The Poetry Marathon

Devil’s Bridge – Hour Fifteen

The devil himself is known for Stealth

An with this reputation before him

He travelled down to foil the Welsh

In the county of Ceridigion

Eager to strike a deal with anyone

He came across an old woman who dearly wished

To be able to cross the river with a bridge

Which in just moments the devil could build…

But though the woman was old

He bargained for a soul

Of the first living thing to make a crossing

Certain it would be the old woman herself

But wait – what was that she was tossing?

Was this in act of stealth

To throw over the bridge bits of bread

To be chased by her one true companion –

A loyal and lively little spaniel…

So this was the soul the devil had earned

Crossing the bridge he wished he had burned

And due to his embarrassment and shame

He vowed never to visit Ceridigion again –

To this day Devil’s Bridge stands…

Built by Satan’s own greedy hands

HOUR4

Music box

 

Are you there for me?

Will you always be there?

I listen to my music box

whispering your love for me.

 

Now you are gone and I am silent,

surrounded by our memories,

overwhelming, but dear memories.

But I still listen to my music box.

 

Maybe because it was your first present,

maybe because I am delicate like a child;

I listen to my music box

screaming that you completely forgot me.

 

I still recover after our break-up,

but I plucked up courage to delete you,

I broke your box and bought another.

And now I listen to my new music box!

Prompt nineteen

I couldn’t help but feel the pull

The moon, the stars

You see

The universe was made for me

And in its arms

I was free

Watch Scifi Movies

If you want to know truth

Watch scifi movies

All the things you never wanted to think of

All the possible ways this could go wrong

All the topics you never talk about at dinner parties

Are explored without judgement

Attempted without prejudice

And laws are broken without forethought

All to show you what happens

When people meddle

Soucouyant

Poem 15

Soucouyant

A ball of fire flying through the night
Deep in the village
Causing quite a fright

They say it’s a woman
Perhaps the Devil’s wife
A witch perhaps
Something magical and powerful
All the way from Africa

Anyone waking up with marks
Black and blue it’s not a mysterious bruise
“She done suck yuh blood!”

All in an uproar
The villagers will catch her

Next night when she takes off her skin

If found by the mortar they’ll throw salt in

If not

they’ll protect their homes throwing a 100 pound bag of rice around and she won’t be able to enter till she counts every last grain

And if she’s still out when the sun appears

She’ll be destroyed by its angelic rays

I Find Comfort in the Rain

I find comfort in rain,

especially rain that comes

with the loud gongs

of lightening and applause

that disguises the sinister

ghosts who proclaim the

morning darkness is what

cures anxiety and grief.

I find comfort in the storm

that covers all the evil

and restores sunlight

since tomorrow is slow

to become unmasked.

Janet From Another Planet

Omega Institute, 1987

So many souls in transition

Ram Dass tried to keep us grounded

by leading guided meditations each evening

reminding us that we were there to be of

service to others, sore and needing.

Some were living in tents, others had dorm

rooms, all had troubling events we were

trying to leave behind. One woman in

particular, muttering to herself all the time,

when we were doing self-introductions, said

“I’m Janet from another planet,” and we all

knew it was true. We were there, too, whatever

spaceship she was on, we had come along

for the ride, just for the summer. Like Ram

Dass said, we were all just walking each other home.

at the circus

at the circus

 

there she is, flying with the greatest of ease,

for all to see,

on the flying trapeze.

 

the monkeys dance for the lion tamers’ cracking whips

to keep the crowd awake.

elephants trumpet,

standing on tip-toes,

so unsteady as to shake the whole tent to the ground.

 

peanuts,

popcorn,

and candy floss

fill our mouths with happiness

like magic.

 

at the circus,

we found those bright places in our lives

where all that is golden was ours.

R. L. Elke

© Aug 5/17 prompt 18

AGAINST HIS-STORY

Serious people consider themselves pardons of indulgence. He will go out of his way to talk for an attempt at scholarly validity. Impatient with individual blindness.

Confront it head on. Stormy waves broken with great mountains of gigantic fish. Mythological subjects airy in imagination.

The feats, the fates, the proper history of the world fabricated as his-story! Forecasting the day men propel themselves to penetrate and kill. A wrecking excrescence she exudes from between her thighs.

Cadaverous human communities sold for thousands of generations. She commits suicide as we murder her. She is a broken delicate crust as we are trapped whales squirming to find blame.

Despite beautification, despite death, despite human beings…

the gunpowder and the rum are stronger than the horses

The king does not cry for us but for the Capital and Technology. The legendary cries for everything he touches turns to gold. Even his tongue.

But, not his humans.

We bow down and turn to death. Shriveling into ships that will carry conquistadors along with rats over the seas into a fiscal ruin.

Disease is our weapon. Rampage our faith. Foreign lands our home.

2017 – Hour Twelve

Yearning for the impossible
a fourth dimensional life
Where time’s a place you visit
Day and night forever dance
Back and forth around me
Never enough of either
Too few hours there are in a day
Our time, too short
Where are you?
So much completed
but so much undone
How can I rewind?
Memories past
Vivid and clear
Can I remember the future?
Subtract more sleep
Silly addiction
Who needs it?
Multitask, streamline
Make efficient use of time
How do I outsource myself?
Waiting, biding
Standing, queuing
What the hell are we supposed to be doing?
Relax, relax
Patience friend
Allow trust and faith to prevail
The night will pass
And in the day
The light may shine at last