The Poetry Marathon

Summertime

Hot sun

Gentle breeze

sweet smell of summer.

Loud buzz

Sharp sting

Biting bugs of summer

Generous smiles

Open laughter

Hot boys of summer

 

Dad Would’ve Liked

Dad would’ve liked Texas.
He would’ve liked the sage growing wild in the yard.
He would’ve liked the rolls of the Hill Country and the mariachi in the city.

Dad would’ve liked the house.
He would’ve liked the arched doorways and the Saltillo tile floor.
He would’ve liked the stone exterior and the wide porch overlooking the ranch.

Dad would’ve liked me.
He would’ve liked my lost weight and my found joy.
He would’ve liked my independence and how I stopped worrying.

Dad would’ve liked this phase of life.

My Feelings Are A Joke To Me – Hour 3

Met myself a cute boy
His beauty hit me like a train
Hair flowed gloriously in the wind
Skin glowed bright and pearly in the sun
Voice almost spoke to my soul
His smile shined through the dark

You made heartache fun.

Never been one to take the first step
I wouldn’t even know what to do
Yet somehow because of you
I am compelled
I must do what I have to do
You inspire such excitement in me
Such dilemma such chaos internally
Yet it gives me peace of mind to know how much I am into you.

You made heartache fun.

So I chased after you
I related to your story
I complimented you at every opportunity
I asked you for a selfie
Still you were shy maybe, taken even, extremely responsible in how you interacted with me
So I wailed to myself for half a year wishing I had not put myself through this agony

You made heartache fun.

Hour 4; Prompt 4: To Whom It May

So
It has been awhile now
12, 13 years?
Might as well be a day
Because that’s how long it feels, when I think of you

I can’t get past the feeling of non closure
There is still so much to be said
There are still feelings left unshared
Even though I spoke to you
Moments before you took your last

6:35pm
Your birthday
You were 79
At this moment
I sense the tragic irony, though not lost to me
Just the sensation of,
“Damn. Of all days.”

I remember a few days after
I came across a bottle of Dewars
It was old; at least a couple of decades
It was so terrible
But I drank on
And inside that bottle I found warmth
Mercy
Maybe even a little hope
But you were nowhere in sight

I miss you dad

Poem Marathon #4

Do you remember, Wayne? 
(an epistolary from long ago) 
Ann WJ White

When your kiss lightly touched my lips,
you fled the room back to your world?
You left me standing, holding my breath.
Suddenly, I was aware you were gone for good,
before you had even arrived.
Leaving me with no past or future to hold, 
leaving the air, taking your only essence.

I tagged along after that. Following others,
seeking that air of mystery and hope.
I found other kisses. I looked everywhere, but for you.
A shadow, but life went on. Distrustful, sharper,
watching in the bright sunshine. But, every once 
I wondered, why did I feel like you 
held my heart in your hands? 

Forty-one years later, I saw you.
You were listed on Amazon, a published
mystery writer, a doctor without an office,
still roaming through life, hiding from something.
I read the book, but your essence wasn't there.
Heard from my sister that you had a band
of rock and roll throwbacks. 

Still in the shadows, but wiser, I'll never look again.
You had your mystery, your breath, a moment.
I'd rather wander the world, looking at other
mysteries, with someone who sees me with joy.
I like the dark lit jazz bars and paper 
umbrellas with the daylight sun. I found a man 
whose heart I hold, with a kiss, and stayed.

To Reid

Dear little brother-

Poem 4 | {The Night Sky}

By Ajanta Judd All Rights Reserved – 2am Australian EST

Prompt 4: Write an epistolary poem that is a letter from you to someone who has passed and/or someone you have not seen in a long time.

 

{The Night Sky}

I just wanted to let you know

That I still carry feelings of love for you

In fact, I think of you quite often

What we had was special

…can never be replicated

The other day, reading back through my writing

I came across a poem you had written for me

‘The night sky’; written with such love

There is nothing so moving

as someone writing a poem for me

It touches me deeply

I wonder where you are now

Curled up warm in bed, unaware

whilst I’m bleary-eyed and paying homage to you

Sleep well my friend, I shall come to you

in lucid dreams.

 

What Was I Saying?

Fridays are Saturdays
and I forget you
play your virtual game with friends,
all fellow D&D nerds.
I retire to another room to read
while your character wards off evil.

Sundays are Mondays,
and we play 70’s music
and call it Coffeehouse Day.
We might work on a home project.
Or, if it’s cloudy/chilly, I say,
“let’s walk.” The park is congested on sunny days
and no one’s wearing a mask.

Wednesdays are Fridays.
I always wanted us to go out on Fridays.
Now we do, except it’s “Wednesdays.”
We take turns paying for take-out from
various Asian restaurants. Likewise,
we take turns picking something on Netflix.
Every time it’s your turn, you ask about Space Force again.
“Maybe next week, babe.”

Thursdays are Tuesdays.
Both are foot soldier days.
And are shifted into position as necessary:
Shopping, laundry, getting gas. Check on the lettuce and tomatoes
growing in the common area behind our building.
By the time we have dinner, I’ve given either of these days
permission to leave quarters and do whatever the hell Tuesdays and Thursdays
do when they’re not in service.

1. Recipe For a Perfect Summer Moment

1. 1. Recipe For a Perfect Summer Moment

    

   1. Warm Sun
   2. Arnold Palmer
   3. Tide & Downy
   4. Breeze
   5. Wrought Iron Chair
   6. Peace & Calm

   Take all parts and mix equally. All senses will be activated if the breeze along with peace and calm are interspersed intermittently. Then to add a special touch include equal parts of Tide Clean and Downy Fresh in the middle of the day. Next find a seat on a wrought iron chair upright or laying down comfortably while enjoying the cool breeze. Lastly, don’t forget to take sips of the refreshing Arnold Palmer in between by finishing off with equal parts black tea and lemon or lime juice sweetened by brown sugar under  the warm sun.   A moment in time captured in a postcard memory. Scratch and sniff! This is summer at its best. Enjoy a moment of pure bliss.

    

Hour 4 Prompt 4. Faith Chepchumba

DEAR JOE.

When I met you as a stranger
I couldn’t make conversation
I was a shy loner
But you made a friend in me
And I met a friend in you

As the years went by
Staying,you did care
Like the stars forming a Halo
You were the support
The friend, exceptional, kind.

I remember every day
The long walks
Visits to the park
For even when it was dark
You would hold my hand home

We have each other
Even when far apart
The pandemic struck
But our hearts are home, together
For you are the home
My home in human form.