The Poetry Marathon

I’m ok with that

Dear Brother,

I’m ok with that.

I just thought you should know.

I wasn’t at first but then I realized

I won’t be the one missing out on this momentous occasion.

The only person who falls into that category is you.

So if you think a once a year event is more important

than a once in a lifetime event, that’s your business

but just know you won’t get a second chance to see me

walk across that stage. So, if this it, have a great life

and if you ever feel the need to apologize, just know that

I’m ok with that.

Your Truly,

Jason

My Kitchen – Poem 23/24

My kitchen is small and warm

Just big enough for me and my Sasha.

She’s all that I need in my little kitchen

She is my dog, I don’t people around

She’s all that I need:

My Sasha…

Antoinette LeRoux © 2016

My Sasha, now 10 months old

The Word Room

North and east the windows face.

Wallpapered in white with yellow, blue and red – tiny flower pattern-not “me”-

the walls originally done for a 9 year old girl –

I hope one day to paint all the walls flat white so I may write on them with Sharpie markers as I wish…

One half wall is all cork board-

done by me, for me (that glue high headache lasted two days)

Multicolored push pins by the tins full so I can post ideas, fragments, rages or whimsies

when so ever I choose,

from ceiling to floor.

Two desks, one, an off-cast kitchen table that holds:

keyboard, printer, tower, monitor, pencil holder, pens, honey jar full of rubber bands

miscellaneous treasures tucked about.

The second desk an heirloom roll top – from a unmarried uncle –

refinished from walnut to the original oak. Sycamore inserts my pride.

The rest of the room is junk shop eclectic.

A rickety drafting table for paper and stereo, set up and all around a mixed bag of

shelves and shelves and shelves for books and envelopes and hopes and mysterious collections.

hour twenty three

neko cafe
the guests sipping coffee
through the hours
cats fall asleep
or watch them
sitting in their
favourite places
on the chairs
watching you
go by

the smiles
of the visitors
calling
for a few
purrs

Piano

Ferns

Lantern

Beech

Boots

Laughter

Jars

Clear

 

He carried the lantern down the well worn path,

The clear night would bring out most of the saturday night crew.

He could feel the ivories under his fingers as the piano yielded to his will…

Beech Fork would be hopping tonight.

The sound of laughter met him as he neared the door.

His eyes twinkled as he thought of the music he would make

and the music he would hear as money filled the jar that would sit beside him.

Stranded #17

Deep sobs wrack through me

My heart threatening to rip out

Angst filled certainty.

 

Reckless tongues whip me

Disintegrating my will

No friends. No allies.

 

How many will desert

When you have lost everything

Cruel reality.

 

Back stabbed, betrayal

Friends forever broken

Leave my heart alone.

 

My Granny’s Kitchen

Granny’s Kitchen

 

We lived out of boxes

most of my life

moving from

house to

house to

house  –

city to

city to

city –

province to

province to

province.

The only anchor,

in my young mind,

was my Granny’s

old house

in a Northern Saskatchewan town.

 

The house was larger than

anything

Granny knew

but was a shack to me.

Once a one bedroom,

it was added onto:

living room,

bathroom,

and an extra bedroom.

 

The kitchen was brightly

lit by a south facing window.

The UGG elevator

staring in at anyone

while they washed dishes.

It frightened me –

I thought it looked like an

angry giant waiting to grind my bones

to make its bread.

 

The chrome kitchen table was

topped with cherry red…something

that looked, to me,

like someone’s floor.

Beside the table,

my

brown,

rough

grandpa would sit

on a

brown,

smooth,

round-backed, wooden chair

he had

built with his own two hands –

the same hands

that sometimes held a fiddle

and always held a whiskey.

 

The kitchen smelled of

stale cigarette smoke and liquor –

both of which were

plentiful

always.

 

When my Uncle was there,

and not in jail,

he would sit at the table, too –

that red and chrome table,

bright with sharp edges,

and he would smoke

and drink

and play cards.

 

We all played cards

and they would smoke

but, mostly they would drink

at that red and chrome table

with the bright,

sharp edges.

(c) R. L. Elke 2016

MIA

You’re always missing when I need you most
Why do you hide?
Is it intentional?
You know it hurts right
Looking for you has become my hobby
Tracking your moves is so very difficult
With no cyber connections
Life’s intolerable
Must you always go MIA
Don’t you care?
My feelings I bare
Can you see?
It’s me, it’s me

The Axis of Adventure

On the news today:

“Be on the lookout for three escape artists from a local amusement park, Storybook Land: The Red Fox, Mama Bear, and Pippi Longstocking. Do not approach. Call your local authorities, they may be dangerous.”

You have nothing to fear
I know them well
and would follow them anywhere

The smart Red Fox is a master of the moment
Able to outsmart his way out of any sticky situation

Mama Bear is fierce and strong
She will keep you safe and warm

Pippi Longstocking, my favorite, of course
Storyteller extraordinaire, able to defeat any catastrophe
by her sheer will and pirate strength

They are heading for the high seas
Hurry, quickly, catch-up!
Adventure awaits!

 

Had to

A rusty, unmanageable gate welcomed her the second her eyes rest on it

 

A season of dry and blazing heat of Kedah make those smelly bubbles gallop happily from armpit

 

A carpet of not-designed-as-dry dying grass became the food of her foot, she strode gently across them, in fear of destroying the nature even more.

However, the ugliness of the garden could not escape her abusive words.

 

A salon barber’s chair with questionable purpose was left stranded at the porch, her eyes rolled upwards.

As if the baboons really cared for their well-being, such asset was left without extensive care.

 

A made-for-lazy clothes line with scrap metal look was on her left.

Which she just ignore the existence altogether.

 

A warm and cozy parlor, completed with nature’s look, with a little bit of modern touch, sooth her heart.

At least,those two baboons still possess little intelligence to keep it the way it is.

 

A big house, with two parlor, just met a downgrade in taste when she came in contact with the second, totally because of such importance to maintain had left their grasp.

Sometimes her mother would swear on the baboons while walking from the parlor to the kitchen.

 

But no matter what the baboons did,

the importance of such big house,

still hold great meaning towards its once-in-awhile residents

that’s why, she held in her breath, hiding all her disgust, and putting up her best smile,

started walking towards the kitchen,

to meet her beloved love.