The Poetry Marathon

#10 – kenetei (Praise)

We sat for days, in those hours,
in the morning, before the sun,
before the world caught up to us.

We talked of mysteries and hopes,
of spirits, the lack of god, and pain,
the pain that fathers know and elders.

You gave me breath, kenetei, breath
to live another day, another moment,
and the life you said they expected.

You gave me two feathers, my brother.
I touch them every day, with my heart,
and I feel the strength still within you.

I hear your laugh and I laugh,
through the struggles and ignorance,
knowing all the things we never knew.

My name was bestowed by you,
cherished for what it is and where it’s from,
and, the magic it has given me.

We shared tears for our children,
those born and those yet to be born,
we shared them, as we shared our blood.

Was there a better man? A more imperfect man?
A more wondrously caring and devoted friend?
We taught each other. What greater gift?

There is no place that you are not already there,
waiting as you always did, seeking to guide,
seeking to be led, seeking the unknown connection

Our animals mingle as we once did, playfully,
yet always with soul and spirit balanced
frightened to upset the junction already given.

You were brave and kind and strong, kenetei,
If I can achieve half of your wisdom and carry you
with me forever, my dreams are made whole.

It is an honor to have known you, a blessing
to be your brother in spirit and in blood,
an inspiration to face each new day with you.

Apache Tears washed away the facade,
leaving us with our naked souls and
the heart-drum of loyal warriors.

Poem no.10: Paen

(For my sister)

I thank you for the words you did not say.
When grief, so howling harsh and biting deep,
Crippled us both and pulled us low.
Bereavement was something new.

I thank you for your anger and your tears.
Your focus, shunting through old family routines,
Forced action when our hearts ran slow.
Loss was a waking dream.

I thank you for your delicate, fragile fears.
Those ones which, once finally spoken, drew us close;
No bitter language pushing us apart.
Mourning was freshly learned.

I thank you for your loss, your emptiness and grief.
For understanding, then, that we were all we had;
For coming to learn to love me as I was,
And giving me space to love you in return.

© Anne McMaster 2016

#10) Grateful

I praise the earth

that tilts and turns

and floats among the stars.

Upon her ground

I’ve often found

the most amazing things.

I praise my ears

my voice, my mind

for bringing me to song.

Without their gift

How could I lift

my spirit

to belong.

 

Summer Rain

Somewhere in the distance there is the promise of some rain,

Gray clouds are building and moving fast as I watch from my country lane.

Anticipation is heightened down deep, far into my soul, it abounds;

I hope it plows straight overhead and doesn’t split and go around.

 

Gentle breezes soon arrive,  then their strength they gain,

Waiting far below are thirsty, golden fields of grain.

Their bodies dried and cracked waiting for the dark heavens to cry.

Then comes the jagged, purple lightning against the crooked sky.

 

Accompanied by raucous thunder that rocks the depths below,

Now comes the wicked storm as hoped for, let it blow.

As now I sit inside looking out at streaks of rain,

What a beautiful sight racing down my window pane.

 

zombie

brain dead zombie says

coffee no work- mashes keys

me go sleep now please

Poem 10: An Ode to Yellow

You varnish the skies.
Your incandescent arms
Embrace dark rooms,
Make them blush
In the slow burn of
your flickering kisses.

When summer’s green
grows tired and bored,
You crisp along its edges,
Crackling with something like laughter.
You pull the sun into bed at night
And tug it back into the morning sky.

As a child, my younger sister’s hair
Gleamed pale yellow,
A shiny brass coin rubbed matte.
I dressed her in yellow
And called her my daffodil.

Fat bumblebees, weighted by
Beauty and importance,
Bounce through the air.
They wear natural crowns
And make love to
Golden blossoms.

You coat the curves
Of trumpets, trombones,
And sultry saxophones.
They bleat round notes of rapture
And praise.

If you melted
And spread me about,
Smearing me to the edges,
I would flow like butter and
Taste like sunshine.

sleepy

so very sleepy

my eyes close against my will

need them open now

Dinner at Michelle and Anthony’s

 

First family gathering at the new house. First house.

Frank Sinatra and Italian opera playing through the television.

Stories about renovating, cleaning, patching, painting.

Turning a house with potential into a home.

Dave and Ronnie, Ronnie’s sister and her sweet daughter, Rich and me.

Anthony, Michelle, and 3 year old Castiel. We call him Pete,

Running, giggling and squealing around the table.

Playful stories and recollections of

Antics and sibling pranks.

Cheese for every taste. Gluten-free crackers for actual Celiacs.

Vegetables and fruit.

Huge platters of steak, sausage, chicken, and shrimp.

Flour-free dessert.

Tasty Vignole wine from Oklahoma,

Carried to New Jersey for such an occasion.

Enough food to feed the whole block.

Enough affection to feed the neighborhood.

Huge plates of love and happiness that only appear

With the feeling of belonging, that is Family.

 

 

By Sue Storts

08/13/2016

Hour Nine: Miniture World

High above
Looking down
Everything seems so small from up here
Like a miniture town designed for child’s play

Mini buildings

Mini cars

Mini figures racing back and forth
Who is the child leading us on our way
Do they wish us well
Taking care to lead us to each destination
Or are we one tantrum from being kicked away
Perhaps forgotten for the latest fade
On our own till we are rediscovered or thrown away

High above
Looking down
Everything seems so small up here

Umbrellas

Like colorful buttons

From above

Then dull needles

at night