The Poetry Marathon

yearning for you

poem #2
yearning for you

we reached for the paper cup at the same time
our hands slightly brushing against each other
nicely apologizing
I noticed your full smile right away
smooth brown skin and full lips and I smiled too

then several minutes later we were easily conversing
I remember picking up a fork but not really needing it at all
and realizing quickly that I was spun-
mindlessly letting the world fade away
while I stood lost in your eyes.

what is happening? I thought to myself
but the wave had begun.
now so many years later, I realize it can still engulf me-
that wave of yearning
fall over me like chocolate explodes in my mouth-
takes me instantly to some happy place in my head,
my heart-
my soul;
no matter how hard I tried, I could never quite fully
wash away the yearning for you.

Her First #2

Her First

 

Oscar’s face tells

He knows me

My fifth grandchild

Claims to have been here before

 

Blue still lingers in his eyes

Three months he begins

To play tricks on us all

Sleeping through the night

 

They worry if he is breathing

Smiling at will

Could it be his digestion

He is her first

 

Perhaps too good a baby

His mother watches

Needing to solve problems

To merit her worth

Hour 2 : Yearning for Spring

Love rules me and my heart

Which you captured at the start

The day we met the bounteous day

Fate will and my yearning to obey

An awesome lesson on silent face

That added wonder and some grace

It conjured within me a new life

While pouring the love in hive

The way you said; I love you dear

I peeped into words, not merely hear

The movement, they engrossed with me

Pains turn to fragrance, spread and free

Standing aloof, once I thought

What was I, where I have been brought?

Something radiates me with soundless word

I love you too, you flower, am a bird

In the late April, I strongly felt

Meet my spring and do it melt

 

Prompt #2: Yearning Jan Rog

At five, “A shepherdess” I told him

For the tender lamb of my bedtime poem,

The freedom of the meadows and valleys,

The gentle pace and active, hard work.

 

At fifteen, “An actress” I replied

For the thrill of self-discovery and

My commanding voice carrying to the back wall

Where I connected with last row’s quietest people.

 

“A world traveler” at twenty-five

I had journeyed half a world away

And fallen in love with the people among castles,

Fountains, windmills, and castanets.

 

As my brother grew sick, I again found the beauty of home

Revisiting our memories in bus rides,

Childhood swings, and climbed trees

Before the final goodbye.

At thirty-five I knew the desire of wanting

Time to stop.

Time to grow.

Time to discover, laugh, dream, bicker, cry, giggle, and share deepest delight

Just one more time.

 

At forty-five, I asked for “grace and peace”

In the moments of quietly sitting, holding hands,

Humming songs, and thanking my father then my best friend

For our time together, the blessings they had been.

 

Now at fifty, a shepherdess’ steadfast protection over gentle ones appeals to me.

Teaching for a lifetime, can my voice carry to that student in the last row?

Spanish coasts and mountains beckon me to a pilgrimage.

Beyond any outward journey, though, I most yearn for one moment more with those I love.

Missouri (poem 2)

Sing night’s green murmur, rainfall
rattle on rooftops and throb
of thunder, cloud-silhouette
moon adrift in dappled wrack
of rushing stars and cornfields
whisper: endless Missouri

Prompt hour 1 (The dance of the four elements j.r.m©)

2. Not Fade Away

Ho do I dream into being

your life and your love and yourself?

Your arms they surround me in dreams, but I wake alone.

Your wife

she had so many years

I hope they were beautifully real

I envy the time she was precious

in your eyes….

the time and love I tossed aside..

in my own broken way

so long ago.

Thank you for seeing the magic

inside my very soul

Thank you for turning your love light

the way you would shine it on me

For the fire you held in your soul

open to me.

Death, abundant and foolish,

swept you away much too soon

this aching inside my of heart

just won’t leave the room.

Beyond the remains of  this yearning

this longing for what could’ve been

Your love it embraces me gently…

I feel it again.

I feel it again.

 

 

 

 

 

Yearning

Yearning: Poem 2

To yearn ; the longing for

Our deepest desires to be seen,

To be accepted and loved

To have the world not mean.

Yearning and longing for love

Truth and respect,

In a world more filled

With greed and neglect.

 

Parents leave children

To fight on their own,

With hunger for love

To be all that they’ve

known,

We yearn and want what

Most of us cannot get,

May it be love , honor

Even a hint of respect.

 

Yearning to feel passion

Love the connection to another,

May it be true love

Or a sister or brother,

We yearn for connection

In a world so big and strong,

We all want it to go right

When often it goes so wrong.

TK

 

Percy Street with Jenny

Our small house had never
been so clean as when you
came to stay. Espresso stained
bar table gleaming, on display,
a testament to your domestic talents.
Three friends collected like flowers
every evening, bundled
around that table for supper (your word).
Hardwood swept every night,
mimosas and bacon every Sunday,
weekly trips to the farmer’s market
in Marion Square, coffee and croissants from
Wild Flour as you went to work and we
went to class. Your Lightning Bug alarm
haunts me four years removed.
Jennifer across an ocean.
Jennifer reborn.

 

Talents and Desires

When God gave out the talents,

no one really cared,

for then we were one people

and everything was shared.

 

When God dispensed desires,

all fell into dust.

Everyone had different wants,

and we forgot to trust.

 

And while this holy act

brought trials to us all,

I have a certain grievance

that I would like to call.

 

My talents are a pleasure,

I like them quite a bit:

I’m smart, I learn nonstop

I don’t want to pitch a fit…

 

But my desires just don’t match

the talents that God gave.

The things that I can do, you see,

are not the things I crave.

 

Music! Song! to sing aloud

with the power of the sea!

Yet I open up my mouth

and a squalling whine crawls free.

 

Perhaps, I think, my pipes won’t do,

but thunder I will bring.

I’ll just use an instrument

if my voice won’t sing.

 

Alas, my friend, ’tis all for naught,

piano, strings, or flute.

I miss a beat or fingers slip,

and, once again, I’m mute.

 

So, God on High, if you can hear

this flimsy little rhyme,

Gift me with a voice like rain!

It wouldn’t cost a dime.

 

My songbird’s heart is not content

confined by vocal folds.

It needs to fly, release the songs

and brightness that it holds.