The Poetry Marathon

Jeweled Moth

The moth chases the pretty lights
Reflected from beautiful things
The moth can’t reach them in one night
And can’t see the jewels on its wings

The butterflies sip sugar cups
The blackbird glories as he sings
The moth at times feels envious,
And can’t see the jewels on its wings

Chasing lights can be dangerous
More than once the candle’s breath stings
The moth quests on, impervious
And can’t see the jewels on its wings

The moth chases the pretty lights
And can’t see the jewels on its wings

 

Form: Kyrielle Sonnet

Prompt: Use the title of a book as the title of your poem

Wake up

No matter how long it takes
When the sun shines
You have to get up
Smell the coffee
Get ready
See the truth
Fight for it
Get to work

When the sun says Good Morning
You have to wake up!

Love Story

Oliver had his Jennifer;

Stephen has his Stefanie.

Ollie and Jenny:

Steve and Stef.

 

They met in college

As did Steve and I.

His parents didn’t approve of Jenny

Nor did Steve’s approve of me.

 

They met in a library;

We met in a gym.

Jenny was a teacher

And so was I

 

“What can you say about a 25-year-old girl who died?”

Oliver’s memorial to his wife.

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry”

Jennifer’s infamous words to her preppy.

 

Oliver, when in need of money, was asked by his dear ol’ dad

Why, have you “gotten a girl in trouble?”

Steve’s granny once said similar words, but to me

“We always knew you trapped him.”

 

“To make a long story short” or “Get in the kitchen, woman!”

Are some of Steve’s most famous lines.

“I’m a lover not a fighter” or “Most men do”

Are often some of Stef’s retorts.

 

Oliver loved his Jenny;

Steve loves his Stef.

Their story comprised a novella

Ours will need a few sequels.

The Book of Questions

Leaving the Levant,
you brought with your papers
endless questions that you and
your assemblage of mythical rabbis posed.

The space forming the silence, the void, the oblivion, the exile
and the emptiness merge with their antonym partners
to form the geography of
your hope

Answers are secondary
as your queries about
the limits of words and writing
lead to a place of comfort in a world of uncertainty

You join Kafka and Celan
in their journeys with
responding to
the disquietudes of existence

Locked Out (2019 Poem 6)

Is this the eighth or ninth time, who can say
That I have locked my keys inside my house
My thoughts oft go astray
Since the departure of my spouse

He left without a word one night
It was winter time, the roads were icy
The neighbours think I’m not quite right
Do you think that stew’s too spicy?

He had a girlfriend, can you just imagine
Well, never mind, I’m better off
She was a singer, just a has been
Oh my, that is a nasty cough

No, officer, I don’t know where he went
After all this time I don’t much care
This late spring thaw seems heaven sent
Don’t mind the stain upon the stair

I Am My Daughter’s Mother

I am my daughter’s mother.

I still dream. She follows her dreams.

I am my daughter’s mother.

I read to get lost in other times and places. She reads to understand the psyche.

 I am my daughter’s mother.

I observe life so that I may write. She finds adventure so that she may write.

I am my daughter’s mother.

I once taught and guided her. She now teaches and guides me.

I am my daughter’s mother.

I pray for her safety, love, and happiness. She prays I take care of myself.

I am my daughter’s mother.

I am her mother, a giver of life to her. She is my daughter, a life gift to me.

Eve Remillard

6/22/19

 

2019 – Nine – “A Wish for Valkyries” A Sonnet for a Romantic Poet, Me

I know I have to go someday, away
from all the bustle of this life. I know
that nothing lasts forever and I’m not
the one that makes of this a theory,
I’m just more proof. It used to be I’d say,
“I wanna live until time’s end and show
the gods who’s boss!” But now that I have got
to live this much of life, I’m just glad to be.

If I could ask one thing, just make one request?
This life’s been great. I want no soft release.
A poet doesn’t die on the golf course.
Warrior poets end with some great test.

I’d like to go while fighting some great beast
While Valkyries come for me, with a horse.

(Certainly not my best but it’s sincerely intended.  I am a horribly romantic person, after all.)

June 11 1940

It was yesterday –
jitterbugger selfie sticks? –
Metro display blip

19~8

When I was young there were three:

Punk~Rocker, the worst Cheater and the one who was Mean.

Older without wisdom the next one went Running. For awhile I was Hooked before the Last met death coming.

Should have left them first. 

 

 

 

 

My Literary Friends- Hour 9

I was a lonely child

Few friends at all

Except Jane Eyre,

Jo March and her sisters

We went on adventures

Had great romances

Searched for financial security

Kept our morality and integrity

We crossed the moors

We took off to New York

We were writers together

We were on the leading edge of women’s rights

We were governesses

They were with me

A misfit with literary misfits

leading me, helping me

Navigate an unkind world

Through the written word