The Poetry Marathon

The Owl – No Pussycat – #18

Get out of the boat, he hissed at the young owl.  He had been saving the seat for the owl with the russet colored feathers. Lately Miss Russet seemed to carry a flame for him, or so he thought.  The older, grayer owl was not the one he wanted.  He hissed at her again, then flew at her and bit the little finger she curled at him which she thought was a seductive appeal.  No cougar owls are allowed on this cruise,

At last the cougar gave up and flew out of the boat.

Miss Russet stayed perched in the tree

as early evening edged to night and it was time to join Mr. Old Wisdom in the light blue boat across the lake during the sweet hour of evening trysts for innocent lovers.  No one here was innocent.

All these owls had only base desires,

but it was in a boat,

so perhaps it was without low morality.

At the Diner

You walk in wearing a blue dress,
a braid trailing down your soft back,

you sit several booths away from me,
I can hear your voice like a soft whisper of a song I don’t know,

But I must learn,

your voice– rhythmic,
drawing all my senses towards your conversation,
I listen in,
you’re a feminist,

ears perk upright,
body tenses signaling immediate attraction,

I
have
to
know
you

friendship or otherwise,

you are brilliant and stunning,
certain that introductions would go smoothly,

if I just– offer you my burger,
here’s a side of my affection,

our eyes meet before our hands do,
your smile is beautiful,

your name, fitting,

I walk away with a phone number, a name,
and the anticipation of seeing you again.

Fear of Flying

Soaring high in the big blue sky
You smelled like adventure
with a quiet smile and aviator glasses

We all waited and anticipated
Eagerly awaiting
Tales of travel and mystery

One day you never made it home
Nothing was returned
I will never trust airplanes

hour seventeen

at the end of August
you were leaving
the empty space
left in my heart
the empty benches
before the lake
never the same
without seeing
floating by
white swans

Blue Clouds

Blue Clouds

 

Blue clouds spell

danger

on the Prairie,

especially

after the

heat and

the dust

kick up a storm…

the most terrified

I had ever been

was

watching in the rear view mirror

as the

dark blue funnel cloud came

toward the car.

 

Panic gripped me

by the throat

and nearly squeezed

the sense out of me –

my small children,

strapped in car seats

in the back;

my mother in the medical office

beside us.

 

It became

very clear,

very quickly,

where my priorities lay…

if that dark blue

funnel cloud had gotten any closer,

I would have saved my babies

and

driven away.

 

(c) R. L. Elke 2016

 

 

 

DEAR you,

The ONE

I gave my

heart to

The ONE

I would

change my

last name for

where in the

hell did you go?

after you came

with a show

arrested my heart

a development

of soul control

putting us back

together again

what kept you so

busy that you

didn’t have time

to see about me?

was it work

your child

or insecurities

of magic

that you wore

daily on the

sleeve of your shirt

like I do my feelings

excuse me if in

possibilities my mind

is still reeling in

the time we spent

the time we wasted

and the words that

could have waited

until you were ready

or unsaid because

ready would never come

I’ve realized that

you were not

the ONE.

 

Me

 

FJ original 2016

Seventeen Words #17

Long time ago,

in a castle on a hill,

there lived a princess,

who never really existed.

hour sixteen

waterlilies floating over the sun
your image over the lens
of his telescope
blurring
the starry night
I would like to be once more
floating in his arms
waterlilies floating over the sun

19

Your image imprinted on my soul.

I long for your caress.

Enclosed in your smile,

I am safe.

Wrapped in your arms

My fears are warmed.

Doubts forgotten.

 

The moments we share

Are few, but precious.

 

Passion unleashed.

Is it really me?

Your lips crush mine

And I melt…

 

Hoping to return what I am given.

Tender looks, I soak in…

Are you aware you give them?

Hour 22 – A Title

The Night is for Sleeping

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“Come to my window tonight.”
These were her words.
An invitation offered,
But declined.

The night is for sleeping.

She laughed the first time,
Then cried at the second.
By three she was angry;
There was no fourth.

The night is for sleeping.

Was I wrong?
Maybe but I prefer
To find out in the daylight.
After all,

The night is for sleeping.

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