waterside

when the moonlight was well spent

then it came to time to say goodbyes

and back into the river went