The Poetry Marathon

4: Out of Tune

St Lucy’s bells ring out this noon:
A sluggish Saturday, a bummer.
My mandolin is out of tune.

A long slow crawl past May and June,
Past hot dogs, burgers, to late summer,
To this tame time, this sad-faced noon.

Drenched are the rooftops of this town:
My new home, fortyish latecomer
Sick of the city’s strident tune.

Tonight the clouds will balk the moon,
Choke off its glow, that dulcet glimmer
Like music from a silver bell. This noon

Finds me indoors, dry as a dune.
Rain beats time on the roof, dull drummer.
I pluck my harp. It’s out of tune.

I’d sing. I’d yodel, hum, or croon.
I’d blare the Jam, the Damned, Joe Strummer:
But bells bemoan this rainy noon,
Their lamentations out of tune.

Desire Paths

Singular pathways
engineers create spaces
from one place to the next
determine the most logical route
cement it into place
guide us to established destinations
But when we stray
walk on the grass
between trees
through bush gaps
we create desire paths
ways we wish to walk
rather than are told
We create new spaces
new ways to arrive
to where we want to be.

The King of Hurt (4th Hour)

She sat motionless…emotionless

As he spun his wheel of lies

Kneeled before her explaining his senselessness

In a moment the clocks stopped and she wanted to die

A Hero in worn tattered garb of misconceptions

Is what she always saw in him

But that was all a part of his inner deceptions

His heart torn long ago, now only a phantom limb

This man incapable of love and empathy

Took this woman to be the entity

that will suffer for all of his discrepancies

Not a word of protest

Dare cross her lips

For fear of losing

What was left of him

Hour 4 Prompt – Everything Will Be Perfect

One fine day,

1. Everything will be perfect,

Hour 4: One Long Leg

One Long Leg

The podiatrist looked at me
Standing in my bare feet
But otherwise dressed, and said
“You’ve one leg longer than the other.”

Standing in my bare feet
I stood amazed that he
Could tell from just looking
That I was imperfect

“You’ve one leg longer than the other.”
And one breast that hangs lower
One foot with a bent-in toe
One brain with misfiring neurons

We are all of us imperfect
Standing in our bare feet
Or standing clothed, but solo
Trying to project perfection

BABY BOOMERS

BABY BOOMERS

Mostly survivors
Our fathers returned from
The last good great war

They built Levittown,
Disneyland, American
Dreams of perfection

TIcky tacky lots
With ticky tacky houses,
Castles in the sky

And we rebelled

Love’s Longing

Today is the anniversary
Of my non-existence.

I yearn today
for the life I should have had,
Though some days I forget.

I forget who I am

And why I was stolen.

Other days I laugh
At the absurdity of their
Machiavellian natures.

Self-aggrandizing,
Bored to treachery.

Tears? Those are mine.

At least they were
At one time,
Back when I could cry –

When I thought tears were of any use at all.

Most days, though,
I yearn for what exists:
The life I’ve given to this world,

And the love I have, never ending, to give.

Some days I think
“I love”,
Then I wonder what,
Exactly,
Is it that I love?

I don’t know, really.
I just love.

I love.

I am love.

My name is Love,

Or so I was told
Once,
By a man unseen by most.

“Tell them your name is love,” he smiled.

Oh what a prankster is my father
Who gave me life
So that I could love.

The Veil

Hurt veils her face with a mask of smiles and laughter.

The mask eventually shatters and leaves shards of Shame and Betrayal.

Hurt lies down at night,

in the stillness of the dark,

and embraces the cuts of Truth.

 

Hurt veils her face with a mask of smiles and laughter,

while Honesty seductively whispers in her ear,

“It will never be the same.”

Shame ridicules her vulnerability

and her willingness to trust.

 

Hurt veils her face with a mask of smiles and laughter,

Ambivalence wrestles between the uncertainty of

Loving fully and protecting her heart.

Courage trickles down in tiny droplets.

 

Hurt veils her face with a mask of smiles and laughter.

Perseverance tells her that life will go on.

I Don’t Know

Did we dance around each other too long?

I don’t know.

 

Did I miss your desire for me?

I don’t know.

 

Did you try and catch me?

I don’t know.

 

Could we have had love together?

I don’t know.

Not Today – Hour Four

Think of a team name you say –

‘We’ll be inseparable from that day

I want us to be as tight as a rope

I want you to be my handler

My friend and my hope

I’m barely indulging at all these days –

Practically clean

And I love you bumhead’ …

That’s what you said.

 

Think of a team name you say –

But whatever is the point

When we both know it will always escape your memory

But never your lips

That it’ll just be a forgotten ceremony

On one of your trips

And you’ll roll up a joint

Just to take the edge off

And forget what you said.

 

Think of a team name you say –

And I want to do the whole thing –

Team colours to wear and a team song to sing

A motto, a mascot –

But you do this a lot –

Get me to dream

By mentioning things you only temporarily mean

I wait for the comedown to start

And brace my still-high heart.

 

Think of a team name you say

And I don’t want to –

Not today.’