Hour 3: Seven Seconds

My life before my eyes

it just takes it 7 seconds to flash by

to completely tell the story

of I who existed at some point of time…

 

A second for the lost childhood

spent in a broken home

Another for the love that

was doomed from the start

 

One second was enough

to cover all that I loved

Books and poems and childish games

were still a majority

 

The fourth came and went

with memories of a distant dream

It was bound to be abandoned

Family responsibilities

 

One more second and I knew

It was full of the so called regrets

Then why was it the only happy one

I don’t think anyone can answer it

 

Then it passed and along came

another one, of time with you

For a second, it seemed even shorter

yet somehow longer than eternity

 

And now here it is the last one 

and it has only an incomplete picture

A poem that never saw the light

of the day… was this my life?

Winter

Like a quiet snowfall in the night
nature is hushed and covered
quiet
blanket
white
while crystal clear icicles hang
dripping from eaves
slowly
in the December sun.

Do I dare disturb the unmarked beauty
with the dirtiness of my steps?

Must I venture out to leave my mark on the world?

Or shall I just sit and watch
for once

Just enjoy the beauty
someone else left for all of us to enjoy
before another fleeting day
melts it all away?

Prompt Three (3): I’ve Got Problems [Hour 3]

I’ve Got Problems

What the virus brought to me…

It brought more complaints;
Get a job! A real job!
Wait, I am high risk for the virus…
And I do have a job, it just doesn’t pay!
I’ve got problems!

What made you think I wanted that…

A real job. What’s that?

What I do is real, just artsy.

Some make thousands, some make millions…

Some make none …

It does not denote lack of talent;

A lack of money, indeed!

I’ve got problems!

 

And now the virus has brought me…

A surprising answer;

A stipend, for us in the arts…

Strangely, the virus brought me a lot;

I have worked hard for it …

I’ve got a solution!

 

Note: Not sure this is correct. And not my favorite, if I get an idea later, may try another. Anyway, through it all. I received, finally, unemployment for the first time in years! I have had not had a regular job in years — and just a worked on my own. Sometimes making a few bucks, not even enough to have to file taxes. And this virus, luckily for people like me . . . and pretty much the only good thing about such an terrible illness … is giving unemployment to us “gig workers” in the arts. Still waiting for my stimulus check, though.

All For Me

This is my third year doing the marathon. The marathons of 2017 and 2019, though, had a core focus. This year, however, those focuses have melted away, leaving nothing behind. And as I sat and wondered what in the world was going to be my muse, I realized something. This year, it’s all for me. I’m my own muse. It’s my turn. My turn to work through who I am, my turn to find out who I am, my turn to really soar and churn in my heart all the things that need to be churned. This year, this marathon is all for the jumbled mess that is me — no outside influences needed. 2020 isn’t the year of the other people in my life, 2020 is the year for me. So here goes nothing.

 

God speed and Gd bless. We all got this, together. One poet to another.

our 3 poem

Alone

Today like yesterday I was alone

Day after day

Again just

Me

 

Groan

Is there

Change coming

To ease my heart

Will someone come into my life today?

Recipe for Disaster – Prompt 2

1) Lack of self love 2) Alcohol 3) Jealousy 4) Bad Decisions 5) Lack of Communication

 

I address the mirror for the sixth time today

“Not that lipstick

Use another lipstick”

I scrub till my lips feel raw.

Then take a shot.

 

“I can see your stomach

Through your shirt.

You ate too much bread.”

What were you thinking?

I change again

and take a shot.

 

“It would be better if you looked like her

blonde hair, so tall so thin.

All the thing’s you’re not.”

 

I think I’ll stay in.

Do another shot.

then 1 more shot.

then 1 more shot.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Somehow I made it

I tried to stay silent.

I tried to be defiant.

Nothing seemed to work.

I tried to fix things.

I felt them lurk.

You could hear sings.

The mindset changed.

I became numb.

It became manged.

It was overall dumb.

 

I made it out.

I did a different route.

The menace i suffer cos i’m black

They scorn me because i am black and beautiful

They insult my race, my color as if the color of our blood is different

They spit on us and kill my brothers and sisters for fighting for our rights

They see us as aliens and decide that we need to die because they see us flourishing and scared that we will take back the land our fathers built with their sweats

They see us as poverty ravaging bastards, they all think we live in slums and the only way we get through on a daily basis is through violence

But what they know is what keeps us moving is our strong penchant for love we believe that everyone nevertheless color differentiation, we believe we are all brothers

As Maya said we are all human and nothing human can be alien to me why pull the trigger on a black man because he pulled out chocolates from his pocket

How do you all sleep at night knowing you got innocent blood on your hands, don’t you have nightmares??

Where is your conscience i ask thee?? Or have you sold it just because of your hatred and jealous

We are one and let us strive to bring out the unity in brotherhood

We are all slaves as long as everyone isn’t free and if my brothers and sisters are slaves to the cops and the bullets then a day shall come when you shall fear something much more worse than the bullets but the anger in men’s hearts

We should become one in unity and strength and find a path to bring about togetherness so death won’t become the order of the day but joy and harmony where love is abound

 

Hour 1- An ode to Mother Theresa

A magnificent soul with hardship to endure

A mother of spirituality and woman so pure.

When I think about all the good she ensured

Everyone else’s vision was obscured.

World war years we learnt in our books

Evil and corruption, brutality and crooks

She stayed humble and caring,

Inward happiness and peace

Trying to get rid of fear and sickness to cease.

With the storm around her, her soul remained calm

The world continue to hurt and harm.

The day she died, a dove was set free

With the heavenly angels she could love and just “be”

Empowering many with all that you shared

To hand down the heart of someone who cared.

Poem 3

Light streaked cross my room
Alighting the dust
Landing on my bread and dancing
On my water.

Mother ran brush through my hair
Preased my wrinkles out
With the heavy cast iron.

The sound of children shouts soundtracked my days.
Their snores tickled my ears.
I can remember the touch of mother’s hand through my curls.
Staring at the crack in logs. Silencing my dancing musings.

One day I went to find the bread soaked in its rays.
I found a body on the floor. My mother no more. Just a body.

In my twenties the dust still danced. Across my room
Waiting for a man to come.
I had much idle time then.

I could not read.

I sewed streaks like sun across my blankets amd waited.

Eventually the sun still streaked. But I did not feel a warm burn. I did not see a dust ballet.

Til I was a body as my mother had been the years before.