end in sight (H22)
In the home stretch
I stretch
and pull a muscle
that does not want to relax
now that it’s learned the joy
of being in tents.
Should I worry?
Something special
It happens to discover huge things by chance,
it’s possible to know great people by chance
and this is simply due to something called serendipity!
Dreams Deferred
In response to Langston Hughes “Harlem”
Strange enough I find myself thinking of you.
Sitting here reminiscing about our forgotten fruit.
The hopes and dreams we had in hopes of a life together.
Predicting we could withstand any storm together.
I take your hands into mine to feel your energy.
Moments I imagine that never happen.
In reality, you are there and I am here.
Missing the link to a chain, wondering what will remain?
How do I ease the loneliness only you can fill?
Words spoken but no longer heard, a touch no longer felt, and a presence no longer seen.
Am I now a memory of a forgotten dream?
I feel depleted in this dedication to a deferred dream.
Prompt #22 Autumn
Leaves are ripe with the colors of fall. Vibrant hues of fiery red, electric orange, and calming yellow... death looks so divine in this quaint little town. Rows and rows endless rows of Maple trees, Leaves rustle on The air is crisp. It's the arrival of autumn and preparation for winter that makes it so spectacular. Walking down the concrete sidewalk Nature's canvas A beautiful red carpet lay. -of fallen dried maple leaves Autumn the best time of the year, where nature sheds her metaphors to bring to light the simplicity of the circle of life.
-Janice Raquela Mendonca
(Hour 22)
I saw a grey squirrel scampering
up a sweet gum tree with a plastic
yogurt cup clenched between his teeth.
disgusted by how our waste harms
the wildlife we share space with,
I thought to take a picture with my phone,
so that I could post in on my social media feed
and publicly shame fellow members of my species.
But the squirrel, delighted to satiate his hunger,
did not want to pose for me, and I had to interrupt
my three-year-old’s piggyback ride to even get to my phone,
which didn’t make him happy,
and I lost the squirrel somewhere above
the overlapping branches.
Dear Eve
Dear Eve,
Mother of all creation.
Do you remember the day that you wanted to know it all?
You got all that you wanted. We all did.
We know everything
We understand nothing.
jj2019 2019 Poetry Marathon
The little solace!
The city park.
It’s the playground,
for the apartment kids.
It’s the morning walk destination,
for the diabetic Dad’s and Moms.
It’s the meeting place,
for the young lovers.
It’s the place to crack old jokes,
for the men in their winters.
It’s the only place,
for all age groups,all the time.
Taking the fresh air,
from the waving trees,they move out.
Again,
to the smoke,dust and pollution,
of the modern world.
Concrete Jungle
Skyscrapers emerge like great stalagmites
Their tops wreathed in mist
Streets cobweb like the veins of a leaf
People are talking, laughing, yelling
In English, French, Russian
Not everyone understands one another
But some do
We gather at watering holes to feed
Go out in the mornings to forage
Return at dusk
Are we not
A concrete jungle?
Luna
she was tiny when she came to Live with us
perfectly dressed in her little black coat
she never really acted her age
instead of playing and frolicking as one did then
she mostly kept to herself but for when accompanying our son on adventures
Her own adventures proved not all Kitties are wanton killers…
prompt 27: ode to Joni Mitchell or “they paved paradise…”
“they paved paradise”
I always wondered what those trees,
with the metal grates around their trunks,
say to each other –
reaching for the sun
from concrete or asphalt
they must wonder where the rest of their families live –
“movin’ on up”
to the tops of high rises
where too many fallen leaves kill passers-by.
Can they hear the whispers of their family
in the wooded lots in suburbia,
where petitions,
written on paper,
saves trees –
the irony is not lost on them
(they are a clever lot).
I worry for them,
those Grandmother Cedars
and Grandfather Oaks,
living in these silent, concrete wastelands
where roots get revenge on water mains
and dandelions force themselves through cracks in concrete
to tell the urban dwellers
that beauty is possible where nothing seems to grow –
until you look for it.
(c) r.l.elke