The Poetry Marathon

The Great Wall of Chocolate #22

The Great Wall of Chocolate,

not far from ‘natural wonder’ status,

resides in my home,

the making of a six-year-old.

 

When my colleagues found out,

they insisted I invited them home,

and when I declined them politely,

they invited themselves over anyway.

 

What is this Great Wall? you ask,

well, it happened that my daughter,

had a curious habit of sneaking chocolate,

from the refrigerator as soon as she learnt to walk.

 

Of course I didn’t find out until,

one day the babysitter called at work,

and reported that there was a “huge monstrous chocolate maze”

in my basement.

 

Fearing for the mentality of my babysitter,

and the safety of my daughter,

I rushed over to be greeted by a cunning daughter,

and a slightly dazed baby sitter, who insisted I terminate her services.

 

Of course, my daughter is all grown up,

and in college now, but the tale of the Great Wall of Chocolate,

(which my daughter says was built by a tribe of aliens as a religious monument),

still lives on.

Drenched in poetry

A journey of 24 hours

Reaching its end

 

Muse is being thanked

For the companionship

Encouragements are turning into excitement

 

For some it was a first

For others an yearly ritual

People exchanged love

they smiled and laughed

New friends were met

 

Lots of poems were written

Places discovered

Worlds created

I just saw a unicorn

There goes a butterfly

 

A journey comes to an end

And I got drenched

When the world wrote poetry

Together!

194E, Thean Teik Road

It’s here my life began
It’s here the nine of us gathered
Every school holiday, every celebration
But you’re gone
And the nine of us have scattered
Will we ever find another you
194E, Thean Teik Road

Up I Am

Up I am
Doing an all-nighter
While others are sleeping
peaceful and quiet
The quiet time helps me
To have a clear mind
So I can focus
All this time
The nights are for artist
Whether writing or drawing
It is our time
Of pleasure unknown
The imagination going wild
Writing a prose
Drawings a figure
Or some crazy type of thing
Writing some poetry
Or just some other thing
While others lay sleeping
Peacefully resting
The stillness of the night
On my writing puts dressing

The Dime Store

Ben Franklins Five and Dime was the only place we had to shop when we were younger.   Doors opened to jubilant faces as we imagined all the goodies inside.  I can still remember the smell of peppermint and caramel from the big plastic jars on the counter and the smell of cheap plastic toys that lined the shelves right at kids eye level.

Poor Mom.  Worry lined her face as she tried to find something we could afford to have.  Every month the same choices for five country children.  Look a lot and buy a little.   I loved that store.  The dinging door,  the smells the warmth.  The woman behind the counter who made over our 10 cent purchase like it was going to be the most fun thing any kid ever owned.

We called it the dime store.  But the memories it gave me are priceless.

 

Hour 24: Three Ladies Lunching

A group of ladies numbered three
Woke at dawn and went to tea
They stirred into their china cups a shot of Irish whiskey

They socialised until eleven
Talking politics and religion
They ordered brunch and stayed ‘til lunch and had a juice with gin

One was rural, one suburban, one was from the ghetto
One spoke alto, one spoke bass, and one spoke in falsetto
They counted hours by the pint, each chased with amaretto

Ere supper gone and evening come
Three ladies went home feeling numb
They went to bed with buttered bread and a snifter full of rum

Tiny Kitchen

A Baltimore row-house
Over a hundred years old
Views of my favorite park
A place to read
A place to write
A cute apartment, my first without roommates
One bedroom
One bath
Hardwood floors
built-in bookshelves, and a
Tiny kitchen
with a tiny stove
and a tiny fridge

A tiny ledge, for the cat to lounge
before a tiny window.
All enclosed in antique French doors

How many Holly Golightly parties happened there?
One can never tell
Friends and neighbors and strangers
Stopping by, making meals, sharing stories
Reading poetry, watching fireworks
and dreaming up adventures

If I close my eyes and drown out the present
I can still be there
In my tiny kitchen
Cooking on my tiny stove

Poem Twenty-Four ~ Congratulations

Friends, strangers,
assorted others,
Congratulations!
You’ve been through rougher.

Proud of Me

I am never
going to put boundaries
on myself again.

I am never
going to say,
“I cannot do it.”

I am never
going to say,
“Maybe.”

I am never
going to say,
“I think I can.”

I can and I will.

Best Friend

Our path are different

Yet we stay together

God paves your way

With devotion you look

Logic guides me forward

With calculation and decision

In this world

Full of war

Religion and logic

That try to cut each other

We live in harmony

Understanding each other

My best friend you became

Before we even understood the concept

My best friend you are

As we are devoted to opposite side

You wish to God

For this to stay

I ask the power of Universe

To never separate us