The Poetry Marathon

Hour 14 – Prompt 14 – nature with concrete – “A bouquet of flowers”

From an array of scattered flowers,
one by one, the fresh ones are chosen

The petals are gently caressed,
before placing them in a bouquet

With care, the bunch is arranged
attractively, ready for display

The combined fragrance of the floral
selection entices strangers to buy

Those without a square meal admire
from afar, their imagination at play

A few regret the absence of an occasion
to celebrate and hold them close

Some bouquets get a chance to grace
a celebration, others await their turn

Flowers remain nature’s messenger
on how to uphold self-worth, till last breath

Hour Fourteen

Watching my goldfish,
I wonder about his natural habitat
imagine his gold tail swishing
in crystal clear water,
mouth opening and closing
on exotic cuisine
not flakes of brown, orange and green.
They say a goldfish
has a 30 second attention span.
Terrifying idea, that.
An entire life boiled down
to 30 seconds. No before.No after.
I tap on the thick glass of his bowl,
amazed at the power of Nature.

Poop Vine

A wild grape vine,

sprouted in the midst of my south lilac bush several years ago.

A bird planted it –

yep –

a pooped seed vine.

Now it is over twenty feet high,

tendrils waving from the top of an old Rowan tree.

Thirty feet down,

I am training another of its shoots

to grow along my fence.

All this marvelous green shade because once,

a bird ate a grape

and then,

well, then, it pooped in my back yard.

Oceanliner

Drifting on the sea

was a tin can with silver gleam.

I simply sigh,

thinking I’m one inch high

so I can sail off to lands in a dream.

 

 

broken glass

I took my kids to the beach

to collect sea glass

greens and blues

from glass tossed into the ocean

then tossed about in the ocean

before being tossed up by the ocean

onto the sand

broken, yet beloved

edges softened, touchable

kissable

resurrecting in new beauty, new life

a mosaic collection where purple’s the prize

that once danced with seaweed

and waxed and waned with wave and moon and mermaid

until washing ashore

a treasure

 

(Prompt for Hour Fourteen:

Write a nature poem. But play with the genre. Most nature poems are about the beauty of the natural world. I want you to focus on the intersection of the natural world and the unnatural world. Think dandelions sprouting through the concrete. Think garbage on the ocean or Ivy on a house, even flowers at a wedding.)

1984: The Butterfly Girl

Smart and sassy with a Liza Minnelli smile
The girl could light up a room
Beauty school was just the beginning
She had stars in her eyes
Big dreams of bright cities and fancy places
Small towns couldn’t hold her down
She had her walking boots and her favorite red dress
Nothing could stand in her way

And then there was that bitter winter in Pennsylvania
and she lost her way

Remember her name: Amy Matthews

Gonna Be an Engineer

Gonna Be an Engineer (in memory of Peggy Seeger)

 

Forget all the books, physical theorems, logorithms

and calculus imperatives.

 

If you watch people who work with tools

and push holes into wood and metal,

you soon understand

that the trick is merely to apply just the right amount

of pressure

to make the ends click.

 

All things existed for a purpose

Embracing clouds in blue sky

Gazing Sun making things so much beauty

Flowers draping the land in its majesty

Looking for warm embraces

As Mother Earth embraces all

Moving in the movement of all things

Teardrops from heaven

As the dry earth in its thirst

Watering the land

Imploring the Creator

Pouring bountiful blessing for all Creation

Especially Humanity as its caretaker

Making a difference in the similar things

All things existed for a purpose

 

 

 

 

10:07 am PST 14/08/2016

© ROY MARK AZANZA CORRALES

It’s not like it matters.

Powders upon powders
Or maybe on top of creams.
Sometimes gel, too.

End result: enhanced beauty.
Sometimes I work for it.
Other times I don’t care enough.

The end result looks quite effortless,
But the reality can be hours of work.
Often I just don’t have the time.

It’s not like it matters.

Play Is Holy

Playing with rhymes and word lists just because it’s hour twelve:

Take a picnic to the lake.
You can spare the time.
Don’t take
your money job so seriously.

Drive your old Jeep
into the woods. Witness
the glory and the moods
of trees and trails. Responsibility

is overrated. Rest yourself
beneath the canopy of trees.
Breathe fresh air, release
resentments. Gather peace.