The Poetry Marathon

Guide to Keeping an Imaginary Friend by Percival Postlethwaite Esq

Though I may not consume food, not even laying a place for me at the table is just rude,

Birthdays ought to be celebrated, suitable gifts and cards to reflect my interests generated,

wrapped, labelled and presented,

Account ought to be taken of the space I require when queuing in shops, sitting on trains, out for walks or gathering in circles for intimate talks,

One ought to keep a separate list or register of me when in public places, in case of evacuation and fire,

Do not assume I can walk through doors – if one closes on me please do allow a suitable pause

And if it does not open again fairly soon – you ought to be the one to help me get through,

Finally, when serving imaginary sandwiches at noon, do not invite me to that ghastly playroom,

Those teddy bears are ridiculous creatures and that doll with the ringlets has quite frightful features.

 

 

 

A Red Racer Visit

I thought I might
drop in for a bite.

A frog or two have you here,
my dear?

SSSSurely, ssssomething to eat
amid these rocks and boxessss!

I taste it in the air, but where?
May I play with your hair?

Let’s just slither over there
for a nap on these bags.

Or perhaps on these rags
What’s this? A bottle of Bragg’s?

I’ll resssst for a while,
atop your junk pile,

Then slip away
to play.

The fire and brimstone heart

When men were at sleep the devil went and sowed destruction into men’s hearts.              These men had stared into the abyss for two long they had evil intent from the beginning and the evil one decided to bring their wish into fruition.                                                          While men are asleep other men would walk about naked with a calabash sowing evil or using a known person as sacrifice for wealth.                                                                   Our hearts are wicked filled with jealousy for our brothers because they have something we don’t and thereby losing patience we decide to soil our hands to give us something we can’t enjoy because it comes with a price.                                             We kill one another with our words that are like  double edged sword and we can’t retract the statement because the deed has already been done and the person’s confidence withered.                                          We are sadists, we derive joy only when we are at the peak of the mountain and nobody is competing that position with us or getting close to the peak.                                               We are egocentric and also power drunk, we become dictators forgetting how we rose and the people that helped us rise the only thing we care about is i, me, myself never we, they, them.                                          We have lost control and have become slaves to wealth what is the cure for this plague i ask ?                                                Why do men’s heart become inherently wicked after achieving a particular thing and holding on to it that they never want anybody to accomplish what they’ve because they’re afraid they’ll become superior to them.                                                  When we will understand that life isn’t about who achieved something first but it’s about we all becoming great and accomplishing what our purpose on earth is.                            We should all know that the wicked men do continue to live after them and their children end up reaping the evil they sowed.

 

With a little help from my friends

that’s the answer to the question: how do i get through this dreary life

without swimming to the bottom of the ocean with an anvil strapped

to my leg?

how do i justify my own existence when so many others have failed to

follow suit?

how do you make it in this world when so many things are

attempting to oppress you?

how do i get out of bed day after day when there’s nothing to get up for?

Godzilla Alebrije – hour 23, prompt 23

If pet imagined, it would be

my beloved Godzilla, all healthy

bright and bubbly, neon green-y

my spirit guide, alebrije

perching on my shoulder near

watching o’er the others there

soothing my worries,

healing my fears

an acrobat he’d sometimes be

run of the house, he’d jump with glee

back and forth, from knee to knee

when I miss that creature live

I rub ghost belly and watch him thrive

closing eyes in love sublime

he brings back his real face to mine

lime green, long tail, around finger entwined

and when the day is almost gone

I put him in his terrarium

where he was king anole

and others loved him,

including mum

and soon he rests

on invisible tree.

(I miss you, my sweet baby.)

– Sandra Johnson

 

 

 

Evolutional

Traditions inspire, bond
families, generations
creating memories
a longing to return to

a time, place of some
significance or comfort
those moments that shape
us, our relationships

For all the ritual and
cookie-cutter nature to
family traditions they
never remain the same

traditions, families change
people added, subtracted
we all just grow older.

Thanksgiving used to mean
variations on classic foods
followed by family football

marrying in to a large clan
meant big games, all-in
intensity and bragging rights

going head-to-head with
nieces and nephews
first as kids, then as teens
then as adults – they grew
we also got older, slower

The younger generation got
married, started having kids
lost the ‘oomph’ for football
until their kids got a bit older
requiring less supervision
more involvement with
the rest of us

My own kids now grown
unmarried
Me? I have risen to the
pinnacle of family football
prowess – all-time QB
for both teams, replacing
football-retired, bad knee
brother-in-law

Changing of the guard
you might say
the more things change
the more they stay the same

change is also tradition
a holiday worth celebrating
in its own right

– Mark L. Lucker
© 2020
http://lrd.to/sxh9jntSbd

Stranger (Prompt 16)

I don’t need anything from you
I don’t need rings promises proclamations
I don’t need reassurance or grand gestures
I just don’t want us to ever become strangers again

little Queen

Small, sly face, smirking slightly,

wide green eyes,

she waits until you aren’t looking,

claws out, sharp,

teeth nipping at their ankles.

Little queen Poppy, finding her forever home.

Abandoned Puppy (prompt 23)

You were every child’s dream

Mine as well

Your golden mane and hazel eyes

Still feature in my perfect dreams

Yet in a moment as cursed as it could be

I traded you in for an extra hour of sleep.

I know the hands that hold you are true

And you’ll know all worldly comforts and pleasures

You got a house twice as big as ours

And people whose affections are but four times mine

Yet, I know you ached when I left you there

Your broken heart took the longest to mend

I know you whined, weeped and starved

Yet, I didn’t check in nor was a visit paid

I know it’s too late to beg forgiveness

But, Jack, I ain’t asking for it.

 

Half Marathon My Hour 10

Keep falling a little behind but I think I will get these last two in on time.

 

Untitled

Early morning sighs

Soft and slow

Slipping through the curtain

Golden and light

 

Midmorning appears

As if from nowhere

Softness turns bright

Harsh and shining

 

Afternoon grunts

Too bright yet hazy

Everything blurring

Murky and lit

 

Evening slips in

Quietly and quickly

Soon all is dark

Heavy and cozy