The Poetry Marathon

Hour 20 – Angler Fish

Angler Fish

In the briny deep
Where weird creatures creep
Dwells our friend the angler fish

His head is quite bright
With its own special light
Which he waves about with a flourish

When feeling a bit peckish
Himself to replenish
He goes fishing with his little light

When fish swim close in
By their tail or their fin
Our friend here gives them a bite

Our tale’s little moral
Is one filled with sorrow
For any fool fish down below

Don’t be dazzled by lights
Both appealing and bright
Or down someone’s gullet you’ll go

01:00 p.m The marriages of the siblings

The vanity of preparation routine: the peak of heat,

one by one in the short time her siblings got married,

that mechanical repeatition drove her crazy in its uselessness,

her head went round and she was hardly holding consciousness.

“Wash cups and plates properly ” one auntie said.

“Does on it depend the marriage vessel instead?”

“You’re silly girl. You don’t see like from back of your neck

what safeguards the marriage from the shipwreck”.

 

Hour 18- the holiday

After the pandemic we launched ourselves away

naked in the percale sheets any time of day.

strolled down to the resort beach, to embed our feet in sand

margaritas at the pool with music from the band.

Then a romantic Snorkel following a supping sesh

a scenic stroll through forest trees hot sweat upon our flesh.

A sunset picnic with my love with candles and some wine

star gazing, love making, a dip to savour time.

The second honeymoon so many joys

now back to see our gorgeous boys.

 

Ashes of The Old World, hour 20

When the last structures burn away

The fires of war no longer flicker

Only gently smouldering coals

Cast reddish glow on blackened city streets

Ashes pile in drifts against the rubble of our archaic ways

To fertilize the dreams that lie beneath

 

Coldblood

A youth was shot dead by a policeman in cold blood

Other youths raged!

Demanding for justice!

The street stood still for its fallen hero

Tears flowed freely

Sadly

Followed by a candlelit procession led by over a thousand youths

 

Candlelight-Hour 20

Candlelight

Shadows flickering

Spirits hover

Drowning the voices of the day

With the laments of the night

Firelight

Flames and shadows dance

The voices in the darkness

Brush my neck

Whispering somber secrets

 

Light Prompt (Hour 20)

Solitary you arrive and
quickly expand to the perimeters.
Marking the beginning and end of a day,
the beginning and end of life.

In the darkness, a familiar comfort,
a bright flower radiating through the unseen.

The lighthouse, spiraling beacon,
repelling siren warning of the shore.

A headlamp, worn to bed,
to read the book kept on the nightstand.

The lantern on the corner
bright enough to keep the ball game going in the street

Under the bus stop, avoiding the rain,
the cherry of a cigarette piercing the pale gray smoke.

A drop of sun caught in the earring below her left cheek,

The afternoon beam bent through the front window
throwing prisms on the living room carpet.

A campfire in the winter,
brightening all that is blanketed by the snow.

The untouchable sliver of sunlight
dancing on the water’s surface.

Beneath the cooling stone, the red fire glow of molten lava

Shining beyond its shape.
the inner glow of gold brought to the surface.

Hour 19, Prompt 19 – Free Ride

Should we, as humans, be so wise 

to realize that when we are alone

we can only focus on base survival

when the one with the most, indeed 

is the one rival who will lead

and, despite the smartest of phones

the greatest number of Gs

or the slickest new line of kicks on TV

we can see that divided is divisive

 

Now, how would it be possible, 

how to weave a dream to be one

Big Us, not to struggle separately 

to sit where we please on the omnibus

to build a new connection

each link smithed with intention

with the resources shared 

in the people’s grip

fare is free and it’s always round-trip

Wearing a Mask

In this time of COVID-19, 
Loneliness creeps in
to the farthest recesses
making it difficult,
if not impossible
to stay connected
to stay positive
to remain part of something bigger.

Not often am I concerned
about having control 
allowing the natural course of things
Social distancing 
Wearing masks
All with a distinct
lack of control.
All to remain part of something bigger.

Homesick Candle

When you miss the state where you grew,

There is a candle just for you.

 

In the early Washington summer,

You smell spring rain,

Wet pine needles,

Fresh blackberries for your ice cream shakes,

And a blanket of wild flowers.

 

As I sit, middle aged, in the desert,

Dreaming of mountain rain,

A candle is on its way:

 

It promises the smell of my mother’s Earl Grey Tea,

Cedar and patchouli.

The vanilla and maple blood of trees,

Amber and rhododendron fighting for a shaft of brief sunshine through the trees.

 

The citrus of bergamot trees and the musk of the wild northwest.

 

The candle best serves my house late at night,

When a two year old might lose her way to the potty,

Or my teenage pit bull may need a sip of water.

 

It will light up my kitchen table with memories of my childhood,

While building more for my daughters.

 

When I open the front door,

Sandalwood from desert rainfall.

 

When I hold them close,

My vanilla body spray,

and coconut shampoo.

 

Each strand of scent, a wall to my home.

A construction of life, light and mom,

Never to be forgotten.

 

Prompt 20, Hour 20