The Poetry Marathon

A Place of Dreams -Prompt Nine

He walked along the winding trail
Slightly worn and tossed from his travel
In all his days, he never thought he’d see
The majesty
Of snowcapped mountains
And brooks that babble,

With each breath, his lungs felt clean
A freedom foreign to his past and present
Above his head was a fresh blue sky,
Fluffy clouds
And a bit of heaven

The wooden slats creaked beneath his feet
But that was of no concern
To live a day not promised
Gave way to new ideas
And valuable lessons to learn

And so his journey continued
Beside the rivers and streams
No matter where he landed
This place right here and now
Was a place of dreams.

Prompt 4 – Reunion

Familiar smile, tickling my heart,
Have I known you?
You notice me.
Have we known us?
Hesitantly, walking for each other,
Breaths hitched – it should be obvious by now –
Was it that we’d known each other in another life?
In another time?
The spark of recognition hits
And our faces
Widen.

Old Friend —

Country

Don’t fight with me
About country music

In the rain or shine
You don’t wanna cross that line

With me
It is party music

Just not your party

You don’t eat peaches
Don’t sleep under the tree

Don’t fight with me

The You

Oh, but i can, and i will!
Between children and shills
between the daily care
of a home built from the bottom up

i can and i will!
Be this creator’s masterpiece.
If i do not do it, who is the creator of this dream?
Art, writings, published, so what
the fun, the memories, the able

since able, since driven, some desire, all stemming from a place;
this place of fire~why not?
Burning since very young, put out by a few.
Re-lit, rekindled, renewed.

If this simple i can do any of this,
You, my dear, can too,
AND find the bliss, among the You.

Over Powered

Darkness came upon my soul the darkness capture my heart.

Bring my heart to a place where only hell of fire belong’s.

Darkness over powered my body with pain that came over my soul.

Took away the light.

 

Of warmth that was in my soul let my body capture by the darkness.

That over powered my soul.

With hell of fire that all my soul could feel the scream of my soul.

Was just a silent word their wasn’t know one their to get my soul.

 

To the light of warmth silent of word’s wasn’t heard by anyone because it wasn’t.

Know one their to hear my soul scream.

Poem 9 From Wooden Boardwalk Prompt-“ The Walk” By Ingrid Exner

 

Wood creaks and echoes

worn with

age and use.

 

My breathe catches

in this biting autumn air

I bury myself deeper

into warm comfort of

my parka.

 

Solitude and cold

Empty feelings

Reflections of the mountains

Cover the streams.

Hollow images of

Nature as it has been.

 

Smooth wooden railing

guides my hands forward,

beckoning me to move forward.

 

Mountains spring up in the distance

wearing caps of fresh virgin snow.

Reflections of the mountains

Cover the streams.

Empty images of

Nature as it has been.

 

 

The wind rattles

Loose floor boards of

The walkway as more wind moans

Its complaints

From all directions

Surrounding me

And, reminding Me that

I am Alone.

Hour Nine: Truant

Truant

Afterwards, everyone judged

though they, too, wished they could run.

History is only kind to those who judge, and with

a girl-child ripped from a mother’s arms, the only

cold comfort to be had was in the dusty pages

of history books.

 

They came for her in the night, but we’d slipped away

hours earlier, under cover of broad daylight, because no one

suspected we’d run.

We left quickly and lightly, only a change of clothes and

a sack of food.

When they arrived the only one to answer for our conscientious crime was

a baffled mutt.

 

We only needed make it to the other side of the bridge

and across the river.

They never found us.

 

 

 

Poem 9: River Song

Ice had formed when they found her.
No thickened, opaque crust,
But a delicate rime along the river’s edge.
Moving gently in the bitter water,
Tendrils of long dark hair marked the paleness from her skin
And stone shadows filled her cheeks with shade.

“Come with me,” she seemed to sing to those who found her, lonely, there.
“The biting water is nothing to the coldness of the world.”

© Anne McMaster 2016

Burn

Life within the flame, a life of ash,
revealing the marrow of our bones.
Our character forged and tested by fire,
until we shine like the purest of silver.
Rain will come, wash all the ash away,
and polish our reddened eyes.

Pain extinguished,
the dying embers of a shattered being stitched together,
with the threads of celestial hope.
All things must burn to prove their worth.
Sightless, I must now see only through the eyes of faith.

Thudding, pounding, drowning,
the delicate silk of my heart’s desire.
The need of a single moment, the desperate need of forever.
A lover’s embrace, and his burning heart.
I beg you, wings of time, stop beating,
and let me catch my breath.

 

10th out of 12

Prompt for Hour Ten

Write a poem of praise. It can be praising a person, a place, or a thing (right now I feel like praising coffee). But this poem should be filled with admiration and gratitude.