The Poetry Marathon

A Journey

Indulging a fruit of the earth

Marvelous ways of latent judgement

Colossal task lies ahead in short span of time

Till the fulfillment of its duty consummates

Enriching the life of the universe

Far out and near sight grasping each moment

Gliding thru life journey

Forever reverberations of a spirit shared

In the universe of coexistence, a plain sight to zoom

Gliding thru life journey

A simple remembrance as life emulates

In the simple journeys serenading a butterfly in its understanding

A reminder to life journey short but meaningfully documented

 

Prompt # 5 Hour # 04

12:00 AM PHT 23/06/2019

 

 

Walk Through

Fifth Hour

Walk Through

What was once my refuge,
my comfort, and my home.
leaves a chill in the air,
Now I live alone.

Used to be where children’s laughter
and made-up songs filled the air,
now, it’s a sobering reminder
that I am the only one there.

It’s no longer friendly at night,
I miss the broken doorbell’s ding dong!
and the water balloon fights,
the Sesame Street sing-a-longs
and mail-ordered butterflies
taking their very first flight.

Everyday I smell a mix of stagnant water
and floral perfume.
My house is not my castle,
just an overcrowded room,
with a conglomerate of stuff,
I would never get through.
But, enough is enough!
It is time I tell myself the truth…
It is time to find a new home…
It is time to move!

 

City of Compton, CA 90222
June 22, 2019@12:11

 

 

Raspberries [3 – #senses #walk]

The sun never gets too hot on the west side;
instead of vineyards we had raspberry fields;
acre after acre of tangled vines.

In other towns, the trucks smell of black exhaust
but here, the trucks trail the scent of ripe raspberries as they roar by.

I went to the upick and wandered through the field, down the row of vines until the farmer was out of sight
and filled my little bucket for jam, for pies, for something to create.
The air is perfectly still but still the dust sticks to my legs.
Children call from row to row with red-stained mouths and the bees hum

and the entire world is reduced to these 5 acres in this moment.

Hour 4: Post 4: The Temptress

She walks by in midnight attire
Blood curdling red like wine
Veins pulsating with every breath
Every step further into the darkness
Her voice cried out a howl
Unlike anything I have ever heard
In an instant she was my madness
She was my poison
I was forever under her spell

Pinholes

In the dark, in the vast open space

I search for a grip, something to reveal my place.

A gift in the deep night did appear.

Pinholes of light to lift my fear.

Horizons so far, drawn by great heights.

My way was alight with hopes and dreams

of the beauty around me

I could not before see.

My Brother

Prompt 4

There is something wonderful about the way
you used to sit with me
in early morning darkness,
both of us wondering
about life’s mysteries.
Four years old
and already you were eager
to seize the world.
Though you did not know it,
your loyalty touched me.
Excitement raced through me
each time you woke me
in with hushed eagerness,
ready to play.
We spent hours imagining,
creating,
contemplating.
Time flew by as the minutes ticked past,
slowly growing closer to 6am.
In our youth we saw
what so many seem to forget:
There are some things
more important than sleep.
We were the best of friends,
spending our early mornings
with games of pretend.
My brother, you have grown so fast,
but these memories will last forever.

-h.e.m. 11:00 am

The Color of Melancholy

Sitting in the grass fields,

sucking on lavender roots;

some bitter reminder that

yesterday is forever gone.

 

Riding with no saddle along

cobblestone roads, broken

by centuries of chains.

Confetti flecks of crimson.

 

Sunny hours marked by

midday drizzles, and the

prisms of color left behind:

holy and hollow both.

 

Wild winter nights under

midnight blankets pocked

with quartzite watchers

who never dared touch us.

woof

I have fur on my arms

But I’m not a bitch.

I have fog in my brain

but I’m not a ditz.

 

I starve myself

Of things that I need

So you will like me

Please like me.

 

The only thing I can be is pretty

So am I pretty yet?

I’ll change my hair if you want

Give me a knife

And I’ll scrape the fat off my bones.

Giving Birth (Tricube, Hour Three)

Giving Birth

 

the blank page

stares at me

mockingly

 

breathe, push, fight

concentrate

come on, write!

 

pen to page

words flow free

POETRY!

 

 

(Tricube rules: three syllables per line, three lines per stanza, three stanzas per poem)

Sachet

The spices were fresh picked
From the garden this morning
And having been washed and dried
Now lay in the summer sunshine
To dry
As I finished wiping my hands
On my apron
I saw the butterfly
Land gently
Upon the spiced orange slices
Which would soon fill
Sachet bags
To sweeten my wardrobe
Throughout the fall months
For a moment I stood transfixed
Watching as the butterfly sat
And I knew
At that moment
That my task
Had been deemed good
Not just good enough
By my forebears