The Poetry Marathon

Demon Cat

She watched from the treeline
in the heat of that summer evening,
a strange ochre colored beast with cotton ears
and short front legs – white,
like she was wearing stockings.

In my lethargy, I watched back
as she crept closer, and wondered
of my camera’s zoom setting.
Ah! It was still in the cottage
next to the half-eaten bowl of porridge
and bottle of fresh cream
from the farmer next door.

Nice man, that farmer.
Young. A widower seemingly desperate
for the company of his next wife.
It wouldn’t be me, but I was down
for an evening by the fire pit
with his home-spun ginger beer.

He warned me about a strange cat
after inviting me to dance with him
and the fireflies that evening.
“It’s firefly season in these parts,”
he boasted. “My wife and I made an event of it,
until that dang cat got to her. Demon cat it was. Black as night.”
A fleeting rage crossed his face before he smiled,
proud of the fresh cream.

I never expected to encounter the creature
that afternoon, and I must admit, she was beautiful.
A black mask framed her yellow eyes,
making them pop like diamonds.
I would swear I saw a menacing smile
before she leapt forward to attack.

BOOM! The cat fell to the ground with a screech
that surely was from the depths of hell,
like nothing I’d ever heard. A rustling to my left
suddenly made me more scared than had the cat.

BOOM! I thought she was dead,
but the cat had, miraculously, gotten up
before the farmer could get another clear shot at her.

Demon cat indeed!
She seemed to fly back into the dark forest
through trees, vines, and ferns,
as if they weren’t there.

“Hold on just a minute so I can check for blood,”
He wasn’t talking about my blood, but that of the cat.

“I know I hit him, but I never can find nothing to track him,”
he said, puzzled. “I hear him scream, but it’s like I hit his
dark soul, and not his mortal body. You saw him, didn’t you,
that black cat with the yellow eyes. Same one that got my wife.
I had a hunch he’d be after you,
so I came to see if I could get a shot at him.”

I must have been in a state of shock,
not having realized how close I had come to
some sort of immortal death.
It took me until just this week to wrap my head around
what he said next.

“My wife is still out there somewhere, I know it.
I see her from time to time, wearing the same ochre colored dress
and the white socks I’d given her for Christmas,
And those godawful white ear muffs, made her look like she had
giant balls of cotton wrapped around her ears.”

Unknown.

Three crows over my left shoulder,
debarked me on an unknown shore,
the land looked the same as did the people on it,
what changed was how I there stood.
I learned for once what want truly was,
my infant stomach ached from what couldn’t sustain,
no encouragement, no prize, no attention just bleak,
no parental hang to chide or to hold,
or voice to call if stayed out at night.
no surprise, gift or party for me,
no questions about what I wanted to do.
I had to fend and survive alone,
no one came to put a plate before me,
walking in the rain as no way to return,
fighting for younger siblings thought prey
forcing out my own blightful memories,
while barely held by the loosest social net,
cracks so wide and falls so deep,
every small kindness lit up my face,
unexpected and needed momentary relief,
distant holidays, studies, activities and such,
total fantasy seen on our rusty TV set.

When those tides caught up to the age when I left,
I leaned and looked at my pre-voyage self,
one opportunity laden in satiate sloth,
the newer fearful yet value was felt,
despite what little of any of it about.
both fail and flounder, beholden to fate.
Four decades in and those children still drive,
guilt humbles to see what little I made,
of all that advantage heaped back then.
The saga was raised to expect such support,
then vanish and left like spartan birth,
no conditioning – but all softness and weak.
Kneeling and supplication to those,
Who had not any of this support
Whose being were grown callous just to get by
Step past scar tissue and seek to soften inside.

Hour 11: I’ve Never Been To . . .

I’ve never been to paradise or heaven—are they similar places—like islands in the Caribbean? Like utopia or nirvana?

Those places would be enjoyable I guess, but they may be places like Las Vegas where I have been, unfortunately. Before I pick a place, can I get a 90 second tourist video? Can I have Rick Steves tour it and give his full insights? Can I get a refund and start over in less than 24 hours?

Also, how long do I go for? A weekend, two weeks, a year, the rest of my life?

If I could be guaranteed that another planet would be inhabitable and at least reasonably hospitable to me, then I would choose another planet. Life must have taken some dramatic turns in the evolutionary journey, and the results would be fascinating. Many books, movies, shows, imaginations have delved into this exact curiosity. All to somewhat similar conclusions.  I’m no scientist—definitely more the artistic happy-go-lucky type, but the universe has always drawn me in. Interestingly enough, I’ve never been interested in shows like Star Wars or Star Trek—perhaps because I never really had a TV, and was never an avid reader of fiction. So what would another planet be like. First of all, to compare it to earth would make sense. Planet Earth is about 4-5 billion years old. So, I’d want a planet 5 billion or more years old. I’ve always been more interested in looking forward than backwards. History has become instantly boring to me the older I get… there might be a good joke there. Maybe about 8 billion would be the sweet spot for a planet—just speculating here. Being an optimist, the more experience we have and the longer we evolve away from our survival instincts the better chance of a peaceful society. Is this what people call utopia? The Orville depicted a so called planet with a utopian culture but it turned out to be a weak disguise for a society that was still based on self-interest, totalitarianism, and force.

The best option would to take a “cruise” of the universe, spending a week or two in five or ten planets—maybe 4-5 days on 2-3 locations on each planet. That’s it, a cruise of the universe. But I wouldn’t be one of those cruise passengers that stayed on the ship and only went with the large groups to the tourist trap shops and restaurants. No, I’d take off and look around the planet myself or with a local guide. Then after a few tours of the universe, I could choose the planet I would retire  choose to live the rest of my life on before I passed and went to heaven or paradise or nirvana.

 

 

 

 

Titan Tourists

If an atmosphere defines a moon, Saturn’s Titan is much like Planet Earth,

And although no one will most likely land there without lots of protective gear

a trip to the largest of Saturn’s 82 moons might well prove its worth

since as starlets might note a year orbiting Titan knocks off many a year

while a space hotel orbiting Titan’s side always turned to its giant neighbor

might be a once-in-a-lifetime travel jaunt that Space-Ex tourists would savor,

for it would feature a spectacular view of Saturn’s rocky, ice-encrusted rings,

so if Elon Musk makes it past Mars, he might to Titan the star-struck bring.

Her

She looked lost
As if someone snapped their fingers
And she was transported to another world
Shocked, frozen, and scared
She was scared

And I could see it in her eyes
The way her pupils widened
How her blinks slowed
And the wrinkle of her nose

There was a gleam on her lips
Round and full
Covered in gloss

There was a sparkle on her eyelids
From the shimmer of her shadow
Brightening the dark mahogany of her eyes
Showing it’s brilliance

Her fingers trembled
There were always things to fear
Things to be afraid of

Walking down the street at night
Without a set of keys between her fingers
Or daring to feel confident in her sensuality
Outside of her bedroom walls

She was taught to fear the night
To hear the monsters as they crawled
What she feared the most
More than werewolves
And wendigos
Was herself

prompt 11: place

 

in the country of belief

 

In the country of

belief   old women read cards

draw them from pouches

embroidered with bronze and gold

offer ways to light the dark

****************************

I lost two cities, lovely ones

tight streets unfolding to the eye.

Boys rise up in old men, wings begin to sprout

and the ports have names for the sea.

We look for communion

(there are easier ways of making sense)

any small thing can save you:

petals on a wet black bough,

the cold flash of the blue, unappeasable sky.

 

cento portion: Elizabeth bishop, Robert hayden, Pete Fairchild, Auden, Levertov, billy collins, mark doty, ezra pound, Stanley kunitz

Prompt 11, Hour 11 – Untouched

Therein lies all hopes of the justice due;

A space of hushed serene, wise equity,

Except for Greed, yet awaiting its cue

To sweep and strip good opportunity.

 

Beyond Arrogance’s strong hold, is a place –

Readied for the change of Desolation,

Stuck to  the crevice in the poor-led case.

It fears its first breath of premature exultation.

 

Distant yet fast paced in its new approach,

Arrogance could not measure the time left.

Downtrodden – now Players, Winners and Coach;

Though they will not leave anyone bereft.

 

Let us prepare for a world of unscarred.

Untouched, theirs will be a heart without guard.

 

 

 

 

World Of Fantasy

I live in a world of fantasy,

I actually roam

In the realms of fantasy.

I find myself

Always lost,

When I find a spot.

Am always walking,

through the tunnel of darkness.

Full of loneliness.

Always hallucinating,

Of being in the realms of creepy-crawly critters.

You know,

This is my fear,

This is why I always cry,

This is why I move to many location,

And in every destination,

I find some medication

For my situation.

But the more I seek

The more this fear makes me sick.

So I gave up!

But now, I will still seek,

Even if it will make me sick.

Because I don’t want to die of this disease.

So I need you to help me seek,

To leave in peace.

 

 

 

Hour 11: someplace I’ve never been

I have never been to Florida–

perhaps I’ll never go there.

I would like to see the Everglades

and orange groves, although there

are some tourist spots I would avoid

like Disney World and South Beach–

far too many people fill

those places, not exactly niche.

The eye of this beholder

Is looking for someplace colder.

11

11/

11/

When I was sixteen, my math teacher slipped me clues during tests
“Ka-hi-li, calme toi”, he’d say,
adding an extra syllable to my name
That math was an abstraction

It was another eight years before I got my driver’s license
The first time I drove the car alone
I swung it wide in my parent’s drive
and put a pole-shaped dent in the side door

It was a green 1992 mustang
When my gramma bought it, I was one,
wearing the clothes my niece wears now:
cute waving frills of pink striped cotton.

She was born seven months ago, 
weighing less than seven pounds
five months before you asked me to marry you,
and flew to a three day job somewhere in middle America

two days before they closed
the world’s longest continuous unguarded border,

three and a half months ago now.