The Poetry Marathon

Professional Procrastinator

In the day, I sit in my chair
Eyes wide open, my mind blank
A seemingly calm outlook
For a man with a to-do list
I lounge around and drink coffee
To stay up and do nothing

My nervous self comes to visit me at night

In the day, portraits watch my every move.
To appease myself, I run through the routine,
But I know of my sham.
Written notes disguise my actions,
The books fortify my falsehood.
A pretty, glass house that I’ve built
To allow my consciousness to peer in,
And glee with satisfaction.

My nervous self comes to visit me at night

In the day, the clock groans with disappointment
The seconds, minutes, and hours all pass by
Endless work to be done
But my lobotomized mind is fixed elsewhere
The fire continues to swell under my feet
But I pay no mind until the day is done

My nervous self comes to visit me at night

Bop 1

These blame gamey days 

of lockdowns and attempted pick us ups. 

We have become the captains 

of our own quarrels 

the very great and the very terrible 

of us all, displayed for all to see. 

 

Touch from a distance 

 

The photographed beaches of bodies, these last few years 

of swept up refugees 

are now the front page of swathes of folk sunning themselves. 

The distrust of binary politics and the flimsy news reports, 

how we try to shake ourselves from this funk 

by the boredom of this humdrum rapture. 

The newscasts of the deaths of thousands filtering 

across the rolled out countryside. This greenish land  

 

Touch from a distance  

 

The dictates, the loose tooth thinking 

by governments and their advisors 

who jangle the keys in front of the cell doors. 

They keep us stuffed up with sport on Television, 

keep the question from our lips, we are not all equal when 

the sacrifices of the many are made for the privilege of the few. 

 

Touch from a distance 

 

 

How to watch a horror movie

Ingredients:
1. Fear
2. Warm fuzzy blanket
3. Creepy music
4. Dark chocolate pretzels
5. Doorbell

Directions:
Select a horror movie that instills fear
gives you goosebumps
makes the hair on the back of your neck rise
contains all you fear

Curl up on a well worn couch
tuck into a warm fuzzy blanket
hide your toes
place dark chocolate pretzels within reach
press play

As the creepy music plays
and the fear rises
reach for the pretzels
one at a time
crunch chomp swallow

Ignore the unknown shadows in the room
just agents of fear escaping from the screen
hide under blanket as needed
nibble more pretzels
creepy music booms

Fear makes a reappearance
laughs rattle windows in time with music
nibble more pretzels
sink deeper into blanket
doorbell rings

The end is nigh

 

I am still here

I am still here

Because you are here too
as a map for a lost child searching
for his mother on Earth’s mouth.

Because I compose songs from things
marked as food for fire, as elements
too weak to survive the blacksmith’s furnace.

Because we agreed not to light out at once –
there are so many who’d look to us for rays
when darkness chokes their world.

Because I do not endure in silence.
I scream loud enough to quake grief
with songs whose lyrics only me understand.

Because I sing the name of my demons
aloud, to my moulder, to you, to friends.
And I sing of me as a bird of colourful feathers.

Hour 3: An Empty Chair Sits By the Fire

---

---

An empty chair sits by the fire

The wisdom well has run dry

The warm embrace had disappeared

When the northern compass fails to point

Where do we go?

Where do we go?

 

 

No maps or globes can help me now.

The answers I need aren’t to be found.

I must step up

And sit upon the chair

And become the strength

The source of love

And wisdom

A mother

 

 

Patience, deep breath

One, two, three

Summon the strength of those before me

Summon the love of those before me

One, two, three

Love is the answer

Hour 3: Rude People (A Bop)

Rude People (A Bop)

There are people in this world that I don’t understand,

They are rude and uncouth, it has gotten out of hand.

They are louts and they’re bores, just not very pleasant

I run into them often, they always seem present.

I beg the good Lord, to give me the patience to see

The good in these people who are so insulting to me.

What has happened to make you so rude?

An example of these rude people, just so you know

Is, for instance, getting in your way, wherever you go.

Those people who think they should be head of the line

Even if others have been there waiting, they will start to whine.

The people who feel entitled, just cause their born

Better than those who worked hard, worn down, torn.

The whiners, complainers, grumpy troublemakers,

The grumblers, the moaners, growling bellyachers.

What has happened to make you so rude?.

The one thing I can do, the best thing that I know

Is to shower these unhappy people with kindness, to show

Another way, an example, that they can choose to act

Show them you can make a point, while using some tact.

I’ll try to remember, even though it can get hard to do

That some people fight battles and don’t know what to do.

What has happened to make you so rude?

Poem Hour Three (Not following prompt)

The Visitor

On my morning walk
Around the garden,
During lockdown as I avoid
The outside world,
He enters in –
A black, feline visitor.

Bravely, he watches me
Creeping closer as I count steps,
Check my fitbit,
Jog on the spot,
And smile
At bright green eyes.

He stalks a prey of cut-down bamboo,
Leafs floating on the breeze,
And butterflies circling flowers,
Pounces and plays,
Before finding a spot of sun
And stretching out to rest.

prompt # 3 A Doll’s Perspective

In the case of Boy meets Girl:

Boy proposes to Girl.

Except after the honeymoon phase,

comes conflict of interest, anger, frustration, jealousy

no room for the picture perfect fantasy

Disney or Brothers’ Grimm made.

 

“I must make up my mind which is right – society or I”

In one case, a man always sees his wife

as this intense fantasy of a doll to play with and always

dopamine filled.

His wife being the picture perfect doll, is obeying

and having fun with her husband. Until one day, the doll

speaks to other dolls, and soon the cracks open up

is their marriage of love. what does that mean?

 

I must make up my mind which is right – society or I”

 

This marriage at first glance seems glistening with perfection

of the perfect love filled marriage with children included.

In the end, the husbands seeks fulfilling his fantasy of the perfect doll.

two people who love only themselves, power and control.

Is marriage about living a lie through fantasy, power and control?

Or is it about knowing the person, caring for each other in equality?

 

I must make up my mind which is right – society or I”

 

Hour 3 Prompt 3

I watch them shuffle 
through my bedroom window
so comfortable in their spaces 
hand in hand, merry go round the mulberry bush 
smiles and laughter 
forgetting 

I scream inaudibly "Where is your mask, stay six feet apart"

More arrive to the tune of summer festivities 
sharing hugs and things I once knew 
but the window has become the known 
A fish, sitting in a tank 
wondering if they are safe
wondering if they know the danger they are in 
bubbles rise to the surface 
watching, wondering, wishing

I scream inaudibly "Where is your mask, stay six feet apart"

Back and forth in front of glass 
a sharp sound breaks my wander 
A cough heard round the world, fading smiles 
hugs turn to backward glances and laughter turns to goodbyes
the party appears to be over, it appears they may have heard me 

I scream inaudibly "Where is your mask, stay six feet apart"

hour 2 there is a lot of light that asks me to stay

there is a lot of light that asks me to stay
—for A and S

do you know how many types
of palm trees there are

whispering in AZ have you seen
the cottoncandyclouds bloom

lavender-pink : then mango-
gold —those sunrises that make you plum

switch sides of the road to get
the best view make you

forget your self— all of you
the sunrise transforms

& the suns red carpet is pink
and coral and never ever only one color

& the mountain silhouettes
are its adoring fans

here where 4 mountain ranges meet
make holy the valley & the city inside

where i orient myrself
by which mountain range which igneous

metamorphic sedimintary stones i face
make holy where rattlebirds and hummingsnakes

are everywhere i watch out
for them

it has been written if there is light there is life
& there is a lot of light that asks me to stay

where the sunrise sky makes me look past
the electric lines— past

the ember burning
in my throat that has been there

that has refused
to cool to ash