The Poetry Marathon

13 AT A LOSS

Staring at nothing,

lost in her own world

Misty-eyed, glazy

Indefatigable sorrow, unrelenting,

deafening

Silent sobbings

The eyes, the eyes, says it all.

Will there be no let-up?

Will it be a continuing restlessness?

It was half-expected, the excruciating pain,

Yet still she’s hurting.

Unsuspectingly the torrential tears, non-stop

Welcome or not, it’s the relief that’s due her

The outpouring of hurts, pains, aches

The free-flowing saline fluid, unburdening

Loosening the heaviness inside.

At that the dam abated

Just like when it started, unceremoniously

And with it, de-constriction.

A hiatus, albeit temporary,

A relief, a great sigh of relief…

Until the next onslaught…

10 words pen

evening comes as loneliness waits

wrapped in its raincoat – as fate doth fake

promises of youth purloined

amidst life’s mystery all sadness is born

elbowing in upon my gait – as if to say no longer can you wait, to find things that once were sought, attainable now but only as in thoughts. when night and loneliness loose their steam, you seek to dismiss it as yet another daytime LIVING dream

peculate’d or so it seems,  visceral desires, safer when unseen

redolent of sweetness and touch

breaks the seal of a concrete jar encased in steel

Crows (poem 12)

Ghosts of crows
haunt the apple tree
in your back yard.

It was your backyard
when you were a child.

Now it’s no one’s.
Neither are you.

Fruits of our Labor (14th hour)

Well my dear

Is this how you imagined our years

Together upon this porch

Watching our children recklessly search

For fireflies to fill their mason jars

Did you dream the both of us would be beaming this evening

As we hear our lil ones laugh uncontrollably

At the frogs who they believe are serenading them, gleefully

When the storm unexpectedly approaches

Let us together, put them in their raincoats and boots

And unitedly, watch the growth of our little fruits

As Evening Falls

Children laugh and play
Each donning a brightly colored raincoat
Steam rising from cement
As they stomp and splash
In puddles left over
From the warm summer rain
They ask for jars
To collect fireflies as evening falls

Rewrite

Hansel and Great stayed out all night.
And the next one, and the next.
Their parents scoured the forest for signs
but returned with only a mystery:
How could children vanish into the evening
like phantoms in the fog?
The search parties passed the witch’s house,
her kettle steaming, the broth percolating
beneath the lid. She invited them to dine.
“The peculating of children,” she said,
“a shameful sin indeed.” Hansel’s father:
“Who said my children were stolen?”
“My mistake. I simply assumed.
Three evenings gone and all.”
When they finished, the farmers
thanked the witch for the victuals
spread out beneath the trees to
widen the net in their search.
To no avail.
Her house empty again, the witch
poured the leftovers into jars.

Poem 14- Words

It was a hot muggy evening

I was in my raincoat

Carrying jars

Steam rose up from the grates

My elbow hurt

The jars were heavy

Frogs were everywhere,

Basking in their new sauna

Tomatoes were hiding behind every bush

It was a mystery

I couldn’t blame them

The children had been unusually destructive

I swore I would rescue them all,

Children, Tomatoes and Frogs

I tripped, I broke the jars

Rescue mission aborted

Hour Fourteen: Frog Proverbs

Eat your frogs so that by early evening you can delight in tomatoes, prepping them for winter in jars, the way gramma taught you. Together you sliced them, chasing the diced bits around the cutting boards like small children chase ducklings.

Take your raincoat, and venture into the time after the first summer rain, see how the streets steam and the evening light fills the rising. Don’t hesitate, the rain will come again and you will lose your window.

See your daughter’s dirty elbows and listen closely as she speaks of how the dirt came to coat them. Splash and laugh as you bathe her with warm soapy water before bed.

Eat your frogs so that you don’t feel you have stolen time from work to live. Then, you will be able to rest awhile. Your life will be made by these tiny moments.

No New Home

The sounds just around the corner was a mystery

The children listened for nights but still couldn’t solve it

They tipped out one evening to see what they could find

And just beside the neighborhood pond was a cute surprise

The sounds were from a family of frogs sitting under a bush

The crooked as they ate as they hid in the cool, just like in a book

The children rushed back home to grab their jars

They each wanted a pet

But when they got back a new mystery stood,

How to get them without getting wet?

See the frogs had gone through this before, and with the children left

They all rushed and jumped on a lily pad, floated to safety glad

jj2017

on my way #11

rushing waters and open fields
i am calling to you
can you hear me?
fiddles plucking out my course
in the distance
i am heading your way
can you hear me in the rushing stream?
over hills and grassy crags
i am coming to you
flying through the wide open spaces
marching straight to your door
high in the mountains
the sheep and shepherd leap
the hear your name blowing in the wind
i am on my way
can you hear me running?