The Poetry Marathon

Down Recovery Road

the path less traveled

one day at a time

baby steps- with unsteady tread

courageously continuing

 

the last one, began

inspired by a thousand

counting days instead of steps

comforted by written word

 

new adventures still await

 

straight on till morning

with words i wish i wrote

 

another odyssey

a wandering saunter

venturing the promenade

I explore my expedition

 

free range roaming

the itinerary

 

progress on a route sojourn

trekking the migrating

pilgrimage

 

venturing along

the voyage

strolling through the course

of passage

 

Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

16 – metamorphosis

the land was quiet, in the sense that no man made noise,

erupted from within, only the footfall of one small child, with

the voice of bird, yet no feathers adorned her bony arms,

she searched for a nest close to the ground, for the song

of aliens, that echoed in her veins, she returned over and over to

her lonely cocoon, woven from dry grass and mud, and the shards

of her egg.

Modern Mama

Erasure

“A modern mama, you must lose”

Prepare the baby
With a cot —
Lay sleeping you must.

“You’re a mamma!”
You need.
So ignore your body?

Go!
Processed  milk designed for man.

“You’re a modern mamma!”
So when little boy turns one
why does he cry like that?

You’ve actually got it backwards.

Your advice is pretty rotten.

“Modern” humans are mammals
That mothers curled with nursing.

 

In Paris – hour 20

Around the city I am bound

in search for produce, flowers ‘round

here and there facade I see

art nouveau and fleur de lis

in parks I walk and often stop

to stare at fountains, coins I drop

the monuments, eyes gaze in awe, then

imagining what could have been

in churches, cherubim and seraphim

some destroyed in fire’s sin

makes me weep to see again

the musicians here, in subways, trains

always makes me sing refrains

and try an instrument again

the gastronomie, c’est magnifique

in restaurants fill up my cheeks

my tastebuds brighten all the streets

the concierge, le nom Yohann

my family since 2001

when towers fell, he was an ear

arm round my shoulder, quelling my fears

and then, when visit’s at an end

I’ll dream till I come back again.

-Sandra Johnson, 6/22/19

 

 

 

 

9:33 p.m.

What did those ancient creatures think

standing millions of years ago in

our footprints, breathing air that was

the same and so, so different

Nature’s design bends and

breaks and breaches, branching

to millions of pin points in the timelines

We have questions with no answers

and we have answers to which

we’d never know to

have questioned in the first place

Life is like this,

insurmountable and incalculacable

Roadblocks and Detours

Roadblocks and detours and ever winding roads

weary feet, disheveled mess

where it ends, I hope to know

cognizant boycott of roots going down

never in life was a I tied to the ground

mad nomad wandering this place

swirling gypsy feels no disgrace

the allure of the road, adventures untold

new strangers make friends to meet sometime again

down this road

train tracks, and horse tracks, many rivers have flowed over these feet

treasures untold, maybe gold maybe goldfish or just pyrite shine

the lakes and the valleys, the mountains divine

I saw a bovine

on the grass supine, I tasted

clementine in the tart summer wine

seasons they pass, none of ’em last

home is where I roam, outside the walls of Rome

I saw there a roan sitting upon a throne

do my rhymes make you groan?

or can you hold a smile and walk another mile through this

purgatory of deprivation, sleep annihilation

verging on desperation

walk with me until I crawl again

 

 

 

 

 

Where do we go from here

life begins beyond the edge of the map
so I pack up my bones
take my bags out the trunk
and walk towards uncharted territory

these brazen plains beg me
to use the remains of yesterday
and plant something new here
but I plop my baggage down instead
and lie to face the sky

I’ve been on my feet too long

Road To Broadway [Prompt 20]

Child of the Arts…

Dance classes …

Felt like a star;

in tap shoes and leotard!

Begged parents to make a star…

move to California?

No!

Mom sings opera.

I hate opera.

Joined the theatre…

Fell in love,

with theatre, of course!

Mom said, “You better learn how to act!”

Auditioned…

I was chosen!

Arizona to New York …

Learning The Method;

Learning the world …

Living for Broadway!

Love of my life!

Theatre!

My religion …

Theatre!

My Church …

Broadway!

 

Planning on the Go

You’ve done nothing!
You know how important this is 
to me, 
to us.
Yet nothing is done.
Don’t say anything!
Not to me.
I don’t want your 
Platitudes and hypocrisy.
I want schedules, reservations.
Dammit! I want itineraries.
People have driven for CENTURIES
Without GPS.
Well, at least close to a century
You won’t listen to the directions anyway.
You would think this would end badly, 
but this is us.
Every time,
Every year. 
We must have short memories
or long love.
Somehow, it works
When we’re together.

Journey

Takin a trip down the mississip
mandolin fiddle down the water
thinkin bout my baby way up in chicago
but she’s far way and I’m driftin farther
 

Takin a trip losin my grip
fallin down fallin even harder
gotta make it to the harbor to pawn this mandolin
to buy a ticket to the train headin northward
 

Takin a trip on my little ship
need some money to marry a rich man’s daughter
If I make it to New Orleans hell I pray it ain’t a dream
I’ll buy her a mansion with a shiny silver dollar
 

Takin a trip tryin not to flip
Jesus don’t lead me like a lamb to the slaughter
pickin on the strings with my gal’s voice in my head
What don’t kill ya leaves ya almost dead but stronger
 

Takin a trip hope I don’t slip
every second spent with her is an honor
every mile that I wander is farther way from home
And everywhere without her is over yonder