Halfway
The dancing nouns have slowed. Nervousness subdued. Kids home dogs feeling neglected confused
Fingers achy minus the pain just eager to use them for writing again everyone has made this a true event so far all is well no need to vent
.
Fruits of my Labor
I stand at the open window
On an evening warm and damp.
The steam rises off the canning pot
I slowly switch on a lamp.
The tomatoes in their canning jars
The children at my elbow
At the open window I stand
Hear the frogs croak their nightly show.
One great mystery in life
Is how I came to be
Standing in my raincoat
With a sea of children surrounding me.
Good night, Toronto
Night time in the city is smoke and sirens
Carried on a cool breeze.
Groups of twenty-somethings marching raucously between locales,
Weaving between cars, drivers leaning on horns,
Racing to beat hordes of pedestrians to intersections.
Music, fast-paced and infectious,
Drifting tantalizingly from doors opened by burly bouncers
Square-shouldered and solemn.
Turn the corner; you’ll see a group of teenagers smoking a joint,
Walk down the street and see couples lying in parks,
Lone strangers blowing furls of tobacco smoke in their direction.
The air is heavy, a heady scent of sweat and gasoline, cigarettes and weed,
A cacophony of consumption that extends ‘til the first hour of sunlight.
Hour Eight: Cici’s Alfredo Pizza
Author’s Note: Since I am very hungry right now, the topic of pizza seems more fitting than any other topic. Not going by the prompt this hour. I figured that talking about this will help you get insight into my journey of this marathon, and it’s just better that way. Enjoy.
My aching stomach.
The desire to taste the wonderful cheese in the pizza,
urging me to get to Cici’s as fast as possible.
Must have pizza.
It’s a must.
It turns into a need at this point.
My growling stomach.
I imagine myself devouring the pizza,
one piece at a time.
Must go now
to Cici’s.
It’s the only way
to satisfy my hunger.
Guilty As Charged
Alighting the stairwell
She looked at me
And in all seriousness, asked
‘Were you the one who drank all the coffee?’
12~17
(pitter pats gentle cats
always in my mind)
(there was a time two rats of mine
became live cat tv)
(last dog i’d say: please sneeze away
aaah~chooo she did with ease)
(sweet screaming squirrel without tail
father killed from freeze)
(white mouse went on pocketwalks
then one day jumped away)
(rabbit chased all neighbor cats
fast across green yard)
(pretty turtle ate bologna
’til mother sent him lake splash free)
(orange fuzzy hampsters twice
into walls went running)
(first pooch named after The Fonz
survived bullets through his tummy)
(sister’s bird sneaky attacks
quick kitty ~poof~ feathers)
A Mystery
Mystery of life echoing
Still always a child at heart
Inner child kindling
Jars of contentment
Always letting go of steam
Uncovering certainty on horizon
Leading to evening of understanding
Where all things lingers
Threshing out in the midst of dark evening
Illuminating deep within the recess of each encounter
Underlying humanity forever echoing in its familiar terrain
Unearthing the shroud of mystery in life familiar tales
© Roy Mark Azanza Corrales 06082017 10:05 AM PST
Who said the train road – Hour, 4
Palindromes cause wars.
The famous one you brought from childhood
“A MAN A PLAN PANAMA”
An inside joke to keep the neighbors laughing
But who is my neighbor?
Am I the only one laughing?
Palindromes cause wars.
Esoteric as a means to copacetic living is only not pathetic if you have other things biding your time.
Most definitely not a palindrome
That was a clear form of thought
Meant to communicate some train of logic farther down the line
I thought we were merely to get on board
Jump on, quote palindromes, get off at the next car
But this is frankly absurd
Who said the train road? You cannot see the tracks
As long as the train is and as small my vision
How would I have known my entrance was not my last?
9. Little Spider
Little spider
on the wall.
Why you disgust me?
I don’t want to tell you.
Search for a friend
somewhere else.
Find another spider on the other
side of the wall.
Or befriend some other bug
You don’t want to eat,
don’t want to catch in your spidery web,
you little predator.
I wrote you this poem
You see it well,
But we still cannot be friends.
You can thank me
by not climbing down
after I switch off the lights.
Or else
You have to die.
Of Myth and Legend
Bravely he stands, ready for battle.
Staring him down is his enemy, the one he swore to kill.
As they circle each other, one says “Surrender.”
The other cries, “Never!” And like that the war is on.
Man and beast clash for survival.
Both entered but only one leave this day.