The Poetry Marathon

Hour 4 – Prompt 4 – Beauty and grace

Poetic form: Cascade

As the peacock spreads his feathers in joy
By dancing to the tune of the light drizzle
Encompassing the air around, with his twirl

The peahens watch, impressed by the beauty
The spectators learn how to celebrate life
As the peacock spreads his feathers in joy

When the Earth is ready to quench its thirst
The grass, trees, and birds welcome the change
By dancing to the tune of the light drizzle

Forget the gloom that threatens to choke
Embrace each opportunity like the peacock
Encompassing the air around, with his twirl

(c) Vijaya Gowrisankar

Migratory Birds

HOUR FOUR-

 

8.45am: At Subway

Waiting for the train with a cup of coffee,

salted bagel and a book in my hand.

I peered around me.

People of all sorts, shapes, sizes and with different appetites wait. To reach their destination.

My stare now pinned on the man who looked different.

 

A bearded man with a different skin tone and mysterious aura sits

alone at the far end of the train trolley.

His singular identity created a vacuum around us; engulfing us and subway

Everything seems drawn into that void- nameless frowns,

profane remarks, uncourteous smirks, and fearful scorns.

My stare now pinned on the man who looked different.

 

The bearded man shoe worn-out from the long journey

His eyes wearied from the sadness and longing

no shades, no paraphernalia, and no gimmicks

his ‘unrelenting’ demeanor was unfazed with ‘inquisitive’ eyes hovering over him,

piercing stares, and unfriendly faces.

His singular identity created a vacuum around us; engulfing us and subway.

 

There were furrows in his turban; he must have pleated

all housewarming gifts, legacies and discriminations neatly into it.

His wings were flaccid resembling wings of a migratory bird

His eyes were wearied from the sadness and longing

waiting for seasons transition to journey homeward.

Homecoming birds were washing all their sins in the holy water.

 

I peered around me.

People of all sorts, shapes, sizes and with different appetites wait. To reach their destination.

Copyrighted by Ruchi Chopra, 2017.

#4

Enjoy life

live simply

Take time

listen

Really listen

What do you hear?

A small child’s voice

rain on the roof

wind in the trees

life…

Yes you can hear life

and all the events

it bestows on us

Because

that is life.

Poem 1 – Element

Hide it
Throw dirt
Ignore it
It’s done

Back in the earth
Where it came from

The wind
Speaks
Asking
Why

I don’t want to answer
I don’t want to lie

Burning
Wood
The fires
Alight

As darkness descends
I feel the cool night

I boil
The water
I boil
My bones

Here I look to rest
In my element, alone

 

Hour 4 : It is reality, it is a fact.

Everything is going down

Turning from green to brown

All are aware this natural act

It is reality, it is a fact.

Rat race of people is a game

Not to crave mark, but surface fame

All somehow belong this freezing sect

It is reality, it is a fact.

Cultured suck fragile blood as food

Just to exert hegemony, ravishing mood

Alas! Silent lips adoring their vicious tact

It is reality, it is a fact.

Self acknowledgment unchains vapid slave

Without sword, the pen makes landmark brave

A healthy signal for graceful survival’s aspect

It is reality, it is a fact.

2017 – Hour Four

Watch her run
Accelerating
So determined
Never waiting

Watch her run
Self-assured
Her tracker record
So far, endured

Watch her run
Campaigning strong
Serve the people
Right the wrong

Watch her run
See her fall
Unprepared
To lose it all

hour 4 Apple and Peanut Butter is a Basic Comfort Food

O4 2017 Poetry Marathon peanut butter and apple
prompt 4 stanza poem

Apple and Peanut Butter is a Basic Comfort Food.
by Paul Sanford

Apple and Peanut Butter is a basic comfort food.
Twist open the lid on the good stuff,
all peanuts with nothing added but a little salt.
The healthy stuff as in the old days
when I was around people who cared about such stuff.
Pour off the oil and put it in the refrigerator.
Apple and Peanut Butter is a basic comfort food.

Apple and Peanut Butter is a basic comfort food.
Choose a small apple,
one you can get your mouth around and bite.
These have a festive name, party or gala or Mardi Gras or whatever.
They look kinda pink and yellow, but if you look closely
they are a light golden green
with streaks of red in various tones,
giving it that party décor reflected in whatever the name is.
Apple and Peanut Butter is a basic comfort food.

Apple and Peanut Butter is a basic comfort food.
Some folks cut the apple into wedges,
scoop out the core and seeds
fill it with a scoop of peanut butter like a little boat.
It’s good for most folks, but seems like a lot of trouble
when what I want is a quick basic snack.
Something to eat any time of day or night.
Twist off the inedible stem,
turn the apple over to show the remains of the flower,
Apple and Peanut butter is a basic comfort food.

Apple and Peanut Butter is a basic comfort food.
Dig into the thick brown paste in the jar.
(If it’s too thick, pour in a little oil to thin, and stir.)
You want a nice thick paste to stick to the apple.
Put a big dab of peanut butter on the bottom of the apple.
Take a bite.
The sweet wet apple mixes with the stiff paste
to make a crunchy and delicious mix of texture and flavor.
Add dabs of peanut paste and bite off chunks around the edges.
Eat the core and all. Don’t bite into the bitter seeds.
If ate 400 apples and ground the seeds fine you would have a lethal dose of cyanide.
Pop the last bite into your mouth.
If you have a mustache you can taste peanut butter all day long,
and inside your mouth it sticks to your teeth for continued snacking.
Apple and Peanut Butter is a basic comfort food.

#4 Four Stanza – Life in Four Seasons

Her clothes were comfortable, she napped throughout the day.

People came to visit and tried to coax a smile from her delicate lips.

She felt content after feeding time.

 

There was much joy at what grew inside her.

It was with great anticipation that she waited for delivery.

Her clothes were comfortable, she napped throughout the day.

 

When her husband passed, friends gathered to celebrate him.

She struggled at night to sleep in the big bed alone.

She felt content after feeding time.

 

Her room seemed sterile, the objects surrounding her felt foreign.

She recognized faces but no longer remembered the names or details of her relationship to them.

People came to visit and tried to coax a smile from her delicate lips.

 

Thinking of a metaphor

Thinking of a metaphor

As the sea awaits the shore,

But the winds carried a storm

So I just wrote “grapes are sour”

 

Thinking of a metaphor

As the wound cherish the sore

But the heartbeat left the body

So I just wrote “ I am no more”

 

Thinking of a metaphor

As the greedy asks for more

But the hangman takes no bribery

So I just wrote “like before”

 

Thinking of a metaphor

As the country knows folklore

But the poet was so nasty

So I just wrote “no pandore”

 

Thinking of a metaphor

As the metal needs an ore

But the foundry has no fire

So I just wrote “ignite the yore”

To Reopen a Wound (Hour 4)

So often does he never mean to play the fool,
But he can only build what will come from such simple hands.
And his failure is found often, and too often found cruel,
For it is only in this pattern that he finally understands.

Pursued by a desperate, predatory ache,
He seeks escape in the adventure of countless foreign lands.
Running from a truth he is too afraid to forsake,
For it is only in this pattern that he finally understands.

Denied any rest by the imprints of his memory,
His tired mind struggles to carry out his plans.
And in his most desperate hour she hears his soliloquy,
For it is only in this pattern that he finally understands.

Like a voice from the past, come calling does Death,
Holding a clock that’s ceased ticking and speaking hollow commands.
And so he succumbs to the Void his last breath,
For it is only in this pattern that he finally understands.