The Poetry Marathon

THE TIME IS AT HAND

THE TIME IS AT HAND

 

A wrote a poem

Verse by verse.

The first lined sucked

The second was worse.

 

Could not connect

With a thought or a notion.

Maybe a drink from

My magical potion.

 

One drink leads to two

Before you know it, its four.

And you discover its hard

To type on the floor.

 

You jump in the shower

Hope to come to your senses.

And get back to writing

Using all the right tenses.

 

 

Now that we’re reaching

The thirteenth hour.

Out of nowhere I’m getting

A feeling of power.

 

I hope I can make it

Beyond last years’ time.

I think I can make it

If I stop with this rhyme.

 

And get back to attempting

Some quality prose.

And complete this great marathon

Cross your fingers, here goes!!

“(Hour 5 of 12) nice pictures”

Look at these and tell me what you see.

My shrink shows some photos to me.

If you had to pick one, which would it be?

Your demons at bay, what will set you free?

 

This boat on the water with nary a ripple,

A clear moonlit sky and stars just endless,

Nature is still and calm and simple,

Forests in the distance, my peace is boundless.

 

 

© 2020 S Phua

“(Hour 4 of 12) e-pistle”

That’s an interesting story, my shrink says.

But here’s a task I have for you.

If you haven’t seen someone in three thousand days,

What would you say, this friendship to renew?

 

Forlorn letters are boring,

Phone chats are not my calling.

Skype and Zoom are soaring,

But like tweets, they are just appalling.

 

Short terse texts are best.

It’s just a status scoping.

Friendship waters I can test,

With a simple “How’s it going?”

 

 

© 2020 S Phua

The Alarm Clock

Ring ring ring

In sleep’s warm arms I lay

I hear thee not

In sweet slumber soft

But you ring ring ring

While the Blackbirds sing

Into the mellow morning mist

Perched upon dew laden branches.

I drift oblivious

Like a babe rocking in a cradle

Through the delicious land of dreams.

 

 

 

“(Hour 3 of 12) poor bop”

Told the shrink, I once knew a man.

To get rich was his masterplan.

I’ll rob a bank, oh yes, I can.

So to better understand,

And get a lay of the land,

Off he went, big gun in hand.

 

He really didn’t think it through.

 

Your money or your life, he told the teller,

You better not mess with me, I’m a nasty feller,

And if you think you wanna beller,

I’ll pull this trigger, don’t think I’m yeller.

In his face she laughed, you aren’t so stellar,

Have you been living in a wine cellar?

Or are you just a basement dweller?

It’s “i” before “e” in “Keep quiet”, you bad speller!

 

He really didn’t think it through.

 

I have a gun, and she doesn’t care?

My plan didn’t work, she called my dare!

He ranted and raved and shouted, “Beware!”,

Waving his big gun all around in the air,

The cops just put two in him, to his despair,

And his last thought was, life’s so bloody unfair!

 

He really didn’t think it through.

 

 

 

© 2020 S Phua

“(Hour 2 of 12) some recipe”

These maternal issues aside, he wonders,

What do you think is a life well lived, he ponders,

Would it be fame and fortune and ruddy good health?

Or a simple unremarkable life that’s borne without stealth?

Would you prefer trials and tribulations and constant bloody crises?

As opposed to calm and contentment and no base pleasures?

I’ll just go through the future with an open mind,

And just deal with what life throws at me, I opine.

 

 

© 2020 S Phua

1 more poem for good luck- Aqua PMC

We must  embrace and appreciate each day.

Always remember to have something nice to

say.

Being in this time. Keep in mind, nobody

wants to whine.

Although we may vent about everything,

including the rent.

Stay positive, stay grounded, don’t go down,

we will not get pounded

into the ground

beneath it all,

we must always try to stand up tall,

believe in yourself with all your might.

Keep in mind,

nobody is always right. And good night.

-Aqua PMC

Teeth

The buzz from my electric toothbrush mocks me

Ten years without the dentist

Seeing the world through yellow-tinted teeth

Peering through the gap between my two front chompers

The chip I created when I was younger and chewing on a butter knife

Clink

Clink

The tongue scraper like sandpaper

Both fascinating and horrific

Tongue-tied mumbling disapproval

White speckled flesh folding together

The lid of my mouthwash looks like a traffic cone

Alerting me to my own self-destruction

“Remember all those cigarettes you smoked in high school?”

I try not to drown as I gargle

30 seconds

If the conditions permit I don’t mind them

But under the truest of light, I see fractures and fragments

Dreams of gummy smiles and corn hues

Wait five minutes before eating, drinking

Two back molars are dying

My smartest teeth tear at the fleshy insides of my cheeks

Icy induced stabbing, in and out, in and out

Climbing into my cavities

It’s dark in here

Floss?

Who?

Rest.

The buzz.

Waking Dreams

I hate falling asleep
because there’s too much to do
and too much to see
in the world around me
and this is a half-truth

really

I hate falling asleep
because when I have dreams
I wake up from them

I’d rather stay here
than be shown
where I could have been.

“(Hour 1 of 12) another mother”

Shall we begin, says my shrink,

Now tell me what you think,

If I ask you what you remember,

All about your mother,

Not the ego and the id,

But just your time as a kid?

 

In truth, there isn’t much to say.

She would not let me have my way.

Her own fears to me she projected,

My natural instincts stifled and rejected,

From childhood to adulthood, so much regret,

Such a trying time, I would much rather forget.

 

But I have imagined, in some alternate history,

I was a singular person of some notoriety?

Sired in secrecy, mired in anonymity,

A libertine Don Juan, a rake of profligacy,

From the Virgin Queen I sprang, in this other reality,

That scion of Elizabeth, a bastard of the monarchy.

 

 

© 2020 S Phua