The Poetry Marathon

Do Not Enter Here

I had a secret hiding place

when I grew up

in the back yard

beneath a flowering tree.

I do not know what flowers they were

I would sit beneath it

on the ground or sometimes

on a cement block that lay there.

I can’t recall why it was there

sometimes I would pull out a pebble

from the ground

I ascribed magic to it

when I was a child.

sometimes I would talk to myself,

I never let anyone know I was there

even if I heard my mother call.

I never acknowledged her,

no one ever discovered me,

the only secret I kept to myself.

still I believe I live a secret

in a place I want no one to enter,

holding words in my hand

holding them in secret.

Finding James

“Where’s James?” They ask.
Every day, at least once,
“Do you know where James went?”
Invades my thought process.

I sit next to him.
James, that is,
In a cramped space
Once housing dinosaurs.

Old copy machines
Generating too much heat
For two
Side by side vents.

One directly over my head.
“Can you tell James I need him?”

“Are you kidding me?” I think,
“Of course,” I smile.
I am a woman, after all,

Sitting in the first desk from the door.

James, the IT guy,
Occupies the back cube.
A managerial impression
That has me viewed

As his God Damned Secretary!

I promptly forget
And move on with thoughts
Of what x and y
Max out to in the scheme of things.

“Have you seen James today?”

FUUUUUCK!
After six months here
Is it not obvious?
I don’t do James!

Cheetah #18

Lean and mean

Sleek, stealthy

Part of the shadows

An instant of hesitation

and he will devour.

 

Claws so sharp,

it sinks immediately

into flesh.

A coiled spring

Running as if on Red Bull.

 

A stalker

Not a furry cutie

But a missile in disguise

Shredded destruction at its wake

Executioner.

 

 

 

 

As It Comes To a Close

Case closed

the closing

arguments

have been

heard

heated

although they

were

they were

candid and

transparent

opposing counsel

gave the best

speech he could

write from

somewhere down

in his bones

he obviously

sold his soul

to the devil

many moons

ago

but his story

was compelling

his closing

argument

foretelling

of the verdict

that would

crush the

very existence

of my spirit

so with words

I didn’t trust

they came out

in a rush

but were

authentic and

unrehearsed

the jury hung

on each word

caressed the

pain found in

each verb

and danced

along the

sentiment

they found

when the sound

grew to silent

the galley

was left shocked

and quiet

to discuss how

they felt about

love that didn’t

survive

they wanted this

one situation

to reverse

and there to

be in the wake

waiting

two hearts

that would travel

down the same

road together

but after two

half hours of

whatever

the deliberation

was brought

together

and it was

decided in

the favor of

the one who

brought the rose

with thorns

that I now oppose

the love that

wanted to bundle

himself in vases

across my heart

 

FJ original 2016

He died not knowing

He died knowing he could win.

He died knowing how to spend.

He died with the limelight still beaming bright.

He died with his boots on tied up tight.

But he died not knowing whose love was real,

if he had no money, how would they feel.

He died not knowing if anyone really cared,

it was not his innermost thoughts any of them shared.

He died so lonely,  He died so sad,

He died not knowing how life got this bad.

He died by his choice,  by his hand, because..

he died not knowing the good man he was.

Prompt for Hour Twenty Four

Congratulations – you are almost there.

The last prompt is to write a poem about doing something that others are not doing, such as being awake while those around you are asleep.

Farewell

Dear love

Times are hard
Trials you cause too plenty
Hurt to deep
Physical problems many
Time for my healing
In all ways
I need time to go astray
Please understand me today
For the future I need to live my way
Heal yourself
Give it time
Death is not an answer in life
One day we may speak again
But for now a new life I begin

more H two

more time would be nice
but less is also sexy
it fuels the longing

Secret Garden

Escape the world in the sights and serenity

The hummingbirds stop by and birds sing a melody

The roses nearby create aromas divine

I desire to escape in this private world of mine

Hair

My hair is crown, its a lasting impression,

But not when I wake up, its a scary ovation.

It takes all night to get it this good,

I aught to market it, that I should.

Sometimes in the mirror I scare myself,

I think who is that elf.

I fix it and curl it and mousse it, you see,

Then it becomes beautiful me!