The Poetry Marathon

Could I Live Here (Again)

Could I Live Here (Again)

Frannie Z

 

They’ve probably

redone the woodwork.

Painted the kitchen

something sober

instead of the bright yellow

that made me warm to it.

If I brought the bookshelves,

carpets and tables back,

and the dishes,

would I hear the ghosts

of voices I loved?

When I opened the door,

would that echo-yet-not

from the stuccoed walls

rest a moment on the air,

making the inrush

of noise almost holy?

 

A more pressing,

albeit more mundane concern:

Would the elevator still work?

18 Hurry Up, Tomorrow

Witnessing the Sunset with mixed emotions, theatrically sad

Watching Fireflies after a little Rain shower, enviously amazed at their magical glow

Mister Moon, a little too shy to come out but peeking still

And not to be outdone, a gang of Stars radiating their own twinklers albeit some Clouds

A Bat, flying low, nowhere to land

Formidable Trees in the dark, casting shadows eerily and magnificently alarming

Nocturnal Sounds abound, was that a lonely Cricket?

Or a shy Gecko? Or a lost Toad, perhaps?

Nature at its best! Failed muteness, silence undermined,

giving one’s sense to overreact

A lonely lamp post with flickering unnatural light

Not a help though

And a Soul, alone, traversing the Nature’s path

With quickened steps, goosebumped, cold sweat

Unmindful of the loveliness of the surrounding

Giving in to wild, spooky, very rich imaginations

Ominous…

Saying a little prayer “Guardian Angel, don’t sleep yet, be on guard!”

Or a little wish…

“Hurry up, Tomorrow!”

Sisters/ Friends

We were 12 when we met

In the small classroom

In the little country church

And we became fast friends

 

You were at my house

Or I was at yours

Every chance that our parents

Would allow it

 

I became part of your family

And you became a part of mine

There were late night talks and giggles

And the crazy things that teenage girls do

 

There were face masks

And lemon to lighten our hair

Trying on clothes

And makeover sessions

 

Then you fell in love with my brother

And over time you married him

We went from friends who wished to be sisters

To being official sister in laws

 

You will always be one of my dearest friends

The closest to a sister by birth

You will always know my deepest secrets

And my most ambitious dreams

 

There are so many memories that we share

And many more to make

 I feel truly blessed

To call you sister

A Spot of Nature

Circles in the rock mark years
Of water flowing and flowing.
Little holes next to the path
Are markers of water levels of the past.
And the canyon itself is a chronicle of this little river.

The water is actually blue here.
Real water is blue. We didn’t just make that up.
It contrasts nicely with the bright red rock
And the dark green forest.

Everything is vibrant.
Vibrancy in all colors:
Red, green, blue, brown.
Nature abounds and
Did I mention?
It smells fantastic.

He Was People (Hour Eighteen)

He was people.

He was a good boy.

He started out

As a ball of fluff

Who fell asleep in my arms

While we decided which ball of fluff to take home.

“This one.”

There was no choice.

He was the loving one.

The Path

It’s smooth, no obstacles, huff and puff free.
Said no philosopher.
What if they’re wrong
What if it doesn’t have to be that way
What if event-free and incident-less is the norm?
What if the path if its the right one is obstacle- free
Happy easy free
What if?

A Heart’s Responsibility

A heart’s responsibility is
Not to feel and
Bleed for others
But to
Beat like a drum

Not to keep sentiments of
The soul but
To keep me company
Through life
Aiding in providing oxygen
And when it stops
So do I

Our Lady of the Butterflies

 

once in a land of ordinary women

lived a sprite

neither coddled

nor contrite.

She flew among

ones who could not believe,

carried to the unbelievers

the seed of the transformation

hat brought resurrection to a moribund

group who followed the sprite

wherever words were sought.

Our Lady wore her talisman

along with a colorful crystal

amulet that encouraged use

of daily poems upon rising

and single words before

sleeping or resting. Today

Our Lady of the Butterflies

flies to another land.

 

EIGHTEEN

Poem EIGHTEEN has been removed and is now posted on chocolate is a verb, 16 August 2016.

Poem Eighteen ~ Blue Rings of Death

Long tentacles
with suction cup ends.
Sharp beak, dripping
with poison –
drip, drop, dripping into
the veins of its prey.
Careful, or it may prey
on you, though only if
you are smaller than
a golf ball.
Brilliant blue hues shine
out to the lucky viewer
when the unlucky victim
moves too close; the rings of death.