The Poetry Marathon

prompt # 7: Season of the plague

History tells us

human civilization suffered through:

the black plague

the spanish flu

small pox

SARS, MERS to name a few.

 

Season of a plague

 

Whence the year 2020

the talk of a pandemic is the talk of the media

in the wake of four years

hearing; fake news.

some people are feeling the blues

while others think it is a stage for the political arena.

Scientists, Health workers, stay above the fray

to share the facts

that a pandemic is here to stay

 

Season of a plague

 

As we go back to our fast-paced lives,

can we cheer on

mother nature and all that thrives.

 

One of the many lessons,

this plague has given us

whether it is stressed or depression,

it allows for mother nature like fungus

to flourish without humans acculminating

to harm the earth.

 

In this season, time is precious

relying on the smallest details

rather than

megabytes, the newest of the new

technology and material objects that just take up space

and collect dust.

 

in these moments whatever your occupation is —

can you shift to enjoy these small details?

Perhaps the season of the plague

has given us the blueprints to enjoy life

the simplest pleasures.

 

prompt #7, season of ~

Seasons of Tea ~

 

Iced. With lemon, summer’s flavour. Sometimes honey.

And sometimes plain, hot as climate change.

Rooibos, Darjeeling – taste of muscatel, they say.

They’re wrong. Unless it’s a first flush private reserve.

Dragon pearl – jasmine leaves rolled into perfect green

globules of fragrance. Brew until liquid gold. Ice.

 

Hot. Lapsang Souchong, the drink of winter. Or mixed

with the bergamot of Earl Grey, summer. Hot or iced.

Hot with milk and sugar – Chinese Keemun. Ceylon,

in its name the whispered sibilants of Orientalism & its

colonial cousins. Assam, masala chai of spice & romance.

 

Iced. The fruit teas of the South: hibiscus, mango, apple.

The digestif ginger, mixed with pepper to augment the bite.

Thai iced tea, with boba – the bubbles of my childhood.

Creamy vivid orange, nothing I can make at home.

Hot. Verveine and linden flower, tisanes à la Français.

Verveine lemon verbena dressed in Chanel. Each scoop magic.

 

The tray: one my mother-in-law’s my 2^nd mother, who never

had to love me; one a sister gave me. One of wood and glass,

the centre embroidered by a friend I never saw again. Peter

Rabbit, his blue coat forever velvet. On it I place the teaset

I bought for my young sons, now the choice of grandsons.

Large pot, small pot. Creamers & sugars. Mugs, cups, saucers.

 

Cookies. A necessary element of the season of tea. Lemon bars

in warm weather, chocolate in fall. In the winter, scones laden

with cream & jam. At Christmas? Misshapen sugar cookies

torn from the mouths of metal cutters by hasty hungry hands.

The season of greed, of want, of tea and all its luxuries.

Its decadence.

Season of a Promise kept…

The calm brush of a breeze with the scent of home fires burning,
Inviting, the spell of leaves falling in a swirl,
they touch your face and provoke a smile.

The gentle caress of autumn steals the sultry heat of summer precludes the melancholy of winter;
a careful lover,
he whispers in your ear promises of evenings spent enthralled within his arms as he teases you with nature’s kisses.

within the change of seasons comes the promise of his visit and within his embrace,
the promise your heart will be kept warm and soul lulled into rest,
before the chill of winter steals his caress away from you.

Season of Song #7

The sea is calm tonight
Won’t you sing with me?
We may not last this fight
But that doesn’t matter, you see?
The birds asleep, they know this tune
My final breath, it’s coming soon
See it riding the wave
Arriving, like autumn
With a splash of colour
A finale in moonlight
I can hear the song
Oh won’t you sing along
As I say goodbye

The competition

I have seen and watched many a men fall while chasing a beauty and his goal

I love both and i am determined to get both still bringing my dream to realization as i try to hold my relationship from breaking

To be honest it’s a hard task but nevertheless i am willing to pursue it till death because a man never runs when faced with challenges but strives to overcome

Sometimes she gives peace and at times it might seem as your whole world collapsing trying to find out why she is like this but ironically it’s both way

She asks herself why can’t you have time for her??                                                                      Why can’t you be there for her??                  Was all you said just to gain her attention and make her love but deep down you understand it’s more than what she’s thinking for now she needs to be patience

Time waits for no man and so you have to buckle up, making haste while the sun shines so as to be part of the great men of your time though she doesn’t see this all she’s your lack of attention towards her

On some nights you surprise her with dinner, a bit of dancing and good sex and she thinks her man is back not knowing he still has his eyes fixated on his goal and what he is doing is just to make you want more of him

It’s called the law of push and pull though he that’s playing doesn’t know all he knows is that he is putting his best so both of them can enjoy the fruit of his labour

But the question is will she be patience or like other girls who has lost their morals and have been nicknamed they are for the streets or she will stand her ground and be there for him and help him in accomplishing his goals

Barely Visible (Hour 5)

Never liked the way you said “bye”

Always so arrogant and simultaneously breathtaking.

But you were you and the red flags were there,

Just barely visible to my closed eyes.

Tear wells – a go.

And now I’m sure it’s a go –

“Bye.”

Hour 6

Are we done?

I think I’m done

No? Oh. Well damn.

My congratulations and many accolades

Will just have to wait

Til it pleaaes the  fates.

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Prompt 7 Season of the Absurd

We play this game round and round
no one is lost yet no one is found 
walking through day as if it is night 
and waking in sweat to wonder about life 
worry is the new norm and has settled on faces 
has settled in scorn in all the wrong places
we blame the right they blame the fight 
we blame till we forget the point of this plight 
we are the survivors in this season of the absurd
walking in circles till our voices are heard 
but we are still walking and we won't stop
because change is inevitable unless you drop

Season of Red (Hour 7: using prompt)

“I reckon’ it’s time”
he says
standing up from the table.

I watch him go out the door
his back
disappearing into the dawn.

I set the dishes in the sink
his on top
turning on the water flow.

I make circles with the rag
his lunch
already planned in my mind.

I slip off my apron
his favorite
and let it fall to the ground.

I place a bright red apple
his disgust
on that plate

and leave, with
the door hanging open

—
Copyright 2020, SashaS