The Poetry Marathon

A Poem for Hard Times

It’s cruel to put a firefly in a bottle.
I wish I’d known this as a kid.

It’s cruel to put children in cages.
This isn’t a fairy tale, and the president is no kid.

A knee on the neck or shots in the back!
Either means someone’s daddy isn’t coming home.

Then there’s the matter of Confederate statues.
If only we could save the horses and remove the traitors.

Hiding monuments won’t fix systemic racism,
but acknowledging racism is a small first step.

The first Civil War didn’t end white supremacy.
A second Civil War won’t either. Let’s try something else.

Covid-19 isn’t classist, but the healthcare system is.
Essential workers die for capitalists’ sins.

Can you eat porridge in a mask?
If not, can you safely open restaurants during a pandemic?

You build a cottage above the treeline for the view.
You build in the trees for protection from the wind.

If you can hide away in a cottage,
you probably have other resources.

What strange times we’re living in. Dating by Zoom,
goodnight kisses are less than satisfying.

This lethargy! Is it heat or anxiety?
I guess we’ll know when winter comes.

Miss You (hour 8, prompt 8)

Heat shimmered at the treeline
Like a veil of magic light
Crickets chirped throughout the field
As day faded into night
The fireflies came out to play
As stars scattered ‘cross the sky
I sat down with my memories
And looked up with a sigh

I miss you, I whispered to the stars
You’ve been gone so very long
It seems a lifetime’s passed since then
And, damn, everything is wrong
What I’d give to talk to you
To feel your booming voice
To hear you say “right fucking on”
As if there were a choice
To know everything was right, again
That nothing left was wrong
What I’d give to have my brother back
For you to not be gone

Tears flooded down my face
Till I couldn’t see the moon
As I walked away, I whispered
“Tell the rest I miss them, too.”

Rest in Paradise. 🖤
~Mandy Kocsis©2020~

5pm – nine – no title

-and sometimes the music
touches you so very deeply,
it swirls around inside you
until it reaches
your very soul, and shatters
into a million shards
filling you to your most
inner core…

Just this

Just this

Mother, snap out of your lethargy
and hold hands with this poem.
I anticipate your home-coming;
do not return without songs
in your mouth.
There are many empty cottages
in a sullen sky
for grief to rest on a treeline.
Do not marvel at this:
strange plants grow
in a barren garden.
Mother, do not bottle up your woes.
Mask your body with smiles
meant to heal –
a wild smile for forlornness.
It’s easy to walk a deficient distance
in the heat of the moment;
obey this poem, nothing more.

Poem 8 – Hour 8 – Aymen Zaheer

O My Captain! My captain! Our trip has been ended

The ship has been wrecked and we won the prize

Our destiny is near and people are merrymaking

And we are waiting to go

 

But O Heart! Heart! Heart!

Mournful to see blood drops of our captain

On the deck of ship

Who is cold and dead?

When Evening Meets the Daylight – A Haiku, 6th Hour

6th Hour

When Evening Meets the Daylight – A Haiku

 

When evening meets Earth's

Daylight, Peace is the horizon,

Fear takes flight...We sigh.

Balance

My lady Justice and the jackel await

With golden scales in hand

For whom gravity bears no weight

 

Called to the stand

A heart

Versus

A keratin counterpart

 

 

 

 

 

 

A strange day for Goldilocks was two years to the day later 

after eating their porridge, bursting the chair. and sleeping in their littlest bed:

 

They had chased me to the treeline,  and lifted fists in the air — Do not return!

But on this anniversary, this heat of early Spring gives me a sense of lethargy,

(Grandpa loves to teach me BIG words.)

and an overwhelming urge to return to their cave-home in the woods.

I have never ever had such a lovely nap!  or visited a more charming homey cave!

Could I wear a mask?   No, they would need to see my friendly smile.

Perhaps if I bring a gift.

My birthday present bottle of honey, from The Firefly Fairy Farm might do.

My Mom knows I want to visit the bears, but she wants me to settle for less,

“just do a Zoom meeting with the children’s department of the City Zoo.”

She just doesn’t understand; and darn, she locked the door.

She thinks this human cottage is where I should always be.

 

by Nancy Ann Smith    Amherst, Ohio

June 27, 2020    Poetry Marathon

 

 

 

 

 

 

Prompt 9 ~ Post 9 ~ 2020 Get-A-Way

It’s time for our family get-away

not a cottage but a  week up in Boyne.

A resort here in upper Michigan

far away from the chaos and noise.

 

Pack the car with food, masks, and goodies

and a bottle of iced coffee for me.

As we head for heat or comfy weather

no hurry for soon we shall see.

 

Oh, the memories we gather each summer

some strang, some special you know.

As we zoom on the freeway together

racing up there who’ll be the first one to show!

 

by Del Bates

 

 

 

The Revolt Poet – Haiku 1916

Fog envelopes all.

Mind, desolate as the Somme.

Bare, save for white cross