The Poetry Marathon

The Imaginary Pet – Prompt 23, Hour 23

It grins, serene, at her, its owner
a small black ear flicks in the wind,
it’s smaller than a mouse, that ear,
but the other is large as if it can
choose what to hear.

An orange tail flicks, the red one
swishes, the third one I cannot
see, but I know it’s there, I’ve felt
it when the creature first appeared,
you see.

They call this creature Aluette, but
not after the song or cheese, it’s
known instead for biting ducks and
being immune to fleas. It’s got thick
dark leather skin.

It has fur too, not too soft, and in
some places coarse. Only on its
back and knees, a tuft of fur upon
its chin, and teeth as sharp as
knives.

It has webbed paws and wicked
eyes, and loves its owner until she’s
its prize. It’ll steal her soul unless she
knows not to put tuna in its bowl, so
I’ll try to warn her.

How do I know? It stole mine first.

Prompt 23, Hour 23 – Real Enough

Human condition dictates

isolation the worst predicament.

I am then the saving grace,

the prescription,

and the diagnosis;

the proof of tragedy.

 

What they cannot experience,

I can test, taste and report to them.

Not a substitute,

I am vicarious personified to their advantage.

 

Can I be a friend, truly, if so well managed?

No.

I am calculation brought to life –

so truth I am not,

but real, I am enough.

 

Life is but a series of experiences and sensations.

Through me there is practice and impression.

Like a book, with its vivacious characters,

one day I will end,

but my story lives on in the forever altered

imagination.

Repeat

I don’t know why
I just need this song today
Something in the melody
The bass line and how it moves
Rhythm tapping out in perfect pulse
Words that speak to so many
Is so badly needed today
It has to be heard
Again and again
And again
And again
Again again again again again
Let it drown me
And the memory of any other song
This is the only song that matters in the world now

Separate

Camera passes that sheer neglect,
We see and desire what sagas reflect.
Discarded and scattered, one too many.
Separate indivisible integral to any.
Beginning to blend, no longer care,
Fragile frame laden heartbreak to bare.
Existing out here cold cut limb,
Turned onto itself, life fading dim.
Noticing in sight ability to pick,
Out of billions, help this ones sick.

Prompt #23: Mr. Mine

Walking into the room I see your tall stature ahead of me.
It can’t be you; we went our separate ways.
My heart starts to race, but I do not want to show that I am reacting.
As to turn around and glance down to me, I can see it in your eyes.
You are the man I knew before, but things are different, you have changed.
As your eyes shoot through me, my heart melts as you begin to speak.
You have always removed my every care with your presence
Though I have not always admitted it.
It is but moments before we embrace like nothing ever got between us.
This is it.
This is real.
I am yours
And you are mine.
Only mine.
The embrace is strong.
We will never be separated again.

There’s Still Time

There’s Still Time

Though I hear my internal ticker
tocking off the years, I remind myself
that it’s not too late to learn something
new, try something different, go places,
even just to take a closer look at what
I’m doing, what I need and want…

and I pause at want. The seconds tick by.
What do I want? I know what I need,
know my obligations, responsibilities,
aware of my time and financial budgets,

but what do I want?
I always wanted to learn to play piano;
take an overnight ride on a train; watch
a sunset on the beach; teach someone
to write, if even just their name.

I’ve often thought about learning
another language besides the crumbs
of French and Spanish I know. I’d love
to take a course on mural painting, not just
on tee shirts, shoes, and my garage.

I miss spending summers in the Amish
Country in Pennsylvania as a teenager;
driving east through vineyards
on Long Island; I miss going fishing…
and as I close my eyes and inhale,
I can smell the salt air, taste the sea
on my lips, and remind myself

that there’s still time but don’t wait.
Go, now, before I forget what I want.

~ J R Turek
June 28, 2020
Hour 23

Sleep (Poem 17)

Sleep has come
Sleep sleep sleep

Oh sleep why won’t you leave me alone
Oh sleep I need to press along

Just in the nick of time
I am a bout to loss my dime

Many strange and wonderful things
Makes a time of love and passion

Sleep take your flight
Let me be for I must see

All rights reserved copyrighted(c)2020 Roxann A Harvey-Lawrence

Chasing The Sky

Chasing The Sky

Chasing clouds with bottled rain

With hope still rising, it left a stain

From bleeding colors of a bow

With a promise of riches down below.

The brush of clouds, fingerprints in sky

Distinguished the patterns of another goodbye

As wind shuffles the leaves from the lumbering trees

Upon the ground sprawled on hands and knees

Scuffling through the rain-dotted earth

Seeking out some semblance of worth

Search above and only find

Chalk lines of clouds intertwined

Woven together, darkness and light

With grey hairs forming the current plight

As lines are drawn in weathered expressions

Life hadn’t given that many concessions

For when one wastes time in the vault of heaven

Time is a bitch and gives no concession

So chase your rainbows through garden hoses

And ruminate over what the prism imposes

For when you spend time gathering your rain

Falling from eyes red, swollen, and drained

Blurred by fog as thick as skin

Never realized that feelings begin

In dreams, a dare for imagination

Love given freely, my heart’s destination.

As the sun dives down behind the firmament

The seasons change, nothing is permanent.

No Place Like Home

There’s no place like home
of that much I’m certain
I’m not trying to make sense
of who’s behind the curtain.

I’m not looking for courage,
or a brain or a heart.
I’ve got all that I need
and I’m ready to start.

So down the yellow brick road I go.
When I click my heels thrice,
I’ll be back home.

 

 

 

Hour 23 – Interview with a Legend

Interview with a Legend

My feet aren’t really that big
I mean, I’m a big guy, sure,
But my feet are in proportion to my size
If you wanna talk big feet, you should see Nessy
Just sayin’

And I’m not “shy” or “elusive”
I’m just an introvert, okay?
Why do you think I live way out here in the woods?
I need my space, that’s all

Yeah, it’s kinda lonely being me
The last of my kind and all that
Well, you’ll understand once your habitat gets destroyed

Well, gotta lumber
It was nice meeting you, Elvis