The Poetry Marathon

CUT FRUIT

Lighter than the breeze; butterfly wings. Scent on a shelf, vibrant their color.

Fir faced, little moonbeam in the day.  Like a fog they consume your sight.

Hush! Concrete the secret, damn fool! Dock Your Self.

Canteen the coffee when hunting the butterfly.

they’re just pennies

I sent my love
In a letter.
In the letter, I said
I couldn’t wait to see you again.
I waited for a response,
And hoped you would send me
words to soothe my soul.
What I got was,
Same.

Same,
One word,
That makes me see a million in my head.
One word,
That drives me
Crazy.
I ask friends
What it means for our love
And they look at me with pity.

Same,
Means so much and
Nothing at the same time.
I send you another letter,
Waiting for the same
Feeling,
But expect you to say the
Same thing again.
Just one word,
That means nothing,
And everything.

Same,
Has become our word of love.

Release

Set free the feral cry
The one building in your vocal cords
Thrumming like too tight cello strings

Liberate the hunger
That gnashes in your teeth
Aching like a healing fracture

Emancipate the desire
That pounds at your sternum
Raging like an ocean contained

Release the crumbling decorum
That slips grain by grain from your fist
Slinking away like a chary shadow

Unrestrain your sensuous figure
That strains at is bindings
Oscillating like captured wind

Rescue your verdant potential
That twines restlessly
Stretching like sun starved vines

Image courtesy of Pixabay

Staring through a window of the canteen on the dock,

I saw the Fir tree in the corner;

It was that time of the year again

And the Christmas decorations looked inviting;

‘Damn! It’s cold!’ I thought

as the fog grew denser by the second.

I joined the crowd inside,

eyeing the pot of hot coffee on the shelf.

Everybody hushed as they saw me enter…

Suddenly, for a second or two

A moonbeam shone through the fog

And fell on the concrete floor

Everybody cheered, and made a path

to let me through;

“After all,” I heard somone say,

He is Santa Claus, you know.”

Antoinette LeRoux © 2019

Late mornings I will often lose myself
in the massive Douglas Fir outside my window
after a hush-like fog has burned off.
The supple Japanese maple in front
rotates the illumination of its branches from
penetrating sunbeams as part of its daily dance recital.
The concrete is absent in my tall rectangular view
and with my still hot coffee, I am able to forget
for a few moments
the damn dystopia of our world.

The fir wood is barely discernible through the fog,
as we sit sipping coffee on the dock.
There is a hush settling around us, but for the frogs,
as, slowly, a moonbeam breaks through.
It trips across the unbroken surface of the lake,
dancing on the mirrored aspect now view able.
I wriggle a little, attempting to shake the numbness
from the concrete shelf we rest upon.
You whisper a soft "Damn." when tipping the canteen
to refill my mug, shows evidence of its emptiness. 
As a sadness settles heavily on to the scene,
you assist me to standing, and we start for home.

I was ten and this year was so boring

To write of it would leave us both snoring.

Outside my window, the rain is pouring.

I hope soon to feel the thunder roaring.

10 hjours in

nought remains of night, noteven a moonbeam.
coughing wearily wishing i still drank coffee
even my dog’s twitching paws tell me to hush
he snores tauntingly through my mental fog.
my caffeineless brain tips whiskey in my canteen
something sweet’s happening— oh good golly damn
instead of becoming more fleet, it sets concrete.
i need more wood to stoke the mental fir(e)
i’ve burnt the books, now start on the shelf.
all i want is for my head & pillow to dock.

NB tired typo deliberately left in title, haha

A song written from the heart

A song written at all

A song

The words put to a melody

A melody that cannot be explained

The music that causes feelings to explode within

How can anyone simply listen to a song

Music is the expression of creation

The sky and all its colors

The land and all its mystery

Love and hate

Difference and connection

All put together to form

Written out to describe

Put to a melody to heighten the intensity

Our bodies feel it

Our minds overwhelmed by it

A song written from the heart

Is a song made just for you

Its made to hold you

Its written to describe you

It is “Your Song”