The Poetry Marathon

keeping the romance alive

keeping the romance alive

 

Passing you in the forest

or in between delicate, wrought iron filigrees,

I see you and immediately think on Whitman’s noiseless, patient one;

casting myself, too, to the Universe,

hoping to catch some small connection to some soul…

lost or otherwise,

so I can anchor myself somewhere

after half a life time of floating on thermals

when it’s time to be elsewhere.

 

I envy your weavings and connections –

randomly purposeful,

collected in unseen places to catch the nearest way

for the juiciest bits.

 

Yet you still terrify me

with your hairy, spindly legs

and gross eyes;

making me scream like a little girl

if I find you in my bathtub

…no Whitman there –

the romance is gone when I meet you out of context.

I’ll endeavor to remember your romantic nature

and the Whitman connection

next time I stumble upon you in my shower.

R.L. Elke

Aug 5/17 prompt 9

Praimfaya

The world you once knew is gone.

It’s been remade in nobody’s image.

We’re not quite sure what remains.

All we have confirmation of is a prison transport ship, an old, worn-out ark,

Two nightbloods and a bunker filled with the last of humanity.

What happens next is anyone’s guess but I defy you to look me in the eyes

And tell me you’re not the least bit excited to find out.

On Turning 65

 

Frugal, frazzled, but certainly not retired,

Turning 65 (alas) yields much to be admired.

Now my Medicare bill (at $670 for half a year)

No longer puts my monthly budget in arrears.

Not that I could live 1/4^th as well at half that rate,

Eating Ramen noodles and beans to compensate,

Even with senior menus and lower motels rates

And lesser drug prices for those who medicate.

Moisturizer, eye-lifting serum, and colored hair,

I’m still young enough that I should vainly care.

With one foot in the grave (on a banana peel),

Sure, I admit that I’m more than half-way there.

Aging, with dignity, I now will my wisdom dispense.

Class of 1970 is holding a reunion to recompense.

8 legged freak

Dear Mr. or Mrs. Spider,

Keep to your side of the shower
take out the:
mosquitos
gnats
flies
other spiders who won't sign this agreement

keep to your side of the shower
we'll get along just fine

if it has more legs than I do
have at them, hide the bodies when you're done
I don't want to know what you get up to

keep to your side of the shower
we'll get along just fine

I promise to leave your web alone where
I see those eight shiny black eyes watching (why do you have one for each eye?!)

keep to your side of the shower
we'll get along just fine

Hour Nine, Non rhyming Spider

Tenacity

I stood in my open back door
one strangely wet desert morning,
the rainy season’s nightly offering
wilting my damp clothes against
an already hot body.

Stone walls enclosed a space
we misplaced Midwesterners
had desperately attempted to make
green and fruitful, somewhat succeeding
with struggling grass and stunted
sunflowers, exclaiming in delight
over each tomato and herb that survived
with diligent watering and spotty shade.

As I gazed at the small green space,
I marveled at a hovering, glimmering
strand, a single thread, stretched
between a palm tree and a sunflower,
impressing me so with its strength
and tenacity in the morning breeze
that suddenly I felt both humbled
and grateful, just from the display
of one determined and agile spider,
and a single thread, gleaming
in the early morning light.

Him: 9

She lives in anticipation of his breath.
His subtle smirks,
she lives at the end of his words.
The woe in her and the world in him.

When he opens his mouth to call for her, she begs to crawl inside and live on his tongue.

She can live with the bodies in the basement and
the blood on his hands.
She can live with the harmony in the hurts.

As long as she is his precious,
the blood stone he plucked out of the ugly forest,
as long as she is the exception to things.

Sometimes the rust settles at the bottom of the water and everything turns brown.
and she turns into a number.
Just
Another
Number.

August Day

I gathered daisies and pinecones           from my walk back from the mailbox.     The cows stared at the ground               looking up only as I asked them about ‘earrings’.                                                   Wild strawberries peaked through grass                                                       reminding me of past practical jokes.     It’s August and only 67 degrees.               I’ll take it.

9 Dave

I met them while sitting on the toilet.
I saved them, after I finished wiping
and…did I wash my hands?

They had fallen into an ingenious trap.
Called by the darkness, the damp.
They stumbled in so easy,
but the way out was slick
and I flicked the switch.

I observed their failures,
as they scrambled and fell,
over and over and over,
their long legs flailing.

Only when they settled into a corner to die,
did I throw them a towel.

They ran right over,
desperate for the exit.
I left them in darkness,
thinking how alike we are in our panic
and relief.

I called them Dave,
and they hung up on the ceiling a while,
before ensnaring themselves again.

Yes, we are the same.

Hour Nine

Spider

 

Spider don’t

crawl towards me

like my lover

 

Spider don’t

entangle me in your web

like my lover

 

Spider don’t

spit  venom on me

like my lover

Roommate Violation-Prompt 9

Spider

Up on my wall

You’ve violated our much-spoken contract.

You know I welcome you into this home on one condition.

You may stay as long as I do not see you.

Perhaps it was an error on my part

I’ll turn away for a moment.

1… 2… 3… NO!

Oh hell no!

Why would you move closer?

Now Your fate is sealed.

You get no say, you’re through.

You’re getting squished.

SMACK!

Time to look for a new roommate.