The Poetry Marathon

Hour 13; Prompt 13: Check the Levels

I always check the levels
First, before even putting my shoes on
It determines how my day will go
And if I even get it done

The smell of rotting vegetation still stuck to the bag
Along with oil and gasoline rich with detergent
Covet my sense of smell
And I smile

It brings back memories of my uncles house
Where I stayed one summer
As punishment
I wasn’t a bad kid
But I’d done some bad things
He was a Drill Instructor

One of my chores was to mow the lawn; front and back
The neighbors, too
For East Chicago
That isn’t much
Unless you use
A push lawn mower, that had no motor

I was pretty strong that fall
Between pushing the mower
And bagging the clippings
I learned how much powered mowers are taken for granted

I always check the levels first
Always

#13 Storm Chaser

Deferring to single mother

Though the work was similar

Now maternally unemployed

I watch Twister too many times

 

Six grandchildren later

I am the meteorologist

Providing forecasts and

Confirming normal patterns

 

Despite overcast behaviors

Major events thus far avoided

There is no talk of possible

Thunder lightening flooding

 

My tornadoes barely survived

My children now parents

I can still see the pickup

Lifted by the Twister

Enter the Night (a haiku written for the 6th hour)

The evening rolls in,

sky rich in shades of ombre,

twilight softly glows.

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(more…)

Drive (hour 3) by Mrs. J

Driving is an everyday task

But how is it that I ask?

I sit there on the passenger side

looking next to the driver as we ride

He backs out the parking lot

Then makes a turn around a curb.

Then drive on to our destination as he finds the perfect spot

I just saw him drive

Driving is an everyday task

But how is it that I ask?

Me and Mom make plans to go to Walmart

She is careful not to run off the road

Nor run the red light

or any objects seen in sight

At last she has dropped me back at home

Kids are upstairs with husband when I get in

giving me enough time to let my thoughts roam

Driving is an everyday task

But how shall I ask?

I know family , friends, and people who travel abroad

even those right in my city I watch drive effortlessly I applaud

Driving is an everyday task

But who shall I ask?

One of my sweetest friends

Have tons of great ideas for quick and easy hairdos for me that will never end

As we ride in her car

I see one of the greatest thing that she does like a sister

is encourage me by keeping me up to par

that in order for me to drive on my own one day is to believe that God has already answered my prayers..

to let me drive up to speed

I have already asked the right One- yes,indeed!

Prompt 14, Hour 14

In her wonderful book Braiding Sweetgrass, Robin Wall Kimmerer writes — ‘In some Native languages the term for plants translates to “those who take care of us.’

Use any part of this quote (with credit), or the ideas it contains as a jumping off point for your poem this hour.

If you have a hard time connecting with this quote here are two others, also by Robin Wall Kimmerer, to consider.

“The land knows you, even when you are lost.”

Rebel(Hour Twelve)

It all begins with the shoulders

Rounded rotations without stagnation

Make for a smooth roll.

The rebellion began

In my momma’s belly,

Would you believe

That I was born

To be a rebel?

With every

Wheel whirl

I come

Closer to

Realizing revolution.

 

It all begins with the shoulders

Rounded rotations without stagnant

Make for a smooth roll.

Prompt 9

Fireflies dance near that strange cottage. The trees are perfectly rowed in a treeline, waiting for battle waiting for something or someone masked to attack.

Grass

Grass

Green swaying in the winds
Rain lashed figures enjoying the rainbow
Afternoon song comatose
Sweet popcorn
Selfie life

Hour 11

@varenyas

Gardening

“Hey beauties” this I always shout
Every morning when the sun comes out
I lift each leaf to check some worms
might hinder every budding bud that forms

Just this morning a tiny shoot
Few days more delicious fruit
Beside the window birds cheerfully
sing in a perfect harmony

One can’t explain the joy I feel
Because of plants my worries heal
Silently healing subtly comforting
Like a friend so reassuring

Oh gardening you are a friend
A therapy until the end
You heal each wound you mend a broken
Hardest of hearts you always soften

Hold on to Hope (a haiku for the 5th hour)

Around the corner,

all it takes is the right turn,

and your life can change.

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