The Poetry Marathon

WHERE MY HEART BELONGS

I’m on an adventure
Diving into my heart
Where I will find the treasure
But first I must find
The map, my inspiration
Perhaps I could look to my love
For it brings me elation
Teaching me the new trends
There is also my family
Who is always encouraging me
But they can make things chaotic
And my love can be quite quixotic

So I look to the sky
And to the trees around
Everything in nature I spy
where my passion is found
I can soar past all the stress
and just delve in the beauty of the outdoors
Although, even better is the sound
And the music that opens doors
Through which under indeas I am drowned
These unlikely pleasures awaken my heart
and give my inward journey a kickstart
Finally,
Hope and creativity
Peace and guidance
I find.
And that is where my heart belongs
Right in the middle of Nature and Sound

Animal Farm (The Voyage Out by Virginia Woolf)

The sun of that same day going down,
Dusk was saluted by an instantaneous sparkle of electric lights.
Dinner and bedtime were always difficult to kill,
The night after the dance further tarnished by the peevishness of dissipation
There were no letters for either of the two young men.
As every other person, practically, had received two or three plump letters from England,
Which they were now engaged in reading.
The animals had been fed. Their silence reminded him of the silence in the lion-house,
When each beast holds a lump of raw meant its paws
Some, hippopotamuses
Some, canary birds
Some, swine
Some, parrots
And some, loathsome reptiles curled round the half-decayed bodies of sheep
The intermittent sounds—now a cough, horrible wheezing or throat clearing were just, he declared,
What you hear if you stand in the lion-house when the bones are being mauled
He fixed his attention more closely upon his fellow-creatures.
He was too far from them, however, to hear what they were saying,
But it pleased him to construct little theories about them from their gestures and appearance.

We are Louisiana

I can smell if you are from Louisiana
Something in your blood
Calls out to mine
Something in your eye shine
And gentle face
And the color of your skin
No matter the shade
Something always tells me

I am yours
You are mine
We are lovers
We are family
We are far from home
We always carry home with us
Where two or more of us are
That is Louisiana

Prologue – Hour 12

Orange flowers throw sparks in the night
Making silhouettes of Twolegs huddled there.
White lights appear, roar past
On a Thunderpath,

At the edge, a cat moved,
More cats followed one by one,
sniffed the bitter air
With the lips curled.

A large tom padded forward
flames lit up black-and-white fur  on his powerful shoulders.
His long tail straight up
Sending a message of courage to his Clan.

This was a strange place.

A gray queen flickered her tail uneasily.
She pulled her kids towards her and sheltered it
A black tompushed his way forward, limping heavily on a twisted paw
Anxious yowls rose from some of the cats

The cry alerted the Twoloegs around the fire.

At once the cats fell silent, crouching lower
A missile flew over their heads
Exploded in a burst of thorn-sharp pieces
On the Thunderpath behind.

Ashfoot flinshed as a shard grazed her shoulder
but stayed silent, curling her body
around her terrified kit.
I fear for our safety here.

12 – erasure( p143- the jane austen book club)

while he remembered,

a secret,

a conversation

a curtain breathed,

in and out,

a sudden fear

god told stories,

in the sky,

nightmares.

Erasure of Poppy’s

From “Rip Van Winkle” page 3

THE SECRET TO BLISS

 

The great error in composition

Was an aversion to all profitable labor.

Not from the want of perseverance;

For he would fish all day,

Carry a fowling piece on his shoulders for hours.

He would never refuse to assist a neighbor,

And was ready to attend to anybody’s business

But his own.

His children were ragged and wild.

He, however was one of those happy mortals;

Who take the world easy and

Whistled life away

In perfect contentment.

 

 

poetry marathon 2019 final prompt

 

Home

His eyes, his hoodie,
even the barbell hugging his eyebrow,

Her jacket, her hair,
the purse that carried her,

Each item the same neutral hue,
her favorite military green
flowing into every aspect of her life

Her favorite scrubs, a comfort in her work,
her scribbled ramblings in a
sketchbook in the drawer,
his pajama pants, that she loved to wear to bed, all shared the natural shade
which was like home to her.

Right down to the weathered chair
she salvaged from a thrift store, carried home
on her back, walked 8 blocks alone
and looking like a fool.

It now rested in a dimly lit corner
perfectly tucked away, so that in her bedroom,
her new favorite place to read matched herself-

a small, green, unassuming piece of furniture,
often overlooked, but
deeply loved
by the right people.

Dao (2019 Poem 9)

Meditation in taupe
Sand dunes undulate unto eternity
Under skies cerulean blue

Anxious thoughts fly countless loops
Touch and go on fertile earth
TIL fuel runs low

Breathe in peace
Watch them go
No more to be done