The Poetry Marathon

Hour 13, By Hand

By Hand

Gazing out the kitchen window, my most strenuous
physical exertion these days is plunging my hands
into hot, soapy water, carefully washing each dish,
pan, and piece of silverware, no machine allowed here.

As my hands perform their practiced routine
I drift along the currents and eddies
of past, present, and future, timelessly suspended
and sampling like a banquet, spread for my mind to taste.

Memories of my children as babies, my husband and I
as high school teens, myself as a child of the 1970’s, scroll through
in technicolor, longing tingeing the corners of each memory,
to return and hug a lost loved one, see a favorite vanished place.

Present worries push through every now and then, plans, lists,
and needs demanding head space and time, but are soon
submerged beneath the warm water and waves of music,
my laptop softly playing as my hands do as they have done for forty years,
and I am at peace with the world once again.

Tracy Plath

Always the Chef – hour 13, prompt 13

In the kitchen I like to be

cooking is the thing for me

reaching up for ingredients many

first in the supermarket spree

choose them very carefully

or imagine a new recipe

a la mode or soup du jour

with me,

you don’t know what’s in store

mixing is a tricky task

knowing what goes first or last

chopping may take the longest

but this mix always comes out best

sweets are just my favorite thing

angel food, homemade ice cream

cookies on a stormy day

will always cheer the gloom away

sometimes kitchen it gets hot

but anyplace better, there is not

sometimes when I’m dreaming so

I wish cooking school

as a youth I’d go.

– Sandra Johnson

 

#13 Swim

The world disappears and

sounds are silenced as

my head submerges,

eyes open to a different world.

I am aware of each breath,

aware of every part of my body

I push myself forward

all outside things are muted now, small,

My anxiety comes of with each stroke and

my panic, my worries simply ebb away,

In this moment, for this hour, I am just me

completely blissful in the water’s caress.

Prompt 13 hour 13

BY THE BOOK.

.Sniffing her large book
She slips into her covers
Dark coffee in hand

Prompt 13, Hour 13 – Anew

Surrounded,

I scan the area:

shelves full of disarray;

hangers tilted, the folds undone;

sparkling dust dancing in sunlight,

and setting atop smooth surfaces

and into nooks unused.

 

I am outnumbered.

I am called to enjoy the day,

but first – my space.

 

The space in which I breathe,

the space in which I carry my thoughts,

and the space in which I must find myself.

 

My space is sacred.

So no, I cannot leave it.

I fight against inertia,

to make room for me.

 

 

Scrivener’s Paradise

There’s a hidden valley just over yonder

where the scribblers and scribes often wander

with pen and paper weighing down their packs.

They are anxious to write both fiction and facts.

 

The valley is filled with fountains flowing with verbs,

old orchards of adjectives, and, have you heard,

there’s chattering conjunctions hiding in tall chestnut trees,

while indigenous interjections snap at the buzzing bees.

 

Placid prepositions rest without making a sound.

Petulant pronouns roam around the grounds.

Antsy articles meander searching for crumbs,

as weathered writers scrawl witty phrases, one by one.

 

This valley of wonderment created by God

who whispered, then waving, gave a slight nod

releasing rushing rivers and a mountainous range.

Then, miraculously, He brought forth seasons of change.

 

Ask any proud poet to show you the way.

You’ll be quietly invited and later asked to stay.

Gladly deciphering verses of dribble and drool,

you’ll soon be writing in this valley, well-schooled.

To Bed — Hour 13

I slowly crawl into bed

hold my breath

position myself on the diagonal

stretch the spine

rolling to the side

groan escaping

pain/relief of pain

it’s all one

the sighing

the grousing

the feeling both things at once is

odd

the word is

ecstasy

Moon Love – #1

in the shadowy night
she lingered
swaying nervously
bathed by the moonlight

in the dim room
he pondered
smiling incessantly
bathed by the moonlight

should they even question
these feelings
lingering passionately
under the same moon

she had been here with him
times before
he had been here with her
times before

bathed by the moonlight
she lingered, swaying nervously
he pondered, smiling incessantly
together under the same moon

Keeping in Shape

Keeping fit and be in good health

Is more important than amassing wealth

Of what good is riches and wealth

without corresponding good health?

Many believe that vising the gymnasium or losing weight

Or having a personal trainer is a vanishing trend

 

As a rule, my day is incomplete without putting in 50 press-ups, skipping rope and aerobics

Press-ups tones my muscles and build inner strength

Aside, press-ups buildup endurance and stamina

Have discovered that these cannot be bought off the shelf

Physical exercise is a lifestyle, not a vanishing trend

Would always be involved in it for its gain and not pain

 

 

CHILDHOOD

The sweet vibes
Of childhood dreamscape
Of moonlight tales
Beyond screens at twilight
We sang novel songs
Like screeching tyres
The warmth of brotherhood Triggered a neighborhood of endless friendship…
The artless boon regaled our innocent minds
We read tomes aloud in storytelling mood
The rustic ambience long gone ignited embers of treasured bonds
Our farms, gardens and streams spilled benevolent bloom of unending harvest

Ours was a rustic paradise garnished with pleasurable humanity
A testament to a vibrant glam of artistic romance with nature’s abundant gift – peace unlimited!