The Poetry Marathon

Clear Skies

I walk,
In my mind, past
Limitations imposed
By wearied limbs and brain-fog.
Outside.

Outside,
The white clouds drift
In sparse, scattered clusters
Brilliant against the trees and
Houses.

Houses
Stand dark, empty
As owners head outdoors
Bound for work or play, enjoying
Sunshine

Sunshine
Bathes the garden
In light, and heat, too much
For me to bear, I sit inside,
Happy.

Happy,
Are you surprised?
Yes, happy despite all.
Contented, I lie and look at
Clear skies.

Form: Crown Cinquain

Prompt: Go for a walk, and be inspired by what you see, hear, smell, and feel.

WALKING DOWN THE AVENUE

WALKING DOWN THE AVENUE

I see you and blink-
Eyes glow-my body tingles
Wish I had courage

Golden hair blue eyes
We’re opposites are-you
attracted to me?

We pass in the night
I turn and watch you walk away
Sigh-maybe another day

© Diane Morinich

Perry the Pirate

Old Perry lost an eye in a fight in Barbados

He lost his leg to a shark that swam too close

He got a hook for a right hand

When a mutiny didn’t go as planned

He had scurvy three different times

But lived through them all without any limes

He fell overboard and was deserted near Port Royal

But to his captain he stayed loyal

He robbed and pillaged as good as any

Even though his troubles were many

He was shot three times in a battle at sea

With his last breath he whispered “A pirate’s life for me!”

 

The Way Celery Grows

The Way Celery Grows

 

Rip apart the package and take

out the full-grown stalk. Cut

off the base, two inches thick,

discard the rest. Fill a crystal-

clear bowl with water and drown

it in the coolness. Wait

a week and then you’ll start

to see the center rise

like a volcano forming

from rocks and mud. Day after

day, it grows closer to the sky.

A month goes by. Leaves soon

appear, taking over the three

skinny stalks tall as your hand,

like fingernails left untrimmed,

waving with each breath blowing

through the house. The water will grow

green with syrupy slime that attacks

what’s left of the base, rotting

it away into brown sludge.

I don’t know how long it takes

until it’s ready to eat.

All I know is how it grows,

taller and taller each day

until it covers the windowsill

with shade, my own little tree.

Hour 3

I am face to face
With myself
Reflections of my story
Is now known
To me

Whatever I wished
Is with me
Here everything
Is secret
Yet known

Feeling these
noises
Pulsations in my
heart

I gave parted
With myself
In thoughts
And in dreams

Nothing remains
But one
Without a
Second….

3 – the office

rattle, tick, hum, tock.

the air stale, tinged by a hint of decay.

crackle, spit, embers pop.

a chorus of motors hum, my ears cry,

it quietens slowly, softly, ssh.

Free Thinking

Standing outside
     The wind blows my hair
     The wind blows the grass
     The wind blows the trees
          A strong display of its strength.
I close my eyes
     The scent of lilacs
     The scent of dog
     The scents mingle
          An interesting array of fragrance.
Walking slowly
     I hear birds chirp
     I hear rustling wind
     I hear my breath
          A whispering cacophony of sound.
Standing still
     I feel the cloudy peace
     I feel the cool, damp air
     I feel my spirits lift
          An awakening of my mind.

(a haiku)

stylized carpet
rams’ horns and pomegranates
hiding in plain sight

Hour Three, Prompt Four – Neighborly Escapades

Image Courtesy of “Prawny” at Pixabay

 

Thoughtful, I wander

past my nextdoor neighbours’ gate.

Yip, Sally is “at it” again…

Boy, does that woman have a voice!

I pity her poor husband…

Not to mention her gandchildren

when they come to visit…

There! She’s shouting at the dogs again!

No wonder those dogs can’t stop barking…

They’re just following her example.

Better get away from here

Just now, she’ll shout at me!

And knowing me, being a Pisces

I’ll just rise to the bait…!

 

Oops! The guy across the road

is approaching Sally’s gate!

Could be interesting!

I’ll just return to my PC

And post my poem…

 

Antoinette LeRoux © 2019

THREE

A year passed by and I turned three

My mom finished school and stayed home

Mema went back to work and left me

With a crazy woman whose mind tends to roam.

 

She beat me once with a leather strap

For failing to write the alphabet

My whole life had changed, i was in a trap

Missing Mema’s love, stuck in my mother’s net.

 

She took my daddy back this year

Wanting no longer to be alone,

He was not a nice person, I fear.

We were better off when he was gone.

 

She was with child and next year my sister came

They moved us away from my Mema and changed the whole bloody game.