The Poetry Marathon

Grandmas Lessons

1. Her voice is remembered like a gospel song
   Or a book of proverbs and psalms
   Wise words to be a balm against hard times and hearts hardened
   Teaching how to love neighbors and give pardons to others that have been condemned
   To light fires to lights once dimmed by dark days
   To rejoice with gratitude even if the current situation seems bleak
   To master mercy for the outkast and the weak
   To in all things love and wisdom seek
   And to always get a full understanding
   Her voice was quite demanding that we acted as our brothers keeper
   Keepers of faith so that fear would hold no space in our hearts
   Because doubt is the devil and the devil is a lie
   And she demanded that we live in truth
   Her truth was feeding the hungry and housing the youth
   As a child she taught me to treat everyone as an angel even if they behaved like demons
   That anyone can be converted to love once you put the seed in
   I am her blood, so her philosophy bleeds out of all of my pores
   So I continue her example of being a champion for the oppressed and poor
   Continuing the fight as a soldier of God in this eternal holy war.

Hour 3 Prompt 3 Faith Chepchumba.

Happy Wreck Bop.

Plain village is breaking
Schools, markets and hospitals alike
Piece by piece
Like crisps trampled, cracking
As it’s chief continue battling
In their little plain home

The schools closing down
With parents camping in protest
And displaying banners
Of the draining student grades.
Hospitals fully occupied
Outbreak after outbreak
Disaster seems looming
In their little plain home

Plain village has to wake
Against every wreck
Holding hands together
For one people they are
In their little plain home

Forever

I promised to love you, forever

You promised to love me, forever

I promised you my heart and soul

You promised me your heart and soul

I promised you an unending worship with my body

You promised me an unending worship with yours

I promised you faithfulness, forever

You promised me faithfulness, forever

I promised you would be my forever Muse

You promised you would be my forever muse

Forever , we promised

Till death do us part.

WWJD?

I am a Christian, but
not like those other ones
I swear that I’m not scary
or judgemental or insecure
like the ones who make me wince at
“What would Jesus do?”

Sometimes I have to wonder
if they’ve even read their Holy Book
that says to love with action
and love abundantly, no “ifs”
Can they serve a Prince of Peace, God of Love,
while spewing hate and apathy?
How dare they invoke Christ’s name in vain with
“What would Jesus do?”

Jesus would invite them in,
poor, rich, pure, corrupt
Speak and show a better way
for those led down thorny paths
I could learn a thing or two by asking
“What would Jesus do?”

2020 Marathon (Poem #1)

Oh how I love 2020
It’s a year of so much diversity
A state of time
Where there is no Lyme
Oh why oh why
It’s just about time
We get to enjoy the Lyme

A time of solitude
A time of gratitude
A time to subdue
A time to draw back the curtains
A time to look back
A time to get on track

Never a dull moment in 2020
Welcome to the year of diversity
Let’s embrace this new era
A year of uncertainty
A year of change
A year that will soon end
A year that will soon to be the past

All rights reserved copyrighted(c)2020 Roxann A Harvey-Lawrence

Pandemic

One day folds into the next
and I am disoriented
by so much time, so little time
At night, my dreams are haunted
by face masks, germs
and nasal swabs.

What time is it now?

Sometimes I think
how much I will age
before my next pub drink with friends
and that I might not see my dad again
and then I distract myself
filling hummingbird feeders
scrubbing the sink
watching protests on the news.

What time is it now?

We can use this pause
if we seize the moment:
dismantle racist structures
pay attention to the planet
focus on peace
but we cannot wait another minute

What time is it now?

stress

trying to find peace is like,

trying to find blue ketchup,

at walmart when all that is in stock,

is mustard and organic mayo when,

you clearly remember seeing it on the shelves,

when you were younger and carefree.

02:00a.m Forgotten on the lake

Her first steps she did in torment,

she felt down, got bruised, no enjoyment.

She turned one year old (with no feast or celebration),

eldest brothers decided to go to lake, they had occasion

to take her with ( for no one to look after was ready).

Water was warm, sun shone and careless mood was steady,

soon they lost their sister out of sight,

she lay dehydrated in the grass in twilight.

 

What On Earth Is A Bop? 1/2 marathon poem #3

What On Earth Is A Bop
1/2 marathon poem #3

What on earth is a bop
I don’t know what to write
I wish these prompts would stop
I think I’m writing shite
What on earth is a bop
I don’t know what to write

Now every hour seems like it’s own marathon

What on earth is a bop
I struggle through stanzas
I try a quick Google
Looking for the answers
What on earth is a bop
Why am I doing this
I’m not enjoying it
So why do I persist

Now every hour seems like it’s own marathon

So this has been a bop
And now it’s nearly over
I wish these prompts would stop
I’ve struggled so far
So this has been a bop
Now at last it’s over!

This Third hour has been it’s own marathon.

(C) Scott Coe 2020

3 – Teenager

He says, “Gramma, that’s not what I said, and if it is, it isn’t what I meant!”

He isn’t a little  boy anymore.

He articulates, “I am ready for some freedoms from you, and I think they should be…”

He is making his way into independence, feeling his way into young adulthood.

I observe, hold back, give space.

It is a tricky tightrope

tough to balance.

I fail, a lot.

He is untying the proverbial apron strings, as it should be.

He vacillates, “Gramma, will you sing to me and rub my hands?”

 

Some things will remain…

 

Elizabeth Fellows

6/27/2020, 5am