The Poetry Marathon

The Magic of motherhood (Prompt 2)

my 5 year old daughter was birthed with wonder in her eyes

so bright and full

she offers me a million questions a day

Overwhelming my need for silence

 

i am not a patient mother

though my 5 year old is patient with me

her eyes are encouraging

never concluding

just asking

for what she needs

 

She is teaching me to look beyond the “mommy frustration”

to breathe

to answer

to hug

to love

to pay attention

 

instead of rushing to get back to

something

back to work

back to reading

back to the song

back to not paying attention

 

she is teaching me to envision my future with more patience and time with life’s questions

with her questions

she is my wonder….

she is magic…

Books

whether old and dear or to be discovered

books are the magic of this world uncovered

Long Awaited Magic

It was simply magic

The day I fell in love;

My days were long, and I had lost

All hope that love would come.

 

But just like that, he came–

Out of nowhere, walking

Into the life I’d walked alone–

I heard the magic talking!

 

Our dating days were short

As we could hardly wait

To walk beside each other;

Holding hands in magic’s fate.

swept away

what intentions we are weaving

whispered prayers on trembling lip

 

searching for signs

fencing hummingbirds

before the solstice sunrise

 

lying, body upon the sand

rumbling vibrations, waves

clearing, grounding the soul

 

questions posed with no answers

worries cleared, like tide swept sand

while storms gather

steer clear of ship wrecks

 

Amanda Potter©: 2019 Poetry Marathon

 

Magic Falls

Magic Falls

5 Clear waters fall

7 From the deep blue ocean

5 Bringing magic love

7 To all people of the glob

7 Come in to the Magic Falls

(Tanka, hour 2 @Mejia2019)

Prompt 2: Magic Seeds

They slip into the ground,

buried there alive—

Burrow down to death— You’ll find;

magic Seeds that strive.

 

Dainty roses, small pigweeds,

giant redwood trees,

bundled up in teensy shells;

born to thrive, are these.

 

Thoughts are magic seeds;

buried in the mind.

Thoughts sprout flowers,

thoughts grow weeds;

giant trees— you’ll find.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sunshine Or Storm

Tall slender legs, head held high
Bright eyes watching every move nearby
Ears tightly tuned, every whisper is heard
Beautiful guards her suckling herd

Four little fawns; only one is her own
A wonderous adoption to offer protection
Sunshine or storm, whatever the norm
Food, she must find leaving babies behind
Never too far to hear when danger is near

Her instinct is magical
Her goal is survival
Scars on her back from Coyote attack,
Proof of her powerful hoofs

Beautiful’s majesty, superbly aloof.

 

Hour 2

If it has a dwelling place

at all

it is, as the song says, in young girls’ hearts

in all hearts

young and old and creaky and bruised and borrowed alike

it’s the footnote of all the fairy tales

We had it all along

If only we could remember

When the Magic Doesn’t Work

Abracadabra!

 

Like some golden elixir

Through my veins,

Burning away the glitter,

The pink speckled shrapnel,

Where the tumor burst,

Seeding my body with poison…

 

The audience gasps…

 

“And now, for my next trick,”

 

Wave the magic wand;

Make the cancer disappear.

 

Saw the woman in half,

Remove all the… ‘nothing up my sleeve’,

Nothing in my hat,

Nothing in my headscarf.

 

Pick a card, any card,

A doctor, any doctor,

An outcome…

 

Spin the magic box, say the words, and, Voila!

She has vanished.

 

“And for my next feat, I will need a new volunteer; raise your hand and let me see your veins.”

Spider Widow

Spider Widow

 

How often I told you things

All the time a running conversation

Out loud even when apart

We talked for twenty years, always

 

When the dog died we mourned

For she was our stream of consciousness

Wondering what she was doing and

Thinking of us, our dear mother

 

Then you died months later

Leaving me without a living creature

To volley my thoughts and observations

Creating a sudden halt to my being

 

There was no one to care the blue house

Had been painted green or sold or still there

That the neighbor’s cat visited our yard

While the crows watched from the maple

 

I have taken to sharing with window spiders

Who care little of my opinions

But keep their distance while I explain

The Universe as I see it

 

Tolerating my tearful moments

We have established a useful truce and

I must admit I appreciate the company

Their wisdom to allow me the stage

 

TobeTT  #2